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general-fanfiction · 1 year

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Police Cars And Paintings. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Wally helps Y/N get her justice.

Word count: 2,593

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings - Murder? Swearing.

“Y/N Y/L/N was loved by all, caring, supportive and kind are just three words that her family and friends used to describe the young woman whose life was so tragically cut short at the age of seventeen. Y/N was a senior at Split River high school, with hopes of attending New York Fashion School, in order to pursue her dreams of studying fashion design. She was the valedictorian with a passion for the arts. We learn today that her body was discovered in the school’s art room, with multiple stab wounds to her neck, chest and stomach. Police believe the attack was premeditated and to remain vigilant as her killer is still yet to be caught.”

Letting out a pained scream, I launch the tv remote directly at the screen in front of me, causing the image to shift and blur before settling into a dull, gray static. Feeling multiple pairs of eyes on me, I grip my hair, tugging slightly to feel the tightness in my skull as a way to relieve the emotional pain weighing me down.

“Hey, let’s not do that okay. It won’t help you.” Wally tells me, gently grabbing my arms and forcing them down as he wraps his arms around me in a comforting hug. Well as best as he can leaning from behind the sofa.

“Are we not gonna talk about the fact that she just broke the tv? She’s ruined movie night for everyone.” Rhonda complains, eyes shooting daggers at me.

“Like you even care about movie night. There’s other TV's in this school, we’re not gonna miss one.” I snap back, rage still coursing through my body. “At least your murderer was caught.”

Rhonda scoffs, turning to look at Mr Martin, who has remained oddly silent, as she slips her lollipop back into her mouth. Mr Martin simply shares a disapproving glance, not impressed by either of our actions or comments though he still remains silent. Not wanting to make the tension in the room any worse. It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife, cliche I know.

“At least you know who did it, that’s got to count for something and I’m sure the police will work it out soon enough. I mean, they already know that it was a planned attack.” Charlie comments, hoping to make me feel a little better, yet I still feel just as bad. If not worse than moments prior.

“Yeah and he’s still walking about school as though nothing happened! The cops don’t give a shit Charlie, I’m already dead, it’s not like anything worse is going to happen to me that they have to worry about.”

Wally’s embrace relaxes as he stands up straighter, arms falling to his side, causing me and everyone else in the room to turn and look at him. A serious expression is settled upon his face, an unusual sight as he is normally sporting a soft smile or at least a playful lightness in his eyes.

“Wait, the guy that did this goes to school here? He’s still here?” Wally asks, his questions directed at me as though nobody else is even in the room. Clearly something has rattled him.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m so pissed off. I still have to see him every single day and there’s no escape. Not even in death I get peace.”

With a huff, I push myself off the sofa. Forcing a smile at the group as I make my exit, the moment I step out of the gym I start running. Sprinting as fast as I can to the other side of the school before climbing up the stairs to the rooftop. The art room used to be my quiet place, where I would find myself able to relax and feel at ease. Not anymore. So, the roof is my quiet place now. After moving all of my art supplies here, I’ve found that there’s no reason for me to even step foot in the art room anymore. It’s been a month and it’s still too painful to be in there.

Picking up my paintbrush and dipping it into my paint to continue the mural I have been working on, I hear another pair of footsteps lightly jogging up the stairs. I know it’s Wally, I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him. Ever since I arrived in this world, he’s been my rock. Helping me get through everything and it’s safe to say that in the short amount of time I’ve known him, he’s found a special place in my heart. It’s not a crush. I swear it’s not a crush. I just happen to have a soft spot for him.

“Holy shit. I knew you liked art but this is insane, why have I never seen this?”

Wally’s stare is glued to the mural I’ve painted, each ghost gazing back at him from their position on the wall. Rhonda’s trademark moody stare, Charlie’s sweet but somewhat shy smile, even Dawn’s curiosity shines through in her chestnut brown eyes. I watch as he notices himself. A proud smile resting on his lips. Wally was the most difficult to paint, I wanted to make sure I captured his beauty properly, though that tends to be very hard to do when someone is physically perfect.

“You even got my necklace, Y/N this looks so real. Like you’re so talented, this belongs in a gallery or something.” Wally continues, brushing his finger down the side of his painted face, still in awe.

“It’s still a work in progress. I haven’t even started on Mr Martin, or the band kids or the girl in the theater whose name I always forget.” I tell him, swatting his hand away from the wall before he smudges any paint that may still be wet.

“Yeah, but do you really want them on there? Mr Martin sure, but the others, they never show up to the support group. You should keep it contained, no? You haven’t even painted yourself yet.”

“That’s kind of rude Wally. I painted Dawn and she never comes to the group, but she’s my friend.” I tell him, placing my paintbrush down and beginning to walk over to the rail at the edge of the roof. “We’re all dead, we deserve some sort of memorial.”

Leaning against the rail, I watch the kids below living their lives as normal. As though nothing is wrong, as though I wasn’t just murdered a month ago. God, if they knew this is what happens after death, they’d be terrified.

The football team are running drills on the field, accompanied by the cheerleaders who are going over the same routines. Students sit in the bleachers, either reading or making notes as they study. Occasionally laughing together as they discuss the latest gossip or show each other something they’ve seen on social media. It’s a peaceful scene, watching as they stress over things so trivial, things that won’t matter in ten years time.

“How come you never told me that the guy who killed you still goes to this school? I knew he hadn’t been caught but I assumed that’s because was on the run or something.” Wally asks me, leaning with his back against the rail so that he can watch me rather than the school.

“I don’t know. I try to avoid him and I know how nosey the rest of that group are, especially Rhonda. No doubt you’d all be following him around the school like a bunch of creeps.”

“Yeah but that’s just because we care about you.” Wally nudges me as he speaks, trying to get me to smile, which proves to be very easy as I make eye contact with him.

My heart flutters, making me nervous as I stare up at him. Wally’s height would intimidate me if I didn’t know how much of a big softie he was. I truly don’t think there is a bad bone in his body, he breaks the stereotypical idea of what a jock is. Charming and popular, sure, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Feeling his hand touch my chin, my smile grows wider as it gently moves to cup my cheek. His other hand combs through his hair, a nervous trait of his. Something I picked up on a while back, it doesn’t happen often because Wally isn’t one for getting nervous. He opens his mouth slightly, about to ask something. However, before he can my eyes catch sight of something on the field below.

“That’s him.” I point out, a flash of disappointment crosses his face before he removes his hand and turns to see what I’m looking at.

Harry Cole, clad in a dark hoodie is walking by the side of the field, heading straight to the art block. His pace is quick, almost like he’s in a rush and it’s the most panicked I’ve seen him since my death. Clearly something’s happened, a breakthrough in the investigation maybe? Police hot on his tail. Whatever it is, I need to know.

“That’s the dickhead that killed you?” Wally asks, scowling now as he takes him in.

“Yeah, come on, he’s up to something.”

Without even a second thought, I grab Wally’s hand, taking off in a slight run in order to catch whatever Harry’s up to. Wally’s gripping my hand in a firm hold, as if he’ll lose him if he lets go, thumb gently tracing circles into my skin despite us running.

Upon entering the art room, I immediately see Harry at the sinks, furiously scrubbing at something. Sharing a confused glance with Wally, I slowly approach him. I know he can’t see me and yet I’m still worried that I’ll disrupt him and spook me off, leaving me with no answers.

The closer I get the stronger the smell of bleach is, and then I finally see what he is cleaning. Butcher knife gleaming under the bright white lights, I spot the specks of blood still coating the handle and I know he’s trying to remove any evidence. Gloves adorn his hands in an attempt to mask his fingerprints. A silent tear rolls down my cheek at the thought of him never getting caught.

Wally’s arm wraps around my shoulder delicately. “You don’t need to see this.”

To my surprise, I don’t fight with him as he gently escorts me out of the room. I make no noise as I let the tears fall down my cheeks and I know Wally sees. Yet, he stays quiet. Not wanting to further upset me. He helps me to sit down on the old sofa that resides on the roof. With his hands on my knees he crouches in front of me, a concerned look on his face.

“You’ll be okay Y/N. I promise.” He tells me, words soothing my pain little by little. “Look I’ve got to run somewhere but I will be back so fast. I swear.”

Nodding my head gently, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead before dashing off to wherever he needs to be. Allowing me to wallow in my pain. The more days that pass, the more I feel as though justice isn’t possible. The more I feel like Harry will get away with everything.

Curling up into a ball, I allow my emotions to take over. Wails audible and body shaking with anger and sadness. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t understand how the others do it. They’ve been dead longer but surely they still feel the pain and anguish of being dead. Surely they must be hurting too.

I’m brought back to reality by the sounds of sirens, I’m not sure how long I was sat consumed in my sadness but I know that Wally is standing by the rail. Watching whatever it is that is taking place below. The sirens ring through my ears and I jump up to stand beside him, his arm instantly wrapping around me despite no words being said.

Police cars fill the car park, grabbing the attention of pretty much everyone in the near vicinity. Students stand in shock at the commotion being caused. Each window is filled with faces, eager to bear witness to what is happening outside. Wally’s arm squeezes my shoulders, a show of encouragement and support. I swear if he wasn’t by my side, physically holding me up with the arm that is wrapped around me, I think I would be a nervous heap on the ground.

With that, I spot it. Several police officers surround Harry as he is walked out of the school building in handcuffs. His hood shielding his face from view to the majority of students, however, I know it's him. Same outfit, same demeanor, same person. They’ve got him. I feel a weight lift from my shoulders and I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

“How did that happen? How did they know it was him?” I ask, completely bewildered by the entire situation.

Wally looks down at me, a shy smile on his face. He knows something I don’t. Turning to face him properly, I take his hands in mine, raising my eyebrows in an attempt to get an outside. Only for him in turn to focus his stare onto the floor.

“Wally?”

“Dawn has a pretty big social media presence within the school community. She runs it as though she’s an anonymous gossip blog, nobody knows who she is but everyone knows her.” He starts, still leaving me confused as to how this happened. “I managed to get her to the art room in time to take a picture of him with the knife. She posted it, it went viral and now the police are here.”

Feeling a rush of emotions run through my body, I somehow gain the confidence to pull Wally down by his gold chain. Gentle enough that it doesn’t snap but with enough force that he’s taken off guard. My hands hold his face as I press my lips to his, feeling his hands hold my forearms as he delicately moves his lips against mine. As I pull away slowly, my mouth drops open in shock as I gaze at Wally who is now eye level with me. Hunched over in order to kiss me.

“I am so sorry Wally. I have no idea where that came from, I just -”

Wally cuts me off with his lips on mine once again, he maneuvers slightly so that my back presses against the rail and I wrap my arms around his neck as the kiss begins to grow more passionate. His hands are holding my waist, body pressed tightly against mine as I feel every inch of my body tingle with excitement. I know Wally feels it too. When I force myself to pull away for some air, he doesn’t hesitate before moving to press light kisses against my neck.

“I’ve never felt this with anyone before Y/N.” He whispers against my skin, goosebumps raising at the feel of his lips moving against my neck.

He moves to look at me, a big, goofy smile on his face as I move my hands to play with the necklace dangling in front of me. Wally places his hands on the rail besides me, watching me eagerly, awaiting my next move.

“I really, really like you Wally.”

He chuckles softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I really, really like you as well.”

#wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark fic #wally clark imagines #wally clark fluff #school spirits #school spirits fic #school spirits imagines #fluff

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manicpixiefelix · 1 month

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 20.

Summary: The evening of the Arts Collective dinner somehow gets even worse for you as Farleigh gives you some unfortunate news about Oliver and Venetia and their moonlight exploits. The worst part is having to figure out a way to break the news to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood/ongoing parental neglect.

A/N: 3729 words. I finally cracked it!! Figured out the ending!! Sorry for the delay I was busy writing 20k about Jacob Elordi being hot and mean which I will never publish (Euphoria, a show I STILL have not watched beyond like 20 minutes of clips on YouTube lol). Anyways I've missed you and these characters and hopefully 21 won't be too far away xx (also I started my new job so that's been exciting but also Ooft ouch my bones hurt)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

For a day that was already pretty damn shit, Oliver's cruelty was like salt in the wound. Hand still on the doorknob after you close it, you listen to him retreating over the ringing in your ears. If you let go, you'll see your hands shake, so you're frozen, heart in your throat, the house growing quiet around you. It's familiar, but unwelcome in this moment.

