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batsovergotham · 9 days ago

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the kiss and the curse pt 1

"You've got the costume. You've got the power. You're Spider-Woman. Act like it."🕷🕸️

Main!Mark Grayson x Spider-Woman! Reader

warnings: cheating, smut, im sorry, so much angst, mentions of blood and violence

w/c: 10.7k

a/n: IMPORTANT NOTE!! they wouldn’t do this with anyone else. i’m making it canon in the fic. they’re drawn to each other, not because they’re attracted to the superhero persona, but because on some instinctive level, they know it’s each other. it’s not about falling for a mask or a costume. it’s about feeling that pull because it’s them. because even without realizing it, their bodies, their hearts, already know. even when they’re masked, even when they’re supposed to be strangers, there’s a familiarity between them that cuts through everything. the way they move together, the way they quip and fall into rhythm without trying, it’s not random. it’s years of knowing each other in a way they can't fake. it’s love bleeding through the cracks of a secret they haven’t uncovered yet. hope this clears some things up for everyone!

You awaken to the steady, quiet thump of his heartbeat on your ear.

You take a second to understand where you are, what occurred, but the instant you move your palm against the sheets and feel the unmistakable heat of him next to you, the memories flood back in gentle, dizzy waves. His lips on yours. His hands on your body. The way he softly said your name as if it were something precious, something his. Your grip on him was like though the world was dying. Perhaps it had, in some manner. Perhaps it had finished only somewhat and started up again around the two of you rather than around you.

Mark is still sleeping.

Honestly, that's very amazing given that you are fairly certain you didn't make it easy for him last night. He’s splayed partially on his stomach, arm wrapped around your waist possessively, like even unconscious, he’s frightened you’ll get up and go without him knowing. His face, normally so full of restless energy and piercing emotion, is softened now in sleep, his brows smooth, his mouth calm. His hair’s a mess, black tufts sticking up in every direction, like he waged a war with your pillow and lost.

And you can't help it, you stare. You absorb it up like you’re trying to memorize him.

The way his lashes fall out on his cheeks, darker and longer than you ever noticed while he was awake and cracking terrible jokes. The slight scattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose that you only ever detect when you’re this close, when the world is quiet enough for you to notice the minute, private nuances no one else gets to see. His arm is strong around your waist, holding you there, keeping you tied to the moment, to him, when your mind wants to stray into every fearful what-if that typically eats you alive.

But not right now.

Right now, there are no patrols. No secret identities. No bruises you have to hide or apologies you have to stutter out for fleeing mid-date because some idiot decided to steal a bank while you were trying to enjoy a milkshake. There’s no blood, no broken ribs, no worry of what you could lose tomorrow or the following day or the day after that.

There’s simply this.

You.

Him.

The way his fingers flutter on your skin like he’s fantasizing about you even now.

For once, you let yourself have it. You don’t push it away. You don’t think about how delicate everything is, how quickly it may be torn apart if one bad thing, one villain, one error, gets through the cracks. You don't think about how life has a way of kicking people like you when you're just starting to feel safe.

You simply breathe him in.

His cologne is still clinging to the covers, warm, comforting, something clean and a bit sharp, like the soap he usually uses even though it smells more like something you’d expect from a dollar store. So Mark. Never striving to be anything more than who he is, even when the world continues pushing him to be.

You move just slightly, trying not to wake him, and your forehead pushes against the side of his arm. He whispers something incoherent beneath his breath but doesn’t stir beyond that, his chest rising and falling in regular, steady beats that you try to match your breathing to.

And God, you didn’t know how much you missed this. How much you needed it.

Because being with Mark, loving Mark, is a lot like loving a hurricane. You know it’s going to hurt occasionally. You know there are going to be days you can’t outrun the thunder, when the weight of all he bears will rain down around you so heavily you’ll believe you’ll drown under it. You know it’ll be harsh, and raw, and messy, because he’s brutal and raw and messy, in ways he doesn't even recognize.

And yet.

And yet, here he is. Solid and genuine and breathing alongside you, even after everything. Even after the arguments and the half-kept promises and the bruises you both try not to see. Even after the days when you wonder whether you're enough, if you can be strong enough to stand with someone like him, someone who feels everything so profoundly, who fights so hard even when it costs him bits of himself he’ll never get back.

