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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months

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Breaking the Rules

Modern!Aemond x reader | Summary: Aemond was the one who established the rules of your fwb relationship, but can he really follow them? | Word Count: 5.4k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: fwb relationship, fingering, p in v, pussy slapping, dirty talk, degrading, ass slapping, hair pulling, creampie, insinuation of oral (m receiving)

That little slither of time between submitting your dissertation and actually graduating was heaven.

The last student finance payment hit your bank, as well as everyone else’s, and as soon as exams were over, it was time for a party. One last part to send you all off into the big wide world.

Doing a four year course was akin to starting school for the first time, as it seemed everyone around you had done three years instead, graduated a year ahead, and you had to remember people’s names, make new friends and circles, all over again.

At least it was only one year.

There was only one person who had also done a four year course, your bestie, Helaena. Who just so happened to be the reason you met your now fuck-buddy, Aemond, of just over a couple of years.

Truthfully Helaena was the only thing keeping you sane. She was ‘mother’ on night’s out, the one who made the best hangover dippy eggs ever, but also just an all round good friend. Your absolute rock. She’d been supportive, albeit protective, when she’d learned of yours and Aemond’s…unconventional friendship.

Could it be called a friendship, if he wasn’t really friendly?

Not that he was ever mean. He just didn’t have a social bone in his body.

But an absolute freak in the sheets.

For a man so quiet and unsociable, he was surprisingly rough. He craved control, and this obsession didn’t stop in the bedroom either. But you enjoyed that about Aemond. It always felt raw, dangerous, as if he needed it. One flip of the switch and he was in that headspace. And the moment it was over, he’d retreat back into himself and leave soon after.

Helaena was the type of person who could spend all night in the 24-hour Library, head in her books and like it was any other day, have her hair looking pristine, face clear ready for her 8am lecture the next day. You, on the other hand, turned up, but looking considerably worse for wear than your dear friend, a messy bun perched on top of your head, and hefty dark circles under your eyes.

Your lovely, silver-haired friend was sat cross-legged before a floor length mirror, pulling a curling wand through her thick strands of hair, only leaving them long enough to form a loose wave. The phone screen perched on your bed lit up.

“That Aem?” Helaena asks, looking at you in the mirror.

You furrow your brows, “Baela. She’s meeting us there” you answer, typing out the response to her before clicking the phone away, “What are you wearing tonight?”

"Nothing terribly impractical. I'm not impressing anyone" she answers, dusting some highlighter over her cheeks. Not like she needs it, the cheeky sod, she already has amazing bone structure.

"Liar" you smirk, biting your lip, "You know Floris is going to be there and you're purposefully wearing a low cut top"

"Oh my god, leave me alone"

"I'm just pointing out the facts"

You get up and go to your wardrobe, pulling out a floral dress. It's July, so the nights are still bright and it's humid all the time, something short should do the trick.

Part of you wants to wear nothing underneath, just to see how far you can take it. Would Aemond be jealous? He shouldn’t be. He was the one to suggest you two weren’t exclusive, and that if either of you bumped into each other or just felt like it, you’d fuck.

But it's a party with old uni mates, so begrudgingly, you've opted to keep on a lace black thong, one you know gets guys immensely riled up. It's quite entertaining really.

Usually, you’d be disgusted to turn up to Aegon’s house. He was single, and unapologetically filthy. However, when you arrived, you were relieved beyond measure to find that Aegon had employed the use of a cleaner (probably at the behest and payment of their mother) before inviting people over. No used condoms, cigarette butts or lingering weed smell.

Since graduating, Aegon had opted to move into (quite permanently) one of the homes that Viserys had owned on the outskirts of the city. When their dad died, Alicent found no use of such big homes and so rented them out as Airbnbs. You remember Aemond telling you how Aegon was more than happy to just slip in unannounced one day, and that he’d paid for the first month’s rent, but after that had mysteriously stopped. Alicent let him stay anyway, as long as he behaved himself.

Which, of course, he didn’t.

You walked hand in hand with Helaena through the front doors, the bass and sheer loudness of the music audible from even the curb. Aegon had gone all out. Some of his friend’s were graduating as well, so he’d invited everyone. Pretty much half the university by the looks of it. Even though by student standards it was still fairly early, the party was heaving, so much so it was difficult to tell in the low light of the inside who was who.

“There she is!” Aegon’s voice boomed, a cigarette already between his lips and that lazy, dozy look in his eyes. You give Helaena a knowing look. He’s quite clearly been drinking a while.

He makes a show of leaning in to fake kiss his sister on the cheek, “My darling sister and …oh it’s you”

You playfully swat his shoulder, “Shut up”, you raise your eyebrows with a smirk, “Oh, nice to see you respecting the no smoking inside rule”

Aegon merely winked, flashing a smile with all his teeth before being dragged away for shots.

Helaena gasped quietly, “There she is, there she is, there she is”

Floris was on the other side of the room, leaning against a chair with a can of gin and tonic, wearing quite the piece. The effort almost rivalled Helaena’s, and your silver-haired friend was vibrating with excitement.

“Okay okay, deep breaths. Calm the kitty and just go talk to her”

She goes instantly pink, looking quite ethereal against the violet of her eyes, “I can’t just-”

“You can. I have every faith” you say, giving a reassuring smile and pushing a can of g&t in her hands.

Her eyes look nervous and worried in equal measure, “You going to be alright on your own?”

You nod quickly, “I’ll be fine, I’ll badger a Lannister or something”

She smiles anxiously and takes a breath, crossing her fingers. You watch as she crosses the room, dipping her head to Floris’ eyeline to initiate a conversation. She’s so cute, you think as she flushes pink.

With the party in full swing, now several cans deep and a nice buzz, you’ve found yourself ‘engaged’ in a conversation with a Martell, Baela and Rhaena having ventured outside for a smoke. You don’t remember his name, you only know that he smells dizzily of Tom Ford Black Orchid and that he’s giving bedroom eyes.

You say ‘engaged’ in conversation. Martells aren’t exactly known for their conversational skills, so you’re mainly nodding along to whatever he says, hoping that he might show you his bedroom skills associated with the stereotype.

Your phone vibrates and you look at the illuminated screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at his texts. What on earth would he need to talk about? And the unsent text messages are giving horror movie vibes, so with the buzz of the alcohol as well as your disinterest in him (and heightened one in the Martell) you click your phone off and put it back, only to be dragged to the dance floor by your hand.

Ok so he's not the best dancer either. If anything a tiny bit clumsy and mostly just grinding his clothed dick into your ass any chance he gets. But the buzz of the drinks, low lights and loud music drowns out all that. You and Aemond hadn't fucked in forever it felt like, and a woman had needs.

It's not even that you were pissed off at Aemond. The rules were rules, of course. But everything you did was always on his terms, and you felt you couldn't say a single thing about it.

It's not like you were his girlfriend.

You knew he was fucking at least one other girl. Alys Rivers. She was fucking gorgeous, but also quite a bit older. Something about the entire thing felt wrong. Like she might have been grooming him or something. But of course, who were you to judge? He had his own life. Could make his own choices.

He didn't know you weren't fucking anyone else though, things like that you kept close to your chest. The terms were no feelings. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was the only one you were fucking and for one inescapable reason.

That you’d violated those terms.

So, in the interest of figuratively getting back at him, you smirk up at the Martell and push your ass back against him. His hands on your hips, pulling you back, moving with the best of the music. The dress leaves so little to the imagination that if he ventured merely a few inches lower, he could easily dive between your thighs.

The thought makes your insides clench. And you feel the Martell get hard behind you.

Your head zips up quickly, slightly dizzy, as a flash of white hair passes. At first you think it's Helaena, but there he stands, Aemond, on the other side of the room with a bottle of beer nestled in his grip. His violet eye watches darkly, as you continue to dance with the Martell. He almost looks amused, but frustrated at the same time.

Aemond hates parties. Especially now that he's graduated. So why the fuck is he here?

After rolling your eyes and finishing the song, you decide to not give Aemond the satisfaction of knowing you care enough to ask, instead going to the table to mix yourself another drink. The Martell guys isn't far behind, a hand on your waist.

You can feel his stare at the back of your head, even more so as the Martell’s hand ventures down, over the curve of your ass. One move under the hem, and he’d be touching bare skin. Something about it ignited a spark inside, knowing that he was watching.

Looking over your shoulder, he was watching still.

The fuck is his problem?

Some poor girl was standing at his side, trying to engage in some kind of conversation, which was clearly going well. He wasn’t giving her an inch of attention, and you smirked at her attempts, taking sips of your drink every now and then.

Around you, the party had almost doubled, some people you didn’t even recognise. Aegon’s house would be trashed in the morning, but looking over at the other Targaryen brother, who was happily dancing on the dining table, pouring the contents of his bottle down a girl’s top, he didn’t seem like right now he cared. In the corner, Helaena and Floris sat together, knees touching, looking pink in the faces with alcohol and chatting quietly amongst themselves over the loud music.

You downed your drink, wincing at the alcohol that hadn’t been mixed at the bottom, before whispering to the Martell, “Just going to the toilet”

You give a sigh as you ascend the stairs. Another nice thing about Aegon’s place is that whenever there are parties, going upstairs is a nice breather. Yes the bass still vibrates through the walls, but the bathroom is far enough away that it gives a moment of respite and a chance to sober up.

Which you promptly do once you’ve washed your hands, wiped under your eyes for any runaway mascara in front of the vanity, and take a breath to face the party again. To face him again.

It turns out, you didn’t have to. As soon as the door opens, you gasp and stagger backwards as Aemond firmly wraps his palm around your neck, just as a means of holding, not squeezing. Your back meets the wall with a thud, eyes looking wide up at him in a mixture of confusion and anger. His eyes have more in them, as he stands in front of you, tight lipped and fired up, ready for confrontation as he promptly shuts the door and locks it, setting your heart to a faster rhythm.

“You know, I was going to be nice” is the first thing he says, “But now I think I won’t”

He stares back with conviction with his one good, violet eye, his other a clouded over light blue, with the angry scar that ran through it somehow looking more painful that you’d seen it before. All you knew about it was that he was secretive about how it had happened, and only a handful of people had been told.

You were considered not worthy enough to know clearly.

You can’t deny, this side of Aemond thrills you. But despite the fluttery feeling in your stomach, your expression hardens into a frown.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

He has the audacity to scoff, his hair, now shoulder length, sways as he moves, fingers flexing against your neck.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” he says, “I don’t think that’s the question we should be asking, is it?”

It occurs to you now that he’d been looking down at you, because now when he rights himself to his proper height, you have to look up at him. You swallow thick, some part of you nervous, and his eye glints when he sees the weakness there.

“I think we should be asking what the fuck you were doing out there” he finishes, low, attempting to be threatening.

You scoff, “Is that what this is about? Me dancing with an empty-headed Martell?”

“I wouldn’t call that dancing”

“And I would say I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Aemond” you bite back, expression hard against his. His mouth forms a line, “We just fuck, remember?”

His tongue hits the inside of his cheek in annoyance. But you’re not backing down.

“Although” you grin, looking him up and down, “We don’t even really do that anymore, do we?”

He takes a sharp breath in, releasing your neck to grip your face and tug you close to him.

But you just laugh, “What’s wrong? Can’t get it up?”

“Fuck you”

“Save that for Alys. See if I care” you hiss, trying to pull out of his grasp harshly.

An annoyingly smirk makes its way to his face, and you have to reaffirm to yourself to be mad at him, “Someone's jealous”

You scoff, “I’m not the jealous one here. You’re the one on my case because a Martell stared at my ass” you counter, his fingers digging into your jaw almost painfully, “I’m the one playing by the rules”

“And what rules are they?”

“The ones you made, dumbass” you argue, attempting to pull your face from his grip, but failing, “You know, not having feelings, being a cold, dead cave of a man who doesn’t want to admit he’s just having sex because he likes being in control”

Aemond’s face right now is unreadable, and he’s so close that you can feel the hot puffs of air that come from him. He’s angry, and you can see it. Something simmering beneath that cold gaze.

Under that though. It’s clear as day. He’s being put on show for his behaviour, in a manner someone nobody has dared to do before. And it is this vulnerability it’s clear he doesn’t enjoy.

His chest inflates large, taking a deep breath in before he speaks. But when he eventually does, it’s a surprisingly quiet whisper.

“I’ve not been with Alys for months”

The admission takes the breath from your lungs, and his fingers loosen somewhat. Moving along your jaw in a gesture too soft from what he was doing before.

“What?”

His face hardens a bit again, “She isn’t around” he admits softly, “It’s just you”

“Aemond-”

“I’ve changed my mind” he says, his his eye darting about your face, taking in your shocked expression, “I don’t like to share”

Your lips part and stay frozen where they are when his other hand squeezes the bare flesh of your thigh under your dress, tugging the skin painfully before venturing up to stroke his two fingers against your clothed pussy, his breath hitching when he feels the wetness already there.

“I’m very disappointed in you” he chastises softly, dipping his head into the crook of yours, running his sharp nose up the side of your neck, making all those little hairs stand on end. You feel like your heart is hammering so hard all the blood feels like jelly in your veins, a hotness creeps up your shoulders, and a pull of arousal tugs at your gut.

His lips part and he bites the skin there, semi-hard, enough to break skin if he really wanted to. You whine with your eyes shutting softly, his fingers drawing mini-circles around your entrance, and it’s difficult to not move your hips to meet his touches.

“You weren’t playing by the rules anyway, were you?” You mewl as his tongue runs over the site where he’d bitten, breath stuck in your throat as his fingers move your underwear aside and collects your slick on his fingers.

Warmth blossoms in your core as his fingers gently massage your bud, “Fuck-Aemond...”

His shirt is bunched in your fist, and you can feel him smiling slightly against your neck. The glint of the chain that peeks out from under the neckline of his shirt catches your eyes for a quick moment. He never took it off. Even when you fucked. Truthfully, it was sort of thrilling, watching it dangle in front of your face whenever he was on top of you, holding your legs up to your shoulders to-

“Were you fucking other people?”

Shit.

Two of his fingers sink all the way in, setting a flame ablaze inside. His breath is hot against your tender skin, his fingers far too effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside and brushing against it, stoking the fire within.

“You were so talkative earlier. What’s wrong, baby?” he asks in a faux sweet voice, not able to hide that shit-eating grin as he fucks you slowly with his fingers, “come on, you can do it”

Your breath feels so thin in your lungs it’s difficult to think, but his teeth bite at you again, as if to reprimand and your body jolts briefly, “Fuck-uh…No-no I wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what?”

“I-” fuck this guy, “I wasn’t fucking anyone else”

“Hm” he hums low in his chest, pressed right against yours, you can feel it in your own, “I think that was against the rules, wasn’t it?” he asks, adding a third finger into you.

The first genuine moan manages to escape with the addition of his third finger, quiet, but it feeds his ego nonetheless. And he fucks up into you with renewed vigor, his breath coming in hurried pants, as if he cannot function unless he makes you come apart on him. His palm is grazing so hard against your clit with each micro-movement, that it honestly makes it difficult to breathe.

“The rules were we fuck who we want. No feelings” he reiterated, lips against your ear, “You broke the rules first”

“I didn’t-” your voice falls apart as he pushes, the pads of his thick fingers rubbing hard against your g-spot. That feeling returns in a wave of warmth, settling with pressure deep in your core and you squeeze impossibly tight at the incessant stimulation. Aemond groans quietly and low, feeling the soft, silky walls of your pussy clenching around his fingers alone, legs trembling trying to stay standing.

“You think I didn’t see it?” he asks in accusation, voice hard and stern, “You’re a smart girl and yet-” his other hand holds you around your waist, pulling you towards him as your body trembles, a white-hot, blazing orgasm making its way devastatingly through your core. His fingers never letting up their pace, “-you’re acting like a stupid little slut right now. All wet for me”

The degrading manner of his words and the pleasurable assault of his fingers prolong your orgasm, fading into your limbs with a dull buzz. But one that doesn’t last long. His fingers pull out of you, covered entirely by your arousal, and he presses them against your lips, groaning as your mouth accepts them and licks his digits clean. It’s so erotic you hum around his fingers, looking up at him through your eyelashes and smirking with pride once he pulls them away.

He doesn’t look any less stressed out. If anything he looks more pent up.

“I can’t stand you”

Your lips part in surprise, a quiet mewl escapes and a pained pleasurable jolt running through you when Aemond practically rips your underwear down your legs and delivers a hard firm slap to your wet heat.

“Aemond-” you start as his hands curl around your nape, pushing you harshly down over the vanity of the sink. You can feel him pressing behind you, your hips digging painfully into the porcelain, and feeling utterly exposed in your sundress now that he’s pocketed your underwear.

He flips the bottom of your sundress over your back, his palm meeting the flesh of your ass with a loud slap, making you whine as your cheek is pressed to the porcelain. It hurts, but you can’t help but feel that familiar throb of arousal in your core as it clenches around nothing. Your skin blooms in anticipation as you look back over your shoulder, hearing the clinking of his belt. You can’t help but smirk at how quickly he pulls his cock out, the angry red tip poking out through his fist as he strokes himself to full hardness.

“Don’t fucking look at me” his fingers thread into your hair at the crown and grip hard, pushing your head back down, pressing his erection against your slit and teasing you slowly.

You moan softly, moving your hips back to seek more friction, which earns several more hard slaps to your already tender ass in discipline, each followed by a desperate whine that falls effortlessly from your mouth. He almost gently soothes the angered skin with his palms after, clearly happy with the colour he’d made. He’d always been rough when it came to sex, yes, but this felt so much more exciting.

“You think you deserve it, hm?” he asks, barely pushing the head between your slick folds, parting them only slightly. It all feels so sensitive it almost hurts. What you’d give for him to just fuck you already is honestly pathetic.

“Please-” you say quietly, moving your hips towards him, even if it means he’ll punish you again.

He chuckled darkly, leaning over to pull your head up, your eyes meeting his gaze in the mirror. You look a bit of a mess, with mascara smudged at the sides, the waves you’d put in your hair slightly frizzy and cheeks flushed a dark pink. And as much as Aemond likes to put on the persona of control, his cheeks are just as flushed, as desperate for this as you are.

“Look how pathetic you look right now” he grins, his hand moving to your front to tug the dress over your front, a low growl forming in his throat when he finds no bra underneath. He palms your breast, teasing the hardened bud between his fingers and the feeling sends a cold tingle through your body.

“Beg for it” he whispers, mouth next to your ear. But all coherent thought is gone when the head of his cock runs down your slit, over your entrance and slaps it mockingly against your clit, the throb from the previous release still lingers and it sends shots of fire in your belly.

“Come on, baby”

“Please- fuck me” you breathe, so desperate that it sounds borderline cringeworthy to say. But you cannot bring yourself to care.

He grins. That was easy.

Your lips part in a gasp as his length slowly splits you open, stretching your pussy onto his cock. He knows what he’s doing and takes his time, allowing you to feel every vein, every ridge, even the way the tip tucks into that sensitive rough patch inside, your back arching with the electricity it gives you. It surprises you everytime, just how full you feel when Aemond fucks you. He is long and thick, able to fill you in a way that you’d never been able to find in a guy. And fuck did he know how to use it.

"Gods, tightest little pussy I've ever had…" he moans quietly.

Your body and jaw slackens as he pulls out and snaps his hips back against you to slam inside, a choked moan falling from your lips. His hand moves to your jaw, keeping your gaze in the mirror to look at him as he fucks you slowly at first, watching how your ass bounces with every push of himself inside. His head is buried near your neck, breath hot against your skin,

“You like that, huh” he breathes against you, hearing the strain evident in his voice. Your voice is useless right now, only able to make a few soft sounds of pleasure, “like it when I fuck you?”

Only a struggled moan comes out, and you catch your lips between your teeth, hyper-aware that you’re still fucking in a bathroom at a party.

"No need to be shy. It's just you and me" he utters against your skin, “Let me hear you. Or have I fucked you dumb again”

He punctuates his demand by pushing you forward harder, the porcelain digging into your hip bones and spreading your ass cheeks so that he can somehow get deeper. And he makes a grunt of displeasure when he doesn’t get the reaction he wanted. So instead he grabs the flesh of your calf and bends it high over the counter, spreading you impossibly wider.

It’s unconscious the way your mouth opens now, releasing your lips from your teeth as you moan helplessly, feeling the way his cock bullies your sweet spot, the way his flesh hits yours with every wet smack.

“Are these sounds just for me?”

“Yes…yes…” You chant almost imperceptibly.

“And it’ll only be me” he grunts, “do you understand? You’re mine”

You nod quickly. The pleasure is so overwhelming that you’ll agree to just about anything right now. Your core winds so tight, it feels like a fist is curling inside you and Aemond fucking you is just accelerating it.

“Say it” he demands, pressing your body against the vanity, his cock punishing your insides faster and harder. With each thrust comes the hard thud of the furniture against the wall, which you hope that the bass of the music downstairs covers enough.

“Yours…I’m yours…” your voice sounds almost pitiful. Every bit of you just desperate for that final reprieve.

Aemond grins against your skin, “Good girl…” he coos, his lips finding purchase on your neck and biting down, grunting into your skin at the way your pussy tightens around him as your second, more powerful orgasm echoes throughout your body.

"Shit- couldn't have any other pussy-oh fuck-you're perfect, baby" he coos next to you, the term of endearment making warmth creep into your chest.

It has Aemond fuck into you desperately, prolonging your seemingly never-ending pleasure into a long stream of fucked-out moans and breaths. With one final slam of his hips against your ass, his grip so tight it’s almost painful, you feel the warmth of his cum paint your walls. His cock twitches, trying to stuff as much of him inside you as is physically possible. Thank the gods for IUDs.

“Fuck-”

Both of your breathing is equally heavy, his hot against your shoulder. You can feel the intensity of it through his chest as it’s pressed against your back. His cock softens inside the longer you two remain in this position, until his hips leave you and he pulls himself out with an almost pained sigh.

Gulping air back into your lungs, your legs shakily meet the ground, tiredly pulling your dress back over your ass and bracing the sink, feeling the pleasant sting at your hips where they’d continued to meet the furniture.

His gaze meets yours in the mirror as he tucks himself away, looking somewhat flushes and uncharacteristically soft, especially after the way he’d just fucked you.

It’s so quiet, it’s like whoever speaks first, loses.

“I meant it” he says, somewhat breathily as he too gains grasps his energy, “I’ve not seen Alys in months”

You turn around to see him properly, half sitting against the vanity, feeling the soft throb of your heartbeat through your core still.

“Why?”

Aemond looks almost bashful, his cheeks still pink from the force of your little tryst just now combined with the way he nervously licks his lips.

“Because I’m the one who broke the rules first”

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean, Aemond?”

He swallows thickly, making a point of looking right at you.

“I caught feelings and…” he pauses, searching his mind for the rest of the sentence, “...didn’t want to scare you off”

Your lips remain frozen, parted. Your eyes flit about his face and he raises his arms, as if annoyed he’d even told you.

“I’ve never had this before”

“Had what?”

“Had this” he gestures between you both, “It’s never been like this with anyone else” he admits, his voice withering away at the end, “and I’m just fucking shitty at showing it, I know-”

“Aemond” you step forward to cup his face, halting his irritation in its tracks. Your thumb runs over the scar on his face, gaze on his eyes entirely, “you don’t need to explain yourself to me” you say softly.

"But I do" he argues, without that sternness to his voice now, but rather so quiet it's almost a whisper, "I didn't want to fuck things up. Because I always do"

You shake your head once, "What do you want? From this?"

"I want you" he says almost immediately, swallowing his saliva with anxiety, "and I want you to be mine…"

You laugh at his sweetness, he's never been like this, "I already said I was yours, remember?"