Tears well in your eyes as you sit back at the desk, computer humming pleasantly, bathing you in a cool glow. Part of you was desperate to run after him, to oblige him, to reveal every inch of your past and soul to him, hoping he was true to his word. That he could actually care about you in a way that very few have ever bothered to. That he could love you the way Felix did.

I don't know you.

An even stronger part of you wanted to run right across the hall, to bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed, safe and waiting for Felix. Surely he'd be back soon, if Oliver's return indicated anything. You hadn't heard him return, but it wouldn't be long. But how were you meant to look at him, lie next to him, even touch him, after all of that. It had been easy to bite your tongue on your disappointment so far, knowing that like so many others, Oliver's love for you thus far had been merely as a proxy for Felix himself. You knew Felix was vaguely aware that that was how others sometimes viewed you, but you'd always been eager to assure him that as long as he genuinely cared about you, and the others were good to you, you'd be more than happy.

And that used to be true. But none of the others were Oliver. Felix knew you loved the boy just as genuinely as he was coming to, you could never tell him that your affections were not as genuinely returned.

Your pride held you hostage in this room on both accounts.

When you finally raise your head from your hands, scrubbing unspilled tears from your eyes, you try and focus yourself once more on rereading the email that had already put you in a foul mood before Oliver had made it worse. It had taken all afternoon to detach yourself from it's contents, especially knowing your mother was waltzing about the grounds, spoiling your sanctuary.

The details of an official nondisclosure agreement, sent from your parents' team of lawyers. The paperwork was to arrive in the next few days, but you were being warned ahead of time. Before Oliver had interrupted, you were finally getting to the point of finding it all funny, that they were that insistent on cutting social ties with you that they'd go to almost any lengths that remained discrete, and out of the general public's reach. Now it just... ached.

Felix's heavy footsteps echo through the long gallery outside your study door, but he heads straight into bed. You wonder if it's even worth it to head to bed that night, you can't see yourself getting much sleep.

Now mostly, tragically, sober after you'd spent the afternoon trying to get out of your mind to cope with the day, you wonder if a drink would help put you to sleep, put an end to this abysmal day you'd endured. Which is how Farleigh finds you in the Blue Room, frowning at the bottle of liquor you'd left in the broken piano.

"You're up late," you mused flatly, still trying to decide if it was worth it to drink until you pass out in your study, "how was the -"

"We need to talk," Farleigh's tone is even more irate than you'd expected. Neither he nor the Catton siblings were ever in a particularly bright mood after being forced into any kind of proximity with your mother, and you were always touched by their loyalty, but this was something else.

You lower the piano lid, leaving the liquor for the time being. Turning to look at Farleigh, it's almost shocking to see how dark the look in his eyes was.

"What... happened?" You asked slowly. Farleigh's gaze flicks to the door behind you, to the long gallery and to the entrance to both yours and Oliver's bedrooms. Prying eyes, listening ears, though you were almost certain you'd heard Oliver leave not too long ago. A muscle in Farleigh's jaw twitches, and you instead offer your study for some privacy.

"You're not going to like it," is the first thing Farleigh tells you once the study door is closed. He sounds furious. Turning off your computer monitor, you choose to sit yourself on the sofa by the window, looking at him expectantly.

"This day's been a fucking nightmare already, I'm sure I can handle it," you rolled your eyes. Farleigh, however, chooses to sit at your desk, sideways on the chair, rather than joining you.

"You told Oliver not to fuck around with Venetia, didn't you?" It's unsettling to see Farleigh so serious. Still, his words have something twisting in your gut, even as you tried to play it off.

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me why I saw them practically eating each other on the front fucking lawn."

It's like you can feel the moment your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"This isn't funny," your lip curls, but Farleigh's severity remains, "this is a sick fucking joke, Farleigh, and a shitty thing to try and pull today of all goddamn days," your voice is rising, but he lets your fury build, uninterrupted.

"It would be an awful joke," he agreed, "if I was joking." All of the hopelessness that had plagued you since Oliver had left began to crystalise, calcifying into rage as his words settled in, "I don't care about Oliver," Farleigh's gaze shifted for a moment, still tense and furious, but there was something very nearly apologetic in his next words, "but unfortunately for me and for you right now, I care about you and Felix."

"Felix." Oh God. This couldn't be happening again. You'd told Oliver; you'd warned him. The fucking nerve!

"Yeah," Farleigh mutters quietly, "and you're going to be the one to tell him." When you try and protest, you're met with a sharp glare, and a stern reminder of how this exact situation had been reversed only twelve months ago over Eddie, "I'm not doing that again," Farleigh warned, "you owe me."

"Fine," you spit, "fuck, I'll tell him," hands shaking, you light up a cigarette. Farleigh stands, but hovers by your desk for a moment.

"He really knows how to pick them," He muses flatly.

"Shocking taste in men," scowling our of the window, your agreement is nonetheless irate, "fucking unbelievable," you hissed under your breath, "and he thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"There is," Farleigh's words surprise you, stinging a little, all things considered, "you fell for that stupid, little boy too," he reminds with a particularly vicious look.

"So it's my fault I have to break Felix's heart?"

"I'm saying that you've given me a lot of attitude for not liking him, but Oliver wouldn't even be here without both of you."

"Get the fuck out of my study, Farleigh," you order, pointing at the door, cigarette in hand and fury in your eyes.

The anger bubbling in your gut is beginning to burn. A thousand things are racing through your mind; top of the list is wondering just how quickly you make sure he's never welcomed back at Oxford. All you'd need was your computer and an hour to ruin Oliver Quick's entire life; you'd done it before. But if you turned that monitor on, if you had to once again look at that fucking email from your family - not even your family, their lawyers! - you think you might throw up. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you'd make your move.

And you'd tell Felix. No need to wake him now, give him a few hours to still live in the fantasy where the boy he was falling in love with wasn't once again going after his sister. Fuck- Venetia.

The more you thought about it all the more frenzied your outrage became. She wasn't innocent in this either, she never was. Venetia Catton was more than adept at finding both yours and her brother's exact pressure points and pressing with vehemence. So desperate to be loved yet so unable to come across as anything but insatiable, she'd always taken what she could get. You were good, but clearly you weren't enough to distract her from new, shiny Oliver.

The taste of smoke sticks to your teeth, as does your sour contemplation on how little the people you tried to love respected you. Or Felix. Christ, how were you meant to tell Felix?

Except you can't even really begin to contemplate how you'll break the news when you hear footsteps across the gallery.

Felix doesn't even knock - not that he ever has - before he lets himself in. You thought you'd have more time; the anger still burns white-hot inside of you, but despair and guilt flickers at the edges. He looks about as rough as you feel, concern and ebbing irritation in his expression. Of course, he'd spent the evening in the presence of your mother; none of the others ever felt nearly as much ire in her presence as he did.

Without a word, he strides across the room, all but pouting, and throws himself onto the sofa beside you. Drawing his legs up onto the sofa, he makes himself as small as possible - quite a task considering his size compared to the small, squashy sofa - and leans against you, head on your shoulder.

"Hate that woman," he hisses under his breath. You know he means your mother, but your mind is on his deceitful sister. All you can think about is Venetia and Oliver, but you can't very well tell Felix now. You don't have the words to not make everything so much worse if you tried. Already you'd decided to tell him in the morning, but right now you had to keep him from figuring out what was bothering you. Or that you were bothered at all.

So you decide to take a leaf out of Felix's own book, keep him happy and distracted in the way you knew best.

"Bad night?" Your voice is low as you move your arm back, fingers carding through his hair. The way Felix hums is still dark, but he shifts closer to you. After another moment of quiet, he huffs an irate breath out through his nose and begins to pluck at the hem of your shorts.

"Can I maim your mum the next time I see her?"

"She's not worth going to jail over," you tell him, leg shifting into his touch. Felix's hand stops fussing with your shorts to grip your thigh.

"You are," he huffs resolutely, and even despite your own anger you smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you laugh softly, lips against his forehead, "but do you really want to be so far away?" Leaning back against him, your hand moves from his hair to graze your nails down his bare arm, hoping he takes the hint. Thankfully, he does. The warm grip on your thigh tightens, and when he turns to look at you, there's something hungry in his eyes, "she's not worth your time, Fi," it comes out almost as a snarl, a truth you believe even in the depths of your own, otherwise mostly unrelated anger, but you turn your tone teasing, smirking at him, "I just choose to think about how I was apparently on your mind all night."

"I'm always thinking about you," he almost sounds a little breathless as he says it, managing to sit up more properly without moving away. You let your gaze flick to his lips before going back to look him in the eyes. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you tilt your head very slightly, beginning to smile.

"And what are you think about me now?"

You'd always quietly loved whenever Felix was feeling possessive, and now moreso than ever. It made distracting him easy and fun, and Felix himself, his hands as he pulled you over to straddle his lap, to hold you close, to cradle your face as he kissed you so furiously, it was almost enough to distract you too. In all honesty, it was the only good thing to have happened all day, though even this was coloured by guilt, knowing what you still had to tell him when you found the right words.

However suddenly, Felix pulls back wearing a frown. For a few moments you find yourself catching your breath, confused, arms still around his neck.

"Something's wrong," it's not a question.

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, and hope it's more convincing them his usually are, "nothing at all," you hum, and move back in to press kisses to his jaw, hoping it's enough of a distraction to trail those kisses down his neck.

"You're angry about something," damn it. Of course Felix knows you too well.

"Am I?" You want to keep the ruse up for as long as you can manage, "and what would that be?" You murmured before you're sucking a beautiful, bruising hickey against his neck.

"I don't -" but his breath catches, grip on you tightening. It almost works; he swears faintly under his breath, losing himself in the moment and leaning into you, but then he actually seems to shake himself out of it, "come off it," he sighs, and you sit up, trying your best to appear both confused, and still in the mood, "if I'm not allowed to do this, neither are you." He says pointedly. Even though you're fighting a losing battle, you still lean in, still try and distract him with your mouth on his.

"Do what?" You murmur, nose to nose as you peck him quickly, desperately trying to keep your tone light and teasing. But you can see it in his eyes before he even says it; he knows exactly what you're doing.

"Distracting me because you know how fucking hot I think you are."

"And if I was," you murmured, pressing yourself against him, "why would that be such a bad thing?"

"Because you're being evasive," Felix pushed you back, held you at arm's length as your expression began to drop, fury beginning to creep back in as you remembered what exactly it is you didn't want to tell him, "you're not evasive with me;" he insists, "everyone else, sure, but this - whatever this is - is.. it's- it feels weird. This isn't you!"

"What am I then, Felix?"

"Mine!" He answered far too quickly, frustration sling out of him, but appears to catch himself, correcting to, "my best mate, alright? You don't not tell me things."

"So if there is something I'm not telling you, can you not trust that I might have a reason?" Finally your anger bursts from you, furious in the evening light. Felix has gone quiet, shocked; it's been a long time since you'd yelled at him like this. He looks wounded, apologetic, something you're not used to. Climbing off of him, you stand, you have to give yourself some distance from him, "there's a lot I don't tell you, Fi," you sighed, expression pinching as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

"You can tell me anything," Felix's voice has softened, leaning forward on the sofa. It aches to look at him, to see him so beautiful and vulnerable in these moments, "you know that."

"I know," you agreed, "it's not that I can't tell you, it's that I don't want to," you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, groaning; you can't look him in the eyes, can't even look at him right now, "and I will, that's the thing; I'm going to tell you, you're right, I always do, I just -" in a moment of weakness, your voice comes out almost sounding pitiful, defeated and frustrated, "I thought I had more time."

"What's wrong?" Felix asks softly. When you laugh, there's no humour in it. The more the reality of your situation sinks in, the more the fight leaves you.

"It's going to make you angry, or upset, or probably both," you sound rather helpless when you say it, but it seems like you no longer have a choice in when you get to tell him.

"Is it your mum?"

"I wish it was my mum," you shook your head, finally moving your hands to shake them out as you stepped back, leaning back against your desk with defeat. With every moment that passes you can feel Felix's gaze upon you, burning into you. When you are upset, he will never relent until he finds the source; usually it would be a gift, make you feel wanted and special and like you actually mattered for once. But this knowledge feels like a curse.

"We could run away," it's a last resort, barely more than a mutter as you look at your hands.

"What?"