You reach up cautiously, tucking a strand of his hair back from his forehead. Your fingertips glide across his skin, so light he probably doesn’t even feel it.

‘I love you,’ you think, the words building in the back of your throat but never quite making it out loud. Maybe because it feels too enormous for this modest, calm time. Maybe because speaking it would shatter the tranquility you’ve found here, wrapped up in one another in a bed too tiny for two people carrying whole universes on their shoulders.

He moves again, and this time his arm tightens slightly over you, bringing you deeper into the curve of his body like instinct. His nose brushes across your hair. He breathes you in.

And you swear, just for a second, you see the smallest glimmer of a smile ghost over his lips.

It’s the type of thing he doesn’t do frequently, not when he thinks anyone’s looking. Because Mark Grayson, for all his tenacity and intense commitment, has always been a bit lousy at letting people see when he’s pleased. It’s almost like he believes he doesn’t deserve it. Like if he lets himself grow too comfortable, too safe, the cosmos will notice and tear it all away.

You understand that. Probably more than you should.

You move closer until you’re curled against his chest, feeling the quiet rumble of his breathing against your hand. And you allow yourself to believe, even if it's only for just now, that maybe he can have this. Maybe you can have this. A morning without turmoil. A life that's larger than merely survival.

A life with him.

You shut your eyes and match your breathing to his again, feeling yourself start to sleep, wrapped up in the warmth of him, in the subtle promise of more that he doesn't even realize he’s making simply by remaining.

You don’t mean to think about it.

You don’t want to.

But the longer you lie there, cradled against him, protected in a manner that seems so delicate it’s almost cruel, the harder it becomes to resist the dark, nasty thoughts from creeping past your barriers.

Because it isn’t like you’re making it up. It isn’t like you grabbed the suspicion out of nowhere.

There were signs. Little stuff. Missed calls. Short responses. Long pauses when you inquired where he was, what he was doing. The way he smelled was different, occasionally, not horrible, not wrong, but like someone else's scent had brushed against his sweatshirt when you weren't present. A laugh that wasn’t meant for you. A gaze that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

And there was Eve.

There’s always Eve.

The notion makes your stomach churn, your fingers curling a bit harder against his naked chest without trying to. You hate that it does this to you. Hate how easily you unravel at the notion of him looking at her, gorgeous, golden Eve, the way he used to gaze at you.

Or worse, maybe he never stopped staring at her that way at all.

You close your eyes against the fire swelling up in your throat.

You’re not stupid. You know their history. You know that in another version of your life, maybe one a bit nicer to them both, they would’ve ended up together. They have that kind of inevitability about them, like gravity, tugging at each other no matter how much they fight it.

And you?

You were the interruption. The pause in the music that was meant to be theirs.

God, you despise yourself for thinking that way. Mark's never treated you like you were a second choice. He never made you feel like a stopgap. When he’s with you, he’s with you. His attention is full, almost smothering sometimes, in how intensely he loves. You’ve felt it. You’ve seen it, blazing behind his eyes when he stares at you like you’re something valuable, something priceless.

But doubts have fangs. And when they bite, they don’t let go lightly.

You gaze at him now, sleeping so soundly beside you, entirely oblivious to the tempest roaring in your brain.

‘Did you truly believe he could stay yours forever?’

You’re not blind to what you are. You're messy. You fuck up. You hide things you shouldn’t, like the bruises you acquire patrolling, like the nightmares that wake you up screaming more often than not. You hold secrets because you’re too terrified of what he’ll do if he finds out, scared he'll look at you and see someone fragile, someone who needs to be protected instead of trusted to stand with him.

Eve wouldn't hide those things. Eve would be bold enough to tell him the truth.

You wonder if maybe he got weary of waiting for you to catch up. Maybe he needed someone easier. Simpler. Someone who could confront him at the full force of what he is without flinching.

You shift gently beneath his arm, just enough that the action stirs him.

Mark makes a low, drowsy grunt and tightens his grasp on you without even waking all the way up, bringing you in closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re virtually folded into him. His breath stirs your hair, and you feel the heat of him everywhere, overpowering, inescapable.

He doesn’t let go.

Even in sleep, he doesn’t let go.

It fractures something inside you.

Because no matter how much your head tries to convince you differently, his body, his instincts, tell a different story. They tell the truth.