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, chests touching, "Think I always was"

The first genuine smile you ever see from Aemond Targaryen, is when you tell him this. It looks good on him. The way his eyes crinkle up is just too charming to resist.

Before he can say anything, you lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing over the silver chain. You hum in delight when you feel him shiver at the touch.

Kissing him as softly as this, your lips parting for each other to slowly consummate this budding relationship, it feels like you're meeting each other for the first time. Feels so intimate, like you're the only people that exist right now, despite the thump of the party downstairs.

You both pour everything you feel into the soft caresses of your lips and tongues, trying to make him feel as loved as you think he deserves.

He smiles bashfully when you break, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"This was a good touch" he says jokingly, "was it for me?"

You laugh, "It might have been"

"Cheeky little minx" he replies, pressing a soft, tender kiss once more to your lips. It feels so right, you want to hit yourself for not addressing this sooner. It feels nice to have your heart so full like this.

Aemond grasps your hand in his large one and goes to unlock the door. A motion you stop immediately, pushing him by his chest.

"Um, what are you doing?" You ask, a teasing smile on your face.

A moment of panic passes his face and it makes you want to laugh. His eyes wide and mouth open, wondering what he's done wrong.

"Getting back - to the party?..."

You shake your head, your palm running over the prominent bulge in his jeans.

"Not with this you're not" you smirk, "was all this just from kissing me?"

He bites his lip, trying to hide his grin and the way he visibly flushes from your hand on his erection.

"...Maybe"

"Maybe?"

"Maybe" he grins.

Your hands go to his belt once again, making light work of it. Aemond groans breathily as your hand encircles his length, giving him a few languid pumps that are just painfully too slow.

You smile through your eyelashes as you sink to your knees, feeling yourself become aroused just at the sight of him like this, all vulnerable and at your mercy.

With his cock heavy in your palm, you press your lips to the base, making your way slowly with your tongue to the top, tracing the vein there on the underside. His musky scent, smelling of sex and sweat envelops the air around you.

"Let me take care of you first" you grin, watching his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

Perhaps rules were made to be broken.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Aemond Taglist: @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Pick Your Poison

Request: from @doctorsteeb OH YOU SAY YOU NEED MORE ROSSI!DAUGHTER REQUEST?? I AM HERE I HAVE ARRIVED

Rossi!daughter being a barista and unknowingly serving BAU their coffee all the time? Then eventually learning she’s rossi’s daughter?

(Tell me if this is Too Specific I can be more vague)

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Criminal minds x platonic!reader

Summary: You've been serving coffee to the BAU team for months... imagine their shock when they learn that you're David Rossi's daughter.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I love writing rossi daughter. The sass, the italian nicknames, the banter- it's so much fun! I hope you enjoy this! (this does include the request of reader having studied abroad but I'm doing a seprate fic for that one as well)

CW: an absurd amount of talk about types of coffee, if you look up the meaning of rossi's nickname for reader you might cry

---

It was 4:00 AM when your shift at the coffee shop began. It didn’t open until 5:00, but you were in charge of opening the place yourself. You didn’t mind, though; it gave you time to think about how you might mess with your dad’s co-workers that day.

Rossi went back to work at the BAU just before you entered high school. With his busy work schedule, you both agreed that a boarding school close to home would be best. When it came time for college, you applied to a few schools in the States, but you had an itch to see the world. It was an incredible, well-earned surprise when you were accepted into the University of Bologna in Italy. Your dad had been incredibly supportive, and even though your extended family was dysfunctional at best, he was happy you’d be going somewhere there were relatives nearby.

You loved Italy, but after graduation you had wanted to move home and take a gap year. A friend from high school had opened a coffee shop not far from the Quantico office, and having been a barista at a local shop through college to help pay for your student costs (not that you needed it when your dad could easily afford your tuition) it was the perfect situation.

The fact that your dad’s co-workers were your most frequent customers didn’t hurt either. Not that they knew you were David Rossi’s daughter - your tag only displayed your given name - but it was interesting to have such casual interactions with the people your father spent most of his time with. And having been raised by a profiler, you had a little too much fun knowing something that the best minds in the nation didn’t.

---

It was 4:56 AM when Aaron Hotchner pushed open the door to the shop. Had it been any other customer, you would have told them that it didn’t actually open for another four minutes, but the man was there frequently enough that you really didn’t care. Plus, his order was about as simple as possible to make: a robusta medium roast from Columbia with a single shot of espresso. After only a few weeks, you noticed that he ordered an extra shot in his morning coffee about three days after a case, when the paperwork was the most heavy. This happened to be one of those days.

“Good morning, Mr. Hotchner,” you greeted him. “I’m already working on your usual this morning, unless of course you would like to try something new.” You knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at his watch. “Could I get an extra shot of espresso?”

You put a lid on the cup and handed it to him, moving to the register to ring him up. “Already done,” you told him.

He chuckled a bit- the smallest smile escaping his lips. “Do I really look that bad?” He handed you cash as he always did so he could leave the change in the tip jar. This morning he was either so tired he hadn’t thought about the bill he pulled out of his wallet, or he was feeling generous. By what you had heard about him from your dad, it was probably the latter.

“Not at all,” you handed him his change. “We all need the extra boost some days.”

“Thank you,” he said, putting all his change in the jar before leaving the shop.

He hurried out so quickly he didn’t even notice that you had written out his order on the board of specials for the day, calling it “The Unit Chief”.

---

As always, Spencer Reid was the first customer you served once the shop had officially opened. The doctor, unlike his boss, enjoyed exploring the different brews - always asking what region the beans had come from and giving you facts or statistics about his drink choice for that day. You listened to him ramble as you prepared him an arabica light roast grown in Asia; a bean the shop had just received.

“About a third of the world's coffee comes from Asia, but when asked the average American usually assumes that their coffee has been grown in Latin America or Africa,” he explained. “It’s also widely agreed upon by coffee enthusiasts that Asia produces the sweetest coffee.”

“Well then you won’t be needing as much sweetener as normal, Doctor,” you said as you handed him his order. “But I refilled the jar of sugar just for you.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, grabbing three packs of sugar- two less than normal- and stuffing them into his jacket pocket. “Have a nice day!” He smiled awkwardly before turning and leaving out the door.

As soon as he left you wrote down his order on the specials board, deeming it “The Genius”. He wouldn’t notice you wrote the same words on his cup until he sat down at Quantico.

---

You weren’t quite sure who would be in to get their coffee next, but you smiled when it was Agent Jerau. There was something about the petite blonde and how easily she made conversation that brought a sense of serenity to your day. The rest of the team were very distinct- the kind of people you could look at and simply believe that they worked for the BAU- but other than being absurdly pretty, Jennifer was normal.

Even her arabica “bean of the day” cappuccino was the most common order out of all of them, with the exception that she always bought a single iced cookie to go with it.

“In all the time I’ve worked here I haven’t actually tried these cookies,” you told her as you pulled one out of the pastry display and put it in a bag.

“Neither have I,” she said. “But my son loves them.”

You thought of the little blonde boy that sometimes accompanied her and her fiance to the shop on the weekends. He always got a cup of steamed milk to look like his parents, but he always ended up dunking his cookie in it when they sat down at a table.

“I’ll have to try one then.”

The agent left before she could notice the board, which had her order paired with an iced cookie named “The Mother” written among the rest.

---

Per usual, Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia came into the shop together. You knew their flirtatious behavior was actually a demonstration of a platonic friendship, but that was only because Rossi had told you so.

“Baby Girl,” Morgan said to Garcia as you handed him his normal robusta medium roast red eye with just enough hazelnut creamer that the coffee wasn’t ridiculously bitter, “I’ve got the payment for today.”

“Derek, you know very well that I can and will hack into the system and change the credit card number to mine,” she told him, quickly glancing at you to say. “I promise I’m not stealing money from the shop. I love local businesses. If anything I would give you more money so this place stays open.”

You smiled, preparing her extremely complex order that changed slightly from day-to-day but always stayed as sweet as possible. Today it was an arabica medium roast from Ethiopia with all the fixings to complete the order into a chocolate caramel mocha.

“I’m sure my boss would appreciate that,” you told her. The idea of your father having to deal with a woman as sweet and eccentric as Penelope never failed to make you laugh.

She dug a handful of coins out of her purse to put in the tip jar before her and Morgan bid you a good day and left to go to work. You adjusted the order labeled “The Techie” to fit her drink for that day, but left Derek’s alone - “The Door Destroyer.”

---

Emily Prentiss was the last of the team to grab her coffee that morning. You were aware that she was the most observant in everyday situations, but that morning she was behind schedule by around ten minutes. Her boots clicked against the floor of the shop - lower pitched than the sound of heels but higher than those of men’s shoes. She moved fast towards the counter.

“I have your order ready,” you told her. “Robusta african dark roast latte with a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you so much.” She paid quickly, leaving a handsome tip.

In all her rush her observation skills had faltered. Not only had she missed that she had a milk mustache, but she also didn’t see that her order on the board was labeled “The Modern Femme Fatale”.

---

“So,” Rossi said casually. “The best coffee near Quantico?”

With all the extra paperwork, the team had decided they needed extra caffeine, a short break, and some fresh air. Even Hotch thought it was a good idea, which is how David Rossi ended up walking towards the Pick Your Poison coffee shop with the rest of the BAU.

“It’s great,” Reid started. “They let you pick everything from the location, the bean type, the roast. There was this one time they got in a robusta from Brazil that-”

“Or you can just pick from their menu,” JJ told Rossi, interrupting Reid before he could go on any further. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“If you say so,” Rossi replied nonchalantly.

The team filed into the cafe and he saw you working behind the counter, your hair pulled away from your face as you checked the machinery. You looked up at them as they entered, all still oblivious to the small daily specials board that had their orders on it.

They greeted you and ordered one at a time, the same thing each of them had gotten that morning, leaving Rossi for last. He smiled when he stepped up to the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Mio passerotta.”

You returned his hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Ciao, Papa.”

“Wait-” Emily, being the only other person in the room who spoke Italian, picked up on it first. “You’re Rossi’s daughter?”

You laughed. “Have been all my life.”

The team looked around at one another, all slightly confused.

“How did you not know that we work with your dad?” JJ asked.

You shook your head. “Oh, no. I knew. I just wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure it out.”

Morgan looked stunned, Garcia’s jaw couldn’t drop any further, and Reid was tilting his head, probably trying to pick out the similarities between you and your dad.

Hotch turned to Rossi. “Dave, care to explain?”

“It was her idea, not mine.” He held up his hands defensively.

"You've been working here for five months, three weeks, and six days," Reid said.

"That is an excellent observation, doctor," you replied. "In my dad's defense, he said I had to confess before the six month mark."

"I'm suprised it took a confession in the first place," Rossi, then turned to you. “Now, I’ll speak in English so the nerds can understand. What specials do you have today?”

“Well,” You glanced at the special’s board, “If you’re going for the most caffeine I would choose “The Unit Chief” or “The Modern Femme Fatale”. “The Door Destroyer” has the strongest flavor on the bitter side and both “The Genius” and “The Techie” lean towards sweet. I’d recommend “The Mother”, but it’s past 11 AM and we all know how la mia bisnonna feels about cappuccinos past the morning.”

The team looked around at one another in complete shock over the specials order board you had put together. A smirk crossed your face as they gawked at you ever so slightly.

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll just go with a good old fashioned un caffe, then.”

“Presto in arrivo,” you said, and got to work on everyone’s order’s, but not before adding a single shot of espresso to the board called “Mia Papa.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #david rossi #rossi x daughter!reader #rossi x child!reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #david rossi x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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hanibalistic · 10 months

Text

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 8175

warning | briefe violence / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie / this part deviates from the movie

parts | one, two, three, four

There were four things you learned from what happened at the bank.

One, Gwen's finishing touches to your glitch-prevention bracelet saved the essential parts of your body—neck down and hip up—from getting injured. Upon detecting the incoming air pressure released from the explosions, which the bracelet mistook as the effect of a glitch, it surrounded your torso with a protective shield that would have covered you fully if the blasts did not cause it to malfunction.

Two, the loyalty Rio has for her son was extraordinary. After Miles called her out to the back alley of the hospital building, she did not hesitate a second to sneak you into a vacant room and take from the hospital the medical supplies needed to treat you as best as she could. She did not ask any questions. It was one look on Miles’s anxious face, and she was on her feet, taking charge. Because of the safety measures Gwen placed in your bracelet, you did not sustain any fatal wounds, making it much easier for Rio to help you. The only problem you encountered was pain, a lot of it.

Three, Miles has done terrible things. He was the prowler, whatever that meant. The explosions were one of the significant steps in a bank heist that he, Uncle Aaron, and Gwen took up as a side project. Most of the time, they work on lucrative commissions offered by the likes of Kingpin, whoever that was. Kidnapping, assault, and even murder were not irregular to him. He confessed that he had killed someone before, and you asked him to stop it at that.

Four, after shutting yourself out from everyone, except for letting Rio bring you food occasionally, you realized you couldn’t care less about what Miles has done.

The thought haunted you, leaving you in an endless debate with yourself. How dare you let go of your conscience? How dare you treat a criminal with kindness? How dare you look a killer in the eyes and see someone different than their dirty past? To say you were distraught would be an understatement, as the accusations your mind kept throwing at yourself were the least troublesome hurdle to jump through. The most teeth-rotting matter was that you were guilty. You avoided seeing Miles because you knew once you did, the outrageous truth would hit you harder than the bomb blasts did. The fact that you still looked at him with love.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah–yeah. For sure.”

You climbed on his bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Miles sucked in a breath when you touched knees, and suddenly, all his senses were focused on that particular contact spot. You picked at your fingers sheepishly, feeling rather silly about your week-long silent treatment. But you needed it for self-reflection and to come to terms with your conclusion. Miles waited for you to speak. He didn’t know if this was only a spur of the moment, and he wasn’t willing to take any risks that might chase you out of his room.

“I thought about what you told me at the hospital,” you started, rubbing your hands.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, turning his head ever-so-slightly to gauge your reaction. “I would never hurt you on purpose, [Name]. I really had no idea you were there.”

“I know,” you nodded with a faint smile, “I forgave you the night it happened.”

You felt he didn’t accept your forgiveness and supposed that was only natural. If you were in his shoes, the mental gymnastics you would do to keep yourself occupied with blam could rival his. The only thing that could get him to treat himself kinder would be time, specifically having you pass through it with him. Licking your lower lip, you rubbed your nose and hummed a soft, audible grin. He turned fully to you then, feeling less anxious.

“Miles, I don’t judge you for what you did or what you plan to do,” you said, your head mildly gesturing in emphasis. Concentrating in deep thoughts, you rubbed your eyes, sniffed comfortably, and faced him with a knowing upside-down smile. “Be it you have a reason or not, I don’t think I will ever–how do I say this? I don’t think I will distance myself from you, ever.”

He felt breathless, but it came from the incongruence between his mind and heart rather than the supposed relief that you accepted him. He was too accustomed to anticipating horrific reactions that he forgot people could be open-minded. You were not supposed to be okay with what he did. You couldn’t be okay with what he did!

“[Name],” he heaved out with an uncontrollable shake of his head, “my hands are bloody.”

You looked down at where he rested them on his lap. Were they? Miles’s hands may be bloody, but they were also a multitude of other things. They are a mother’s secret financial support; they peel the skin off fruits, stroke your hair when you cry to sleep and dance across your love handles in a ticklish haze. You reached out tentatively to hold them, finally realizing he was trembling. Was he scared? You didn’t react to it. His hands fit cozily in yours, as they always have, and suddenly, Miles didn’t fear the atrocity they were capable of. You broke him down, mellowed him out, rinsed him off all he’s ashamed of, and he—

“Mine will cover the stains for you.” You held up your interwind hands with a tight-lipped smile. “See? Can’t even see your palms anymore.”

—loves you, in a frightening way that it seemed like you felt the same way too.

“[Name],” he hushed, his head dipping in exhaustion. “I’m not gonna stop berating myself.”

He wouldn’t, and it would hurt you less than it would hurt him.

You let go of his hands and watched him desperately scramble for you. It was a heartbreaking sight, even for a split second, to see his longing ragged out like an unwatered plant reaching for the faintest taste of rain. Getting your arms out and open, you refolded your legs into kneeling to pull him into a proper hug. Miles gritted his teeth to silence the screeching voices as he returned the hug immediately. When he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the usual crank of it because your neck was sensitive and ticklish, he began to calm down.

Feeling you pat his back, he supposed this was all anything should feel like. Love—a word capable of expressing an emotion of its terrifying caliber. What else could it be? True love is the inability to abandon, in the same way Miles waited for you even after you died, and you refused to let go of his cold-blooded hands made warm by holding yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” You nodded with a sudden thoughtful hum. “Hey, you know what you can do to make it up to me?”

Miles perked up slightly and pulled away. He raised a brow when he saw the bashful smile on your face. You’ve got an idea, and he might not like it.

The pressure in your stomach dropped whenever Miles was pulled back to the ground by gravity. Not a second after reaching the floor, he was up in the air again, his boots allowing him to reach a much greater height and distance when he jumped. As the chilling air hit your face and hair, you realized Miles was right to bundle you up after he finally agreed to take you on a stroll high up in the air.

When you raised the idea to him, his reaction was as he suspected: he did not like it. Or, well, he did not understand it.

You had told him about the faint memory of a floaty feeling the day of the bank accident, which, after he told you about him being the prowler, you could deduce had come from him taking an unconventional shortcut to the hospital. He made the mistake of admitting that he was hopping from roof to roof to get you there because the next thing you asked was for him to do it again, but this time you would be conscious of experiencing it.

Perhaps he has possessed the convenience his prowler suit gave him for too long. He couldn’t understand being fascinated with the ability to be in the air. You briefly mentioned Spiderman and his interesting web-shooting function as an argument to get Miles to understand you, but how could he? He wasn’t even sure if Spiderman was real! Still, he caved into your wish, grabbed the boots he kept hidden in his closet because he refused to go anywhere with the risk of bumping into him for now, and brought you on a rooftop stroll.

What was originally a safety hazard forcing his claws to wrap steel tight around your body soon shifted into something of ease. His heart grew in size at how much fun you were having, and for once, he reverted to the boy he was the first time he experienced the thrill this well-made suit gave him. He kept his eyes forward to map a path across the buildings, his claws helping him move closer to the sky. He heard your uncontrollable laughter, he wished he could see your eyes light up brighter than the moon above, and he envied the wind that brushed your face and hair.

This was a good idea. This may be the single best thing he has done.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, tightening your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Hold on tight.”

Miles kicked his feet against the brick wall to hoist himself a good distance upward before forcing his claws through the concrete. He pressed the hand on the low of your back into his body, keeping you steady in one arm. You couldn’t bear to look around at the height you were stuck in, but the arm strength Miles has to support two weights while climbing up a tall building with one arm was surprising and, dare you say, attractive.

The skyscraper was a place Miles hadn’t visited since ‘your’ death. Being here with you now did not make him feel better. He was careful where he stood on the edge of the highest point of the building; he wanted you to look over the bright borough.

“Oh, no way! You brought me to the skyscraper?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “You always said no when I wanted to come here.”

“I got reasons,” he huffed out quietly. Upon your silence, he peered down from the night view and saw you staring at him expectantly. He barely rolled his eyes in defeat. “You died here. You fell.”

The high-pitched hum you let out was comedically timed. Rigidly turning your head to face out, you could only imagine the exact height of this skyscraper as you could not see below the horizon. No wonder he didn’t let you on the ground—this would be one hell of a fall if history repeats itself. Miles chuckled lowly when you curled your arms tighter around his neck and slumped your weight further into him. You echoed his chuckle.

“Well,” you muttered, “definitely not letting go of you anytime sooner.”

“I’m not gonna either,” he said.

A sudden gust of wind blew at your face. You leaned closer to his neck for warmth, your eyes squinting at the building lights. It was too late into the night for the borough to remain bustling as in the morning, but the illumination from apartments, stores, and other high buildings made an equally homey view. The silence was enjoyable, too; just the open air and the inner sound of you counting your breath.

“Was it embarrassing?” you asked suddenly, your voice hoarse.

“What is?”

“Me falling? I don’t know–“ your body shifted upward, forcing Miles to adjust to your new position–“did I look weird when falling? Did you see me fall? Did anyone see me fall–oh my god, were the police here?”

“I’m sorry. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a confused deadpan. “What are you even saying? None of that matters?”

“It actually does matter because I feel–“ you sucked in a deep breath dramatically–“I don’t like having too much attention on me, and if the police came, I feel that would be very awkward.”

“You trippin’.” He rolled his eyes.

“What? That’s very valid!” You knocked your fist on the back of his shoulder. “Did I look weird when I landed? Did you see it? Did my brain splatter–“ You quieted down with an opened mouth when he flashed you a pointed look, but several suppressed giggles periodically left your lips as you moved your hands from his neck to cup his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put that thought in your head! Don’t think about that!”

Miles’s eyes softened. He wanted to kiss the laugh lines around your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

You breathed out the last of your giggles and then stared at him. He was thinking about you even with you here—you knew, you knew very well. Your fingers grew timid at his stare, but they refused to leave the curve of his face. They could only ghost across his skin in freckled spots, treating him with the care he has given you. Miles barely leaned into your touch. He tested the water first, afraid that you would pull away at his immediate engagement, and he fully pressed his palm to your hand when you kept it where it was.

You brought his face to yours. “Hey!” you whispered with a soft grin when your nose touched.

“Hey,” he returned. He was soft. You’ve made him soft, made him a messenger of affection. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.”

You pursed your lips at the feeling of his nose scraping past the bridge of yours. He was leaning closer, inviting you to something more intimidating than standing on the edge of a skyscraper.

“Miles.” your voice was hushed. “Miles, I’m shy. Can you kiss me first?”

He leaned forward to kiss you after dropping a relieved sigh. You closed your eyes at the sheer force of his desperation, your hands mustering up the courage to grip his face tighter and bring him to you. The taste of your lips cascaded over his conscience. You hit him, like a ton of bricks, like the feeling of flesh wrapped around a blade, like being in the center of a firework explosion. It was a feeling he would trade anything for; one could ask him for a lifetime in return for a second of your lips on his.

“Woah! Did you forget you’re on the run, Miles?”

“Oh, jeez! Mayday, don’t look!”

You two broke away immediately at the uninvited voices. Miles puffed air into his cheeks with an eye roll, not even attempting to hide how irritated he was at the interruption. Still heaving from the kiss, your brows furrowed when you came face to face with four outrageously different-sized figures, all dressed in a variation of a Spider suit, with a literal toddler wearing a Spiderman mask too small for her head.

“Who…?” you started slowly. “Spidermen…? Spiderman’s sidekicks?”

“Now that’s just disrespectful,” the one with spikes on his head commented.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered in response.

“Who are you guys?” Miles asked defensively as he took a few steps back. He held you closer to him, his knees barely buckling in preparation to run.

“How could you forget your mentor, Miles?” The man took off his mask and opened his arms as an introduction. “It’s me! Peter!”

“Oh my god, it’s Spiderman.” You slapped Miles’s chest to be let down on the ground, but he refused. Although his hair color changed, and he looked relatively scruffier than you remembered on the news, those features could not be mistaken. That was the face of the superhero you grew up seeing. “I thought you died. It was all over the news!”

“How could I be standing here if I died?”

“You know him?” Miles questioned. “I don’t know him.”

“Apparently not?” you mumbled. “Maybe he faked his death somehow?”

“Wait, what about me? You remember me! It’s Pavitr? We fought together! You saved my girlfriend’s dad, Inspector Singh?” He pointed over to his friends, his hair bouncing lusciously. “With Gwen and Hobie?”

“Gwen?” you and Mils exclaimed in unison. Her eyes widened at the sudden collective attention.