"Just us," you continue, fidgeting, unable to look at Felix and the concern you knew you'd see in his eyes, "I could get us a little apartment in some artsy, London suburb," it's not going to work, not going to distract him, to keep him from prying the information from you that you know will hurt him, but it's all you have left, "you know nan would help us out, she'd kill for me. We could do whatever we wanted, never have to work a day in our lives. We could be whoever we wanted, wouldn't have to live in a house where they'd rather we die of heat stroke than ruin the wood panelling with an air conditioner," all you can think about is how you fell for a boy who didn't love you the way you hoped he would, and turned out couldn't even really respect you, "never have to go back to Oxford."

"What happened?" Standing, Felix crosses the short distance to your desk. There's so much sweetness in his voice as he sits in the desk chair beside you, looking up at you with his damn perfect brown eyes.

"I can't let this happen again, Fi," you hadn't even realised you were close to tears until it becomes harder to speak, "I tried, I fucking tried, I told him -"

"Who?"

"Ollie," you sniffled, face growing hot as you couldn't stop your tears from beginning to fall, "I warned him not to go near Venetia- I just- I can't believe she'd do this again, that Ollie couldn't respect when I ask him this one thing -"

"Ollie and Venetia?" There's an unsettling, blank quality to Felix's voice. The look in his eyes is far away and ice cold.

"Apparently hooking up on the front lawn," you clarified, voice weak, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, derision edging it's way back into your voice as some of the anger returns, "for God, and Farleigh to bare witness," you took in a deep, shaking breath, attempting to pull yourself together, "I tried, Fi -"

"Fucking unbelievable," Felix snarls furiously, getting to his feet, "both of them- fuck, was Farleigh sure? He wasn't making some sick joke?"

"Even Farleigh wouldn't fuck with us like that," you muttered darkly, before adding, quiet, sounding actually pained with frustration, "I've been nothing but good to them, Fi, I thought -"

"You are never touching my sister again," Felix cuts you off firmly, voice forcibly calm. Surprised both by his tone and his words, you look up; he's so much closer than you'd realised The look in your best friend's eyes almost overwhelms you; protective, possessive, "I'm not watching her treat you like that anymore," he braces himself against the desk either side of you, crowding you against it.

"Fi," your barely manage a whisper, heartbeat racing in your chest, "I..." for just a moment he looks almost pained, and he hangs his head, faint, humourless laugh escaping him.

"I have to watch you fuck around with people who would barely give you the time of day; you're so fucking good it kills me sometimes," he bites out; you can't tell him that you know they're just using you, that so many people simply entertain the idea of you as a way to stay in Felix's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Felix knows. There's very little in his life that he's ever felt the need to reflect on, and even less that he feels any particular guilt about. You used to think he was fine with this arrangement, that he knew you could find the fun in these one-sided dynamics, "they're fucking using you," he grits out, but you're surprised by the way his fury almost sounds like despair, "I watch them and they're fucking using you like you're not even a person, Y/N."

Felix looks up; the looks in his eyes is more serious than you think you've ever seen from him. Deliberately, firmly, he takes your face in his hands.

"You're not my shadow, you know that, right?"

For a very long moment, you think you feel your heartbeat stop in your chest. On the surface it's a completely ridiculous question, except...

Feeling your face grow hot, you know he can see you tearing up; Felix has always known you better than anyone, always known exactly what you seem to need to hear. Nodding weakly, caught, pinned by his intense gaze, his focus on you, your lip trembles. Already fraught with emotions from the day, and the evening that had just passed, you have no fucking idea what to say. Felix has never spoken this out loud, never let himself properly wrestle with the subtext that coloured so much of your dynamic; it flickers across his face, the surprise and guilt and realisation as it hits him what he'd just said.

You are so much more to him than anyone else will ever give you credit for.

You are not his shadow, but you are unequivocally his.

So you kiss him.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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blouisparadise · 24 days

Text

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of March. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Bloodsucker | Not Rated | 1,738 words

Harry and Louis’ passionate night takes a violent turn.

2) Hell Is A Teenage Boy | Explicit | 1,970 words

In the quiet suburbs of Roswell, the Tomlinson family has new neighbors: Harry and Alice Styles, a lovely and happy couple. Where Louis, a hopeless rebel fell for the man in the suit. Of course, he can't forget his pretty model wife holding his arm. Simple details.

3) Sweet But Psycho Only For You | Mature | 2,728 words

Finding your forever person is something that many dream to do. For some it takes longer than others and the trials it takes to get to that person can be overwhelming. For Harry it was simple. He didn’t have to relive a Shakespearean play or over exaggerated drama to find his love. He met his person at a corner store at 3am yelling at a clerk over cereal and instantly fell in love. It was all so simple. They dated, fought, fucked, moved in together. Oh, so simple. Until it wasn’t.

4) Blue Yarn | Explicit | 2,875 words

Louis was on his hands and knees on their bed, in nothing but the blue jumper Harry had knitted him, arching his back beautifully, fucking himself on… And Harry had to take one step closer before he realized that, outside of Louis’ bum, the end of his thickest knitting needle was poking out. Holy fucking shit. Louis was fucking himself on Harry's knitting needle.

5) To Make a Home Where There Is None | Mature | 3,907 words

Harry shows up and doesn't want to leave. Louis doesn't mind too much.

6) Your Hand In My Hand, So Still And Discreet | Explicit | 4,513 words

“It was about how cold he was under me. How still. It was knowing that even if he had died, even if he was already dead, he would still be mine.” Louis thought he knew each one of his boyfriend’s stories, secrets, and kinks. Turns out Harry was keeping a crucial one hidden away.

7) Haze On The Horizon | Explicit | 6,397 words

“— Louis?” He couldn’t speak. He should hang up. He should’ve never called. His breaths were building into a staccato. “…baby? Are you doing alright? Talk to me, please.” Harry sounded so concerned, and it was quickly weakening his defences. No. No, he wouldn’t. No- “Omega,” Harry called, voice low and just shy of his alpha voice, even through the phone, and Louis just… Louis broke. “I miss you! I-” he cried out, an agonising crack in his voice, a loud sob being ripped from him. “— I need you!” Louis sniffled harshly, slumping, before admitting, quieter, “I need you.” Louis finds himself unexpectedly going into soft heat. Which would’ve been fine, except he is hundreds of miles away from his alpha, Harry, and he needs him. They make it work.

8) Pour Some Sugar (Wax) On Me | Explicit | 11,213 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Okay, so I just need you to hug your legs to your chest for me, and we can get started.” Swallowing past the lump that has lodged in his throat, Louis reaches down and grabs his shins, hugging his legs up to his chest, effectively putting his bare asshole, taint, and balls on display.

9) The Room Thief | Not Rated | 12,321 words

Louis: Can I come over? Need your help. Niall: Did someone die? I don’t need to help you bury a body do I? Wait, did you behead one of your alpha flatmates? I hope it was the one that smells like cherries. That is such a weird scent for an alpha. It’s disturbing. And I can’t even smell it. Louis: I’ve just been kicked out. Can I crash on your couch? Niall: Zayn’s in class. I’m here so get over here NOW. Louis: Thanks mate. Gonna pack a few things and will head over. Be there in about a half hour.

10) I Dig Your Cinema | Explicit | 12,930 words

It wasn’t that Louis didn’t want to see Harry’s latest film; it was a tragically pathetic fact that Louis had watched every single show and film, every interview, every red carpet that Harry had done since his ex-boyfriend had decided to leave Uni in the second year and pursue an acting career. It's just that he wanted to watch it on his own, in his flat, with a soft blanket, beer, ice cream, and a large box of tissues.

11) I'll Look After You | Mature | 15,471 words

I mean, when Harry inherited his late uncle's hybrid, he didn't necessarily expect this... Where Louis is a nice hybrid cat who's never lived with anyone but an old man, and who discovers the freedom of living with Harry...

12) I Don’t Want You | Mature | 35,941 words

Louis never wanted to be an omega. He didn’t want to end up like his mother- a submissive omega that married his father in an arranged marriage, and is now living her life as a baby making machine, and a trophy wife who can never voice her opinion- Louis was never the quiet type, he always said exactly what he thought. But life has a funny way of fucking him over and Louis finds himself forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only Harry styles.

13) Hiding Green Smiles | Explicit | 45,227 words

Louis’ heart is racing in his chest. The idea of temporary bonding—letting Harry bite down right on that spot without it being a real bond—makes his mouth go dry. He didn’t even know something like this existed! His mind fills with all the possibilities and questions. What’s it going to feel like? How will it affect his orgasms? How will it affect Harry’s knot? What parts of a bond does it simulate? When Louis goes with Liam to a hidden sex shop, he discovers a new sex toy, the BiteMat, and he can't believe his luck. He loves being bitten, has a biting kink, even, and now he can be bitten over his bonding spot without the fear of anything permanent. He hastily buys it to try with Harry, his friend and roommate, and his regular heat/rut partner for the last eighteen months. They've been friends-with-benefits outside heat or rut for eight months now, and Louis' been desperately in love with Harry for at least five of those months.

14) A Match Into Water | Not Rated | 68,756 words

“So, who’s the guy?” Louis startled at the question, immediately locking his phone and dropping it onto the beanbag cushion below him. This was a topic he desperately wanted to avoid with his friends, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. That didn’t mean he would try to avoid it though. “What guy?” He rushed out, looking at Liza with a dumbfounded expression, trying his best to avoid Niall and Jeremy clearly sharing a knowing look. “You’ve been on your phone nonstop, you’re never on your phone while working. Not to mention, you’re smiling at your phone like a nutter,” Niall pipes up, grinning at him facetiously.

15) I Would Rather Go Blind | Mature | 79,150 words

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Louis asked with confidence, his gaze briefly flickering to Harry's plump lips, a momentary hint of desire flickering in his eyes. "I…" Harry's voice caught in his throat as Louis' gaze travelled downward, coming to rest on his chest. Without hesitation, Louis raised his hands from the desk, bringing them to Harry's chest, helping him button the one he had missed. When he attempted to pull away, Harry's hand shot out and gripped at his wrist. "You're shaking," Louis observed, his eyes shifting to their joined hands before returning to meet Harry's gaze, unwavering. "It's…" Harry cleared his throat. "It's you. You make me… I don't know what is happening to me." "What do you feel?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's… warm," he began, shyly bringing Louis' hand against the centre of his chest over his shirt. "Here." His hand slid down to his stomach, their eyes locked in a powerful gaze. "And here." They remained silent for a moment, both captivated by the intensity of their connection. "Every time you're near me."

16) As Sweet As You Are | Mature | 87,394 words

Note: This fic was deleted and has now been reuploaded.

"Do you not have something more expensive?" The alpha gives him a weird look, resting his hands on the table. "Definitely not something the cost of that shade of blue that are your eyes," he responds effortlessly. "Why is a male omega on his own out in the middle of the woods at this time of night?" Harry speaks, staring intensely at the prince, smirk lingering on his face. "Your kind is rather rare. You should be more careful. There are a lot of rogue alphas around that won't blink until they've knotted and bred you up." The blue eyed omega swallows, shuffling in his seat awkwardly and looking anywhere but the alpha before him. "I ran away from home," Louis admits, occupying himself by taking a sip of the lager instead of thinking about the fact that the alpha hasn't yet taken his eyes off him. "My parents want me to marry someone I do not want to marry, so I ran."

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp #blp fic recs

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malepresentingleg · 1 year

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Bed Friend Novel vs Series

I'm not sure if it counts as spoilers since I'm not going to address anything later than where the series is at now, only provide extra background information and point out some differences for what was already aired.

I have to say that so far I prefer the series to the novel but I still thought it could be nice to share key points that are missing.

Differences from the series will be pointed out in pink,

My own interpretation in green.

Uea's background (tw abuse)

Uea's parents fought all the time when he was a kid, and took so long to divorce because they argued over who's gonna get custody over him (both wanted the other to😶). His mom lost and was "stuck" with him ever since, with no child support from his father. She remarried and they moved to his stepdad's house, tearing him away from the extended family he loved in Lampang - the place Uea mentions by the pool in the work outing in episode 4.

His mom and stepdad had a baby, and for his mom Uea was just a sore reminder of her past life and she treated him like SHIT. His stepdad was gentle and tried to defend him against her and show Uea he's "on his side". When his mom found out about his gayness she flipped, did the locking him in a completely dark bathroom several times and was generally an abusive asshole pretty much like shown in the series. Uea kept standing up to her though, at least verbally about his sexuality.