Mark Grayson loves like a landslide. It’s messy. It’s harmful. It’s all-consuming. But it’s real. God, it’s so real it aches sometimes.

And if he had someone else… if he genuinely didn’t want you anymore…

He wouldn’t be here.

Not like this.

Not clutching you like you’re the only safe spot he’s ever known.

Still, the agony doesn’t go away. Doubt doesn't care about evidence or reasoning. It thrives on fear. And fear is a hard thing to eliminate, especially when you’ve spent your whole life learning not to trust that wonderful things might ever genuinely stay.

You lift your head up slightly, observing his features again in the weak morning light streaming through the slats.

He’s wonderful like this. Open. Vulnerable. And you realize, a bit cruelly, that you’re probably one of the few people in the whole world who gets to see him like this.

Even Eve, she’s part of his past. She’s part of who made him who he is, but she’s not here today. She’s not the one he’s clinging onto like he’ll break apart without her.

You are.

You reach up carefully, fingertips ghosting down the sharp line of his jaw. He moves again, a quiet sound escaping him, something almost like a sigh, and for a scary second, you believe you might have woken him.

But he only nuzzles closer, whispering your name beneath his breath in a way that makes your chest cave in on itself.

You swallow hard, feeling your eyes burn.

Maybe you’ll talk to him about it. Maybe you’ll ask him, when he wakes up, if there’s something you should know, something he’s not telling you. Maybe you’ll finally find the strength to ask for the type of honesty you’re so frightened he owes you.

Or maybe you won’t.

Maybe, just for a little longer, you’ll allow yourself believe that this, this chaotic, flawed, lovely relationship between you, is still worth fighting for.

You plant a delicate, quivering kiss on his shoulder and close your eyes.

You could remain like this forever, you thought.

But you know better.

Your glance drifts up his shoulder, the curve of his neck, and there they are. The bruising. Faint smudges of healing purple and red, like fingerprints pushed too hard into sensitive flesh. They’re less furious now than they were when you first spotted them, but they’re still there.

And they still seem like a wall you don't know how to scale.

You told yourself not to overthink it. You convinced yourself there were a dozen explanations. Maybe it was a silly accident. Maybe someone elbowed him while playing a pick-up game on the quad. Maybe he got into some fight protecting someone else because that's how Mark is, right? He's reckless sometimes, too good for his own damn health, constantly jumping in to help even if it means being harmed.

But none of those reasons sit well.

Not with the design of them. The way they flowered low down his clavicle, like the echoes of hands clutching, tugging, battling. You know bruises. You know fighting. And this... this wasn’t some bar scuffle. This was something worse. Something Mark didn’t want to talk about.

And you haven’t even asked.

The understanding guts you softly. You've been so terrified of the response, or maybe simply afraid of having him draw away even more, that you haven't even inquired.

You simply let things fester.

You close your eyes against the growing wave of it.

Because it’s not just him hiding secrets, is it?

Your gut twists terribly. The memory of the other night flashes unbidden through your mind, slipping back into your room after patrol, sweaty and aching and reeking of smoke and adrenaline; scrubbing at your hands like the blood might stain through your skin if you weren't careful; lying through your teeth when Mark texted to ask if you were okay because he "had a weird feeling."

You’d lied. Right to his face. Over and over.

He doesn’t know you're Spider-Woman.

You don’t know he's Invincible.

And maybe, just maybe, you're both a touch too skilled at pretending you’re normal while everything about you is already coming apart.

Your chest tightens terribly.

Because you love him. God, you love him so deeply it terrifies you. So much it makes your hands shake sometimes, like your body can’t keep it all in. You adore his chuckle. You enjoy the way he tucks you closer when he thinks you're cold even when you're not. You appreciate how much he wants to be good, even when the world makes it so, so hard.

But how long can love last when it's founded on lies?

You move gently in bed, mindful not to wake him. But even the tiniest movement makes him whisper something under his breath and nuzzle closer against your side. His hand tightens unconsciously around your hip.

And it ruins you.

Because he trusts you. Even today. Even when you don't deserve it.

You blink hard against the pain in your eyes, twisting your head to peer up at the ceiling. Trying to breathe past the agony developing in your chest.

Maybe…maybe it would be better if you had space.