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

“Gwen, you’re a Spiderman–err, woman?”

“Okay, you’re seriously playing up the Spiderman jokes?” Miles deadpanned as he arched his neck to look at you.

You pulled a face before swinging your arms to gesture at five newcomers. “They’re literally here. Spiders, all of them!”

“I’ve never seen spiders stand on two feet.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen a lot.”

Miles sniffed with distaste. “Right. I’m gonna listen to someone with spikes on their head.”

“Miles!” you exclaimed with a harsh pinch to his cheek, then you turned to apologize. “I’m sorry. I think they look super cool.”

Taking a step forward, Gwen promptly eliminated the ongoing conversation by taking off her mask to reveal herself to you both. You tilted your head. She looked nothing like the Gwen you knew, and from her furrowed brows and darting eyes, she knew too. After a prolonged stare between you and Miles, the puzzles in her head piecing together, her relieved sigh was barely noticeable as realization hit her. She turned to her team with a shake of her head.

“This isn’t the Miles we’re looking for,” she said. “This is Miles from this Earth.”

“I knew that already,” Hobie smirked, hands in his pockets. “With the braids and all.”

Pavitr gasped with widening eyes. He pressed a hand to his chin and nodded. “Oh wow, I didn’t even register that. You look good, Miles!”

You punched Miles’s chest when he kept a brooding silence. He scoffed, smacked his teeth in dismay, then slurred out, “Thanks.”

“Okay, wait! Hold on, hold on!” Peter yelled without having gathered his thoughts. He shifted the weight of his legs, leaning on one hip, and pinched the bridge of his nose as a monotonous thinking noise churched out of his throat in a flat line. “But how? Our watch told us he was here. It gave us the signal that someone from Earth-1610 is here.”

“Someone is,” Gwen said. She turned around slowly, a look of uncertainty, then she pointed at you. “It’s them.”

None of them explicitly explained what they were talking about, but using your experiences and the confusing context clues, you could easily decipher the problem's gist. Something was happening on a multi-universal level. You didn’t know what exactly, but this felt to be a problem regarding that.

“Gwen, I know you thought you explained the issue but you didn’t,” Peter muttered. He whipped his body around to you and held both hands in the air in a chopping motion. “Are you a Spiderman?”

“No.”

“Not you, big guy. You!”

“Oh, me?” You pointed at yourself for clarification and shook your head. “No, but there is one where I came from. Technically there are two, but the original one died, and he looked almost exactly like you! Just different hair color and… ski–never mind.”

“First of all, I had a feeling you were gonna call me fat. I’m not. I just look like a dad now, which I am. I have to clarify, okay? This is all dad weight, and this cutie-pie is my daughter, Mayday!” Peter said as he gestured toward himself and at Mayday. Then, he burst into a fit of confused noises. “Second, where you came from?” he repeated after you incredulously, paused for a brief moment, and then turned to Gwen, his eyes rolling. “Okay, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Psst… what are they talking about?” Pavitr whispered from the side, unknowingly having inched closer toward Hobie, who leaned down to his height for an explanation.

“That lad is Miles’s lookalike from this Earth. The one he’s clutching to him like a madman is from our Miles’s Earth, which is bonkers 'cause how did they even get here?”

“They’re not from here?” Pavitr widened his eyes. “That’s not good!”

“How so?” Hobie stood up straight.

“Oh, you know, with Miguel and everything,” Pavitr said as he twiddled his thumbs. “Actually, maybe not! I’m sure Miguel isn’t that obsessed about all of this.”

Just after his voice dropped, a portal emerged from behind where Miles stood. The second he noticed the faint glow flashing over his shadow, he jumped away to stand with the newcomers he was still wrecking his brain to familiarize himself with. You stared at the portal with wide eyes. Not once in your life have you seen technology like this, and when you glanced over at the others, you could see a certain dread on their face that peaked your heart rate. What got a bunch of Spider-people so agitated? It must be a real threat.

“Won’t you look at that,” Miguel appeared from the portal, his eyes looking as dead as usual. Following behind him were Jessica and Ben. “The whole gang is here.”

"How did you even find us?" Peter exclaimed in annoyance.

"Your watch, obviously." Miguel pointed at Peter's chest. "Your daughter took it.”

Peter gasped as he looked down at Mayday. He didn't notice it before, but sitting loosely around her wrist was the watch Miguel gave him that he took off before Gwen came to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut—shame on him for letting the same thing happen twice, even though neither was technically his fault.

Hobie breathed out a chuckle at Mayday before he elbowed Pavitr. “Do whatever you want, but I’m telling ya, you got to watch out for the things you say. You’re gonna jinx up the whole place like this.” Bringing his leg up so he could march over to Miles and stand behind him, he bent forward until his face was within Miles's earshot. "I suggest you run home now."

"What? Why?" Miles whispered, stepping away from the proximity. His attention shifted when Peter's obnoxious voice rang through the air.

"Jesus, Miguel! What do you want now?"

"The same thing you all want," Miguel said as he rubbed his wrist. He snapped his head over at Miles, who gulped when his gaze averted to look at you. He stared for a bit too long. "People who are not supposed to be here."

You. That man was talking about you. Miles didn't know what business he had. If anything, he thought himself a much bigger threat. But Miguel was looking at you when he spoke, so it must be.

He bolted the second he made that conclusion. He would deal with it if he later discovered he had come to the wrong one. For now, with the warning from a man whose words he could barely understand and a bunch of context clues he haphazardly strung together on the fly, he was unwilling to take any risk that would make him lose you. Wrapping his arms around your body to hold you into a hug rather than a carry, he instructed you to hang tight and took a few bold steps backward to the skyscraper edge so he could drop off its height.

"Wait, hold on, Miguel!" Peter shot his arm out to squeeze Miguel's shoulder when he saw that Miles would be followed. "You're after the wr–"

"Peter!" Gwen shot out a web aimed at Peter's back and immediately pulled him away from Miguel, preventing the man from telling the truth. Taking the slipping chance, the three slipped past in pursuit of you and Miles.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked incredulously, his eyes following the fading backs of his once colleagues.

Pavitr and Hobie approached them to catch up on their conversation.

"Let Miguel chase him," she said sternly, her eyes fixated on Peter. "It works in our favor that he is occupied with the wrong Miles. It buys us some time to find our Miles."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no thoughts leaked out. Gwen's logic was sweet and sound. It would make everything so much easier for them if Miguel was temporarily out of the picture. But there was a pierce he felt, through his supposed moral compass, not at the blatant lie of omission he has to tell but at the fact that he would willingly send a grown man after two children, one of whom was just an ordinary civilian.

"Gwen, I don't feel like that's the right thing to do," he sighed.

"Maybe we can try to help both of them?" Pavitr suggested. "We can find Miles as fast as we can and then help the other Miles."

"They won't last," Peter said. "I don't know if that Miles has superpowers, but he's definitely not like us. I don't think their friend is capable of anything, either. Miguel will get to them before we can be done."

"You're saying if we want to help, we ought to do it now," Hobie sniffed.

"That's what I just said."

"I know. I was just repeatin' it."

"We can't afford to be distracted!" Gwen argued, her tone releasing from being firm to a pathetic, exasperated plead. "Don't forget, you're the one who exposed Miles's location in the first place. And now you've exposed ours!"

"Woah–Gwendy, calm down," Hobie said with a light pat on her shoulder. He spun to face Peter, humming at his distraught expression, then turned to meet in a general direction. "We're wasting an awful lotta time arguing about nothing. How about we get a move on, yeah? Pavitr's plan might work if we go now.”

"Yeah! I agree!" Pavitr clapped in agreement. “We just need to go in quick and come out even quicker!"

“That made no sense,” Peter mumbled.

“Maybe not to you.” Hobie shrugged.

“Focus, you guys!” Gwen hollered over the wind, catching everyone’s attention. She pursed her lips, her mind filled with a singular goal: save Miles Morales. “I’m going regardless of what you say," she said as she stepped to the edge of the skyscraper. Before she tipped over, she added, "I'm gonna save my Miles."

"Dramatic," Hobie chuckled with big strides forward, seemingly to follow after Gwen. "Better catch up, lads." He clicked his tongue confidently and mocked a salute as he fell off the edge.

Miles was on the run. You already knew, but that fact punched you in the guts with even more velocity when you realized how quickly your surroundings were passing through. He was no longer holding you in an embrace-like position. After he made it down the skyscraper, Miles hoisted your upper body over his shoulder with his arms circled around your waist so he could better run at his regular speed, which you learned was abnormally fast, much different than the speed he picked when he was strolling around the area.

Closing up behind you was a man in a Spider suit furiously galloping on all fours. You didn't even know they ran like that. You thought all Spider-people swung with their webs. Running like this may be faster than swinging around. Or perhaps the man's sheer will to catch the two of you amped up his speed. The only reason why Miles was able to periodically distance from Miguel was that he knew this Brooklyn like the back of his palm; all the detours and shortcuts were mapped in his brain, and he knew how to properly mix and match their usage.

"Miles, he's crazy," you whispered, clutching his shoulders. "He's running like a wolf."

"Tu puta madre–" he spared a glance back and widened his eyes–"why is he chasing us? What did we even do?"

Hopping off a building and into an alleyway, Miles slipped to the side and hid behind a wall. He pressed his back against the concrete wall to hide behind the shadow.

The more he ran, the more he saw how it only delayed the consequence of getting caught. He could run home as suggested, but bringing trouble directly to his mother wasn’t ideal. On top of that, it may expose his prowler identity, which was the last thing he wanted. He could keep running, but eventually, he would get tired. He wouldn’t overestimate his ability to escape; a man that size running on all fours has the kind of stamina he could not rival. He had to fight with gimmicks to win, and his first option was to hide.

Taking the time to reposition you on his shoulder, apologizing with amusement when you shivered at his hands gliding past your hips to your waist, Miles carefully placed you back on the ground. When your feet hit the ground, he reached for the crown of your head, squeezing your head and trailing both hands down to your face. He pushed your face together, forcing you to pucker your lips. This was supposed to be a fun night. He felt terrible that this was how things led to.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For the time being, you felt like you could be. His hands were warm, and his touch even warmer.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” You smiled bitterly once he let go of your face. “He’s here for me, but I don’t know why.”

You haven’t done anything. Even arriving on this Earth was not a purposeful doing. You made no significant changes to this Brooklyn; even if you tried to, you would not have succeeded. You regularly lived as you would have in the universe you came from; staying at home, doing house chores, learning how to cook, getting groceries, watching movies, maintaining a good friendship, and falling in love. None of those were criminal activities! You have done nothing remarkable for a random Spiderman to get so upset with you!

“Be honest, [Name],” Miles started, touching your shoulders. He took a deep breath before squinting. “Are you secretly a world-class criminal?”

“If jumping universes is a crime, then–“ You hummed thoughtfully before shaking your head in disagreement. “Yeah, no. I’d just be a regular criminal because I only jumped once, and it’s by accident, too.”

“Actually, I never asked, but how did you get here?”

You suppressed a burst of laughter. “Are we seriously gonna talk about this now?”

“My bad,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “is now a bad time?”

“A super bad–“ You screamed when a figure abruptly slid upside down beside you. Instinctively, the hand initially reaching for Miles’s face deflected from its path to punch the intruder in the face.

Ben swung slightly on his web, a curse pushed out of his mouth at the impact of your fist. He hadn’t registered you to be a big enough threat that he failed to block your sudden attack. If it had been Miles’s gloved claws swinging at him, he likely would have reacted. Miles smirked, almost feeling a sense of pride at the sheer strength of your punch. While you profusely apologized for doing something you didn’t mean to do, he grabbed your hand and ran down the alleyway. Mid-way through, he tugged harshly at your arm to bring you in front of him so he could scoop you up as he picked up his speed.

“I can actually run pretty fast,” you complained lightheartedly.

“For sure, baby,” he mused, his feet screeching for an abrupt right turn when he heard Ben’s voice calling after you both.

However, just as he turned a corner, he was met with the wheel end of a motorcycle. Miles raised a hand up to grip the spinning tire. Before he could dig his claws through the material and pop it, he felt himself being pushed back by the heavy force, so he, tensing his arm muscles, attempted to deter the bike's path before the millisecond of him getting thrown back. His back hit a brick wall, knocking his senses everywhere for a brief moment as he haphazardly reached to cover your head. When he looked up, he was only met with the yellow shades of a woman in red. He huffed; if there was any indication that these people were getting fed up, it would be hitting him with a motorcycle.

“Jessica. You caught them!” Ben exclaimed as he emerged from the shadow, a hand massaging his chin that was pulled into a sneer. His voice was weirdly raspy as if he was playing up a character. “That stupid kid punched me. How dare they.”

“You showed up out of nowhere!” you retorted with an accusing finger pointed at him. “Also, shouldn’t you be able to block my punch? You’re Spiderman! You can’t block a punch from a teenager?”

“This kid is talking back to me. I feel a little distraught. I don’t know how to talk to children.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Jessica waved her hand before she turned to you both. She observed as Miles hopped back to his feet and glared at her. You looked less menacing, but your furrowed brows spoke caution and ready disobedience. She sighed. Another pair of moody teenagers. Miguel would not be happy about this. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to where you belong.”

You pursed your lips in dismay and shook your head. Miles pushed you toward him when you circled your arms around his neck, and you slightly averted your gaze from the woman to avoid confrontation. Jessica squinted her eyes at the way you two held each other, a sudden inkling developing that she desperately wished to be wrong—you fell in love with someone from a different universe. She already felt bad enough about what had to be done to Gwen. There was no wrong in sticking to what she believed in. It was just unfortunate that she had to treat teenagers mercilessly to do so.

“You two can write letters to each other,” she said after gathering her thoughts and reverting to professionalism. Her job was to return all anomalies to their world, not limited to villains. Getting off her motorcycle, she slowly walked over to Miles, who didn’t get the sense of running away because of her regular speed. When she was within an arm’s length, she grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“No!” you refused and tried to shove her off, but she was persistent.

“Dude, stop!” Miles attempted to step out of reach.

“Dude?” Jessica repeated with wide eyes. “Your mama taught you no manners?”

“His mom is great!” you exclaimed as you snatched your arm away from her grip. Your irritated eyes turned into a glare.

Miles nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t throw a motorcycle at people’s faces.”

“Okay, I’ve had it.” Jessica laughed in disbelief. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s out the window now.”

Deciding to ignore her harsh tugs at your arm, you resorted to making sure you never let go of Miles instead. You intertwined your fingers that met at a point of his neck and buried your face to his shoulders, tuning out the world. Fear lingered in your chest like a haunting ghost, and it dimmed somewhat when you zeroed in on the feeling of Miles’s grip on your body. You were still here. He was still with you, holding onto you with a death grip. And you thought this might resolve itself eventually. Maybe these people would let you go if you two struggled enough together. Or perhaps it wouldn’t end well, but at least you held on as best as possible. At least you tried.

“Miles Morales.” Everyone paused to look behind Jessica’s shoulder. Miguel stood tall and alarmingly brutal just a few feet away. His dead eyes shifted from the boy to you, and he tipped his head into a brief greeting. “And you.”

Jessica took a deep breath; the real threat finally showed up. She released her hand from your arm and turned to face Miguel. There was something she wanted to say, not to deter Miguel from his plan to take you back to your Earth, but rather a few trying words to prevent him from executing any more brutality, especially when you were as harmless as a dove. The last thing Miguel should have on his conscience was inflicting injuries on a regular civilian. It would be good for him in the long run. Before she could open her mouth to speak, though, Miles buckled his knees and jumped up high. He was making a run for it again, but before his feet even touched the top of the wall separating the streets, his body barely turning away from anyone, a red string caught onto your wrist and snapped you out of his arms.

“¡Mierda!”

He caught onto your ankles, engaging in a tug-of-war with Miguel that did nothing but put a strain on your limbs. Clicking his tongue, he gave one final hard tug at your feet before letting you go. You screamed, your body swinging toward Miguel at full speed while Miles, fully utilizing his boots, ran to sneak up behind the man and shoved him forward so Miguel would collide with your flinging body. Letting Miguel stumble in confusion and, out of instinct, reaching his arms out to catch you from a hard fall, Miles jumped forward and did the job for him. He secured you in his arms, wasting no time to bolt away. But Miguel was phenomenally quick to regain his senses, and his eyes glowed a bright red once he realized how difficult Miles was being.

He leaped forward, fangs and claws out to grab Miles by the back of his neck. As he swung the boy around, you dropped to the floor and knocked your forehead against the dirt. Miguel slammed Miles into the closest wall, denting the red bricks. He squeezes the poor boy's neck, not entirely cutting the air out of his system but suffocating just enough to make Miles feel outrageously uncomfortable.

"Ay, would you stop that, big man? You're gonna kill the kid!"

White webs shot out and attached to each of Miguel's wrists. He could recognize that godforsaken voice anywhere—Hobie Brown. Noticing the webs on his wrists, he groaned lowly in irritation. He might just snap (if he hasn't already, this madman) if he has to come across one more obstacle. Not allowing Hobie a second to pull him away, Miguel squeezed Miles's neck tighter to pull him out of the dented wall and threw him across the alleyway to the other side. The collision collapsed a hole through the bricks, creating an unnecessary ruckus.

"Now you've gone and done it," Hobie muttered, looking at the destruction.

Your jaw dropped anxiously. You could faintly see Miles under the debris, showing no signs of getting up. He couldn't have died. Not only would that become a personal problem, you simply refused to believe a childhood superhero figure would kill someone you know and love. Scrambling to your feet with quickened breath, you took a weak step forward, his name hanging quietly at the tip of your tongue. When he didn't respond still, you tried to run towards him only to be pulled back at your wrist.

You looked behind your shoulder to find Miguel facing away from you. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost bone-breaking, to serve a warning. The same portal you saw him arrive in opened up, creating a gust of unnatural wind, and he was pulling you toward it. You attempted to break away, but he was much stronger. Nobody around seemed to be able to help you, not even Punk-looking Spiderman, so the only thing left to do was to hyperventilate for sympathy. This felt like an impending doom, where doom was actually just a few steps away on the other side of a portal.

"Wait, please don't do this. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here!" you cried, a migraine developing from how you kept turning back and forth to look at Miguel and Miles. "Why are you doing this to me? Please stop, please!"

Sympathy rested in the hands of those who couldn't help. Miguel was as stoic as a rock to your pleads, and you somehow expected him to be. It was just heartbreaking to be proven right how difficult things could get. You kept sucking in deep breaths and forgetting to release them, causing your chest to expand awkwardly. You didn't know what to do, but you've got to try something! Anything!

"Wait–I haven't said it! I haven't–" a deep breath–"I haven't said goodbye! I haven't said I love you! Let me say goodbye, and I promise–" another deep breath–"I promise I'll leave with you. Please. I promise, I cross my heart."

Miguel paused, and that mere action took everyone aback. He pursed his lips, a flicker of remorseful nostalgia showing in his eyes as he recalled the sudden death of his daughter. You didn't remind him of himself, but your wish was similar to what he would have asked for if he ever could re-experience the tragedy—he would want to say goodbye. He would like to tell his daughter he loved her. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. At least you were cooperative; he felt he could be kinder in this case.

"Do not try anything stupid."

Once Miguel released your hand, you ran and fell on your knees next to Miles. Pushing the debris off his body, you scooped him onto your lap and caressed his face. Sniffing away a tearful voice, your voice ended croaking anyway when you called his name, "Miles?"

He opened his eyes meekly to see doubles. It took him a good minute to concentrate on your face, and he smirked when he did. The first instinct to take you and run away was defeated by a pained back and exhausted legs. He would not overestimate his ability, even through immense desperation. He wouldn’t get both of you far enough to not get served something worse. This appeared to be it.

”Mi cariño. Hey."

You laughed; you still had no idea what that meant. Miles refused to tell you, and he also got his mom in on it. But you figured it was a term of endearment. Miles took off his gloves to hold your hand, pressing your palm to his face as he stared at you. Somehow, he couldn't muster up the courage to cry despite the continuous drops in his chest. It could be a pride issue, or he didn't want you to see him suffer in your last minute together. Last for now, at least.

"You're going to leave me," he acknowledged.

"Not on purpose," you replied.

“I know,” he hummed. “You love me too much to do that.”

He had thought about it before. There must be people you were dying to go back to in your world. Not a classmate, no. Not even a friend. But a parent, perhaps? Family members? A pet, certainly? There has to be something waiting for you back in your home. There was no method for you to jump universes yet, but Miles figured if you were raging to go home, it would show. The fact that you blended into his life so casually and permanently, to a point where you memorized his schedules and knew where little trinkets were located in his apartment, told him you chose him over the life you used to have. Every day you woke up, you preferred a life with him in it rather than what you had before.

“You do love me, right?” Miles asked for assurance, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You squeezed his cheeks—gentle palms over bloodied skin, gentle palms over gentle skin. No more violence, not more crimes. He was but a boy you loved. He doubts your affection, and you would go home with him burned in the back of your head, finding his touch trapped beneath your flesh once stripped naked. From a universe away, Miles was all you would remember. Smiling, you peppered kisses over his brows, his eyes, his nose, and finally his mouth. When you pressed your forehead against his, you scrunched your nose and nodded.

“I do love you, Miles.”

“Yay, score.” He chuckled, then his voice quieted down to a low hum only meant for you to hear. “I love you too, okay? Aqui y allá, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Time to go, kid!”

You smacked your lips and puffed an exhale. Running your knuckles down the side of Miles’s face, you nodded to yourself as an encouragement to get on your feet. Your feet budged, then your knees, but instead of standing up, you only shrunk your body closer toward Miles. You willed your voice to say a farewell, but it couldn’t under the threat that this goodbye would be your absolute last one, so you cried instead. Fat tears silently rolled down your chin, caught on your tongue, and forced you to choke on them.

Jessica rubbed her eyes as soon as her voice dropped. She shouldn’t have let Miguel talk her into breaking the moment. Instead of moving, you only leaned your body down and pressed Miles to your chest, hugging him. A passive protest, perhaps. You were not directly struggling but weren’t listening to them, either. She eyed Miguel when he sighed in defeat. He wondered which one was worse—chasing a rebellious kid with Spiderman powers or this. This one sure made him feel like the bad guy if anything.

He reached for a portable trap box and threw it toward you without hesitation. Before it could reach you, though, a web shot out and pulled it backward, causing the gadget hit Miguel in the face.

“You need to reconsider your morals,” Hobie said in a scolding tone as he walked up from behind everyone. “Trapping a kid in a box. Are you mental?”

He has been watching everything unfold from the shadows, and clearly, he realized the differences in how he saw you and how the other three saw you. Your lack of cooperation was a sign of rebellion, which could be considered so to a certain degree. But Hobie knew to consider other factors; he looked at the bigger picture. There was nothing you could do here, literally. One web shoot and you’d be caught, and you probably already knew that. Your so-called sign of rebellion was less chosen and more forced by the hands of emotional turmoil. You were about to be separated from the boy you were in love with. It would make sense that you were physically unable to be the person to walk away.

If you were going to leave Miles Morales, you must be taken and nothing else. You stood by not leaving him intentionally. Miguel was going to do that for you, but Hobie decided to take a much gentler approach. Trapping you in a box when you’ve done nothing wrong was, as he said, fucking mental.

“Don’t struggle, yeah? It makes me uncomfortable,” Hobie muttered as he reached for your waist and pulled you up. He slapped his hands on your shoulders dramatically and turned you around. “The portal is gonna feel doozy. You might vomit. If you feel like you’ll vomit, do it when we arrive at HQ. Preferably all over the floor. Just splatter it around like a sprinkler.”