Then at some point when he was a teenager his stepdad woke him up Like That (like in the series) and his mom didn't believe him of course. Since then his stepdad didn't hide behind subtly anymore and kept harassing him. Whenever his mom locked him, it would be even worse now because his stepdad kept trying to pick the lock to get him, which would have been even worse for Uea. Understandable why he's traumatized AF.

At the birthday the reason he left was not because of his stepdad, but because his mom only wanted him to come so she can ask for more money.

Currently he's 27, a graphic designer at that company for 3 years. People keep hitting on him because he's so pretty, but he's very annoyed by it. He hates when people hit on him through Jade (aka middleman), he hates players and flirts.

He had several boyfriends in the past and they all ended up cheating assholes basically.

The most tragic part of his life though is that he LOVES animals but is super allergic to their fur.

King and Uea

They first met 8-9 years before the series, Uea just ended a relationship and was at a bar. King hit on him a little but then Uea saw him hit on someone else and hated him for being "a player". A couple of years later he met him again when Jade introduced them. King and Jade are childhood friends from kindergarten, Jade was Uea's uni roommate so he was civil. Then he was very mad to discover when he started working that King works there too, and they had a kinda hateful relationship since, but it was very one-sided from Uea.

The first night they slept together they were both drunk, King just slightly less so, and he took Uea in a taxi to his house because he didn't know where Uea lives. He put him in bed, and Uea was too drunk to explain about the dark so he just begged King not to leave him and King "couldn't help it".

I think so far it's the only part I preferred in the book, because in the series King was driving and a lot less drunk and more aware of what was happening.

Later - King apologized for taking advantage of Uea like this (and really made a point of not doing anything with him at the work outing when Uea was drunk as we saw in episode 5).

Something I hated in the novel but loved in the series was the morning after, when King talks about how much of a gentleman he was and that he deserves a reward. In the series Uea replied wonderfully saying this should be standard, while in the novel he basically said King missed his chance when he didn't go for it the night before.

In general, King is more pushy and demanding in the novel, more playing into the trope of the big top who can't help himself.

He left a hickey on Uea which he was mad about and did a half-assed apology at first.

Unlike the series when King catches himself and remembers Uea doesn't like something, in the novel when King kisses Uea on the cheek again after Uea stopped him a while before, Uea was the one who had to say "I told you not to do this." and King was very nonchalant about forgetting about that too. Which, to be fair isn't the worst. It's not like King knows exactly what it means for Uea and that it's a big deal, but still pretty shitty.

Another thing that was much better in the series imo was the scene at the end of episode 5 when the lights went out. In the Novel they were going to go to bed and Uea tried to turn out the bedside light only to find out it's needed changing. He was going to go get a new bulb to change but King whined and stopped him from going and made him just stay and go to bed with him. Eventually Uea relaxed into his arms.

Uea keeps referring to him as a "sex addict" which I tie more with Uea's sense of shame about his sexuality.

Pretty early on in their FWB relationship Uea actually told King about his mom's abuse and the reason he's scared of the dark, but they didn't discuss it other than that.

Also at this point - they both like each other, they're both in love with each other basically, and they ARE pretty aware of each other's feelings. The issue is that Uea doesn't believe King can change and doesn't want to enter a relationship with him when King "is and always will be a player". (And he's a complete clown because they basically are in a relationship at this points sdfss).

King, too, is aware of his own feelings but is unsure if he can really commit. Verbally though he keeps trying to convince Uea he can.

Jade

I already mentioned he's King's childhood friend and Uea's uni bestie. He has a way bigger role in the book, and a whole romance of his own that by this point of the series should have concluded if it followed his character's story like the book.

He's exactly the annoying bl "helpless wife" trope and doesn't have much personality other than that. His love interest would have come and left the company by this point so I have no idea what their plan is for the Middleman Love. I know the book's events of that novel happen at the same time as the Bed Friend novel but I have not and will not read it so I don't know much more. For some reason they give some of the roles his love interest had to Gun, who doesn't have such a big role in the book.

I will say Jade is a good friend to Uea, and he really wanted him and King to get along since they're his two besties. When they started to be nicer to each other he almost cried.

Random bits

It really bothered me they went to get a blood test a week after their one-night stand when in the novel it was 3 weeks (the proper amount to wait before doing an HIV test). Also in the novel it was actually discussed it's for HIV (which... other STDs exist yknow), Uea gets tested regularly and also always uses a condom. King says he does too, but they didn't use one That Night because he was too drunk, for which he apologized.

Also, one time King talked Uea into having sex in the bathroom in the morning before work, Uea put his foot down about using a condom "No condom, no sex". They ended up late for work and Uea was pissed.

When they made plans to watch the football match they didn't do the fake phone call, the series really pulled through with that one : ')

Also, they watched the game alone at home, not in a bar with lots of other people (and it was Liverpool vs Arsenal).

There's probably definitely more, but this is what I remember off the top of my head, and my ask box is opened for more specific clarifications :)

#bed friend #bed friend the series #bed friend novel #ueaking #kinguea #bed friend meta #ish but not really #mjtag #idk if you'd be interested but here :)

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hiemaldesirae · 17 days

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Ok this is my second attempt at this prompt so the writing is probably not that good but what if Vox and Alastor had their first real fight because of Alastor’s treatment of husk bare with me

Vox goes to the hotel to check it out but when gets there he doesn’t see anyone so he just looks around and as he’s looking around he sees a bar and he sees Husk running the bar. Vox gets really excited about this it’s been so long since he last heard from his old mentor not since his deal with Alastor. Vox goes up to bar to finally talk to Husk but something stops him in his track now that Vox is close enough to get good look at him he notices how different he looked his clothes are scuffed and his hair is a mess not to mention his movement are sloppy like he’s constantly tired. Something’s up with husk and Vox will get to the bottom of it if it’s last thing he’ll do. By the time Vox got to the bar Husk had already prepared him his drink the fact that he still remembered what he liked after all these years filled Vox with a warm feeling. The conversation went on for hours both of them telling stories about the time they spent apart as well as the reminiscing about the moments they shared together it felt good it has been sometime since they had last spoken and it felt like no time passed at all it felt so good that husk forgot to filter what he was saying and he ended making an off hand comment about how Alastor’s been treating him now luckily all of the other hotel residents were already asleep because that would’ve been a disaster if they weren’t but still that doesn’t make this any better Vox has always been one of the last things keeping Alastor together so if he left who knows what would happen. Vox hasn’t said a word everything just went quiet it stayed like that for what felt like hours the silence only breaking when someone arrived right on cue Alastor walks in but before he can even say a word Vox is already dragging him into a random room as Husk watches nervously. Vox is smart he knows not to anger the radio demon he’ll be fine right? That hopeful thinking was immediately trashed when he started hearing yelling growing louder and louder so loud infact that the others were waking up even Lucifer came down to check if anything was wrong they all went to Husk asking if he knew what was going on but Husk was too worried really give them a answer the only thing he’s willing to say is Alastor sparking Lucifer to go on a rant . The fighting lasted for a while before Vox opened the door and storming out followed by Alastor who’s missing his iconic smile instead it being replaced by a scowl. Alastor without his smile is unnatural as creepy as his always smiling face is it’s at least somewhat normal once you get used to it but this was just wrong. No one would dare say word all either too scared are unnerved to say a thing “sooo” all except Lucifer of course “trouble in paradise?”

ough. ruh roh.......... trouble in paradise indeed

this is so good nonny. really. Guys. you have to consider writing these out. or at least detail them more to me... please.... i am but a starving victorian child and this is the last thing i will see before my tragic death at the age of 7 (but you can save me by feeding me more radiostatic morsels)

anyway. ahem. sorry i dont know what just happened i think i got possessed by sir pentious- the idea of vox and al's first real fight after they make up being over his treatment of husk is just. you know what thats so real to me. because like radiostatics general (Canon because if its ME writing ill make sure to make them sappy as shit) dynamic is like, ill treat you like shit and youll treat me like shit but in the end you're mine and im yours and thatll never change- but that only applies to THEM. if vox catches al treating his previous mentor (cough father figure cough) like that it is On Sight because first of all, thats HUSK. thats the guy who taught him like basically everything he knows, almost raised him in hell and on the path to being an overlord- and also, does this mean al would pay more attention to torturing husk than he would to vox? because thats just- unacceptable. honestly. so its just so funny if vox like storms out in a fury and whisks husk away to the vees tower or something and profusely ignores alastor and their dynamic gets reversed all because vox learns about the way al treats his thralls (DESERVED)

#ran rambles #hazbin hotel #general asks #radiostatic #dad!husk

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bots-and-cons · 1 year

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Can we have a scenario or some headcanons of Ratchet and Knockout with their future human s/o like, when they meet for the first time the s/o was like "Hello Nurse!" and after countless of flirting and jokes they fell hard on the s/o and they decided to confess to have a happy ending until one day the s/o dies because of Mech. (Yeah.... I love tragic sad ending shit. I'm sorry 🥲)

I was having bit of trouble with this one to be honest, because I absolutely suck at flirting and I had a hard time coming up with any good lines… Also I couldn’t really come up with anything for Ratchet, because I feel like he’s not really the flirty type, so just Knockout this time around

•Knockout is very flirty with anyone he’s attracted to, and you’re no exception

•You used to often greet him with “Hello nurse” with a sly smirk

•He always answers something like “It’s doctor actually” and he has to stop himself from grinning like a total dork

•He’s always trying to one up you with the flirting and jokes, because you both want to make each other smile

•It can turn into a bit of a lighthearted competition sometimes

•When you eventually confess to him, he’s pretty surprised to be honest

•He never really thought love was in the cards for him, at least not while with the decepticons

•But here you were, this wonderful person who he already held so dear

•And now you’re telling him you feel the same? He’s just so happy

•The whole “Hello nurse” thing becomes a bit of an inside joke as well as just something you tell each other when you need to

•Whenever you argue and want to make up, you tell him “Hello nurse” with a really soft voice and if he wants to make up, he tells you the same

•You had a good time together, but about a year after you went missing

•Knockout searched for you desperately, he called you probably hundreds of times in the two days before he finally found you

•You called him, and you didn’t know where you were, you just told him what had happened

•M.E.C.H had gotten their hands on you and tortured you for information on the decepticons

•They had left you in some warehouse, purposefully leaving your phone with you so you could call for help, hoping to capture whoever of the decepticons showed up to get you

•Knockout got there, and found you laying on something that had a crude resemblance to a surgical table

•You didn’t seem to be very hurt, but the damage was so much worse than he could’ve ever thought

•You had a lot of odd marks around your body, which he would later find out were electrical burns

•Knockout picked you up as carefully as he could and started carrying you out of the warehouse

•He was then hit by a couple of spotlights from a nearby roof and the bullets started raining on him

•He protected you with his body, since the all the bullets could really do to him, was damage his paint job

•He had to transform into his alt-mode quickly and you ended up laying on the backseat

•Knockout drove out of there as fast as he could

•He kept talking to you the whole way as he drove away from those bastards that had hurt you

•You did answer him a few times, but in a few minutes you fell quiet and limp in the backseat

•Knockout hadn’t really processed what you’d answered him, but now that he had gotten away and it was more quiet again, he realized what you’d said to him last

•”Goodbye nurse”

•When Knockout transformed back, he just sat on the ground with you in his hands

•You weren’t breathing, you were gone and he didn’t even know how to react

•He just sat there for what felt like hours, holding you and looking you over

•Your eyes were closed and if he could ignore the injuries you had, he might have just thought you were sleeping

•But that wasn’t true, he knew what was going on, he had lost you, for good and he felt like something inside him had died along with you

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #decepticons #knockout #tfp headcanons #transformers angst #reader insert #tfp x reader #transformers x reader

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smoooothoperator · 11 months

Text

What A Shame

07: Sad Beautiful Tragic

Driver! Charles Leclerc x Singer! OC (Juliette Morelli)

Exes to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Childhood Sweathearts

Summary: they realize their feelings, but the hard part is admitting them

Words: 2.1k

warnings: fluff, angst?? lot of tears, Mattia (he needs a warning, yeah), flashbacks are on italics

Official Playlist

Masterlist

previous part | next part

a/n: well well well!!!! here you have!! remember that there's only a chapter left. tell me your theories!!!

Every interaction is very welcomed!!!!

🏎️

How, in less than an hour, I found the words I wanted to say? I only needed to hear her sing, I only needed to hear her sing the song she wanted to be played at our hypothetical wedding.

"I just heard the most beautiful wedding song ever" she said while she threw herself on my bed, looking up at the ceiling with a big smile on her lips.

"Oh? Surprise me" I chuckled looking how she grabbed her phone.

The song started to play and I just had to look at her waiting for her voice. I know that she loves a song she heard recently when she already memorized it in less than a few hours.

"It's beautiful" I nodded while hearing it.

"Imagine it at our wedding" she gasped sitting on the bed.

We always knew both of us were going to get married. Our families knew it the first time we met at school, how we played to be a couple, how we made weddings in our backyards. We were soulmates, and soulmates shouldn't be separated.

"I'm already picturing it" I smiled looking at her. "And that's a yes. Is definitely added to the bucket list"

I know I love her. I always had. All those years without her were so hard. I only needed three months to know that I made a big mistake, listening and doing what Ferrari said.

"If you want to become a champion you should focus on the team and only the team" Mattia frowned looking at me. "What you did during the lockdown, playing on the internet, was a bad distraction"

"And what did you want me to do! I couldn't get out of my house, for god's sake!" I exclaimed.

"Well, train more! Focus more! Because it's obvious that playing games won't make you a world champion" he said mad, placing both of his hands on the table in front of me. "Focus on Ferrari"

"I have a life, Mattia" I frowned. "I have a family, I have a girlfriend. I have friends!"

"Well, then maybe you shouldn't have a girlfriend" he said.

"What?! Are you crazy?" I exclaimed, getting up off the chair. This is getting out of hand.

"Break up with her. She's distracting you" he said. "If you want the seat next season, break up with her. Or else you won't be here anymore"

Threats. Everything was a threat. If I did something they didn't approve of, they gave me an ultimatum. I was their golden boy, they put a lot of money for me.

They were my childhood dream.

And I did what they told me to do. I did everything. I was their puppet, someone they could use to have more attention, more sponsors, more fans. They used me to be back on top of everyone.

"Charles" Carlos called me, making me focus back on the wedding.

It's already finished. Everyone was standing up and clapping, watching how the newlyweds kissed.

I missed all the wedding just because I was locked in my mind. Shit.

"You have to sign the papers" he whispered to me and I just smiled weakly at him, walking towards Pierre and sighing.

"You were distant during the ceremony" he whispered, handing me the pen. "Are you okay, mate?"

Just as I was going to answer, Juliette started playing the piano again. She started to sing again.

"I'll talk to her" I whisper, signing the paper and looking at him. "I'll tell her the truth, even if that makes her hate me more"

Pierre just smiled and hugged me, patting my back and holding me tight. He knows I need all the support I can get. He knows how much this means to me.

"I'm sorry I spaced out all the ceremony" I sighed.

"I'm not mad" he smiled. "She was looking at you"

🎤

The moment I waited the most all year. Summer trip. I always went somewhere with my family, they promised me this year we will go to Italy.

"Mommy, how long until we arrive?" I asked, hugging the plush cat. "I want to show Cha the new plushie I bought for his little brother!"

"Soon, honey" she smiled looking back at me.

Summer trips with the Leclerc family were always funny. Since we were neighbors we planned the summer trips together, just because Charles and I never wanted to be away from the other.

Italy was beautiful, we both had so much fun. The backyard of the villa our families rented was so big that we could run free around.

"Cha!" I exclaimed, jumping out of the car, watching my best friend running towards me.

"Juls!" he smiled, hugging me. "I missed you, wifey!"

"I missed you too" I smiled, kissing his cheek.

"Wait, wait, since when are you two married?" his older brother and his friend Jules us, making him hug me tighter.

"We did it on the last day of school" Charles said proudly. "So none of you two would take her away from me! She's mine!"

"Okay, okay" Lorenzo laughed. "you better keep it that way, you don't want to make Juliette sad, right?"

"No! She'll never be sad! I promise" he nodded looking at me, holding my hand and linking out pinkies.

He made so many promises and broke them. He promised he would never make me sad, that he would never break my heart, that he would marry me.

I sighed, playing the last note of the last song and looked down at the keys. I wanted to get up, to walk out of the church and avoid that conversation with him.

I want to be mad at him. I really want to, but I'm so tired of that. I'm so tired of fighting, of lying to myself.

So I just gave up. I let the tears fall down my eyes during the wedding. I let my eyes look at him while they said their vows. I let myself think about us again, about our promises. I let my mind read him, looking into his eyes and talking with him only with our eyes.

He regrets things, he's scared, nervous.

When I saw him walking towards me after everyone left the church, I just smiled weakly, defeated.

"I don't want to argue" he said, making me nod. "I don't want to fight with you anymore. I... Juliette, you are the love of my life... And right now is like if we were the worst enemies out there"

It made me chuckle softly. Yeah, maybe we made a show with our two arguments, one last night and another this morning.

"I'm tired" I sighed looking at him, hugging myself. "I... I don't recognize us"

"Can we please talk as two grown adults, please?" he asked me, taking another step closer to me.

I nodded and sighed, watching how he smiled weakly and nodded too. He took a deep breath, trying to find the words.

"But" I interrupted him before he could open his mouth. "Can we please do that after everything is done? I just... I don't want to ruin their day, Charles. I don't want to be more emotional that I'm already am"

"Promise me you'll dance with me" he asked. "Promise me you'll save a dance with me and we'll talk as long as we need it"

I took a deep breath and nodded. I felt his hand on mine and I just felt shivers running up my back. I missed his touch, how warm his hands were.

"Just don't stare at me while I sing on their first dance" I whisper looking at our hands.

"I can't promise you anything" he whispered. I sighed and nodded, him letting go of my hand.

"I... I guess I'll have to get out. There are photographers so..." I sighed looking up at him. "I don't think it's a good idea if we walked out together"

"Yeah, you are right" he nodded, nervous.

I sighed and grabbed all my things, walking out of the church and immediately facing the media. I just smiled, posing for some pictures and immediately walked away back to the villa.

I tried to not think about Charles, not wanting to have high hopes. I just want this day to end and go back home, where everything seemed normal.

"Juliette!". Lando. "Hey, wait!"

I sighed and look back at him. No, I can't repeat it. Charles is here, I don't want to fight anymore.

"Lando, hey" I sighed.

"You sang amazing" he smiled walking next to me. "You really made me cry"

"Oh... Thank you" I sighed. "Look... About last night"

"I know. One night stand" he nodded. "But hey, we could be friends, you know?"

I looked at him and sighed. I felt Charles' eyes on me again and I felt the shivers again.

"Look... You are nice and all, but you are not my type" I sighed.

I smiled weakly and kept walking, making myself get lost on the streets of the village just to have time to think.

"Juliette!" he called me.

I turned around and sighed. Charles followed me, he walked behind me.

"Charles..." I sighed.

"They threatened me" he said, walking closer to me. "They didn't like that I did nothing during the lockdown. That I didn't train. That my first season in Ferrari was nothing. They wanted me to fight, to focus. To leave everyone to the side"

"What?" I frowned.

"Mattia wanted me to live only for Ferrari" he mumbled. "He obliged me to break up with you. To leave my friends. To not date anyone nor be involved in rumors. They used me as a puppet to have more followers, making promises that I would take the team back to the top"

I looked at him and swallowed thickly. Now I understand why he was nervous that night. Why his eyes were red.

"Juliette..." he whispered, closing the big distance between us, just standing a few feet apart. "I went to your shows. To your first show, I was there, on top of the stadium and watching you how you sang and danced"

"Why did you never call me?" I mumbled, feeling tears in my eyes. "Why did you never text me?"

"Because my publicist had a copy of my sim card" he whispered, holding my hands. "He controlled my media, what I should post and when. Who I followed and who followed me"

I looked at him. He was crying. He was crying and letting all his feelings get out. I missed him, how fragile he let himself be when he was with me.

"I missed you, Juliette" he whispered. "Every second, every hour, every day of my life. I missed you so much and it killed me that I could never be near you because they had eyes everywhere"

I swallowed thickly and did what my body needed to do. I just hugged him, I just held him close to me.

"I tried to find you" he whispered in my neck. "I tried to contact you but I was so afraid of you pushing me away again..."

"Oh, Charles..." I mumble rubbing his back. "I..."

Can't. I can't.

"It hurt so bad" I whispered. "It... The day you left me was the most painful day of my life. I could handle the pain of all those nights hearing you cry, holding you until you fell asleep in my arms. I could handle watching you fall apart and hearing your heart break when Jules and your father died. But... That night was like if you died to me"

"Juliette" he whispered, holding me tighter. He's here.

"I waited for you" I whisper. "A day, a week, months... But you never called"

"I wanted to call you" he whispered. "I... Valerie. Valerie was the only way I had of knowing how you were. She got me all the tickets, she made sure that you were alright"

"What?" I frown. "Valerie?"

"She wanted us together, Juliette" he whispered, pulling away and looking at me, cupping my cheek. "He wanted us back together, she threatened me so many times about telling you everything I did for you. And... God, I know I disappeared for ten years, but if you give me another chance I promise you that I'll never leave"

"Charles..."

"I'll never leave you, Juliette Morelli" he whispered, wiping away my tears. "I promise. I know that I broke so many promises. But... Please, give me another chance"

"Give me time" I whisper. "I need time"

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow @ru-kru

#f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 serie #formula 1 fic #formula 1 drabble #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

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rosepascal · 9 months

Text

The Light Of All Lights: Chapter 2 || Teacher!Joel Miller x Teacher!Reader

summary: A new girl joins your class and the lingering friendship (?) with Joel takes a turn

warnings: character death, mean parents.

a/n: Okay I finallyyyy wrote the second chapter oops. But I love teacher joel so much even if I had some writers block for this series lol

series masterlist

10 years ago

“Dad! Wake up we’re gonna be late!” Joel shot out of bed.

“Alright!” His morning voice was in full effect as he blindly threw the covers off his bed.

He should be used to waking up early given he’s been a teacher for years but sometimes he just needs some sleep. Life had been exhausting. Long hours, not enough pay, dealing with parents and the admin. Not to mention raising a teenage girl by himself.

Though to be honest Sarah’s been able to make herself breakfast since she was nine. Joel rubbed his eyes and sighed. He was like a zombie as he got dressed and headed downstairs. The day ahead of him is already filled with dread as the list of things to do in his head only grew longer.

“Get your homework done?” He asked as he took a sip of his coffee. His face scrunched up in disgust at the awful taste. Sarah rolled her eyes as she handed Joel a cup of orange juice instead.

“Get yours done?” He chuckled and shook his head. She never missed a beat with him.

“Alright let's go.” He smiled as she threw her backpack on her shoulder.

Everything felt normal. The car started and Sarah sat in the front seat like always. Her head bopping to whatever station she put on. Apparently his taste in music was “outdated”. He takes the same road he always does. Hitting every red light on the way.

One moment he was listening to Sarah talk about her math test. The next everything went black. When Joel wakes up Tommy’s by his side. He wouldn’t meet his eyes. There were tubes hooked up to his arms and his head hurt like a bitch.

“Sarah.” Is all he could rasp out. Fighting the pain in his limbs as he looked around for any signs of his daughter. Tommy closed his eyes. Shaking his head and Joel got angry. It was like he was feeling every feeling all at once but anger was the one that was winning inside of him.

“Where. Is. She.” His voice was raspy and every part of his body screamed in pain as he sat up, ripping the tubes and wires out of him.

The alarms blared but he couldn’t give less of a shit. Sarah had to be somewhere. In another room. She was alive and he was going to fight like hell to get to her. Nurses rushed to his room to get him to calm down. The stitching on his sides were ripping as he got onto his feet. His knees give out on him as he takes a single step.

“SARAH!” He yelled. The heart rate monitor beeped faster as he fought off whoever was putting their hands on him.

It wasn’t until he felt a small prick that the world around him started to fade and his will to right became less and less. When he woke up the second time all he could do was stare at the white ceiling. It didn’t matter how many times the Doctor tried to talk to him he didn’t listen. He was a ghost of the man he was. It was all a blur. Being released. Stepping into the house. Sarah’s funeral. Nothing was the same.

It never will be.

- - -

It’s been a week since the first meeting. You hate the way that you look at Joel now. How some gossip keyed you into the most tragic moment of someone's life. It felt wrong to learn that way but no matter how hard you could try, it would never leave your mind.

Silently you type away on your laptop. Your free period is spent catching up on grading. Your eyes drift towards the back wall, the one with Joel on the other side of it. Your thoughts wander to him again.