“Huh…?” You did a double-take at what he said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Vomiting? Yeah. Vomiting on an establishment?” He hummed and tilted his head. “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry, but I really am having a hard time understanding you, Spiderman,” you said, your sobs increasing because you thought Hobie might take it as an insult.

“Why are you apologizing? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t,” he said, the panic in his voice unnoticeable. “Also, call me Hobie, not Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed your eyes as if to produce more tears, “I know that’s your name. I just didn’t use it because we’re not close.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hobie mused, a hand slipping from the top of your head as a makeshift pat. “I’m more friends with you than those three over there.”

You let the faintest giggle of disbelief escape your lips and turned back to Miles. Hobie continued to pull you away from the floor and toward the portal, not taking a moment’s rest. You didn’t struggle against him; eventually, your hand slipped from Miles’s.

#no because i can't believe i actually gone through with this #miles morales imagine #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff

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hauntedwitch04 · 2 months

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Proud of you

Dean Winchester x daughter!Reader

Words: about 1.3k words

Warning: I hate John Winchester and I'm not gonna be sorry about it. Just some sad memories of Dean, but mostly fluff

REQUEST: no requested

Author’s note: Hi! I'M NOT DEAD! I know, shocking!

It was a period full of exams, including the driver's license exam and four college exams, and I could not write anything. And just when I thought I could start writing again, classes started again, so… here I am! I'm actually in the university library and should be studying, but my panic attack said NO, so here you go! this is a short scene I imagined after doing my first drive with my dad a month or so ago, and I liked it too much not to write it down, I hope you enjoy it.

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Ever since you were little you have dreamed of this moment, yet now that you are here and experiencing it, you can't help but want to run away and run for cover in the calm, quiet safety of your bedroom.

You clutch the steering wheel of the car in your hands, which as much as your father loves her is considered your sister, to look straight ahead.

You feel your father's eyes scrutinizing you, sitting beside you, as he considers whether to tell you something or not. You see out of the corner of your eye Castiel's hand resting on your father's shoulder to restrain him from saying anything, knowing, and feeling the anxiety gripping your stomach at this moment.

You take a deep breath and decide to finally start Baby. You hear the engine roar, and your sweaty hands slide on the steering wheel as you lightly touch the pedals with your feet as your father explained to you just before, and a thousand other times before in motel and diner parking lots when you were bored while Uncle Sam found you a place to eat or sleep.

The car begins to move, and you feel a sense of courage and pride in seeing that you are succeeding for the first time in making the car go.

You slowly manage to move a few meters before misplacing your feet while shifting gears and bringing the car to a stop without warning.

Discouraged you abandon your head against the steering wheel, narrowly missing the horn as your father laughs lightly and rests a hand on your shoulder.

Castiel watches Dean get lost in his own thoughts as he watches you explain with a low stare that you are sorry and that you don't understand how it can take you so long to understand and learn how to drive, knowing full well that your father's mind is actually somewhere else right now.

Dean watching his daughter drive for the first time in the same car in which he had learned, could not help but think of when he had been in that position.

Dean had just turned 15, but on his umpteenth fake ID and driver's license it was marked that he was at least two years older, knowing that no one would dispute the fact, since he had been showing 17 for a year and a half now. He felt sweaty hands against his thighs through his jeans as he felt his father's gaze burn him alive.

"Will you move?" John said with obvious hatred in his voice. He had decided it was time for Dean to learn to drive, so that at night he could sleep and leave his son driving the car, as if he were at least twice as old as he was.

In part Dean knew that John wanted to do this so that he could be more independent of his sons and could also take solo trips without worrying about picking up, or having someone pick them up as had happened several times, Dean and Sam after leaving them alone for a week in a motel in a town they did not know. And the oldest of the Winchester brothers couldn't help but be glad to finally get away from the monster who had become their father.

Dean swallowed laboriously and then started the car. He had almost forgotten about Sam's presence in the car until he encouraged him in a feeble voice, only to receive a cruel look from John.

Slowly he made the car move inside the parking lot. It was now late at night and not a soul would disturb his first drive, or so he thought.

He was starting to pick up speed, imitating the people he drove in the many movies he saw while waiting for his father to return from yet another hunt, when suddenly a car comes speeding towards them.

Panicked Dean suddenly accelerated to escape from the high-speed encounter with that madman, only to brake abruptly shortly after seeing that he was inches from the wall.

Dean quickly turned to see how Sam was doing after all the commotion, but he saw that the fear on his brother's face had given way to a smile, not a complete one since he had recently dropped a tooth and had yet to grow a new one.

"Wow Dean, you were great! It was like being in one of those movies-" His brother was interrupted by John's voice, which like thunder crashed down on those poor creatures who had had the misfortune of being his children.

"Don't bullshit Sam, your brother was an idiot. Do you realize you could have ruined the car!" He said shouting and motioning for his son to get out of the car as he did the same.

"But-but that car was coming at us! I couldn't do anything else! It's only my first time driving!" He tried to excuse Dean as he tried to reason with his father, but nothing could change the man's mind, especially when it came to his favorite sport: mistreating the one person over whom he had full power and control, his own son: Dean.

"And if it were up to me it would be the last damn fool too, how can I count on you if all you do is make mistakes? Disappear from my sight before I decide to leave you in this parking lot, better yet, take the car and go back to the motel, I'll stop at the bar nearby."

Dean could not help but squint his eyes, already thinking about his drunken father arriving from the bar on the crack of dawn, and the beating he would receive from the man because of alcohol, although Dean knew it was not entirely the fault of the liquid that seemed to have become John's fuel since his wife had died.

Dean, in the end, had learned to drive thanks to a teacher who was more patient and kinder than his father: Bobby, who with all the calm and love his father had never shown toward him had managed to teach the oldest of the Winchester brothers to drive in one of the many cars he had in his "backyard." And it was then Dean himself, together with Bobby, who had taught Sam how to ride in the car.

This time, however, it was different: it was not his brother he was teaching to ride in a car, but his daughter, that is, blood of his blood, the result of yet another night of passion with a woman he met at a bar, for whom he could never thank enough whatever deity ruled up there. And be damned, more than he already was, he would never let his little girl suffer what he had suffered.

"Hey, it's okay. Nobody's perfect the first time, and this car is definitely not the best you can have for a first drive, but you did great. I had done much worse my first time, and I'm not kidding, I almost hit a wall." Dean says as he watches his daughter straighten her back and look into his eyes, her own eyes, as he smiles at her, gently, and then pulls her into a hug.

"Really?" The girl asks, as she pulls her father in turn into a tight embrace.

"I swear on Miracle." He replied, as the dog in the back seat barks in response, having heard someone calling him, and the girl can't help but giggle.

They remain embraced for a few minutes, until Dean finally finds the courage to say those words that are so simple and at the same time so important, and so necessary, that he had never heard her father say to her, but that would never deprive his daughter from hearing them from him every day as long as she had breath to breathe. Five words, but they had the power of a thousand.

"I am proud of you."

TAGLIST (updated 19 Nov 2023)

@cheyennep3107 @mortica-raven13 @theviewfromtheotherside @supernatural-lvr @imnotcryingurcrying @cursednevermore @itzdarling @deansbbyx @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @afcnds @sya-skies @evansstan-akya

#dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x daughter!reader

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yournecessaryevil · 2 months

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🥀 Scream For Me 🥀

💀GHOSTFACE! CHRIS X READER ONESHOT💀

He's the one with the dark secret you were never meant to discover. And you're the one who almost got away....

• smut; language; TW dark themes of death, violence, blood/gore, and a knifeplay kink

You were never meant to find out.

He'd worked so hard to keep all of it from you, everything. And now, here you both were.

Him, towering over you, his anxiety and nerves and all that stress concealed ever so easily behind that familiar mask, his blade at your throat.

And you, lying prone and helpless beneath him, those eyes wide with fear.

He hated it, hated himself.

How had things become such a fucking mess?

"You guys leave to come home soon, right?"

You stared down at the sleeves of your sweater, your fingers toying with the edges of the fabric as you waited for Chris's response.

Him and his bandmates had gone on their tour about four to five months ago, and while you knew they were due to come home soon, it still wouldn't be soon enough.

Why, exactly?

About a month or so before Chris and his band were supposed to go on tour, there had been headlines in the news of a sudden string of murders a few cities away, with the location of each murder growing closer and closer still, up until the most recent one.

That one had occurred only within a two hour's drive away from the city you lived in. A month or so had passed without any news after that, everything seeming to calm down a little.

But while you were trying to remain positive, deep down, you knew it would only be a matter of time before the one responsible for the murders would strike again, maybe this time choosing your own hometown as their next target.

"Baby, I promise, we only have one week left, and then we're home," Chris's voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. Your wide eyes locked with his as you nodded, though the traces of a frown still marred your face.

Almost like he knew where your thoughts lay, Chris spoke up again.

"Y/N, sweetheart. I know you're worried about what's been happening in the news, but I promise, I'm gonna be home so soon, and then I can keep you safe," he tried to assure you.

"They got really close before you left, Chris," you mumbled, your gaze dropping to land once more on your sweater. "They won't this time, don't worry," he immediately answered.

There seemed to be something almost unintentionally dark about the way he said it, like he somehow knew. Then again, maybe you were just imagining it.

"Hey, so I know Halloween's coming up soon..." Chris began, trying subtly to change the subject. You couldn't help the smile that slowly made its way onto your face.

He knew, he always did.

Ever since the two of you had started dating and he'd learned that Halloween was a favorite holiday of yours, he'd made it his personal mission to go all out for you, every single year.

And each year somehow seemed to top the last, if that was even possible.

You nodded, grinning as your fingers began to toy with the edges of your sleeve again.

"Only one more week," you echoed his earlier statement.

"Any plans? Just- please, don't do any of the haunted fairs or anything without me. I want to be there to do that with you," Chris said with a grin.

"Nah, she's gonna go get possessed in a haunted house or some shit!" you heard Vinny chime in from the background.

You were unable to keep from laughing as you nodded, answering with a "Yeah, just for you, buddy," much to Chris's disapproval.

"You guys are the worst," he grumbled.

You grinned at him, offering an apologetic "I love you?"

He stuck his tongue out at you, before calling you a brat and returning your heartfelt sentiments.

"Also, to answer your earlier question, yes, I do in fact have plans. Might catch up on the Scream franchise," you said with a grin.

Chris raised an eyebrow at you, shaking his head. "Those old movies? Haven't you seen all of them already, babe?"

You shrugged in response.

"I dunno, can't beat the classics. It's like you with the entire Halloween franchise," you pointed out.

Chris shook his head, making a face of disgust. "Nope, not all of em. Halloween H²O was the worst one of the franchise, and everyone knows it," he countered.

"Agree to disagree. Anyway, you know why I like watching all those horror movies," you said with a smirk.

Chris did indeed know why you liked horror movies so much.

There was just something about the fear and the adrenaline that kind of got you going, and when he'd found out your little secret, he'd been more than happy to indulge and explore in it with you.

If you were being honest with yourself, it had led to some of the dirtiest, (and sometimes borderline dangerous) sex you and Chris had ever had.

You could feel your thighs clench together now as your thoughts drifted back to some of those nights, when he'd had you trapped beneath him during sessions involving knifeplay...

The way you'd been so willing for him, craving his touch and the touch of the blade, the way Chris was always so careful and his intentions nothing short of pure, even if the act itself definitely said otherwise...

"Pretty baby, penny for those thoughts?" Chris teased you, startling you out of your brief daydreams.

The smallest of gasps slid from between your lips as you met his eyes, noting the way a smirk now rested on his perfect face, making him very much resemble the cat that ate the canary.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you stared back at him, unable to form words. His smirk only grew as he stared back at you, those warm brown eyes seeming to darken a shade or two.

"Oh, I bet I know where my pretty little baby's thoughts went..." he said with a wink, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before letting it go.

Your eyes locked onto the minute little movement, and you swear, you could feel your heart stop for a second or two.

"O-only a week left before y-you get home?" you asked him, your words stumbling over one another in their rush to get out.

Chris nodded, a familiar look settling in his eyes. It was a look you knew well, one that never failed to excite you.

"One more week, baby, and then I'm coming home to have my way with you," he confirmed.

"O-okay," you breathed, your thighs clenching together once more. One week, that wouldn't be so bad, right? Still...

Your mind once again started to conjure up the images you'd seen in the news, crime scenes and death tolls and pure horror...

Shaking your head, you bit back a frown, quickly masking it with a smile that you hoped would fool even Chris himself. And by some miracle, it seemed to work.

"Hey, Y/N, baby, I gotta go. We have to start getting ready soon, but I'll text you the minute we get back in that break room, okay?"

You nodded, exchanging farewells with Chris and the rest of his bandmates, before the video call ended, leaving you sitting there in silence.

One week...

Why did that suddenly feel like an eternity?

Only two more days.

He could make it that long, right?

Part of him felt incredibly guilty for not texting you to let you know him and his bandmates were already back in LA, had been for the past three days, actually.

But right now, there was an entirely different emotion taking over everything else, a much darker emotion, one he had grown quite familiar with.

There was just something so thrilling about all of it, about the fact that nobody, not even LAPD's finest themselves, had caught onto it yet, had caught onto him yet.

Not even his bandmates knew, although he could have sworn that his guitarist and closest friend, Rick, was slowly starting to suspect.

But how could he?

He'd been incredibly careful, very meticulous with the way he'd gone about it, never leaving any evidence to suggest that he'd been the one to commit such horrendous acts.

No blood, no foul, right?

Except there'd been plenty of blood, exactly the kind of thing you just couldn't seem to avoid with these types of situations.

The faintest of smirks pulled at the corner of Chris's mouth as he recalled the most recent of atrocities he'd committed.

The way the light had slowly left the man's eyes, the way he'd begged and pleaded before he'd been slaughtered like an animal...

It was always one of the best parts, hearing them beg, seeing the fear in their eyes when they realized that no, in fact, it wasn't a game, it wasn't just a movie, it was actually happening.

It was kind of ironic, really.

His sweet, adorable little Y/N wasn't the only one who got off on horror...

And now, as he donned that familiar mask, another smirk crossed his features, concealed by that ever silent, eternally screaming face he wore so proudly.

Tonight was gonna be such a fucking scream...

Tomorrow.

Chris and his bandmates would be coming home tomorrow, and then you'd have him home with you for another several months, maybe even a year, before he'd have to leave again.

The thought made you smile, although unbeknownst to you, your good mood wouldn't last. Your phone pinged on the bedside table, and in a hurry, you snatched it up, expecting to see a message from Chris.

But what you were most definitely not expecting was a panicked text from his bandmate and closest friend, Rick Olson.

'Y/N. News channel, now. You need to see this, it's... bad.'

With a frown passing across your features, you slowly reached for the TV remote, switching the set on and flipping to the local news station.

And as you sat there watching, your heart slowly sank, an odd sort of cold settling deep within your bones.

Splashed across the bottom of the screen, a single news headline: 'DEATH TOLL RISES AS LA LOCAL IS FOUND MURDERED'.

You sat there, listening with an anxious sort of desperation, your heart thundering in your chest. LA, that was... here. Had it finally come to this, had the person responsible for the slaughter finally made their way to your hometown?

You continued to watch the ongoing news with rapt attention, until something the news anchor said caught your attention, something about how they had given the suspect a new moniker, "the Ghostface killer".

No... this had to be a joke, right?

It had to be a mistake, right?

Surely there wasn't actually some sick fuck out there taking inspiration from a movie franchise... right?

Your phone pinged once more in your hand, startling you, and as you glanced down at the text, your heart dropped as far as it could possibly go.

'There's something else. Chris is gone. He left an hour ago and hasn't been back since. And he's been acting... weird... lately.'

What exactly was Rick implying here?

Wait a minute... was he assuming Chris had something to do with all of this?

You typed out a response, your fingers working quickly, almost in desperation.

'Are you saying you think Chris has something to do with the murders?'

Almost immediately, Rick's reply came through.

'I don't know yet. But something isn't right. I think- I think I know what's going on, but I really hope I'm wrong...'

You were about to respond when there was a muffled clatter from downstairs, sending your heart into a frantic staccato within your ribcage.

Phone in hand, you slowly got up off the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. You stopped near the bedroom door, glancing down to send a quick text to Chris.

'Babe, when do you guys get in tomorrow? Are you able to come home early tonight?'

You waited anxiously, but five minutes went by without a reply, so you sent another text.

'Please, I really need you right now... 😰'

Another five minutes went by, and still no response from him. Rick was right earlier, something was very wrong about all of this...

Slowly opening the door, you crept out and down the hall as silently as you could, your breath trembling as you carefully leaned over the banister to sneak a look downstairs.

Several seconds went by, until you heard footsteps, accompanied a moment later by a dark shadow cast on the floor.

You scrambled back from the railing, your heart pounding, each beat sounding rather loud in the silence of that dark hallway.

Back pressed against the wall, you stood there, waiting, hoping anxiously that your little intruder would give up and leave.

But to your horror, you heard footsteps ascending the stairs.

Trying not to panic, you made a beeline for your bedroom, and that's when you heard those footsteps behind you, growing louder before they suddenly stopped.

You cast an anxious look over your shoulder, immediately wishing you hadn't.

Behind you, standing at the end of the hall, was a black-cloaked figure, their face concealed by none other than... a Ghostface mask.

Fuck, they were here-!

You stood frozen in fear, watching as the figure stared at you, their head slowly tilting first to the left and then the right, almost like a hunter regarding their prey.

And then they were running towards you, before you had time to react.

A cry of fear left your mouth as you turned and ran into the bedroom, trying desperately to close the door, a struggle ensuing between you and the intruder.

Your phone clattered to the ground as you pushed against the door with all your strength, trying hard to get it to latch shut so you could lock it.

There was a loud thump from the other side of the door, and you staggered back a little, another cry leaving your mouth.

Abandoning the door, you ran over to the window, trying desperately to throw it open so you could escape, but you had only gotten it up maybe an inch or so before you felt strong arms close around your waist, yanking you away from the window.

Several pleading screams clawed their way up your throat, echoing off the walls of the bedroom, and you kicked your legs, fighting as hard as you could to get free.

Tears streamed down your face as you were slammed down onto the bed, your breath nearly knocked out of you. As gasping sobs slipped free from your parted lips, you stared up at the masked killer with wide eyes, your body numb with fear.

Is this really how it would end for you, dying at the hands of a masked murderer-?

Fuck-!

He had made sure to be as quiet as possible, and it still hadn't been enough.

Y/N...

You'd heard him.

As he made his way towards the stairs, he cast a glance upwards, and he could have sworn he saw you for a second, leaning over the railing.

But when he'd started ascending those stairs, all hell had broken loose.

You'd ran from him, actually ran from him-!

Why the fuck did they always have to run??

He stood there at the end of the hallway, staring you down, noting the fear in your eyes.

And you'd stood there, staring back at him like a little deer caught in the headlights.

His little deer...

In that moment, he wanted so badly to unmask and show you that it was okay, it was just him, nothing and nobody would ever hurt you.

He wanted to stand there and scream at you to move, fucking run, do something-

But it was too late. That familiar look of fear had already settled in your eyes, and Chris needed this, as sick as it sounded.

He needed you to feel that fear, he needed you scared for him, his frightened little bunny.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he took a running start towards you, and that's when you'd finally moved, running into the bedroom and throwing the door closed.

Or you'd tried, at least. He was faster.

He leaned heavily against the door, trying to push it open, to get inside and get to you, but you fought back, pushing harder against the door.

Under any other circumstances, he'd have been impressed, even a little proud of you.

You were fighting back so well for him, such a good girl. He'd have to reward you for that later.

But right now, all he felt was irritation.

If you'd just let him in, let him explain himself-!

Gritting his teeth, he threw all of his weight against the door, hearing you cry out in response, the noise igniting something deep within him.

God, you were so fucking good-!

But once more, the irritation flared up, drowning out any other emotion he may have felt in that moment. Jaw clenching, he slammed his weight against the door one more time, the wood easily giving way beneath him.

For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence, watching as you tried desperately to open a window, to get away from him.

That wouldn't do, he couldn't have you ruining everything for him just like that-

In three large strides, he was behind you, arms circling around your waist and yanking you away from that damned window, your screams echoing out into the night.

Again, something ignited deep within him, and he was unable to keep the tiny smirk from making its way onto his face.

Little Y/N.... you'd always been quite the screamer for him, hadn't you?

A soft groan left his mouth, too quiet for the voice modifier hidden within his mask to pick up on.

He threw you down onto the bed, leaning over you and pinning both of your wrists beneath one gloved hand.

You opened your mouth to call out for help, but before even he knew what was happening, he had drawn his knife, the blade toying with the delicate skin of your throat, your cries dying out into silence.

And as he stared down at you, taking in everything about you, his former irritation and arousal was slowly replaced by something more potent... a shred of remorse, perhaps.

Fuck.... what was he doing??

You weren't supposed to find out, it wasn't supposed to end like this. Something in your eyes made Chris briefly suspect that perhaps you already knew it was him beneath that mask, and that's why you were so terrified.

Because you'd trusted him and he'd gone and done terrible things in return.

He'd worked so hard to keep all of it from you, everything. And now, here you both were.

Him, towering over you, his anxiety and nerves and all that stress concealed ever so easily behind that familiar mask, his blade at your throat.

And you, lying prone and helpless beneath him, those eyes wide with fear.

He hated it, hated himself.

He hated how sick he'd become, getting off on this, getting off on you like this.

How had things become such a fucking mess??

Chris swallowed hard, staring down at you, and before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth, modified to sound exactly like the character he'd been masking behind this entire time.

"Hello, Y/N... This horror enough for you?"

The answering look in your eyes, the way you swallowed nervously beneath his blade, the way you clenched your eyes shut tight, tears streaming down your face as you just lay there...

It was like you were giving up, accepting the possibility that you might die tonight.

He hated that.

Where was your fight from earlier, where was his feral little thing from a few minutes ago?

It's like all the fight had gone out of you the minute he'd had you pinned beneath him.

"Y/N..." he breathed, leaning closer, his face inches from yours.

You stared up at him, unresponsive and numb with fear. This wouldn't do at all, he missed the excitement and the way you'd look at him when he'd play on your fear during all those knifeplay sessions, times that now seemed to be a millennia ago.

"Little mouse, pretty baby..." he tried again, his nicknames for you a last-ditch effort to get through to you.

And at last, his words triggered a response.

"Little mouse, pretty baby..."

Those words, spoken in the masked killer's rasping voice...

Your eyes went wide at the familiar nicknames.

There was no fucking way-

Chris??

He wouldn't really do all of this, would he?

Except... you cast a look down at the blade held against your throat, and that's when it dawned on you.

Though it may have been spattered with blood, probably from the most recent of murders, it was still familiar, nonetheless.

You recognized the engravings along the dark handle, the way the blade curved ever so slightly near the tip.

It was the same knife.

It was the exact same knife Chris had used on you countless times before, his hands steady and his focus only on you, always on you.

Even now, with your wrists confined beneath one gloved hand and his face inches from yours, the focus was entirely on you.

And you swore if you looked hard enough, you could see those familiar dark brown irises behind the mesh eye-holes of the mask.

You sniffed, blinking away more tears as you inhaled a shaky breath.

"C-chris?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The grip on your wrists subtly loosened, just enough for you to feel the difference, to gauge the current mood in the room.

"No more tears, little mouse..." the voice rasped again, and the cloaked figure raised the knife, waving it back and forth once, twice, almost as an imitation of scolding you.

And then lightning fast, before you knew what was happening, he was bringing the knife down towards you, making easy and immediate work of shredding your thin nightwear like it was nothing, until you were laid bare before him.

You visibly flinched, and you could swear you heard a soft groan emit from behind the mask. "Now that's much better, isn't it?" the voice rasped, taking on a rather condescending tone. You couldn't help the spark of indignation that flared up within you, despite the lingering fear.