Maybe it was some weird thing now that you know about…well his past or maybe it was because you’ve been forced to spend time with him but you swear he’s becoming nicer to you. Friendlier. And you swear his eyes sparkle in a way that you never noticed. A knock on your door pulls you from your wandering mind and you’re grateful for it.

“Yes?” You close your laptop as Mrs. Barker opens your door. A girl stands behind her looking awkwardly at the ground.

“Hi, This is Ellie. I sent you an email last week about her.” Mrs. Barker says flatly. She’s not the friendliest woman.

You did get an email about a girl joining your freshman english class. You didn’t know much about her other than she was registered late for school. Offering her a warm smile you hold out your hand to shake.

“Hi Ellie, it’s wonderful to meet you.” She looks at your hand for a moment before taking it.

“She’s in your next class so I brought her here to get started.” Before you could say anything else Mrs. Baxter leaves. Sighing you tell Ellie to sit at a desk.

“So..Does she always walk around like she’s got a stick up her ass or?” Ellie asks and you snort. Normally you’re supposed to discourage that kind of language in a classroom but she caught you off guard.

“Mrs. Baxter…Has a lot of work to do so she can be a bit uptight.” Ellie raises her eyebrow and you laugh.

“So Ellie, tell me about yourself.” Her arms wrap around her backpack as she slides down in the seat.

“Not much to say,”

“Well I hope you have a great year this year.” You smile and she just nods.

You don’t expect her to open up to you at all or even like you but you want to give all your students a good year so you hope you can at least do that for her. You let Ellie hang out in your class until the next period, she wanders around and looks at your decorations before excusing herself to the bathroom.

After about 10 minutes you start to get nervous. Closing your laptop you walk outside for any sign of her. She left her backpack so she wouldn’t have just left the school right?

“Are you always this loud?” You hear Joel ask someone. Looking into his door you see Ellie sitting on one of his desks, her feet swinging back and forth as she munches on a fruit roll up.

“Ellie! You can’t just go running off like that.” You say gently as you walk into his classroom.

“I’m sorry Joel.” You apologize but he just shrugs.

“He doesn’t mind. He likes me.” Ellie says while smiling at Joel who just looks up at her and sighs. The bell rings for break and the halls begin to fill with kids.

“Go to class kid.” He says.

“I don’t know where my next class is.”

“Figure it out.” He says without sympathy.

“I’ll help you Ellie.” You offer and she smiles at you.

“See, that’s what a nice teacher sounds like.” She sticks her tongue out at Joel who just waves her off, a hint of a smile on his face.

“I’ll be waiting!” She hops off the desk and heads out of Joel's classroom.

“You ready for tonight?” Joel asks, taking you by surprise.

“Oh uh, yeah. I only have a few meetings today so. Won’t be too bad.” You answer nervously.

Joel’s never been one for small talk so it’s unexpected to hear him say more than a few sentences to you. But it was a nice gesture. Your first parent teacher conferences were daunting but nothing you couldn’t handle, probably.

“Good luck.” He says as students start to file into his class.

You nod and leave, a sudden nervousness settling over you as you help Ellie find her next class. Ellie’s sweet even if she’s got a mouth on her and you’re excited for the rest of the year. Though her relationship with Joel seemed interesting. Like they already knew each other despite Joel teaching seniors and Ellie being new.

She spoke to him without fear and he seemed to match her interesting sense of humor. Those thoughts float to the back of your mind as the day passes. The bell rings and students hurry out of class to their freedom.

Settling your papers you wait for your first meeting. Which goes fine. They aren’t exactly the most attentive parents as they don’t seem like they want to be there. Waving you off as you try and explain how their kid is doing in class. They leave, taking their kid with them and it’s clear none of them were paying attention to you.

The next few meetings go about the same. Some parents don’t care while others are overly involved. Asking you about extra credit and extra reading. The complete spectrum of parents is overwhelming to be honest. But as the clock hits five you’re ready for your final meeting. This is the one you were waiting for.

Matthew is a wonderful student. He asks questions and he tries his best every day. The only thing is that he seems to have trouble with assignments. You know he’s trying but he just can’t seem to grasp the concept fully. You try to help him when you can but you think he could benefit from tutoring. When his parents walk in you greet them happily but they seem anything but interested in you. As you begin to explain tutoring options for Matthew they get angry.

“You’re his teacher. If anyone is to blame here it’s you.” His mom spits angrily.

“No one is to blame here Mrs. Davis. Matthew is a wonderful student, he just needs some extra help, that's all.” You try to explain to her but neither of his parents want to listen.

“You are just as incompetent as the last teacher, we’ll be speaking to the administration.” They stand up and leave.

Tears welling up in your eyes as they slam your door. It feels stupid to cry but her words really cut deep.

All you wanted was to help these kids and it hurts to hear someone be so mean to you. You suppose you should get used to this. Mean parents are common but fuck it hurts. Burying your face in your hands you let out quiet sobs. In your sadness you don’t hear the door open or the man walk into your class.

“Hey, is everythin’ alright?” Joel gently touches your shoulder causing you to jump. He steps back and raises his hands.

“M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Of course to add insult to injury Joel finds you a mess in your room. Wiping your eyes you try to organize papers on your desk.

“I’m alright thanks for asking.” You mumble as you stuff papers into your bag. Joel shakes his head and sits on a desk in front of yours.

“I heard that lady yellin’ at you.” He admits and you stop. Your shoulders sag as you lean back in your chair.

“I know I know, I shouldn’t be crying over a mean parent.” “I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it.” Joel crosses his arms and looks at you, his stare making you nervous.

“No. I’m not.” His sternness makes you shiver, it feels like you’re being scolded.

“How…How do you deal with it all?” You ask him.

How does he deal with it? The shitty administration, the uncaring parents, the pressure, battling the want to help with the reality of what that means.

“Look. You can’t help everyone. It’s not possible.” He starts. He notices the way you deflate and it bothers him.

“But, if you can help one kid. Make a difference in one life. Then it’s worth it.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as your tears stop.

Joel nods, letting out a small noise to let you know that he heard you. He gets up and starts to leave but you stop him. He doesn’t really talk to anyone like this but you love this side of him and there’s a selfish craving to see more of it. To get him to open up to you little by little.

“Joel, um..Would you like to join me for lunch? I’ll pay as a thank you.” Your heart pounds in your chest as he stops.

Were you too forward? Did you mess it up? With every passing second the rejection seeps in. But turns and with a small smile on his face, one that you’d never seen but want to see more of every day.

“Yeah, I’d be happy to.” He offers you a small nod before leaving.

Excitement bubbles in your chest as you pack up your things. Slowly you’ve befriended Joel and while it's exciting for you, to Joel it's terrifying.

Letting someone in, it doesn’t come easy. He should've said no. Panic starts to set in as he reaches for his phone to call you. To tell you that he changed his mind. He opens his desk drawer and he picks up his phone. But he stops.

Hidden under stacks of paper is a small picture of him and Sarah. She took it on her polaroid camera, the one she begged him to buy for her 12th birthday. They’re so happy. Her smile makes his heart ache. He picks it up and ghosts his fingers along the edge of the picture.

“Miss you baby girl.” He mumbles sadly as he sets the picture down.

If she could see him now. She’d probably be so mad at him. Tell him to stop being such a grump all the time. She’d like you, he thinks. Putting the picture away in his desk he turns off his phone. Deciding that maybe going to lunch with you won’t be too bad.

Maybe having a friend wouldn’t be too bad.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #teacher!joel miller #pedro pascal x reader

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renren-006 · 8 months

Text

Hunt | John Winchester x Reader

summery: you meet john winchester, but maybe your not so clueless about the world of the supernatural as john thought you would be

word count: 623

a/n: hey all! i have been so busy at school i havent had time to write but im trying to make a point to finsh most of the request i got and to finsh up some other stories! dont feel bad about sending in more, i love hearing your thoughts. anyways this one is short!

You met John Winchester not too long ago. You were working in a bar in North Dakota when he showed up. He was younger then, and his boys were just hitting their teenage years. You were younger too, spry, good looking and one hell of a bartender. You were smart too, you caught on quickly to what was happening in that little town. Course it wasn't the first skin walker to live in the area and hopefully was the last. When John came in asking about the town and the disappearances.

“Hey” John had said to you, you smiled sweetly at him. “Do you know anything weird around town?” you caught on there fast.

“You mean the 4 locals that have gone missing since the summer started?” i asked him, “no not at all” the sarcasm rolled off your tongue with ease. You smiled back before passing him a beer. “Look weird shit has been happening here every summer since i started living here”

“How long have you lived here?” He asked you.

“About 5 years…After I graduated I decided I wanted some scenery change and since then haven't left here.”

“So bartending was your…”

“My dream? Absolutely not but I'm a people person and talking to the locals and the passing throat makes my day. "You told him, “Plus the weird things that happen around this area have kept me intrigued” John was interested now. You had left out a few details, the skinwalker in the local area was not the only thing that ever crossed into this town. There was a local ghost that haunted for a year before she was put down. She haunted the local library, before then it was an old orphanage and the little girl had been killed so, it was a tragic story that you did your own research about.

“What do you mean?” John asked. You smiled, you held up your hand to let him know you'll be back while you swerved at one of the locals before circling back to him.

“Look, I've been out here for 5 years, I know hunters when I see them now” you told him, leaning over the counter. “The skinwalker that's here, he terrorizes women, which is weird, but look there's only so many of us in this town. Do you get what i'm saying”

“You think hell be after you soon”

“Yes, I'm young, I fit the profile and if I went missing the only people that would miss me would be the men I serve their beer too. I have no family, no boyfriend, no child, i'm the perfect candidate”

“What if you stayed with you?” John asked you, “me and my boys?”

“I've got an extra bed and a couch” you told him.

“Meet you after your shift?”

“I get off at 5” you told him.

Those few nights John stayed with you, you felt like the safest girl in the world. You gotta know Sam and Dean extremely well for those days. Dean was hard to let you in, after all your nagging he finally did, and Sam well he already opened his heart to you early on after he saw how his Father reacted to your presence. You liked John, it was obvious. When he was packing up to leave that Saturday the light rain made it worse. “Here” you said strolling out ot the car. You handed john a piece of paper, on it was your number. “I know you have to go, but keep in touch okay?”

“Ill try”

“You better do more than try John Winchester, or i’ll be the one to hunt you down” you told him. He chuckled before he got in the car and left with the boys.

#supernatural #john winchester x reader #john winchester fanfiction #jeffery dean morgan #spn

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foxilayde · 7 months

Note

Danny!!! I just binged Season 2 of Case 63 last night! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it (if you're willing to share them)! 💕

You want to hear my thoughts on case 63? Oh dear sweet lovely anon, please buckle up because I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

I listened to season one probably 4 times in the past year and season 2 twice already (I have a lot of down time this week) and i took notes on the timelines because i thought i was going crazy and it honestly turned me into Charlie Day a little bit with the red string and notes and maps on the wall, “And i march down to Eliza’s office and say “Beatrix!! Beatrix!!’”

Anyway, spoilers below the cut.

I kind of want to start with season 2 episode 9, that thing that Vincent says to Eliza “peter didn’t send you here to save the world, if you’re his wife in one of the timelines and if peter lost his wife in 2060 when she was 38 because of Pegasus, his wife has to be born in 2022. And if you were, or will be, Peter Roiter’s wife, for her to be born in 2022, then you Beatrix should have died in 2022, but you didn’t. He knew you had to die, but he couldn’t lose you. Think about it, why did he need YOU to do the injection? He needed to get you to the extraction point. He tried to hide you and protect you from your death. He sacrificed millions to send you to the past to delay your death.”

That part reminded me so much of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen that movie, but the protagonist, Joel, is running through his memories with his ex girlfriend Clementine and trying to hide her away in places she doesn’t belong, just so she can live in his brain for a tiny bit longer. It’s just so romantic and it makes sense why then Peter didn’t sound upset when Eliza told him that she couldn’t inject Marie, he doesn’t even give a shit about the timeline anymore. He just wants her to be able to LIVE and be happy adfdskjas;defsdfk

But i can’t talk about this without talking about the inconsistencies…. **play Serial theme** One of which here is Helen Vince, Peter Roiter’s wife From the future, is supposedly born in 2022 in one of these timelines, yet in the 2012 timeline she’s born in 2012? Did i miss something here? The only theory i have on that is related to that thing Peter says about “time protects us” and that’s why travelers can’t KILL Marie. I think it works in reverse as well, that you can’t escape your time coming, things will shift and bounce to fit your time clock. Which is super tragic when you think about how that’s Peter’s only goal, to give Eliza more time.

That bit IS confusing, but ALSO so is the inconsistencies with Peter’s age at some points. Like when he talks about the Egregor and being 9 years old and people dying by their own hand because of it, yet the math says he was 6 when the Berlin Purge happened and he says it was 2030 at one point and 3035 when Eliza asks for clarification.

And some other things too, he gives two separate dates for “the end of the world” (unspecified event!) and despite the Great Deletion happening, he claims that the Garnier Malet effect is “taught in all schools” since 2034, but the great deletion happened in 2033, and at another time he said it was actually in 2053???

and there are several more inconsistencies but what I’m trying to SAY is that he’s obviously not lying…. Right? Because the time travel is real, we have seen that. So the thing that he MIGHT be lying about is that “a traveler can only travel once” rule. I have a feeling this Peter Roiter has been alllll over the damn place. Probably unsanctioned missions? In order to hide Beatrix in one time or another to avoid her death.

And let’s TALK ABOUT THE NAMES OK. So we are introduced to an “Eliza Beatrix” and Peter straight up calls her Beatrix, so I THINK HE’S MET HER BEFORE and I’m not Fukin talm bout Helen Vince here. Roll with me, because when Eliza goes to Vincent’s timeline and meets herself, she tells her ten years younger self that SHE should start going by Beatrix! THAT’S PETERS BEATRIX. And that 10 year shift? Would explain a lot of the TIME INCONSISTENCIES ARE YOU WITH ME??

Let’s also not forget that i suspect that Beatrix is the Beatrix from the recording at the end of season 2, the one that Oliver Collins gives to Marie Caldwell. ALSO A STRANGE HAPPENING for him to be giving that to her because he was hysterically telling Eliza to discredit herself to Marie… very interesting.

Also super weird of Vincent to be acting the way that he was after Eliza DIED. Odd. Hmmm. Yes lets talk about Vincent Caldwell. The photo on the wall that made the bedroom look like Rome! To close the loop on the Garnier Malet! Such a cool twist in that. And when Eliza says, “By sending me here, he ensured the continuity of the dream” GUTPUNCH. There is one thing that bugs me about closing the loop and that would be the “take a flight to Rome on December 31st. Platform 23 at 4pm” thing that Peter said. Because BRO KNOWS THAT HELEN VINCE IS GOING TO BE BORN DECEMBER 12 so really and truly what the fuck was that about?? He knew that shit wasn’t ever going to happen, right? IT BUGS ME.

Also, bonus heartbreaking tidbit:: in the recording that he gives Eliza he makes it sound like “I’ll have 40 years to contact the organization to get this information to you” but bro knows that little baby Peter Roiter is going to be born sometime in 2023 (or 2024 depending on the inconsistencies) so he’s got 2 years max to live. And he doesn’t want Eliza to know.

Interesting tidbits, in the 2022 timeline, she’s in a bathroom in jfk terminal 4, but when she wakes up in 2012 she’s in terminal 8, so it’s not the “exact same spot” like she was telling herself. (Truly don’t know if that’s relevant.) And just a fun fact, when Peter is talking about his wife Helen he mentions that he did most of the cooking in their relationship and when Vincent talks about his late wife he says he did most of the cooking as well. So Peter is canonically skilled in the kitchen in every universe lmao.

I loved the tidbits about our sci-fi movies being influenced by The Project ever since 1948, i thought that was a thought provoking parallel to our current time.

I really love Marie so much. She hears and accepts all this stuff from Eliza and then she says you know what? I’m going to prevent covid from ever happening. And she does! I mean, she couldn’t prevent the nuclear war, but i thought that was pretty badass of her to change the world like that, way to go, Marie!

Biggest mystery i can’t wait to have solved: how is it she’s able to co-exist alongside herself and have a conversation with herself when “one entity must die in order for the other to be born”? Hmmm? And I’d like to add, Peter cautioned her against interacting with herself saying “meeting yourself WILL create a vortex” MEANWHILE daddy Vincent says it’s okay. In FACT Vincent just drops his own little “oh btw i had a Garnier Malet that you needed to talk to yourself, byeeee” i love him— such a goober. But it all seems very key.

I’m very struck by Peter’s repetition of the phrases about broken timelines and having to travel all alone and be invisible, it sounds very personal. Idk maybe I’m projecting. But i think there’s a lot to his story that he maybe couldn’t share with Eliza.

I loooove the way Peter explains time travel, “to go into the future, the key is speed. To go into the past, the key is gravity.” I love everything about that and the “circular beams of light” I WANT TO EAT HIS WORDS and lets not forget “They call it entanglement which is a way of saying I’ve always loved you.” NOT TO MENTION the infamous, “I don’t CARE about 7 billion people” monologue. It’s like what Vincent said, this is at its heart— a love story.

I will be thoroughly shocked and impressed if anyone decided to read all that. But if you did, thanks for sticking around and please let me know about your thoughts/speculations about any and everything regarding the story!!

#case 63 #Peter Roiter #Vincent Caldwell #Oscar Isaac #Julianne Moore #Eliza Beatrix Knight

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psithurista · 2 years

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approach shift pt. seven

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.1k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Angst, brief mention of death

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

series masterlist

Bear points her spoon at you, her eyes narrowed. “That fucker.”

You wince. You need to leave if you don’t want to miss your train, but the sooner you get off the stool at the bench, the sooner you have to go outside, and it’s sleeting miserably out there.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up again.”

“It’s been over a month. Why are you still thinking about him at all? Guy turned out to be a piece of shit. It happens to the best of us.”

You run your tongue over your teeth. Dirty dishes are cluttered in the sink, and the sight makes your skin itchy, especially with the knowledge of the recent cockroach plague that had befallen the building, but you’re out of time to do anything about it now. “I know you’re going to tell me I’m being an idiot, but I just. I can’t stop thinking he wasn’t lying about everything, at least. I mean, if he was fucking around with someone else, why not just say so? I left that door way open for him, you know?”

She speaks around her full mouth, looking down at her phone. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“I’m going to tell you you’re being an idiot. What’s the big deal with Parker anyway?” She checks off on her fingers. “So he’s tall. He’s got those stupid fucking big brown baby cow eyes. He’s nice.” She injects so much sarcastic venom into the word that you’re surprised it doesn’t slither right out and across the table. “Like you couldn’t find fifty other tall, pretty, nice guys on this block alone willing to rock your shit any night of the week.”

Easy for her to say, you think, glumly.

You’re painfully, tragically fixated on him. You’ve been trying to convince yourself that, logically, most of it’s probably just to do with how much is still unresolved. You don’t have any answers, not even shitty ones.

Of course you’d be stuck on it. Who wouldn’t be?

But despite the occasional waves of fury-tinged sorrow when you let yourself think about it for longer than a few minutes, you just…

You really, really miss him.

You miss the way his eyebrows draw up and together while listening to you talk, and the way he’d always nudge against you when something dumb happened in a movie until you nudged back in acknowledgement, and his terrible one-liners.

You miss how easily he blushes, and how creased his eyes get when he smiles really big.

It’s a disorienting feeling. You’ve been fantasising in equal measure about throwing everything in your fridge at him, and pressing your face to his neck to breathe in the smell of his skin.

You’d get deeper into it, if Bear wasn’t already over talking about it. “I just can’t believe he hasn’t even messaged,” you settle on instead, the small-sound of your voice irritating even to yourself.

She slurps another mouthful of cereal. “Oh shit, they’re remaking Jaws.”

“I gotta go,” you say, throwing back the last tepid third of bitter instant coffee in your mug. “I’ll be home after six if you still wanna have that thing with Chris.”

“Proud of you,” she says, not looking up. “Go cure cancer.”

You wrap your jacket around your lowered head, your shoes clopping loud on the tiles as you rush down the subway stairs and into the dry.

You’ve been trying to make a habit of setting a positive tone for the day on the way to work; a piece of advice you’d gleaned from Googling “get over breakup” one particularly pathetic Sunday morning a couple of weeks back.

The suggestions were embarrassingly self-helpy, and if Bear caught you she’d probably toss your phone out the window.

Now, safely ignored by every other occupant of the train car, you surreptitiously scroll down to tap start on the podcast you’ve been listening to, slipping your earbuds in.

“…it’s important to remember that it’s okay to fall down, as long as we get back up.”

You lean your head back, gently rocking with the rattle of the train. Everything smells like damp ashtray and hotdog water.

There’s a young man sitting opposite you, his legs stretched out into the aisle, reading a paperback. He’s wearing sage brogues with no socks and pants just short enough to bare his crossed-over ankles. You catch a glimpse of the spine: Calvino.

“…each of us has the same dirty geode inside of us, and we just need to polish it until it shines. Your geode is precious and rare, and it is in your hands, women warriors.”

You cringe so hard it’s almost audible, scrunching your face as you hit pause. Maybe you should let Bear throw your phone away.

You look back up in time to see the man across from you quickly averting his eyes back to his book, smiling slightly.

His haircut looks expensive, and you imagine that he’s the kind of guy who’d buy thirty-dollar jars of asparagus and artisan coffee beans for his elaborate cold drip set up. The kind of guy who would probably have an unironic opinion about regatta season.

You’re being unfair, but you can’t help it.

As though he can feel your attention, he looks back up. He smiles again, this time a little more pointedly, tilting his head to one side in a curious, open gesture, as if he’s inviting you to let him in on the joke; whatever it is you’re wincing about.

You lower your face to your phone screen, shy. He’s attractive, and the direction of his smile feels nice, if you’re being honest. But it only lasts a second, and then you’re thinking about a messier haircut, less well-cut jeans, ratty Vans.

You grit your teeth to creaking. You don’t look back up until you reach your stop, slipping quickly past, not slowing until you’re back out under the open, grey air.

Oscorp’s research centre dominates the entire corner of the block. The gardens around the entrance are filled, as always, with visitors taking pictures.

As far as image rebrands go, the garden had been an inspired move. While the tower itself remains staunchly brutalist, the arches of whimsically sculpted greenery bunched around the base soften the lines of cement and glass spearing into the sky.

You hurry up to the main entrance, digging blindly around the clutter in your bag for your ID. You’re not late yet, but by the time you make it through security and up to the lab, you will be.

Nobody looks up from their screens as you finally slip inside the twelfth-floor workroom, letting the heavy door sink soundlessly shut behind you. Doctor Brant’s office door is closed, but considering the entire wall is made of glass, it doesn’t really help your situation.

In an insane stroke of luck, however, he seems to be preoccupied on the phone. His head is slightly bowed, elbow braced on his desk.

You wince, performing a strange tiptoe-dash in your effort to make it across to the other side of the room before you’re noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, plopping into your seat.

Your desk-neighbour Gary looks up. “Did you say something?”

His skin is the same reddish-pale shade as his moustache and thinning hair. From a distance, it looks like he has an unnatural protuberance of skin growing between his nose and upper lip.

“Oh, I just meant, I’m sorry I’m late.”

He looks at you blankly. “Okay.” He turns back to his screen, where he’s entering observation notes into the record template.

“Okay,” you mouth to yourself.

The research program Doctor Brant heads is one of Oscorp’s longest-running, and the position within it had been highly coveted among the intake of new graduates. You’d heard the wistful envy in the voices of other assistants during corporate orientation, and you’d felt secretly proud.

The thing about respectable, coveted, long-running programs however, is that day-to-day, for the most part, they’re excruciatingly boring.

On today’s agenda: heading into the lab for observations, ordering the saline from ops you forgot to order yesterday, printing fresh labels for your third-round samples, having a wrestling match with the machine when it prints your labels wrong, more observations.

You’re frowning down at a page filled with confusing readouts when Doctor Brant’s office door flies open. He stalks out, a folder under his arm. “This is how we start haemorrhaging funds again,” he’s saying into his cell phone, looking harangued. “How many times will they audit before they believe us? This time, it really isn’t us doing whatever this is.”

You glance around to see if anyone else is paying attention. They aren’t.

“I’m coming up there myself. Hold on,” he adds, quickly, furiously, hanging up. He spots you staring and veers toward you.

You only have to panic for a moment about being busted eavesdropping, then he’s pushing the folder into your hands.

“Legal wants this. Can you scan it through? I’ll be out the rest of the afternoon so shred it when you’re done.”