And the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

"Fuck you."

The masked figure tilted his head to the side a little, his blade once again inches from your throat.

"Are you asking me or telling me, little mouse?" he teased.

And before you could stop it from happening, he had reached down towards your thighs, dropping his blade for a moment to wedge one gloved hand between your legs, prying them apart and exposing everything for the world to see.

You watched as he dipped one gloved finger down along the spot between your thighs, looking on in silent, horrified shame as he brought that now-glistening fingertip towards the mask, slipping his hand underneath to taste your essence on his tongue.

"Fuckkk..." the voice groaned, the single word almost a growl.

"Still as wet for me as always, pretty baby..." he continued. With that, his grip on your wrists loosened just a bit more, but the gloved hand that had been between your legs was now wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly in warning.

"You gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?" he asked.

This was wrong, all of it, it was so wrong, on so many levels.

You knew that, you had already wasted so many tears on it tonight.

And yet...

No. No, no, no.

You had to know why, first.

"Chris, why?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you watched a sort of change come over the masked figure kneeling above you.

His grip on your wrists and throat loosened, a soft sigh coming from behind the mask. A moment or two of silence ticked by, and you almost didn't think he'd answer you... until he did.

"You don't get it, do you?"

The figure heaved another sigh, before he abruptly reached up and yanked the mask off, revealing a familiar head of purple hair.

Chris looked ragged beneath the mask, which he now let fall to the floor beside the bed.

"They all deserved it. Every... every single one of them," he said, a weary expression on his face. "Every single one of those greedy, self-centered, fucking narcissistic assholes-" he ground out through gritted teeth, reaching up to run one gloved hand through his hair, "they all deserved what they got. All of them."

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing. All those times you had told Chris how you were worried, how you wanted him to come home, and the whole time... he knew.

Of course he knew, he'd been the one committing the murders in the first place.

Despite the fact that it was your boyfriend sitting here in front of you- or maybe it was because of your boyfriend sitting here in front of you- anger flared up within you, hot and quick.

"So all those times I begged you to come home, to stay with me, to be careful on tour... none of it fucking mattered, did it?" you ground out through clenched teeth.

Chris heaved a sigh, releasing his grip on your throat to push back the few sweat-drenched purple locks of hair clinging to his face. "Baby, I-" he began, but you cut him off.

"No! You don't get to justify this! Instead of coming home and spending time with your girlfriend, you'd rather get your fucking kicks murdering people!" you spat.

Chris immediately went on the defensive, grabbing the knife from where he'd dropped it and pointing it towards the spot at the base of your throat, his face contorting into a snarl.

"Do not be a fucking brat!" he hissed, leaning closer to you, those brown eyes like dark embers scorching through to your soul. The way he said it, the dark inflections in his voice, something about the way he was glaring down at you right now- you hated it, hated him.

And yet... it ignited a spark of arousal in you, starting from deep in your lower belly and spreading all the way to the tips of your toes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue before they slipped out.

"Fuck you."

An irritated growl rumbled deep within Chris's chest before his mouth was suddenly on yours, silencing any further sharp words and choking them out on your tongue.

"Gladly, little mouse," he hissed, his mouth working furiously against your own, his tongue and teeth working in unison to send you down, so far down, into that familiar spiral, unraveling so easily beneath him.

With another irritated growl, Chris broke the kiss for a moment to sit up, yanking off the glove on his left hand with his teeth, tossing it aside before he grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to look at him and only him, always him.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled, glaring down at you. You stared defiantly back up at him for a moment, drawing it out as long as you could before he raised a brow at you.

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him, just how he liked it. "Good fucking girl," Chris muttered, before he shoved two inked fingers into your mouth, nearly choking you.

"Suck. Now," he growled, staring down at you with narrowed eyes, that knife once again pointed towards the base of your throat.

You glared up at him through narrowed eyes before reluctantly doing as you were told, but not without biting down softly once, twice.

Chris let out a hiss, gripping the sides of your jaw with his few free remaining fingers, his eyes darkening. "Don't you dare bite, you little fucking brat!" he warned you, his tone firm. With that, he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, but the minute you went to close it, he shook his head at you.

"No. Mouth open, now," he ordered. You rolled your eyes at him, but complied, opening your mouth for him once more.

And Chris leaned over you with a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he spit into your mouth, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

"Fucking swallow."

You did just that, glaring him down the entire time, your former hatred for him flaring up again, along with that delicious little spark of arousal.

Chris offered you a smirk, though there wasn't a single trace of humor within it. "Good girl," he muttered, the words of praise only adding further fuel to the steady blaze slowly burning away in your lower belly.

And yet that hatred was still there...

"I hate you-" you started on a hiss, but Chris shook his head at you, his gaze softening the tiniest bit.

"No. You don't. You love me, Y/N, you always have," he argued, before leaning down to kiss you.

And it was true.

You hated it, but he was right.

There was a small part of you that refused to be silenced, refused to die out.

You still loved him.

You hated him and you loved him, all at once.

You know what he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed, all of it was an unspeakable sort of horror. What he'd done to you tonight, was another horror entirely. And despite all of that...

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him, to truly hate him. At the end of the day, he was still Chris.

Chris, the sweet man with a heart of gold for those he cared about.

Chris, the goofball of his friends, the one who could make anyone smile, even on the worst of days.

Chris... the man you'd fallen hopelessly and endlessly in love with, who you'd given your entire heart and soul to.

You knew you'd always love him, you knew it in the way you kissed him back right now, in the way your leg slid up just enough to rest against his thigh, in the way his touch left you wanting more.

And he knew it too.

A soft groan left his throat, followed by a mumbled expletive, his mouth working urgently against your own. "Shh, baby, that's my good girl," he whispered, his tone less harsh than before. Your hatred slowly ebbing and fading into nothing, you let natural instinct take over, too exhausted to keep fighting, to keep trying.

You loved him too much.

Your leg hitched up a little further against Chris's thigh, a groan leaving his throat as he set the knife aside to grip tightly on your outer thigh, keeping you pinned against him as he kissed you.

"Such a good fucking girl for me..." he breathed against your lips, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. You arched up into his touch, wanting more of him, all of him.

"Need..." your breath was coming out in soft pants as you stared up at him, silently begging him to take control, to give you what you needed, what you always desperately craved from him.

"What, pretty baby, what do you need?" Chris murmured, leaning back to smirk down at you, a knowing look in those warm brown eyes. He knew exactly what it was you wanted, the smug little fucker. You glared at him, your breathing heavy as you waited.

"Don't look at me like that, use your words, Y/N," Chris told you, his eyes narrowing for a split second. You huffed, your gaze softening and turning into a pleading look, begging him again.

"Please?"

That one word seemed to set something off inside of him, because in one second, you'd been silently begging him, and now here in the next second, he was leaning down over you, his inked fingers reaching down to toy with your clit.

Then before you could even blink, you felt him push two, three of his fingers inside of you, curling perfectly against that sweet spot deep within. Your back arched up off the bed, a soft cry leaving your throat as Chris slowly worked his fingers to bring you closer and closer to that edge, ready to fall at any moment's notice.

And then all too soon, right as you could feel that warmth blaze deep in your belly, he was withdrawing his fingers from you, eliciting a noise of disappointment from deep in your throat.

"Shh, little mouse. Don't worry, I'm not fucking done with you yet," Chris murmured, his eyes darkening a shade or two as he stared down at you. "On all fours, now. Turn around," he added, leaning down to kiss you once, twice, before releasing you.

Your thighs trembling, you got up on all fours, turning to face away from him. "Head down, eyes closed. I want you to fucking feel this, all of it," Chris's voice was in your ear, all dark seduction.

And how easily you obeyed him.

A satisfied growl rumbled from deep within Chris's chest, and you had maybe all but five seconds before you heard the sound of a zipper being undone, followed by the feel of Chris pushing into you, burying himself deep inside, his hips settling against yours.

"Fuck... You're so fucking wet for me, you don't even need lube, little mouse..."

His words brought back that fire in your lower belly, a groan leaving your throat as you tilted your head back. His hand was on your throat in an instant, his fingers curling to grip just tight enough, exactly how you loved it.

All of this felt so familiar, so easy...

He had you exactly where he wanted you, and you didn't mind in the least.

Your thoughts were suddenly disturbed, your mind going deliriously blank as Chris's hips met yours repeatedly, each thrust seemingly rougher than the last, his hand holding ever steady to your throat like it was his own personal lifeline, his salvation.

And then he pulled you up by the throat, your back meeting his chest, the new angle causing little stars and dots to splash across your vision, soft cries to rise up from your throat.

Looking back over your shoulder, you saw him use his teeth to rid his other hand of its glove, before those inked fingers grabbed ahold of your jaw, tilting your head back far enough for Chris's mouth to meet your own in a harsh, unforgiving kiss.

"Still... fucking... hate me?" he gasped, in between kisses. You inhaled a sharp breath, your eyes meeting his as he waited. "No..." you finally breathed. And you could see it in his eyes, the way he knew you were speaking the truth.

Sure, you'd probably come to regret this a little the next morning, but here? Now? Right in this very moment? You still didn't hate him, you couldn't.

How could you hate someone who, despite having a near god complex this evening, despite committing horrendous atrocities, even despite hunting you down like nothing more than weak prey, still somehow had your best interests at heart..?

How could you hate the one person who had been there for you from the beginning, who had loved you more than you loved yourself at times?

"Say it," Chris's voice cut through your thoughts, his words firm.

"I... I love you," your answer was immediate, your breath coming out in soft pants.

"Mm... of course you do, pretty baby..." Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little kisses and bites along the skin there, bruises sure to form the next morning.

The hand on your throat moved down to rest between your thighs, his fingers toying with your clit and drawing you closer and closer to that sweet high, the blaze in your lower belly burning brighter than ever.

"Hah... fuck... m'close..." you groaned, leaning your head back to rest it on Chris's shoulder. He nodded, his grip on your jaw tightening a little as he bent down to kiss you softly on the mouth. "I know, baby... come on, Y/N..." he gently coaxed you, his words only adding fuel to the fire.

And then his next words had you tipping over the edge, falling blissfully down into that delicious darkness, his name leaving your mouth in a garbled shout.

"Scream for me, little mouse..."

Scream you did; your throat felt raw as your hands rose to claw at his, clinging on tightly almost out of fear of losing him, your first climax only working to bring on a second, more powerful one in its wake.

Somewhere in the white noise filtering in through your brain, you could hear Chris groan from behind you as he reached his own high, finishing inside of you, your name leaving his mouth like a swear word.

"Y/N, fuck, that's my good girl..."

His words of praise had you going completely stupid and sick in the head, your thighs trembling beneath you, and had he not been holding you tightly to him, you're sure you would have collapsed under your own weight.

As the two of you slowly came down from your unified high, Chris gently pulled out, tugging you down to lie next to him on the bed, shoving the earlier discarded knife to the side until it clattered to the floor, where it would most likely remain until the next morning.

Your heart thundered in your chest, the white noise gradually fading as you curled into Chris's side, your hand resting atop his still-clothed chest, your fingers tracing the collar of his robes, before a frown marred your features.

"Off.." you murmured, earning a deep chuckle from Chris as he sat up, tugging the black fabric over his head before discarding it on the floor, next to the knife.

"C'mere, lay down. Is this what you wanted, mouse?" he asked, pulling you closer to him. You nodded, your hand resting atop his chest again, your fingertips tracing over the ink there.

"Subby as shit, look at you, Y/N..." he teased you. Trying to hide a yawn, you lightly swatted at him, grumbling to yourself. "Shut up, I could kick your ass, you know..." you sleepily mumbled. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

"Says you, who wouldn't even have survived in her own horror movie," came his lighthearted response. "That's 'cause the villain is always hot..." you mumbled in response, yawning again.

That earned you another laugh, followed by a soft kiss on the forehead. "Hard to argue with that. Here, stay here a second. Let me clean you up, baby..." you heard Chris murmur, before you felt the bed dip under his weight.

You could hear his footsteps fading away, followed by the distinct sound of the tap running in the bathroom, before he came back.

And despite you trying your hardest to stay awake, there was just something so soothing about the warmth of the cloth down your back, in between your thighs, along the back of your neck...

"Stop fighting it, mouse. Get some sleep for me..." Chris gently chastised you, before you felt him lean over the bed to kiss you gently on the cheek. You mumbled a response before your eyes grew heavy, sleep waiting to overtake you.

And as his footsteps faded again, you finally gave in, letting your eyes fall closed, succumbing to the welcoming darkness of sleep...

You had done... surprisingly good.

Not even that, you had done exceptionally well for him. Better than he'd thought you would.

He had expected you to put up a bigger fight, sure, but... he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You loved him, you always had, always would.

The way you'd surrendered so easily to him after putting up quite the little fight... he had rewarded you decently enough for that.

At least he thought he had.

Either way, judging by the way you were currently passed out on your bed, tucked under the blanket he had taken great care to drape over you so you wouldn't get cold, he had worked you over pretty good.

God, the fucking noises you'd made for him tonight-! Always a good girl for him...

A gentle smile passed over his face as he leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching you sleep for a moment or two.

And then he noticed your phone lying there on the floor, completely forgotten from when you'd dropped it earlier.

Crossing the room to lean down and retrieve it, he glanced down at the screen, a small smirk settling over his features as he read the most recent text, from his bandmate and closest friend.

'Y/N!! Where the fuck are you??'

Ah, so that's who you'd been texting earlier...

Unable to help himself, he opened the chat, snapping a quick photo of you asleep in your bed, before hitting send and typing a reply, his smirk still in place.

'Little mice asleep in their beds... Y/N is safe with me now, she sends her love...

XO, Ghostface'

👻 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @nerdraging4point0 @motionlessindoubt @motionlessomens @bxrnthyfears @talialovesmiw @circle-with-me @thesazzb @tearfallpixie @annateagan @beaker1636 @bobateaandchocolatepudding @cookiesupplier

👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻

#ghostface! chris motionless #ghostface! chris motionless x reader #chris motionless smut #chris motionless oneshot #chris motionless #chris cerulli oneshot #chris cerulli #miw #motionless in white #miw things #ghostface x reader #ghostface #smut #scream for me

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bridgertonbabe · 1 month

Note

So having read the bridgerton spouse group chats by you and bridgerton family group chats by @holybatgirlz I’ve realised Benedict seems to always been one of the ones getting injured during family games night…

Does Sophie ever ban him from playing after an Injury or flat out refuse to go after she’s had all four kids and Benedict ends up back in hospital and ends up out of action for a few weeks meaning Sophie has four kids and a husband to tend to (and forces the injuring causing party to wait on him hand and foot for the duration of his Convalescence)

Also on another point… reading these makes me wanna write a family games night fic 😂😂

I feel like by the time all the spouses are married in and as they all start their families that Bridgerton game nights would become a bit calmer - only fractionally, but enough that the hospital visits aren't as frequent and the injuries sustained are far less serious. Though the Bridgertons (and Kate) remain insanely competitive to a terrifying degree, the spouses manage to limit game nights to once a year at most and then following the annual game night the spouses make it very clear how little they care for the family's version of a casual night of board/parlour games, and at the very least some of the Bridgertons take their partners feelings on board and attempt to mellow their competitiveness (kinda).

But with that being said, just because the injuries at game nights wind down, doesn't mean casualties don't occur through other competitive dumbass means...

BSSG Group Chat

Sophie: Guys I'm at the hospital.

Penelope: omg are you ok?????

Lucy: oh no what's happened?

Sophie: Ben broke his leg.

Phillip: Shit how did he manage that?

Sophie: He broke it go-karting.

Gareth:

Simon: What the ever living fuck was he doing go-karting?

Lucy: and not to be ageist - but at his age????

Phillip: The fuck is he playing at?

Gareth: i have to know

Gareth: did he go by himself?

Michael: Gareth please don't make this any more tragic for Ben or any more embarrassing for Sophie

Sophie: For your information he wasn't by himself.

Lucy: then who the hell did he go with????

Penelope: wait

Sophie: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news

Phillip: Oh no

Simon: Please don't say it

Sophie: But it was a Bridgerton sibling day out

Michael: Oh for fuck's sake

Lucy: but greg told me he was going to spend the afternoon helping his mum pick up the flowers and decorations for penelope and eloise's baby shower on saturday!

Penelope:

Simon: As much as I can share in your dismay Lucy I can't say I'm remotely shocked to learn that Daphne and her siblings all lied about their whereabouts to hide the fact that they were having a sneaky go-karting afternoon 😑

Michael: I'm well aware I'm including my wife in this but do none of them have jobs??? Who goes go-karting on a Wednesday afternoon????

Phillip: Lets just be grateful that there was only one casualty from their go-karting escapade.

Sophie: ...

Sophie: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news again

Simon: Sophie don't you dare

Penelope: oh god do we even want to know

Sophie: But they've all been hospitalised.

Lucy:

Michael: Why

Simon:

Michael: Why must they be like this

Gareth: just how exactly do 8 people get taken to hospital from a single go-karting afternoon?

Phillip: Soph is El ok????? I'm on my way right now

Sophie: She's ok Phil and so is the baby, she's just got a sprained wrist. She fared the best out of them all injury wise.

Penelope: El's fared the best???????

Michael:

Michael: Just what exactly is the extent of the damages we're talking here @ Sophie

Sophie: So Colin has a broken leg to match Ben's, Anthony's in a neck brace, Fran's fractured a couple of ribs, Daph's fractured her arm while Greg's broken his and has bruised his coccyx, and Hy's broken her big toe and is currently sporting an eye patch.

Penelope: COLIN'S BROKEN HIS LEG???????

Penelope: I'm 4 weeks away from giving birth wtf am I supposed to do with Limpy for a husband?!?!?!?

Lucy: ffs greg and i were supposed to be playing tennis with hermione and my brother this sunday 😤

Gareth: at least this isn't your wife:

Gareth: and soph how exactly did hy end up with an eye patch from go-karting?

Sophie: Greg shot her.

Lucy: HE DID WHAT

Simon: He shot her?????

Michael: Wow Greg shot Hy?

Michael: Honestly I would have imagined Fran snapping before Greg

Gareth: @ Sophie if you've previously failed to mention that my wife is wearing an eye patch because she's been blinded in that eye NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO MENTION IT

Sophie: Relax she hasn't been blinded, it's just precautionary until the swelling's gone down.

Lucy: CAN WE GET BACK TO THE PART WHERE MY HUSBAND SHOT HIS SISTER

Penelope: yeah wtf is Greg doing with a gun????

Simon: And why does he have one for go-karting?!?!??!

Sophie: Ok so it was a BB gun he was using

Lucy: AND HE HAD IT BECAUSE?!?!?!?!?

Sophie: Well you're all going to love this

Sophie: They weren't just doing regular go-karting

Phillip: What

Sophie: They were doing it Mario Kart style.

Michael:

Simon: I actually can't stand them.

Gareth: not to be pedantic but they don't have guns in mario kart

Gareth: did they get it mixed up with gta coz that would make way more sense with all of the injuries they've acculumated

Lucy: are you seriously telling me they were driving go-karts around a track while shooting at each other??????

Penelope: I'm a month away from giving birth to a Bridgerton baby 🙃

Sophie: Basically they were using an assortment of items like hurling banana peels and pouring out oil on the track to make the others slip, they were throwing frisbees and balls at each other which were meant to be like shells and they had a variety of water/nerf/BB guns to take each other out that way. All of which contributed to the massive pile up that caused most of their injuries.

Michael: God almighty

Gareth: question; was hy not wearing a helmet?

Sophie: She was but she had the visor open after Eloise sprayed it over with paint which was how she ended up getting shot.

Kate: Omfg

Kate: I cannot believe this!

Sophie: It's a lot to take in I know.

Kate: I can't believe they didn't invite me!

Michael: Kate do you even care that your husband is in a neck brace?

Kate: Well that's what he fucking gets for not including me! Karma's a bitch and so is Anthony!

Simon: @ Kate

Phillip: God can you imagine what Violet's reaction to this is going to be when she finds out?

Sophie: No need to imagine she already knows.

Penelope: omfg

Gareth: damn you already told on them???

Sophie: Violet was the first person I told as soon as I heard about it all. I'm sick to death of them all acting like this and being so stupidly reckless. Not one of them even stopped to think that it might not be a good idea and now I've got to see after 4 kids with an invalid for a husband, and the rest of their injuries will come as just as great an inconvenience to all of you as well!

Sophie: So yeah I immediately went to Violet to tell on them because I want her to wipe the absolute floor with them for being so thoughtless!!!!!

Penelope:

Gareth:

Michael: You did what had to be done Soph and for that I applaud you 👏👏👏

Sophie: But that's not all, I'm also punishing Ben for being so feckless.

Kate: Oooh kinky

Sophie: Far from it. For starters when I got here Ben wanted to cuddle Vi to cheer himself up but I told him no and that he's getting no snuggles with her from now until his cast comes off.

Gareth: holy shit you're gate-keeping his own daughter from him

Lucy:

Lucy: and i love it

Michael: How quickly did he start to cry?

Sophie: Instantaneously. It was incredibly rewarding.

Sophie: And I'd encourage you all to do the same with your respective Bridgerton in whatever way you see fit.

Penelope: once Colin's home I'll keep offering him food but then just sit and eat it right in front of him 😈😈😈

Gareth: i'm going to get a toy parrot and perch it on hy's shoulder and call her patchy 🦜

Simon: I'm not even going to bother picking Daph up from the hospital. She has to learn she can't keep pulling stunts like this as a mother of four.

Simon: That and I've already started drinking to deal with this nonsense so I couldn't even if I had to.

Phillip: I'm going to make El take and stay with the twins at back to back children's parties this weekend. She'll absolutely fucking hate it.

Kate: I'm just going to laugh in Anthony's face. Probably get the kids to join in too.

Lucy: damn i'm not sure what i'm going to do with greg

Michael: I'm going to withhold sex.

Penelope: damn that's a bold move

Simon: But is that going to be more of a punishment for her or you?

Michael: Not to give you all too much of an insight but that's going to kill Fran more than you'd think it would.

Michael: But that's what she gets for going along with her fam's unhinged competitive behaviour.

Michael: No more snu snu.

Penelope: I actually think if we all withheld sex from our respective partners that they might finally learn their lesson.

Lucy: that's... actually a very valid point that could very much work

Kate: Well we don't call them sex idiots for nothing.

Michael: They're essentially a bunch of horny Tinkerbells; they need sex to live.

Simon: I truly hate that sentiment. But you're not wrong.

Michael: So are you all following my lead? It's your own choice obvs, no pressure if anyone would prefer not to.

Gareth: i'm not exactly chomping at the bit to be having snu snu with patchy

Kate: Yeah neck braces don't make for a turn on either.

Penelope: And being this pregnant I'm not really in the mood for it as it is.

Sophie: Like I'm going to have the time or energy seeing after the kids while Ben's bedridden anyway.

Lucy: fine by me

Simon: I have 0 qualms with this method of punishment.

Phillip: Same here.

Michael: Then it's no snu snu all around! Vive le resistance!

#asks #group chat au #bridgerton spouses #obviously the no snu snu rule wouldn't have lasted for too long at all #but the spouses would have at least had some satisfaction in making their partners suffer for the time that they did

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bokettochild · 3 months

Note

hi! I don't know if you know the fallen timeliness theory? For linked Universe if you do could you explain it to me a bit? Because I read a fic with it were legend was from a fallen time and was times other descendent? So if you know could you pls explain to me of so ty!

P.s. I really want to know about because I'm suckered for time and legend angst or them just bonding.

Alright! So, LoZ lore does have an "official" timeline as published in the Hyrule Historia, detailing the canon placement of all games prior to BotW in 2017. According to this official guide, there are three cannonical timelines in the LoZ universe (potentially four after the release of AoC). These timelines all result from events within the adventure of the Hero of Time.