You look down at it in bewilderment. It’s stamped CLASSIFIED, and there is an edge of slightly-curled continuous printer paper sticking out one side, blue-lined and hole-punched.

He’s squinting impatiently at you, so you snap your attention back and try your hardest to look capable and trustworthy.

“Absolutely. Of course. I got this, no problem,” you say, adding a quick, “thank you,” for good measure.

You wait until he’s gone before flipping the folder open.

At first, it doesn’t make sense. Just rows of digital printed timestamps and letters.

Then you realise you’re looking at observation notes. From an earlier incarnation of this program? You can’t tell.

You sit down, leafing through. The title pages are missing, and you recognise none of the non-standard abbreviations. It’s almost as though it’s written in code.

There’s a string of names at the bottom of the last page, but only one jumps out: PARKER, R., pale-faded but clear as day.

You hunch in your seat.

Of course.

Parker, you are quickly learning, is an irritatingly common surname. You can add ‘old research notes’ to your list of things that are now ruined, right under Sex and the City and jazz.

You spend a few more minutes flipping through the readouts, feeling increasingly deflated as the secret meaning fails to present itself to you.

Someone has signed off in black pen at the bottom of each page; just two letters, N.O., again and again, as though taunting you. If you’d been hoping for some kind of excitement to break up your day, here is your answer: no, no, no.

You feed each freshly-scanned page into the shredder, already bored again, ready for lunch.

People crowd ahead of you as you make your way down to the Wellness Centre.

 Part of Oscorp’s public image overhaul had been to re-establish itself as a forward-thinking, people-focused company. As though renaming the cafeteria and offering pilates and handing out filtered glass water bottles could erase the lingering spectre of accidental death and injury left by the last several decades of Oscorp’s operations.

“What‘s going on today?” you ask the woman typing an email on her phone beside you.

Her eyes flick up for a second before returning to the message. “Free plants, I think.”

You decide dealing with the crowd isn’t worth whatever food is on offer. Turning, you weave your way back toward the elevators and spend the entire trip down fighting the urge to dig your phone out of your bag.

It’s stopped drizzling, though the sky’s still grey. You head toward the cafe on the next corner down, right opposite the park, your bag bouncing against your hip with each stride.

You’re almost there when you realise your phone has somehow leapt into your hand without your permission, and you’re refreshing your messages.

There are a handful of new notifications from a group chat comprised of people from school, one from one of your old co-workers, and a link to a video from Bear.

You hold the door open for a girl carrying a tray of coffees, and she slips past, murmuring her thanks.

It’s busy and warm inside, and everything smells like toasted bread. You order in a daze, stepping to the side to wait, your attention back on your screen.

Peter was last active twenty-five minutes ago. You refresh it again, your thumb hovering over the screen, rewarded with the same thing you’ve seen the last thousand times you’ve checked.

i’ll come by to pick you up at 5ish for dinner tonight. may said she’s really looking fw to meeting you :)

It wouldn’t hurt just to make sure he’s doing okay. Just a quick message, to ask whether he’s been sleeping, and to check that he hasn’t got another black eye or broken any bones since the last time you saw him.

You picture him getting home to his empty, dark apartment at two in the morning. Dripping a little water onto the aloe plant that lives on his bathroom counter. Curling up in his bed.

It would be harmless.

Wouldn’t it?

Your head snaps up at the sound of your name being called. You’re scooping up your coffee and paper-wrapped bagel when you hear it again, behind you this time.

“I thought that was you!” May’s smile lights up her entire face, almost as bright as the floral scrubs she’s wearing.

You gape wordlessly for an uncomfortably protracted moment before you manage to reconfigure your face into what you hope passes for a smile. “May! Hi! Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

“Hospital cafeteria coffee is a special kind of awful,” she says, lifting her hand to show you the coffee she’s holding. It’s in a vacuum-type cup; pink and insulated.

You try to angle your body so your own coffee in its non-reusable cardboard is a little less visible. “Oh, right! Yeah! Of course!” You need to calm the fuck down. Your voice is about three octaves higher than usual.

She pauses. “Is everything okay?”

You open your mouth to respond and find that you can’t. You’re still emotionally snagged on the barbed thought of Peter watching old sci-fi movies in bed alone. Having May in front of you is making you feel hot and trapped.

May’s brows crease. “Oh, dear.”

You laugh, embarrassed, touching your fingertip to the inner corner of your eye. “Shit, sorry. This is. Um. Yes, yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.” You laugh again, and it comes out like static.

She purses her lips. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the park.”

Her tone brooks no argument, and you find yourself glad to obey, your brain happily soggy and freed from decision-making. She leads you to a quiet spot by the fountain, on the stone steps.

A toddler with a chaff-coloured cowlick blowing in the wind is chasing the pigeons and shrieking with delight. You watch his parents smiling at each other as they follow close behind.

May digs a tube out of her bag and deposits a dime-sized amount of citrus-smelling lotion into her palms before smoothing her hands together. “Peter always tells me I should stop trying to get involved in things that are none of my business, but then, he really shouldn’t talk.”

You swallow a mouthful of coffee. “We kind of broke up. I think.”

She makes a pained noise, but doesn’t seem surprised.

You feel the need to defend him from the disappointed look on her face. “It’s my fault. I misinterpreted the whole thing. I tried to make it more serious than we agreed. Peter didn’t do anything wrong.”

She does look surprised at this. “I thought it was already serious. Peter’s never brought anybody around to meet me before. And from how he’d been talking…”

Your throat tightens. You look down at your knees and find there’s a ladder forming in your tights, right below the hem of your skirt. “I thought so too. Or hoped, at least.”

She doesn’t push the conversation further, which is nice of her, but it means you’re left with an expanse of expectant silence. A mouse-brown sparrow flits past your head and dives into the row of bushes surrounding the fountain.

“He never told me how he was feeling.” You wonder if this is a mistake. It’s probably weird of you to be having this conversation with his aunt, without his knowledge, when you aren’t even together anymore. If you were ever together. “But I could tell things were just…off. Sometimes.”

She nods. “The whole Oscorp thing couldn’t have been easy.”

“Yeah,” you agree, before you realise what she’s said. “Wait, what?”

“Well, it’s…it’s just probably bringing up some painful memories for him having you there, that’s all. After what happened, you know, with Harry, and everything else.”

“What? You mean Harry Osborn? Like the old CEO’s son?” You’d heard he suffered some kind of semi-public breakdown not long after his father’s death, smashed up one of the labs and lost all of his remaining shares before disappearing into a hospital somewhere, but you can’t imagine how any of this connects with Peter. “I’m sorry, I’m really lost. What are we talking about here?”

The sparrow emerges victorious from the greenery, a doomed grass spider wriggling in the pinch of its tiny beak. May’s eyes dart searchingly between yours, her expression growing cold. “He hasn’t told you.”

You gnaw the inside of your cheek. You feel very stupid. “Hasn’t told me what?”

She looks terribly sad. She gently lays her hand over yours, her plain wedding band cold against your skin. The gesture feels like the application of a balm, preempting pain. You imagine then that she must be a very, very good nurse. “Oh, sweetheart. Her name was Gwen.”

——————

Bear clomps through the apartment, all the way from one side to the other and back again. Her footfalls sound heavy. She must be wearing her oil-slick rainbow Docs, you muse. Her door was shut when you got in, so this is only a guess, but you can practically see her through the walls.

More clomping, then a pause, coming to a halt right outside your bedroom door. “You nearly ready to go?” she yells.

If she’s wearing those boots, then you’d be willing to bet she’s also wearing shorts. Maybe those green high-waisted ones. You really like those shorts. Maybe you’ll ask where she got them.

“Can I come in? Are you naked?”

Then again, she probably found them in a thrift store. She has a weird talent for finding cool stuff wherever she goes; one you sadly do not share.

Your door opens and she stands silhouetted against the light, looking down at you sitting on your bed, in the dark, in your pajamas for a long moment. “Do you want me to cancel with Chris?”

“No. You go without me. I kinda wanna be alone.”

She cracks the knuckles of her index and middle fingers absent-mindedly. “O kay, but you’ve been alone. Most nights this week.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice sounds strangely flat. “Just tired.”

She cracks her thumb; a single loud, thoughtful pop. Then she walks away, leaving your door open.

You contemplate climbing into the shower fully-dressed. You’re sure it’d feel nice, sitting under the warm spray. It’s only the thought of then having to peel the cold, clinging skin of your pajamas off after the fact that convinces you not to.

Bear reappears sans jacket, now silent on socked feet, the spare blanket from the sofa in one hand and her laptop in the other. She shuffles into your room. “You wanna watch The Thing?”

Your sinuses tingle and you almost cry with affection for her. “Yeah,” you say, your voice tiny. “Yeah, I wanna watch The Thing.”

“The old one,” she qualifies haughtily as she plops onto the bed beside you. “I don’t give a fuck how sad you are; we’re not watching the remake.”

“Obviously,” you say, scooting over to make room for her.

As you settle in, you catch a glimpse of her thumbs moving swiftly over a message, making an excuse to Chris, something about you both eating bad leftovers. She could’ve just blamed you, but she doesn’t.

You aren’t really seeing the movie. It’s all just colours and shapes and noises. Your eyes follow the splashes of red across the screen as you speak, quiet.

“His girlfriend died.”

You can see her looking at you from your periphery, but she doesn’t say anything.

“It happened right before college. It’s why he took a year off and started late. His aunt told me it was an accident, but he saw it happen, and he couldn’t stop it, and he blames himself.” As though to drive it deeper into your own guts, you say it again. “She died. In front of him.”

There’s a long silence, broken only by the voices of the actors onscreen.

“Shit,” Bear finally says.

“Yeah.”

May hadn’t shared many details. Just that she— Gwen —had interned at Oscorp, and that Peter had been friends with Harry Osborn since they were children. The dual losses had been near-simultaneous. Peter hadn’t recovered. Not completely. Not really.

“He never seemed to talk to anyone. Except for his aunt. It’s why I didn’t think he was seeing anyone else, even with all the weird shit going on. He was totally isolated from everyone. Like, I had to be the one to approach him the first time we… anyway.”

Bear nods. “Is he in therapy?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her next words come out very carefully, as though she’s trying to be tactful. “Do you think…maybe, you don’t really miss being with him? Are you sure you don’t just feel sorry for him? Or like you need to save him?”

You think about one of the last times you’d gone over to see him. He’d stopped to hold the stairwell door open for one of his neighbours; a sour-faced old man with arms full of groceries. The man had given no thanks, or even acknowledgement, but Peter had still followed a careful distance behind, darting forward to hold the door again when he’d reached his floor. He hadn’t even said anything. Because, you now know intimately, that’s simply the type of person Peter Parker is.

You think about the clean-laundry smell of his hoodies and the awkward way he folds his frame into too-small chairs and how carefully he ran his hands up the length of your throat while he was buried inside you.

“I miss him.”

She sighs. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

You both sink into silence, watching the characters in the movie play out their inevitable ends. Despite the gore, this feels safe. Like model trains with nowhere to go but to the ends of their assigned tracks.

You nudge her foot with yours. “Sorry for fucking up your night. You’re a good egg.”

She pats the top of your head, then quickly yanks her arm away to stifle a sneeze in the crook of her elbow. “Yeah, I know.”

You fall asleep curled softly into the warm space left by Bear’s body.

It’s pouring so heavily you can barely keep your umbrella over your head. Your arms shake with the effort, water sloshing and sucking at your feet.

“It’s coming down pretty hard,” you shout.

“What?” May shouts back. You’re standing together in her kitchen. The floorboards have liquefied to mud, the drops pinging metallic off the benches and light fixtures.

“I said it’s raining really hard!”

“It’s okay,” she yells. “Peter’s fixing it.” Her face is a washed-out blur in the distance. The dimensions of the room are off; she’s at least twenty yards away, the house stretched to surreal proportions, and in the gloaming you can barely tell which direction to turn your body.

“Peter’s here?” You spin around, squinting into the dark. “Peter?”

You grope groggily out of the blankets for your phone, still beside you on the bed. It’s just after four in the morning.

He was last active two minutes ago.

you should be asleep, you type, squinting, and then swiftly delete.

i hope you’re okay, you try again, backspacing the characters as fast as you write them.

Is he alone right now? Is he warm enough? Is he safe?

i’m really sorry.

The message glows at you, unsent.

You turn over and sleep again, dreamless this time.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine

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