The general names are the timelines are the Adult Timeline, the Child Timeline, and the Fallen Timeline/Downfall Timeline.

The Child Timeline

The Child Timeline is the result of Princess Zelda (OoT/Lullaby/Sheik) sending back the hero's soul to his childhood before Ganon ever came into power. This timeline features the fact that the Hero of Time's adventure is not known in his era, but rather left behind when he traveled back to before it happened. He then proceeded to go off and undertake the events of Majora's Mask and later becomes the Hero's Shade after his death. In terms of LU, this is the timeline Twilight comes from.

The Adult Timeline

The Adult Timeline is also the result of Princess Zelda sending the Hero of Time back to his original timeline. However, despite the hero being sent back to alter time, it still happened, and continues to exist even after he left it. This era has had the Hero's Spirit removed from it, unable to reincarnate without the hero first dying, so there are no more Heroes of Courage. There are heroes however, including Wind Waker's Link, known in LU as Wind. Here, because there is no Hero's Spirit, when trouble came, the goddesses flooded the world to get rid of it, creating the Great Ocean. Wind is the successor to the Hero of Time here, claiming the triforce of courage rather than being chosen by it and establishing a new era of heroes.

The Fallen/Downfall Timeline

This timeline is the one you asked about. While more debated and with many more variations, the general idea here is that the Hero of Time was killed by Ganon, and only be being sealed by Princess Zelda (OoT/Lullaby/Sheik), the Sages and the Knights of Hyrule. The seal on Ganon lasts a few hundred years before it is broken by Aganim, and a young boy named Link (LU Legend) is the one called to defeat him as a result.

The Downfall Timeline tends to have many variations on the course of events leading up to the death of the hero. Hyrule's Downfall by RwanLink is a fan animation that shows an alternate trail of events than the "official" timeline. Many fanfiction authors also have their own theories, varying from the hero still being a child to the hero having grown up and spent seven years training rather than being asleep, and his seven year nap actually being a preventative measure by Fi to prevent the timeline from occurring.

Usually, when reading fanfic, it's fair game what the events surrounding the Death of the Hero of Time are, so be aware of that!

The Legend and Time angst usually stems from Time's guilt at learning that not only did he leave behind alternate timelines, he also left one in utter ruin because he Failed.

Again, deviations regarding his fate do make it difficult to pin down how old he might have been at his death, but some author's (myself included) have written Time as being old enough to have messed around and left some progeny. Legend is NOT canonically Time's descendant. He IS, however, descended from a line of knights commonly associated with Time (the Knights of Hyrule*), as well as a knight who looked crazily similar to a young Time (Raven from the Oracle of Ages manga). This has led to theories of relations between Time and Legend. I've seen some theories where Raven and Time are biological brothers, Raven is Time's descendant, and even one featuring Raven as Time's father! All of these leave a lot of room for Legend and Time bonding/angst dynamics, so I love them all!

*this is actually the same Knights family which Ashei from TP is descended from, making them distant cousins!

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu time #loz #loz timeline #timeline talk

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httpknjoon · 11 months

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 10

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.3k+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | oh my god. hi, everyone! i'm still alive haha i apologize for the *long* delay. may wasn't my month 🙃 but now, i'm here and I split this chapter, so expect a 10.5. this is A LOT OF ANGST. no fluff for now. just full-on gloomy. also, i'll be replying to everyone who sent their asks soon! tysm for sending 'em. again, i apologize for the delay! enjoy reading :)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Someone’s a little gloomy today.

The sound of echoing thunder woke you up today, along with the rings of your alarm in your phone. 5:15 AM. You groaned as the brightness from your phone’s screen hit your vision. After five more minutes of just staring at the most uninteresting wall in your room, you get up from your bed to prepare for work.

Unsurprisingly, your head feels heavy and so is your chest and eyes. Every step of your bare foot on the ground strangely felt like you were floating into space. The weather is cozy and cold, but you didn’t even flinch when the cold water hits your skin. You stood under the shower, the heater not even on, just staring at your feet.

I mean, he could have told me.

The sentence popped into your head. There is this part of you that is in between the scale of angry and sad after knowing about Lily visiting the bakeshop and talking to Taehyung. You wondered if Taehyung even had planned on telling you or if he don’t think he should have told you. You are starting to think he was only friendlier with you these past few days because he learned what happened between him and Lily. You’re beginning to think that he is only nicer to you now after bad their relationship went.

But did he even owe me that? I’m basically a stranger to him.

Another idea, opposite the other one, crossed your mind. You always try to be understanding and put yourself in his shoes in this confusing situation. The fact that your boyfriend doesn’t really have any idea who you are always staying in the back of your head. It’s always there as a reminder that Taehyung doesn’t know you. And his not telling you that he met up with his ex-girlfriend days ago confirmed that you are probably someone in the background for him. Someone… who suddenly lives in this house with him.

And thanks to that confirmation, more questions were formed by your brain.

You shut your eyes close and turned your head up, feeling the waterdrops on your face. Sighing, “Who even am I here?”

Taehyung, what am I even to you here?

The question floats in Taehyung’s head over and over again. The pain and confusion in your voice also play on a loop, adding weight to his shoulders and thorns in his throat. He wished he could answer that question easily, but he can’t. Seeing someone who treated him with care and kindness break down in front of him because of him is a slap on his face.

Because Lily is your girlfriend… right?

More guilt built up in him when he learned that you were aware that he still initially saw Lily as his girlfriend after he woke from the accident. It surprised him to hear you say that you cannot be mad with that. When you said that, he almost instantly wanted you to be angry at him, to let out every emotion you were feeling at the time.

Because you are too considerate and kind… and patient with him and this situation you’ve been put into. You didn’t even have to stay; you could’ve just left him the moment the doctor told you about his amnesia and all. But you stayed… and even looked after him for a whole month. Looking back at everything now, he knew. He should have just told you.

He thought you would be mad at him for reaching out to an ex. He didn’t know how you would react if he asked about Lily. He didn’t know you and he admit that was his fault. He has been working on knowing you these past few days, but now after last night, it felt too late. He should have made an effort earlier than this. As much as he hates it, Taehyung’s list of should haves is getting longer.

Now, a tray of chocolate chip cookies bakes in this oven you two have in your kitchen. He decided to make some after having trouble sleeping. He was shifting and turning on his bed for hours, possibly because of two causes: his head injury and you. Earlier, you were talking about how much you’ve been craving cookies. He knows that his cookies cannot resolve what’s going on right now, but he hoped that they will make you feel better. Even a little.

Taehyung managed to sleep for a couple of hours but still woke up later two hours past midnight. He quietly prepares and bakes the ingredients for the cookies. He was quick as it was the easiest pastry he can make. By the time he was putting the tray in the oven, he heard grumbles of thunder.

Should I put it in the jar? Or…

Almost thirty minutes past three, Taehyung yawned as he waited for the cookies to cool down before he stores them. He looked around your kitchen. In these quiet moments, he is finally starting to notice some details in some corners of this place. Particularly, the kitchen. He wondered if he picked the color of the walls or what to put in it when you two bought the house. His curiosity begins to grow about what you built together throughout your four-year relationship.

He wondered how great everything was before he lost his memories of the last five years.

You were supposed to leave at six o clock. But you didn’t realize how much you took your time with your thoughts that you ended up leaving twenty minutes late than your plan. Rushing to leave, you didn’t bother for breakfast and ran straight to the front door in your scrubs and jacket with backpack and umbrella in hand. If you still have time to spare when you arrive at the hospital, you’ll just buy something in its cafeteria.

As you get off the bus, you speed-walk to the hospital. You were too in a hurry to recognize who greeted you along the way, but you just greeted them back anyway. By the time you reached the locker room, you were catching your breath with less than ten minutes left to prepare for your shift.

Thank God, Jisoo’s not here. You sighed when you looked at yourself in front of the small mirror in your locker. Your eyes… were puffy. It’s not that bad. But everyone who will look directly at your eyes would tell the difference. You hoped no one else would notice.

“Good morning!”

Your eyebrows raised. Julia’s jolly greeting filled the quiet room when she entered. A couple of nurses who were also there greeted her back while you hid behind your locker door, trying to think of a quick remedy or even an explanation for your eyes. Because next to Jisoo, Julia is your closest friend here. She started working here two years ago. Her kind and sociable nature made her a friend to everyone. You three immediately went friends during a mutual graveyard shift schedule.

“Hey, YN. Good morning.” she opened her locker, which was next to yours.

You gulped, “Good morning, Ju.”

After one last look in the mirror, you closed the door. Julia was busy organizing her things in the locker, while she continues speaking.

“Jisoo’s already on break for her wedding, right?” she asked, still not giving you a glance.

“Ah, yes. For only one week though.” You replied, trying to act normal. You don’t know if you should go or wait for her to time in since you two usually do—with Jisoo if your shift schedule match up.

“You know, my dress for the weekend is still in the— Oh, what happened?”

In a quick glance, she immediately spotted a certain emotion on your face. Concern was written all over her face as she stopped and faced you.

“W-What?” you chuckled awkwardly, looking away.

“Why did you cry? What’s going on?” she asked softly, still worried. “Are you okay?”

Oh, that question. You don’t know what the hell that question has, it always breaks you down. You bit your lower lip as you looked back at Julia. You tried to hold on to the strings that were putting you together.

You sighed shakingly, “Yeah.”

A small, sad smile formed on her lips, “You sure?”

You feel like if you try to say anything again, it will just turn into a sob. So, you just nod. Unexpectedly, she reached out her arms and hugged you. Julia knew something was wrong. Well, she can definitely read through your eyes and the simple quirk of your lips that you probably don’t know you do whenever you’re bothered or tired. She can even feel the weight you’ve been carrying in an embrace.

“How about let’s go out together later? After this shift?” she offered.

“Sure.” You agreed, washing down any effort to put a useless mask on your emotions.

The cookies that he left on the kitchen counter for you were left untouched. He left it in a Tupperware, something that can fit in your backpack, along with a small post-it, written: cookies u can bring @ your shift today :)

He likes to think that the Tupperware probably went unnoticed by you instead of thinking that you ignored it. But what if you did? The idea of you being mad at him scares him.

“I swear, whoever will eat those cupcakes would choke on rainbow sprinkles.” Jimin entered the kitchen when Taehyung was just spacing out. He hung his coat behind the door and put on his apron. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

Jimin went on, “I arrived twenty minutes late and you already made two batches of blueberry cupcakes, one tray of snickerdoodles, and a lot of banana bread. What’s going on?”

Taehyung stared at him for a second, having battles in his head if he should tell his best friend about what happened. Jimin didn’t fail to remind him about telling you about Lily. And if he learns how you reacted last night—Oh, just sucked it up. Taehyung exhaled.

“YN learned about Lily.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, “You told her?”

“She found through Lily herself,” Taehyung replied and he can read the confusion on his friend’s face.

“Huh?”

Taehyung went on telling how you and Lily introduced yourselves, how you introduced yourself as his friend, how Lily shared that she visited the bakeshop just last week, and how you remained quiet and bottled up with emotions until you two went home.

“She was so upset, she didn’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung recalled. “But she just broke down and she is still so nice in the middle of telling me how she feels. She told me that she cannot be mad at me for meeting up with Lily or for everything else. Because she understands. She always understands and I’m sure she is a wonderful person– but… But I really didn’t just give us a chance. She reminded me that we also happened after asking me who is she in this whole thing.”

He paused, remembering almost every word you said to him last night. He was too busy chasing what happened five years ago that he ignored someone and something important in his present time.

“Then, who is she to you?” his best friend asked.

“I… I don’t know.” Taehyung sighed, unsure. “But she’s not a stranger. Calling her a stranger would be an insult. I know she’s much more than that.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Taehyung looked down, resting his hands on his working table. Jimin just pats his shoulder for comfort. He knew saying things like I told you so or anything close to that is just useless. Taehyung already knew what he had done, he don’t need more reminders that he probably fucked up.

“Well, you need to figure that out.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know anymore, Ju.”

You wiped off the tears on your cheek as you confessed. Finally, after a whole day shift at the hospital, you get to open up to someone. As soon as you two left the hospital and changed into your casual clothes, Julia drove you two to her apartment since you don’t really feel like going anywhere. She ordered pizza and non-alcoholic drinks, which were delivered just minutes after you two arrived there.

No time was wasted. She didn’t even have to ask again for you to open up. For the last forty minutes, you’ve been telling whatever you feel like sharing to your friend. It did take off some weight on your chest as she listened and nods.

“I mean, I know that he’s just trying to know what happened between him and his ex. But I cannot understand why he didn’t tell me… Or maybe ask me about it. I know something about it. He told me how they broke up years ago. He told me what went wrong. Just like how I shared experiences with my past relationships too. And that’s how it used to be.” You reached for another tissue Julia offered. “We used to tell each other everything. Communication and honesty always mattered to him.”

“And it would have been nice if he let me know about his plans on talking with Lily. It’s perfectly fine by me. But he didn’t and now I’m starting to feel that he sees me as nothing. Just a person around him, who lives in the same house as him—or worse, he sees me as someone who just looks after him… like his nurse.”

The last thought squeezed your heart out. Taehyung even had a hard time introducing you yesterday to Lily. You took the initiative to introduce yourself to his ex as his friend. You don’t know what to feel about it. Should you be mad or sad? But can you blame him? You can never blame Taehyung. You always try to understand what he went through with that accident and what he is going through now. But as much as you hate to admit it…

“I feel like I’m burning out. I’m fucking drained.”

Another tear rolled down your cheeks while you shake your head. Saying that sentence felt like a confession of a crime. You don’t know why. You didn’t follow with another sentence again. Julia gave you a glass of water to help you calm down.

“You can take a break too, you know?” she whispered as you gulped in the liquid down your throat. “You can pause…”

Julia was gentle with her tone and choice of words.

“I think, you've already done enough. You took a month's leave to take care of Taehyung, to at least help him adjust to these big changes happen. You waited for him to ask about you or your relationship, which he did– Well, he tried. You are great. You were nothing caring and understanding for him and your relationship.” She paused and held your hand, preparing you for what she is about to say. “But he… he just has his eyes on people he knew before you.”

You almost hissed with the harsh sentiment of your friend. It felt like someone pulled the band-aid off your fresh, unhealed wound. But still, it felt like you needed to hear that. Julia, on the other hand, saw you flinch and held your palm tighter.

She continued, “The Taehyung you met before the accident is different from the Taehyung you live together now. As you said, five years ago, he went through a breakup with his ex. That breakup may have caused changes in him that made him into the Taehyung you initially met.”

It’s complicated. But you get what she is trying to say. A lot of things happened in Taehyung’s life before you two crossed paths. He broke up with Lily, and his bakery began to hit success and invest in other stuff in his life. A lot of other changes happened. Then, you two met through mutual friends.

“And please, YN, let yourself feel things.” Julia spoke suddenly, making you meet her gaze, “It’s unhealthy. Be sad, be mad, or be happy. Or simply take a break if you feel like it. Don’t deny yourself of feeling anything. You can be mad.” She said it like a reminder. “You have every right to feel so. I know you’re trying to justify Taehyung reaching out to an ex behind your back as part of this knotty situation. But at least, out of respect to you, he should have at least told you before or after he did so.”

“That’s why you’re so burnout right now, hon. You’ve done nothing but give and give. You forgot about your limits too… Are you even still okay working in the same hospital after everything?”

She asked and almost instantly, you remembered the night of the accident. You were waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up in the same spot you always waited in. Then, you received this call. Next thing you know, you’re seeing him getting pulled out of the ambulance. Bloody and bruised. Your stomach twisted with the recollection of his state that night. Thankfully, Julia called your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“Just know that you’re not alone in any of this. You don’t have to carry everything on your own. Jisoo and I are always here for you. And I really appreciate you opening up to me now.” She smiled softly before pulling you in for another hug.

After that hug, you two moved on to lighter topics. You asked her about her preparation for Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day at the end of the week. She talked about Chanyeol, her plus-one for the wedding. She shared about how things are going and you’re genuinely happy to see her happy. You ended up leaving at seven. Julia offered to drive you home, but you kindly refused, saying you need to be alone for a short while.

“Okay, just let me know when you got home.” She smiled and of course, was enveloped in the warmest hug you’ve ever received recently.

Just like when you left home earlier, the sky was dark and gloomy as you wait at the bus stop. Raindrops began falling just minutes after you got on the bus. You sat on the farthest empty seat your eyes spotted. Watching the raindrop rolling on the glass window, you thought about Julia and everything she said.

Change.

You wondered if change can help your emotional burnout while leaning your head on the cold surface of the vehicle. Truthfully, working in the same hospital after the accident is difficult. The first day you returned after your month-long leave you found yourself stopping in your tracks at every spot your feet took you that night of the accident. You also don’t enjoy the pity glances or smiles you get from your colleagues who knew about the accident. There were times, someone would approach you and say something nice or motivational. You appreciate the effort but it’s making your work more of a reminder than a distraction for what happened.

You get off the bus with a new idea and even more uncertainties in mind. You still felt like a deflating balloon floating your way to get home. After your breakdown, you wonder how Taehyung would react. He seemed pretty quiet last night. The Taehyung you know would prefer talking with you to at least mend these issues. But now, you’re really just tired and would rather organize your thoughts alone.

And when you walked up your front porch, you stopped as you saw the lights on in the kitchen. He’s home early. You turned the knob, preparing yourself with any awkward tension that is always suffocating. Walking in, a delicious smell of flavor filled your nostrils. You’re not planning to say anything but then, he greeted you.

“Oh, hey…”

It was short but soft. His lips formed a small, tight smile. He was indeed cooking as he holds a wooden spatula and you can hear the crinkling sound in the pan. You noticed he is wearing a familiar apron and a headband, exposing his forehead, to avoid his jet-black hair in sticking on the sweaty corners of his forehead.

“Hey.” you greeted back, forcing a polite smile on your lips. “You’re home?”

Taehyung noted the lack of any emotion in your voice or even eyes. You just looked exhausted. But he replied, “Yeah, we kinda closed early. Sold out.”

He smiled again, hoping that maybe you would smile back at him. You didn’t. Instead, you zipped your lips. And there it is. The awkward silence took over--not only the kitchen—but the whole house. He looked at you and you looked at him. It didn’t even last a couple of seconds. You looked away again, scratching your eyebrow.

“I should probably go—”

“I’m making dinner. Maybe—"

You two broke off the silence at the same time. You waited for him to continue but his nod asked you to resume.

“Yeah, uhm, I should go to my room.” You mumbled, not meeting his eyes. You just can’t.

It’s Taehyung’s turn to scratch the back of his neck, “Uhm, I made dinner. I was wondering if we can eat together.”

You timidly shake your head, “I’m kinda full… I had pizza with Julia. But thank you for the offer though.”

You were about to leave, wanting to leave this room since you were having the hardest time breathing with the thick tension. But Taehyung called your name,

“I was hoping we can talk… about everything.”

You turned around, finally looking at him. Suddenly, his heartbeat was louder than anything else for him. He can already see the rejection on your face. Like you’re not in the mood for anything that had to do with him. But he wishes his deduction is wrong. On the flip side, you can see his fingers fiddling with the spatula as he said that.

You exhaled, “I can’t, Taehyung. I really had a long day. I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. We can talk whenever you’re ready.” He awkwardly raised his hands for thumbs-up. He saw your worried eyes landing on the dish he cooked. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll store it when it cools down. You can microwave it later if you get hungry.”

A simple, worn-out nod was your only reply before leaving him alone. His smile slowly fades as he turned down his chin.

He waited. Patiently. The morning after that, he waited for you to leave for work before he does. He goes home before you do. He prepared breakfasts and dinners for you, but you always seemed to be running late going to work and exhausted when you get home. And the rainy season didn’t stop. Taehyung once offered to walk you at least to the bus stop when you had a graveyard shift. He’s glad you didn’t decline and walked side by side with him under the umbrella.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You murmured in the middle of that five-minute walk to the bus stop. You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied, glancing at you, hoping that he will meet your eyes. But he didn’t.

You didn’t say anything anymore. Even when you got on the bus and he handed you the extra umbrella he brought. But he really did. Even though you two haven’t really done a lot of activities together, he liked doing things with you or for you.

Now it’s been days since you broke down, you two still haven’t talked about it. Jimin told him to be patient and give you time. But the more time he gives you, the more he felt like you were already slowly drifting away from him.

“Are you sure? We still have space for another passenger.”

Taehyung heard you from the living room as he pulled his small luggage out of his room. He wore a white collared button-down, with the sleeves folded before it reached his elbows, tucked in beige suit pants.

“Okay, Ju. See you there. Take care.”

Your smile fades as you ended the call. With every emotion washed out on your face, you glanced up at him. Your eyes simply scanned him from head to toe before you spoke, “Let’s go?”

Jisoo and Namjoon will be having their rehearsal and the following dinner in the same area as their wedding. It’s in the same event place as their wedding venue. The couple already prepared rooms for a few guests, so that you can stay overnight for the wedding tomorrow. You, Taehyung, and Jimin will be carpooling in a rented car, with Jimin taking the wheel for an almost two-hour drive straight to the dinner event.

“Be careful, it’s fragile.”

You teased Jimin as he helped you carry the wedding gift for your soon-to-be-wedded friends. Taehyung carried yours and his luggage to the car.

“I am careful.” Jimin scoffed.

“Oh, I apologize. I’m just worried. You do have small hands.” You jested that made Taehyung choke and laugh.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” His best friend laughed dryly, squinting his eyes at you. “You two are bullies! It’s not that small.”

You chuckled once again before stopping when Taehyung opened the backseat door for you.

“Thanks.” You mumbled.

Taehyung sat on the passenger seat while Jimin took the wheel. In the first quarter of the ride, you still managed to join chit-chat. Jimin was the one who sparked up topics, which you were grateful for as you don’t know what would happen if it’s just you and Taehyung in this car. But as time went on, you yawned and slowly lost yourself to take a nap.

a/n: i'm thinking of updating/resetting the taglist for this series. kindly comment below if you still want to be tagged. thank you so much for your support <3

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [closed] @halesandy @boohoobabe @hopeonysus @taffyteffy @pnlpbnl @arusio @rpkth @cinnamonruts @xyahrinx @betysotelo18 @sugaslittlekookies @doublebunv @dahliasbouqet @lust-kth @aria-grace-scott @milkteallday @hoodalmighty @kiwuki @http-fayeradise @daydreamiies @starlight-night0 @chaoticbisous @mageprincess7 @byunniebaekhyunnie @hiimnothing @koreanaestheticc @shin-ie @blancflms @jeonkoookiee @satorinnie @rjsmochii @yoonglesdoll @somewhereinthestarss @turnthepageandbeburnt @heyjiminnie @bri-mal @teddybeartaetae @kaal-ee @nikkiordonez12 @motivatedprocastinator @butterflieshee @iamkookiesforyou

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts series #bts imagine #bts au #bts amnesia #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #taehyung amnesia #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic #restarting over again kth

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rorywritesjunk · 3 months

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When I'm broken and bent, would you take me on the mend

The Strawhats didn't know the clown was married. For as much as he could talk, he never mentioned them.

Rating: PGish. Warning: One man and three wives. Buggy's wives love him but won't hesitate to tease him. A/N: A request from a Lovely Anon wanting Buggy's wives to rescue him from Arlong Park and to meet the Strawhats! I reworked this one a few times before writing it. I enjoy writing these three together in a story. Poor Buggy is so outnumbered. The ending is a little weak, apologies, but it's hard not to just keep writing these four now. Title comes from "Freshly Laundered Linen" by Boom Forest.

“Where’s his head?” Birdie asked as she looked at the headless, twitching body over from her spot below it. A year into the relationship and she was still uncertain about his Devil Fruit powers. It still surprised her when her husband’s disembodied hands appeared or when she’d wake up to his head on the pillow, his lower half at the foot of the bed and his torso on the floor.

Cupcake crossed her arms as she looked up at the body, tilting her head to the side with an amused expression on her face. “Honestly, it’d be a lot quieter without it. We can make do with just a body, yea? I can carve a pumpkin to give him a new head.”

Sunny shook her head and chuckled, looking amused by Cupcake’s response. “I for one like his head. His nose is very cute so I’d like to get that back if we can.”

“I’m sure I can find a pumpkin with a bump like his nose.” Cupcake grinned as she took a step closer to the body. “Maybe we can cut’im down and his head will come back?”

“Worth a shot.” Birdie said, looking hesitant in touching the body. Cupcake and Sunny had no issue with it, having been with Buggy the longest. His Devil Fruit powers were more of a nuisance to the two of them this long into the relationship. “Can… can he hear us? Because his body just keeps… moving.”

“No ears.” Sunny told her before reaching out to stop Cupcake from proceeding. “We need to be careful because he may react if we touch him and he doesn’t know it’s us.”

Cupcake frowned and stopped, looking back at Sunny. That was something she didn’t think about. Often she just jumped ahead on things without thinking, like Buggy often did, but Sunny was the one who stopped to think things through. Cupcake was often impressed with how long Sunny and Buggy had been married - nearing 15 years now - and the fact Sunny still had the energy for Buggy spoke to how much she loved the clown.

On the other hand, Cupcake married him only five years ago, found him to be exhausting half of the time but wouldn’t give him up for the world. More often than not, she was always working beside Buggy with the freaks, getting the show ready, making sure everything went smoothly. At first she thought Sunny would hate her for that but the latter loved it, she wanted Buggy to have someone close to work with since she often did more of the domestic chores around the place. If Cupcake was around to help Buggy with the freaks then it meant less for Sunny to worry about with their husband.

Birdie was the newest to their family. She was still getting used to their dynamics but she found her love growing for the three daily. She and Sunny loved spending time in the kitchen together, cooking up recipes and sampling what the other made. Buggy loved having two wives who cooked, it meant double the delicious food, though it also meant he and Cupcake had more dishes to do. And Birdie spent time with Cupcake in her room, helping her learn to read the books Sunny purchased for her from time to time. Cupcake loved Birdie because she never made her feel bad about struggling to read and that after a long day she’d take the time to help her out.

And Buggy, well, it made him happy that the three people he loved so much got along and loved each other as well. Sure, disagreements happened from time to time, mostly with him and the three of them, but they all got along. He gave them each their own bedroom to have space if they needed it, though they often did share the big bed in the main bedroom. And if he was too obnoxious some days, they’d kick him out to sleep in one of their rooms while they shared the bed. Sometimes it wasn’t all fun and games.

“Maybe if we-” Cupcake started before someone cleared their throat.

“Who are you?”

Sunny was the first to turn around, holding her hands up to show she was unarmed. A group of four young men stood there; Cupcake recognized two of them and tugged on Sunny’s sleeve before whispering into her ear. Birdie moved to stand beside Sunny as well.

“Just wives looking for our husband.” Sunny told them with a smile. “That’s all.”

“Have you seen a clown head around?” Birdie asked curiously, looking between the four of them. “Blue hair, grubby makeup, beautiful eyes?”

“Clown head?” The blonde glanced at his companions as he tightened his hold on a bag he held. The swordsman crossed his arms, the one with a bandana looked a little unsure, and the strawhat seemed to be processing the words ‘wives’ and ‘husband’ for a brief moment until he noticed Cupcake.

“That’s a very specific thing to be looking for.” The swordsman said while the strawhat pointed at Cupcake with an excited look.

“I know you!” The strawhat - Luffy, as Cupcake remembered - said, looking at his companions. “I know her! She was at the circus. Um, her name was… Pancake?”

“Cupcake.” The three wives corrected him in unison. Birdie looked at the blonde and pointed at him. “What’s in the bag?”

“Why are three lovely creatures such as yourself looking for a clown head?” The blonde chuckled while a noise like an angry cat came from inside the bag, thrashing around. Birdie looked at Sunny and mouthed the word ‘creatures?’ to her. “Usopp, how about you carry the bag for a while?”

“Nah, I’m good.” The man with the bandana said, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “New guy gets to babysit it, Sanji.”

Cupcake pointed at the bag and looked right at Sanji. “His head’s in there, isn’t it?”

“Very observant, aren’t we.” Sanji sighed as he started to open the bag and reach inside. The three could hear Buggy’s grumbling and complaining as he was pulled out of the depths of the bag.

“I’ll burn your ship to the ground, fuckers!” He snapped at them as Sanji resisted the urge to drop him. “You kept me in there for far too long!”

“Buggy!”

His head wriggled around in Sanji’s grasp, eyes widening when he saw them. Oh, his three lovely wives were there to rescue him! And his body was right there, he could be free from this bullshit with the Strawhats as soon as the blonde let go of him.

“My body is right there, asshole, so stop feelin’ me up and let me go!” Buggy snapped at him, gnashing his teeth until Sanji finally loosened his hold on him. While Sunny and Cupcake were unfazed, it was weird to Birdie and the Strawhats to see the head zoom over to the body and reattach itself, almost as though there was a magnetic pull between the two. It didn’t take Buggy long to free himself, stretching his arms out, patting his body over, looking relieved that he was all in one piece again.

“Oh, I’m all together- oof!” He couldn’t finish the sentence because all three of his wives tackled him at once, arms around him and hugging him tightly. He had to pop his arms off in order to give them more room to touch him. “Ladies, my loves, give me a moment to bid farewell to my captors and then we can be on our way!”

“Not without a kiss first.” Sunny insisted, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. Buggy allowed it, locking eyes with Sanji for a brief moment and mouthing to him, Yea, I get to tap that while gesturing to her ass.

“He manages three wives. I have no one.” Sanji mumbled as Cupcake punched Buggy in the shoulder affectionately in lieu of a kiss while Birdie also kissed his cheek. “How does this happen?”

Buggy managed to wriggle out of his wives’ grasp for a moment to look at the Strawhats. “So, hey… y’know, been great and all, but we gotta go.”

He showed them the middle finger with both hands, as did Cupcake, before Sunny and Birdie pushed the two along to get out of there. No one wanted to deal with Arlong and his crew. They had their ship ready, the four of them just had to get to it.

“They kept me in a bag!” Buggy whined pitifully as he rested his head in Sunny’s lap as Cupcake steered their little boat. They managed to avoid Arlong’s men, hearing the skirmish start as they ran. Once they pushed the boat off into the water and got a fair distance away, Buggy felt compelled to demand attention from them. So he kicked his boots off, stretched out, and laid his head in Sunny’s lap while Birdie rubbed his feet for him. Cupcake just rolled her eyes and focused on finding the nearest town away from the islands. “The bag was so dark and gross. I have sand in my ears, eyes, mouth, everywhere!”

“Poor baby.” Sunny chuckled as she leaned down to kiss him on his nose. “You’re stronger for having survived, Buggy.”

“You poor, poor soul.” Birdie added with a dramatic sigh. “Oh all things, sand? That’s the worse kind of torture!”

He glared up at the two of them before sulkily looking away. “I’m so mistreated here. Why did you bother rescuing me if you’re just going to be so cruel to me?” He lifted his head off his shoulders and held it up; Birdie winced slightly while Sunny rolled her eyes. “Cupcake, babe, you’d never talk to me this way!”

“Shut up, Buggy, I’m trying to concentrate.” Cupcake told him as she looked at her compass. “Should have just taken your body and left your head behind. It would have been a lot quieter.”

“You three are horrible!” Buggy cried as he dropped his head and arms, limbs popping off as he literally fell apart against Sunny and Birdie. “Why did I marry such heartless women?”

Sunny picked his head up and stroked his cheek softly. “Buggy, look at me.”

“No.” He mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “It hurts to look at you.”

“Please?” She asked sweetly. He cracked one eye open to look at her. “I’m happy you’re safe with us.”

“Very happy.” Birdie chimed in as she picked one of his feet up to try and reattach it to his ankle. “It was horrible without you.”

“Really?” Buggy asked with a touch of uncertainty in his voice. “Or are you just saying that?”

“Really.” Cupcake said with a sigh. “Even if you drive us mad.”

“But we love you.” Sunny assured him, shaking her head before kissing his cheek. “Pull yourself back together, honey. Cupcake’s going to get us somewhere safe so we can come up with a plan to get back to the Big Top.”

“Are you really happy to have me back?” Buggy asked, needing that confirmation from them. Sometimes he wondered when his luck would run out with them, that they would realize they could do much better than him. He was still surprised every morning when he’d wake up and at least one would be in bed with him, usually Cupcake, but that when he’d get to the kitchen for breakfast, it was always ready when he strolled in and that there’d be a cup of coffee waiting for him. They’d all tell him they loved him, give him a kiss before sitting around the table to talk about what they needed to get done for the day, specific tasks, things like that. It was a nice calm way to start a chaotic day and Buggy wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“We are really happy to have you back.” Birdie told him. “So please, please don’t get kidnapped again.”

“Yea, please don’t make this a habit.” Sunny said. “I can only handle so much excitement in this marriage.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to save him again.” Cupcake said. “You get one chance, Buggy, and this was it.”

He let himself snap back together, once again laying his head back in Sunny’s lap. One hand popped off to Cupcake’s wrist while the other went to Birdie’s face. He looked up at Sunny, a grin on his face. No one else was as lucky as he was right now and that was all that mattered to him. ”I love you all.”

#buggy the clown #buggy and the wives #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x you #buggy x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

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princesssarisa · 11 days

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I'm now reading another of Heidi Ann Heiner's fairy tale collections. Sleeping Beauties: Sleeping Beauty and Snow White Tales from Around the World. Since I enjoyed Cinderella Tales from Around the World so much, I couldn't resist opening another of Heiner's books.

The first part of the book is devoted to the different international versions of Sleeping Beauty, the second part to the different versions of Snow White. This is followed by other tales of "sleeping beauties" that don't fit nearly into either category.

We start with the medieval Sleeping Beauty prototype tales from the 13th and 14th centuries.

*The earliest known prototype of the Sleeping Beauty story is the Norse and Germanic legend of Brynhild (a.k.a. Brunhild, Brunhilda, Brünnhilde, or other variations). This legend first appears in the Poetic Edda, the Prose Edda, and the Volsunga Saga from 13th century Iceland. It also appears in the German Nibelungenlied (although that version doesn't include the enchanted sleep), and its most famous modern adaptation is in Richard Wagner's four-opera cycle Der Ring des Nibelungen. The figure of Brynhild also inspired the Marvel superheroine Valkyrie.

**The Sleeping Beauty-like portion of the legend is this. The beautiful and strong-willed Brynhild is one of the valkyries, the warrior maiden servants (and in some versions daughters) of Odin (or Woden, Wotan, etc.) who preside over battlefields and bring the souls of fallen heroes to Valhalla. But Brynhild disobeys Odin by saving (or trying to save) the life of a warrior who was marked for death. (The man's identity, why he was meant to die, why she defends him, and whether she succeeds in saving him or not varies between versions.) As punishment, Odin banishes her to the mortal realm, pricks her with a "sleep thorn," and places her in a castle (or just on a rock) surrounded by a ring of fire, condemning her to sleep until a man brave enough to venture through the flames arrives to wake her and become her husband. (In some versions, she has attendants and servants who all sleep along with her.) Many years later, the fearless hero Sigurd, or Siegfried, succeeds in passing unharmed through the flames and wakes Brynhild by cutting off her valkyrie armor (or in later retellings influenced by Sleeping Beauty, with a kiss). The couple doesn't live happily ever after, however: their further adventures and eventual tragic fates are a story for another day.

**Even though it's a well-known fact that in "the original Sleeping Beauty stories," the prince (or his counterpart) impregnates the sleeping heroine and she wakes after she gives birth, no such thing happens in this earliest proto-version. If we assume that this really is the Western world's first tale of a heroine in an enchanted sleep, then it seems as if that sordid detail was a later addition.

*Next in Heiner's book come several medieval French Sleeping Beauty tales, mostly from Arthurian romances. These are the tales where we first see the motif of the heroine's love interest raping her in her sleep and fathering a child. Since few of them have ever been translated into modern English, the book simply summarizes them instead of printing them in full.

**The best-known of these stories, which most resembles Sleeping Beauty as we know it today, is the tale of Troylus and Zellandine from Le Roman de Perceforest, an Arthurian romance from 14th or 15th century France. In this tale, a knight named Troylus loves a princess named Zellandine. Then learns that while spinning, Zellandine has suddenly fallen into a deep sleep, from which no one can wake her. With the help of a spirit named Zephir and the goddess Venus, Troylus enters the tower where she lies and, at Venus's urging, he takes her virginity. Nine months later, Zellandine gives birth to a son, and when the baby sucks on her finger, she wakes. Zellandine's aunt now arrives, and reveals the whole backstory, which only she knew. When Zellandine was born, the goddesses Lucina, Themis, and Venus came to bless her. As was customary, a meal was set out for the three goddesses, but then the room was left empty so they could enter, dine, and give their blessings unseen; but the aunt hid behind the door and overheard them. Themis received a second-rate dinner knife compared to those of the other two, so she cursed the princess to someday catch a splinter of flax in her finger while spinning, fall into a deep sleep, and never awaken. But Venus altered the curse so that it could be broken and promised to ensure that it would be. When the baby sucked Zellandine's finger, he sucked out the splinter of flax. Eventually, Zellandine and Troylus reunite, marry, and become ancestors of Sir Lancelot.

***This tale provides some answers for questions that the traditional Sleeping Beauty raises. In the familiar tale, the king, the queen, and their court know about the curse, so why do they keep it a secret from the princess? Yes, they avoid upsetting her by doing so, but the end result is that when she finally sees a spindle, she doesn't know to beware of it. Why not warn her? And why is there a random old woman in the castle, spinning with presumably the kingdom's one spindle that wasn't destroyed, and why, despite living in the castle does she not know about the curse? (It's no wonder that most adaptations make her the fairy who cursed the princess in disguise.) Yet in this earlier version, there are no such questions: no one except the eavesdropping aunt knows about the curse, because it was cast in private, so no one can take precautions against it. Another standout details is the fact that Zellandine's sleep doesn't last for many years, and that the man who wakes her already loved her before she fell asleep. Disney didn't create those twists after all!

**The other medieval French Sleeping Beauty tales are Pandragus and Libanor (where Princess Libanor's enchanted sleep only lasts one night, just long enough for Pandragus to impregnate her), Brother of Joy and Sister of Pleasure (where the princess isn't asleep, but dead – yet somehow the prince still impregnates her – and is revived by an herb that a bird carries to her), and Blandin de Cornoalha (a knight who, refreshingly, doesn't impregnate the sleeping maiden Brianda, but breaks her spell by bringing a white hawk to her side).

*All of these early Sleeping Beauty tales are just one part of bigger poetic sagas. Maybe this explains why Sleeping Beauty is fairly light on plot compared to other famous fairy tales (i.e. we're told what's going to happen, and then it does happen, and it all seems inevitable from the start). Of course one argument is that it's a symbolic tale: symbolic of a young girl's coming-of-age, as the princess's childhood ends when she falls asleep and her adulthood begins when she wakes, and/or symbolic of the seasons, with the princess as a Persephone-like figure whose sleep represents winter and whose awakening represents spring. That's all valid. But maybe another reason for the flimsy plot is that the earliest versions of the tale were never meant to stand alone. They were just episodes in much longer and more complex narratives.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @adarkrainbow, @themousefromfantasyland

#sleeping beauty #fairy tale #variations #sleeping beauties: sleeping beauty and snow white tales from around the world #heidi ann heiner #norway #iceland #germany #norse mythology #france #england #italy #tw: rape #tw: cannibalism

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pascaloverx · 5 months

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Rewrite The Stars

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

AO3 LINK next chapter

PREVIEW

Work to achieve your dreams, they say. But what they don't tell you is that even if you work hard, some dreams won't come true. But for tonight, you will believe that your dreams will come true.

"Table six has been ordering the dish for half an hour. You know how these rich people are. If you don't want to lose your job, learn to walk faster." Your supervisor speaks almost shouting at you. It even seems like you're the only one who is a waitress in this restaurant. Five stars, my ass. Obviously at the moment, you can't respond back saying that the service is terrible because half the staff is busy waiting for the big celebrity who is coming to dinner here tonight.

"Yes, chef. I'll walk faster." You rush back with the last two orders you were in charge of taking. You were supposed to be dismissed almost two hours ago but we can't leave until the big star of the night comes. Pedro Pascal.

The man of the moment. Probably the face you've seen the most all year. They're coming to dinner at the restaurant where you work that night, they made a reservation for four. Everyone is speculating that he will bring some romantic interest.

Your manager has simply spent the last three hours warning you that any mistakes today will be resolved with a dismissal. You just can't imagine a worse time.

You almost trip when you're finishing serving the couple who ordered duck in white sauce. The restaurant is in chaos and thanks to that, your manager didn't fire you. You then decide to go outside to get some air, which might help you stay on your feet for the next few hours.

You're breathing chaotically, without any rhythm. You want to escape from this almost claustrophobic restaurant. In your haste, you don't see anything in front of you. You just feel that you bumped into another person's body. Your body was almost thrown to the ground with the impact. And when you looked up, you saw him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." You say it as soon as you realize what you did. An interesting fact is that Mr. Pascal held you tight with his arms so that you don't fall to the ground. If anyone saw from a distance they would think you were hugging each other. You immediately walk away, thinking that if your boss sees this, you're fucked up.

"Are you well? Your forehead is bleeding." He asks, touching his forehead lightly as if he were more worried about that than hiding. I bet he came through the back to avoid commotion.

"That was nothing, Mr. Pascal. You can follow me and I'll take you to your table calmly." You say, ignoring the burning in your head. What's a hurt next to losing this opportunity.

"Are you sure?" Pedro Pascal himself talks to you almost as if you were an alien because you don't allow your pain to show.

"Yes, sir. You don't need to worry about that, worse things have happened to me." You try to improve your expression so that Mr. Pascal can finally enter the restaurant. That's when you notice that you are being watched, by noises from what you imagine are paparazzi. You then take an unprofessional action. You push Mr. Pascal into the restaurant using his body as a shield so that the paparazzi cannot identify him.

"Is this how you treat your customers?" Pascal speaks as you lock the back door. Embarrassed, you turn to face Mr. Pascal after pushing him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm terribly sorry. But I suspect there are photographers out there. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience." You say almost as if asking for mercy.

"Alright, miss. If you'll take me to my table, I promise to forget about this pushing." Mr. Pascal speaks as he watches you. You feel awkward, but you nod your head positively and lead him to his table.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #unrequited love #fan meets celebrity #Spotify

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descendant-of-truth · 8 months

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What I like about this scene is how it tricks you into thinking it's just here for a quick laugh when it's actually the beginning of a surprisingly deep look into part of Rockman's character - specifically, how he handles lying.

See, Rockman's never really... lied in this show before, I don't think. He doesn't usually have a reason to, but even then I would describe him as being honest to a fault.

But when put under the pressure to seem cool to Trill, a young child who idolizes him, he cracks and tells probably the most bold-faced lie of his life: that he was totally not scared by a monster movie. He's never been scared of anything! Hasn't even screamed once!

And it's. such a goofy lie to tell?? It works on Trill because he's like five years old, but to the viewer who knows him better than that, it just comes off as a funny, harmless thing to say.

Rockman does not see it as either of those things.

To him, it's not cute that Trill takes him at his word by virtue of being a young child who doesn't know any better. If anything, that's part of the problem; maybe if Trill didn't believe him and just teased him about it instead, he wouldn't have to worry about lying so much. But as it stands, Trill is believing a lie, and it eats at Rockman throughout the episode.

And at this point you kinda start to guess how the rest of it is going to go down. Rockman will eventually come clean to Trill, who's gonna say that Rockman is still cool even if he screams at scary movies, and they'll all have a big laugh and move on.

This is not what happens.

Instead, Rockman digs his heels into the lie further, stopping himself from screaming every time Trill tries to scare him (which is a realistic toddler thing to do if I've ever seen one), until he eventually loses his trademark patience and yells at him to cut it out.

And in a move that defies the usual expectation of setup and payoff, Rockman never actually. tells Trill that he lied. and there's a part of me that's bothered by that, but what we get in exchange is so interesting to me that I can't help but feel it makes up for it.

Something to note is that, throughout this episode, it's stated that Trill likely sees Rockman as an older brother, and so he's affectionately referred to as "big brother" by Roll a few times in a teasing sort of way.

It's all fun and sweet and par for the course; I think everyone knew that Trill was going to act as a younger brother to Rockman as soon as he was introduced, so having characters bring attention to it isn't unusual. And Rockman doesn't really comment on it either way... until Netto calls him that at the end of the episode.

This. this is the scene that really makes me go insane. just absolutely bonkers

Because like, okay. listen. this is only episode four of the season. it's not at all surprising that Rockman doesn't consider himself to be Trill's brother, because he's known him for all of three days and he's only been talking for one of them.

But that phrasing.

If he had just left it at "I'm not his big brother," we'd all have a nice chuckle and go "sure buddy, I'd like to see you say that by the end of this season." But he has a qualifier for WHY he's not Trill's brother, and it's because he lied to him. about not being scared of a movie.

And notice how matter-of-factly he says this, too. Remember how troubled he was earlier by the fact he had lied at all? Well it seems that, after perpetuating that lie for the rest of the episode, he's gotten past those doubts and reached acceptance in the idea that... he's lost his brother privileges.

Suddenly we've learned something very interesting about how Rockman handles lying, and it's that, while he's surprisingly capable of keeping a lie up, he finds that even one as innocent as this makes him disqualified from being Trill's family.

Which is Totally Normal and Not at All Concerning Behavior

But you know what. we can make it worse.

Imagine with me, for a moment, that all of the Saito Lore from the games remains true in the anime. If that was the case, then Netto still hasn't been told about it this many seasons in, making it a secret that Rockman keeps every day - a lie of omission.

What if the reason Netto hasn't been told about it for this long, the reason it seems so easy for Rockman to never bring it up, is because he's long since decided that he's not Netto's brother anymore.

"After all, I did lie to him."

And it just keeps going because if we decide to take that angle with it, then it suddenly becomes a lot more pointed that Yuuichiro is the one to assure Rockman that lying to your little brother is Sometimes Okay, Actually

Like of course he would say this, the guy who encouraged Rockman to lie to Netto in the first place in order to keep up the image of being a Reliable NetNavi

Don't get me wrong, it's a really interesting character trait for Rockman to have even without adding game context to it, but using Trill as a parallel to Netto in this scenario adds a special something to the whole thing that I'm never going to be able to stop thinking about

#megaman #rockman.exe #megaman battle network #mmbn #analysis #meta #spoilers for slimes #I had this post in my brain a while ago but only just now got around to writing it down #Beast has been good so far about giving Rockman more focus and I'm loving these results. I'm so normal about him

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aqours · 6 months

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anyways if i'm going this deep in lemme share this teen mom Ashley fic idea i had i'd love feedback on the idea

this is completely unrelated to my other idea regarding this this is an entirely different can of worms i'm putting this under a readmore just bc it's a bit long and also filled with dead doves so only open and eat it at your own discretion

so basically the idea goes like this- when they were teenagers (her 14 and him 16) Andrew and Ashley got into some kind of big fight (still working on it) most likely due to him having a girlfriend in hs at the time. during this period, in an effort to make a point and piss him off, Ashley gets a boyfriend of her own (who just so happens to have messy black hair and green eyes wow what a coincidence) who was in a class with Andrew. some incident happens where Ashley "accidentally" leaves her phone with explicit texts on view (but also tis like the 90s so maybe i'll redo that) and Andrew talked with his classmate and then uh there was another second missing person, and after an intense argument Ashley and Andrew "slept in the same bed" and anyways a month later Ashley announces she's pregnant casually at the dinner table putting the pregnancy test she put right on it.

"Huh. Not the reaction I was hoping for."

"Forgive me for not being particularly fucking thrilled at the idea of being a grandmother at 32, Ashley."

"You know, if my kid has a kid at 15 and their kid ALSO has a kid at 15 you could be a great-great-grandma at only 75."

"Please shut the fuck up, Ashley."

and Andrew is in complete denial it is. it's been 6 years and every single person except Julia refuses to believe it isn't. at one point when Alexis "Alex" Graves is a baby she makes a comment she has her father's (green) eyes with a wink and grin at Andrew. during the Burial Route when Mrs. Graves is trying to plead with Andrew she finally says "... If you won't do it for yourself, do it for your ------------------" and it's like his brain physically blocks out any insinuation with he's the father with white noise. so he's been living as the kid's uncle officially and has no idea how to act around this kid most of the time.

Ashley is not a good mom by any means and has had CPS called on her more than once but incompetence won't remove the child entirely and she does like. actually love this kid but her obsession with Andrew is clearly more important to her, the fact this kid keeps him tethered to her even if he won't admit, and also because she spoils the kid however she can to try to prove she's a better mother just because her daughter is happier than she was, when learning Alex hit another kid to get their candy she was outright like fuck YEAH if you want something take it!!! girlboss gatekeep gaslight to this four year old and Andrew at least tried to teach the kid right from wrong in response. during her first birthday Mrs. Graves asked Ashley if she was gonna do anything and Ashley didn't see a point the kid is 1 they won't remember the birthday there's nothing they'd want and she doesn't seem to process the point of a birthday for a baby isn't about toys and fun but to celebrate their life. when Ashley suggests they can get by on mugging people Alex says she can pose as a homeless sad kid and for the first time in a while at her Ashley lights up and says THAT'S why you're mama's favorite <3333

babies don't make everything better the co-dependent toxic satanic demonic summoning cannibal incest game's plot now also includes a 6 year old that has also eaten people now with two of the most awful parents imaginable around her and if anything Ashley might get colder once her mom is dead because now there's no way

thoughts? i really want to write this but i'd love feedback

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #gravecest #coffincest #ashley x andrew #i have. no idea how to tag this otherwise lmao #dead dove do not eat #there #starposts #long post

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discoveredreality · 7 months

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drarry

top 20 best drarry fics ever (not in order)

All Our Secrets Laid Bare - 150k words by firethesound

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

2. Bond - 173k words by AnnaFugazzi

Rating: Mature

Summary: I started to write this before HBP came out, and crossed my fingers that HBP wouldn't make it totally non-canon. No such luck, I'm afraid. This, therefore, is an AU story, where (SPOILER) still teaches (SPOILER), (SPOILER) didn't try to (SPOILER), (SPOILER) didn't succeed in (SPOILER), (SPOILER) never dated (SPOILER), and most importantly, (MAJOR ENDING SPOILERS) never happened.

3. It Was All Just a Game (Rewrite) - 616k words by write_me227

Rating: Mature

Summary: If there's one thing that Draco Malfoy yearns for, it's seeing Harry Potter in pain. How that happens, he doesn't care. When Potter's name is pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, Draco sees it as the perfect opportunity to fulfill his greatest desire. Except Saint Potter has luck swimming in his veins. He needs to be distracted... And the best way to do that is to make him fall in love.

4. Turn - 307k words by Saras_Girl

Rating: Explicit

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

5. Get Some - 78k words by sara_holmes

Rating: Mature

Summary: Voldemort is dead. Life goes on. Harry is sick and tired of everyone treating him differently and letting him get away with everything.

6. For The Greater Good - 59k words by jadepresley

Rating: Mature

Summary: When Harry and Draco discover they’ve been bonded to one another, neither one of them is prepared for the secrets they slowly begin to uncover.

Together, they learn that they can’t escape their past, or the things that have been left hidden there, and that sometimes the only way to move forward is to look back.

7. Things Worth Knowing - 165k by Femme (femmequixotic), noeon (noe)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: After the Battle, Harry thinks he's left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco's just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He's hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that's not even addressing the fact that Potter's got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he's forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn't it?

8. Eclipe - 287k by Mijan

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: "You're dead, Potter… I'm going to make you pay…"

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

9. Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl

Rating: Explicit

Part 1: Reparations - 87k words

Summary: Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

Part 2: Foundations - 236k words

Summary: When one door closes, another one opens – with a bit of a push. Life, love and complications.

10. The Sleeping Beauty Curse - 153k words

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

11. Waiting By An Open Door - 30k words by Femme (femmequixotic), noeon (noe)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

12. Running on Air - 75k words by eleventy7

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

13. The Bucket List - 32k words by GallaPlacidia

This fic was taken off ao3 and any other sites, so here is the download link for all of GallaPlacidia's fics: Google Drive GallaPlacidia Archive Download Link

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List. Tap-dancing lessons? Rock climbing? Poetry-writing? Threesomes? Cocaine? Getting to know his adorable cousin, Teddy Lupin? Draco will try them all!

Feat. Cheerily pessimistic Draco, devoted bitch queen Pansy Parkinson, and a Harry who can't help but notice that something seems DIFFERENT about Draco, these days.

14. Adventures of a Suicidal Gentlemen - 48k words by GallaPlacidia

This fic was taken off ao3 and any other sites, so here is the download link for all of GallaPlacidia's fics: Google Drive GallaPlacidia Archive Download Link

Rating: Mature

Summary: Draco wants to kill himself, but he's trying not to be dramatic about it. Harry wants to sleep with Draco, but he's trying not to be obvious about it. Misunderstandings! Pining! Grief! Self-loathing but in a kind of charming way?

Feat. Misty the house elf who takes shit from no one, an Astoria who has her own mysterious aims, a Draco who is determined to use humour to get through things, and a Harry doesn't know what he wants, except maybe to touch Draco's pretty face.

15. Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) - 31k words by dicta_contrion

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

16. All Life is Yours to Miss - 115k words by Saras_Girl

Rating: Mature

Summary: Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

17. Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm - 104k words by SquadOfCats

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

18. Mental - 187k words by sara_holmes

Rating: Mature

Summary: Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

19. survival is a talent - 503k by ShanaStoryteller - IN PROGRESS

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone.

Their best isn't perfect.

BONUS (NOT DRARRY):

20. Oh God Not Again! - 151k words by Sarah1281

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: So maybe everything didn't work out perfectly for Harry. Still, most of his friends survived, he'd gotten married, and was about to become a father. If only he'd have stayed away from the Veil, he wouldn't have had to go back and do everything AGAIN.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fic #drarry fic recs #fan fiction #fanfic #hp fandom #hp #hpdm

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elvendria · 1 year

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Clean (Formerly Love is a Battlefield)

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part One

Summary:

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies, in fact, there was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big, you just dream of making it out of here alive.

\\enemies - lovers//

((Warning I'm not from the US, so bare with me when it comes to states and such))

tw: 18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, reader is 20 and Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, Eddie is 20, Chrissy is the villan but we stan grace

Word Count: 3.96K

part two part three part four

May 21st 1986

You drive the back roads as much as possible, the 1970s Dodge Challenger illuminated under the moon as you try your best to drive carefully. You didn't want to wake Willow, your 4 years old sister, sleeping in the backseat. It was drizzling rain, pouring down the windshield in sheets, how very fitting.

It had been a whirlwind, a spur-of-the-moment decision. Things had gotten to be... too much, having moved to Vegas from Hawkins a few years ago for your Dad's new telemarketer job. Willow wasn't even born yet, and after she was it didn't take long for it all to go to shit.

Pleasant conversations turned into civil discussions turned into small spats turned into full-blown fisticuffs. You could handle the occasional black eye or bust lip, you were a big girl, but the second you found out that they'd laid a hand on Will you were out of there.

The summer had just begun, and you were taking care of Willow while you were both at home. It was at least 84°F, and so you changed her out of her jammies and into a loose sundress when you noticed it. A large handprint on her arm and an even larger bruise began to form in the center of her back.

"Will, what happened?" You already knew what it was, but you hoped beyond hope that you were wrong. Mom was decent enough to hit in places you could hide unless she was drunk, hence the purpling bruise under your eye. Dad was the one to smack you if you got in his way of something. Dad would slap you and not care where it landed.

"Daddy got mad at me for playing with my dollies while he watched TV. I'm sorry sissy I didn't mean to be bad." She hung her head, to which you tilted it up to look in her eyes, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill.

"Shh Willa it's okay..." You pulled her in for a hug, careful not to hold her too tight. "How about we go on a little trip, you and me? We can go for as long as you want." She was four fucking years old. She was a child. She shouldn't be worrying about getting in trouble for playing with a goddamn toy. "You can bring all your dolls with you! They can come on the trip with us."

It never took much convincing with her. You'd soon learned that she was the kind of kid who just wanted to help others, giving them her lunch and going over to someone who was sitting alone and asking if they wanted to play jump rope with her.

You shook your head no when she asked would your parents be joining the two of you, and her eyes lit up a small bit, which made your heartbreak. Your father was known for flying off the handle, a loss at the casino was enough to put him on the warpath for weeks. If he had bet on the football game and she got in his way of seeing something he considered important, it wouldn't have mattered that she was only a child. She was standing in the way of him and his money, and so she needed to be removed.

You shoved anything and everything you could into 3 duffel bags. Mostly clothes and essentials along with any cash you had saved up for college tuition. It wasn't like you were going anyways, you'd have never left Will here alone plus you missed the deadline on applications. Now you were just a high school graduate with no prospects.

You threw in a lot of snacks for the drive, it was going to be a long ride back to Hawkins and Vee could get hangry at the best of times.

And Hawkins you had landed. After spending the past three nights in different motels, hood up anytime you saw the hint of a security camera at a gas station, you finally arrived to the one place that had always been like a home away from home, to the one person who you could trust like no other. You felt guilty for knocking at this hour, especially when you remembered that it had been almost 2 years since you last spoke with her.

The porch light turned on, door swinging open with a loud creak as you cradled the sleep-drunk 4 year old on your hip, her drool pooling on your shoulder, not that you cared.

"Hi Aunt Joyce..."

Joyce was your aunt in the every way but legally. She had married your Uncle Lonnie, leaving him when she found out that her husband was a lot like his brother. Thankfully, from what you've heard through the grapevine that is your fathers derogatory comments, her sons seem to have been spared those genes.

"Y/N? Is that.. Is that you?" Her voice was bleary, dull and squinted from tiredness, and once again I felt immense amounts of guilt for waking her up at this hour. It had to be at least 3 in the morning, and here you were, a niece who hadn't contacted her in two years (not that you were allowed to) standing in her doorway, soaked to the skin from the rain.

You remember the last words she said to you, the hurried phone call as she told you Will was home safe, no longer missing. You didn't even care that your father had cut the phone call short, quite literally taking a scissors to the cord, you were that happy to hear your cousin was okay.

"Yeah I'm uh..." You'll be honest, you didn't think this far ahead. You knew where you would be living, you'd called ahead to the trailer park owner from a shady motel and told him you'd pay him a deposit tomorrow. Well, today. But you hadn't planned what you'd say to Joyce, how you'd tell her that you skipped town with your sister in an attempt to save her from the abuse back home. "I'm back home. Just us.."

That was all she needed to hear to usher you inside, her arms wrapping you in the first hug that wasn't your sisters in four years.

Telling everything to Joyce was actually a lot easier than you thought, especially when you didn't have to tell her at all. She took a good look at you and noticed the deep bruise under your eye and the small scar on your chin from where your mom had forgotten her own strength, causing you to hit the kitchen counter. It hadn't been there when you left, so it confirmed what Joyce already knew. You didn't have to utter a word for her to understand.

"I'll be moving into Forest Hills in the morning, I'm only asking for two things, and I'll make it up to you as best I can, I promise." Your eyes were pleading with her, not that they needed to be, Joyce would've done anything to help you. She saw you almost like a daughter, wanting on more than one occasion to sweep you away from them and take care of you. She'd never gotten to meet Willow, but already she was in love with the bouncy brunette curls that fell across her face as she slept in your lap, cuddled up to you on the couch like you were the only person in the world.

"I don't have a lot..." She reached into her purse, bulling out a few crumpled bills, only stopping when you put a hand on her arm and looked at her. Everything favor with your parents had to have been paid back with interest. If you needed a ride to school, you had to fill the car with gas and wash it. If you needed to borrow $5 for lunch, you had to pay back $35, all under the guise of 'this is how it is in the real world, no ones going to love you for free'. And yet here was Joyce, a woman who wasn't even technically related to you, who you hadn't spoken to in years, offering over whatever she had with no strings attached.

"I have the money, thank you though. I just..." You blinked back tears, the overwhelming feeling of gratefulness washing over you like a waterfall. You had never been great at accepting help, no clue why. It's not like you were in a transactional relationship with your parents. You stroked Willow's hair. If it weren't for her you wouldn't even be asking, you'd be determined to do this alone. But you needed stability for her, along with a steady cash income. "I need help with a job."

You saw Joyce's eyes light up, holding your hand that had been on her arm. She smiled at you, a soft gentle smile that made you feel at home again. This house had been your home away from... whatever it was you could call where you lived. You used to play board games with Johnathan at the kitchen counter, or lie on your stomach and draw pictures with Will on the floor. It all smelled the same, a thick mustiness in the air combined with a lemon cleaning product.

You stayed and talked with Joyce for a while, she told you she could secure you an interview at the local music store, and if that failed she joked about having someone on the inside at Melvalds. She hugged you goodbye, kissing the top of your head like she used to when you were a kid, standing in the doorway as you drove off, not closing it until your tail lights were out of sight.

It was early morning when you pulled up to your new home. The owner had given you a discount along with a look of pity. Usually you'd be the first to tell a person off for looking at you like that, but hey, if it got you a discount you weren't going to say no.

You parked up outside and instinctively looked across the dirt road, realizing why it felt like such a familiar drive. Right across from your trailer, where you planned on laying low for a while, was 53 Forest Hills Park.

The Munson Residence.

You swore you saw a curtain move back into place when you took Willow from the car, balancing her on your hip as you held your new key, but maybe you were imagining things, because you stood there for five more minutes to see if the door would open, and all it did was remain shut. For some reason that hurt you more than if he was to actually show his face.

Not that you wanted him to.

You brushed it off, looking down at the key before you pushed it in the lock, a little extra force was needed as it was somehow already rusty, even though he told you it was new. Not that you were going to complain. A home is a home after all. All you needed was somewhere for yourself and Ivy to rest your heads and eat food, everything after that was secondary.

You walked into the bedrooms and saw that the beds already had sheets on them, though they looked... questionable. You didn't want to run the risk of Willow or yourself being bitten by something, so you hastily undressed the beds, flipping both mattresses. It was a temporary solution until you could take them out back and beat them senseless with the sweeping brush to be a bit more certain they weren't infested.

Once again, you weren't complaining, anything was better than a motel bed where the springs threatened to burst through and stab your skin. You were really looking forward to a night where you weren't swaddled in blankets and towels to avoid being impaled.

"Here you go monkey, snug as a bug in a rug." You had put one of your hoodies on Willow, the fabric coming down to her ankles, the sleeves well past her fingertips. It looked ridiculous on her, but you didn't pack sheets because why would you think of that? You walk over to a closet in the hallway and find some relatively clean linen, pulling them out and making the beds. You'd plan a trip to a laundromat soon, you needed to wash your clothes from the journey anyways.

You pulled the blanket up to her chin, kissing between her eyebrows gently. As you went to pull away, you felt a tiny hand grab onto you, or at least attempt to. She was too tired to speak, but you knew what she meant, what she wanted you to do.

Crawling onto the bed beside her, one arm bent up behind her head as you stroked her rosy cheeks, you smiled down at her as you felt your eyes droop, growing more and more tired by the second.

"I'm here petal, I'm not leavin'." You mumbled lightly, sleep overcoming you as you lay beside her.

A few days had passed, and Willow seemed to be settling down to the idea of being here for a while. You'd been keeping an eye on the news, and there were no reports about either of you, so even though you'd been gone just over a week, you're parents hadn't reported you two missing.

You were standing in the kitchenette, having just gotten back from your first shift at the record store, a resounding success if you did say so yourself. Willa sat in the manager's office, you were going to need to find someone to look after her. Joyce had to work too, even though she told you numerous times that she could babysit.

She was sitting watching Looney Toons, giggling at something Bugs Bunny did on the TV. You looked over at her as you flipped pancakes, having only grabbed the bare essentials to make a few meals. Your paycheck was due at the end of the week, and you were planning on going grocery shopping then.

The room felt hot from the sun pouring in, the rays of light accentuating every speck of dust in the room. It filtered through the curtains, the room now a soft glow, the dark brown furnishings looking brighter. You were calm, and relaxed, setting down the plate of pancakes in front of Willow when there came a knock on the door.

Of course you were nervous, why wouldn't you be? just because they hadn't called the cops doesn't mean they hadn't figured it out for themselves. They could be standing outside, waiting to drag you both back to Nevada to be their personal punching bags. Hunching down, you stayed low as you walked, or rather crawled over to the window, peering out.

You saw what looked to be a kind but stern man standing outside holding a tupperware box. He looked vaguely familiar, like he was from a distant memory. Something about him felt safe, or at least safe enough to open the door anyways.

Pulling it open, you looked at him as his eyes widened slightly like he was surprised to see you. You stood there trying to piece where you knew him from when it finally clicked with you who was before you.

"Jesus Christ darlin', thought I was havin' a vision when I saw ya'll pull up just t'other day. Said to myself, surely Y/N Y/L/N isn't back here." Wayne's southern drawl made everything sound pleasant and inviting, and you couldn't help the smile that grew on your face. He looked different than when you last saw him, his hair was thinner and his skin was more aged, but no one would ever be able to forget the energy Wayne Munson radiated.

"Oh my god, Wayne! How are you? Come in!" You stepped back, holding the door open for him to come and sit, suddenly realizing something as your words caught in your throat. There was a chance that Wayne wasn't going to be alone, and that his nephew was going to be joining him very soon. "Is he uh... Is he going to join you?"

There was a reason you knew the drive to the trailer park so well, why you stared at the Munson trailer for a solid five minutes, afraid to blink in case you missed him, why you knew Wayne and he knew you, both acting like old friends. It's because you were. Or at least you had been with his nephew.

Eddie Munson, in all his wickedness and cruelty, had been your best and closest friend in the world. He was the first boy you ever loved, the first boy to break your heart too. No guy you met since then has ever been enough to make you forget about him.

Despite how much you wanted to.

"No no, he..." His words faltered, his eyes cast down at his hands as you placed a cup of coffee in them. The trailer wasn't much but at least it had a kettle. "I don't think he knows you're here. Y/N I really think you two should..." But you cut him off before he could finish.

"I'm sorry Wayne, but after everything he said, everything he promised and and what he did, I can't look at him right now." Mentioning him made your chest ache, and made you want to not hate him. You wondered if he'd grown his hair back, if he'd gotten any better at guitar, if he still had that tattered old copy of Lord of The Rings that you'd gotten him for his 9th birthday with your pocket money that you'd hidden away.

You twisted the ring he gave you on your finger, something you always did when you were nervous. It was a thick silver ring, with a chain pattern around the middle of it. You'll never forget what he said to you when he walked up, holding out the ring on a small chain. You were only slightly older than Willow. It also happened to be the very first thing he said to you.

"Hey! Wanna see what I have?!" He came barrelling over to you, his hand clasped around something tight. You were worried if he was going to show you a bug because surely it would be dead by now. He was a small boy with shaggy dark brown hair to match his eyes. You hadn't seen him in your grade before.

"Um.. sure?" You had been making daisy chains on the grass, taking a short break from the swings. You were gonna go back to them though, you were determined to swing so high you could see your house.

"I think it might be too big for you, but I won this at the arcade." He looked shy, nervous even. He'd been admiring the way your pigtails flowed when you soared high, and he remembered he had the ring in his pocket.

"Thank you!" You were at the age where you didn't question anything, and where someone being friendly was only that, a person being friendly. You took the necklace from him, slipping it around your neck and giggling as it swung side to side. The boy looked a little older, maybe a year? You slipped the ring over your finger, giggling as it slipped back off again, danging from the chain.

"My mom talks about growing into stuff all the time, maybe that's what you can do with that!" He looked so excited, so eager and happy and joyful before sitting down on the ground and plucking a long blade of grass, holding it between his thumbs and trying to make that noise you'd seen people do before. He kept muttering about how he almost had it even though he was nowhere near close.

You sat like that for what felt like hours before a young-looking woman called him over, walking and taking his hand. She looked so much like him, a striking resemblance between them both. He began to walk away, before breaking his grip on his mother's hand to run back and tackle you into a hug.

"I'm Eddie, see you soon!"

You told him your name, and if anyone were ever to ask you when you fell in love with Edward Munson, it would be that moment exactly.

"I understand, just... try to go easy on him okay?" He nodded his head, hands clasped around the mug. You both heard scuffles coming from the side and turned to see the mischievous brunette staring at you from over the sofa, the lower half of her face obscured.

"Where are my manners! Wayne... this is my sister Willow." Walking over, you scooped her up in your arms, her giggles warming your heart and Waynes as you sit down again with her on your knee. That was the thing about Willa, everything about her made people want to smile, and her very presence lit up the room.

"Well hello there little lady, how are you this fine afternoon." He grinned over at her, his gruff exterior giving way to that heartwarming smile you remembered from childhood.

The one thing about Willow, the one thing that you knew for certain, was that she had absolutely no filter whatsoever. She sat there for a second, ignoring Wayne's question before looking down from his receding hairline to his face.

"You have a very shiny head."

She said it with full confidence, no hesitation. You felt your face turn bright red with embarrassment. You were about to scold her, tell her that she couldn't just go around commenting on how people were bald, when you heard a loud bellowing laugh from across the table.

Looking at Wayne, he was clutching his sides as a stray tear rolled down his face. He started wheezing, which caused you to laugh, which caused Willow to laugh. Her laugh was like a lilted giggle, bouncing on your leg and hiding behind her hands as her lopsided pigtails danced around her.

"I suppose you're right, my head is rather shiny.." He chuckled further, finishing up his coffee. You sat there and talked for a few minutes, before Wayne stood up, carrying his mug to the sink, ignoring your protests claiming that you would take care of it yourself.

"I best get going, working night security at the plant, they need me over there at 7 on the dot." He reached over, playfully pretending to steal Willows nose. "Now we have to meet again so I can give this back, okay darlin'?" Willa just nodded her head and giggled, hands flying up to cup her face.

The two of you walked out to the front of the trailer, chatting away again, completely oblivious to the figure watching you from 53 Forest Hills Trailer Park. A figure with a heart that was beating a mile a minute, because there you were, after some long, excruciating years of being without you, and you were talking to his uncle like nothing was wrong.

He was still in his daze when he felt her soft hand on his bicep, pulling his focus away for a second.

"Eds, come back to bed, Wayne's left for the evening, wanna have some fun with you." He used to like the way she said his nickname, the nickname you started for him, but now it felt wrong, weird even, and he wasn't sure why.

"Sure Chris, lead the way..." He followed Chrissy into his bedroom. He knew he should be thinking of her, of his girlfriend, the prom queen and former High School Queen, but his mind still thinking of you, his mind filling with questions, but predominantly one.

"What the hell were you doing back here?"

part two part three

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