The notion comes unbidden, awful, yet you can't shake it. Not when you lay it out honestly in your head. Maybe if you weren’t tied together so tightly, the falsehoods wouldn't hurt so deep when they ultimately unraveled. Maybe if you gave him space, gave yourself space, you might both figure out what the hell you’re doing without destroying one other in the process.

Would he be hurt? Yeah. Probably.

Would you?

Definitely.

But better now than later, right? Better a clean breach than a sluggish bleed-out. Better to go before you both crash and burn, pulling each other down in the debris.

The words seem treacherous even as you think them. Like you’re betraying him simply by thinking it.

You gaze at him again, helpless.

He seems so young while he sleeps. So sincere. Like the world hasn’t broken him yet, even if you know better. You’ve seen the fractures starting to appear. The way he clenches his jaw when he thinks no one's watching. The way he zones out occasionally, like he's rehearsing something horrific in his thoughts he can't ever entirely forget.

You wonder if he sees those things in you, too.

You wonder if it would alter anything if he knew the complete truth.

You wonder whether he already does.

The worst part is... you don't even know where the falsehoods end anymore.

Is it lying when you wanted to inform him eventually? When you were only waiting for the perfect time, the right moment? When you kept convincing yourself it was safer for him not to know?

Or is that simply cowardice?

You close your eyes again, swallowing heavily.

Maybe the true reason you haven't told him is because you're terrified.

Scared that if he sees you, actually sees you, he won’t love what he finds.

And God, you’re so weary of being terrified.

You should leave. You should extricate yourself carefully from his arms, pack up whatever pride you have left, and go away before you injure each other worse than you already have.

But you don't move.

You stay frozen there, trapped between wanting to protect him from yourself and wanting to selfishly hold him near for just a little longer. Just a few more minutes where you can pretend everything’s normal.

A low murmur from him as he starts to stir, his fingers twitching at your side. His body folds reflexively closer, as if even in sleep he can sense the space you're starting to pull between you.

And suddenly, with a blink and a drowsy murmur that is so achingly him, Mark's blue eyes break wide.

His glance finds you instantaneously.

Still sleepy. Still unprotected.

He grins. Soft. Warm. Like you're the finest thing he's ever seen.

"Hey," he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. "You're awake."

And just like that, your heart bursts neatly in your chest.

Because you know, no matter how much distance you believe you need, no matter how hard you try to reason it, stepping away from Mark Grayson was never going to be that simple.

Mark notices very quickly.

You wish you could claim he’s ignorant, that you could bury all the sharp, painful things inside you and hide behind a grin until you were somewhere secure enough to come apart, but you’re not that lucky. Mark Grayson isn’t dumb. Especially not when it comes to you.

His tiredness goes swiftly, concern replacing it like a broken rubber band as he raises himself onto his elbow. His hand, warm and a bit awkward, sweeps your hair back from your face. His brows knit together the way they do when he’s scared but trying not to show it too much, trying not to make you feel worse.

"You okay?" he says, voice low. Careful.

And maybe that's what does it. Maybe if he'd just grinned and pulled you closer, if he’d been selfish and satisfied, you could have faked a bit longer. But Mark doesn’t let things linger. Mark cares. Even when it would be easier not to. Even when it costs him more than he understands.

Your chest tightens. You glance away.

"I..." Your voice wobbles, so you lock your mouth tight for a second, inhaling through your nose until you can get the words out without crumbling. "I think we need to talk."

You feel him go still beside you. The bed feels smaller, suddenly. Too little to hold everything flowing forth between you.

"Okay," he responds after a second. Cautious. Bracing.

He sits up completely, the sheet dropping down his chest, displaying the bruises again, stark against his flesh in the early morning light. You can't look at them. Not without losing your nerve.

You sit up too, pulling the blanket about yourself like armor. Still not seeing his gaze.

The stillness lingers long enough that Mark eventually breaks it, voice weaker now. "Is this about last night? Because if you’re stressed out, if you’re scared I’m gonna, like, expect anything from you, I’m not. I swear. We can go as slow as you want. I’m just-"

"No," you interrupt, clutching the blanket closer. "It’s not about that."

He stops. Swallows thickly. You can see the wheels churning in his mind, a million possibilities, none of them good.

You push yourself to keep going.

"I just... I think we need space," you say, and the words taste like ash in your tongue. "Maybe... maybe a temporary break up."

You hear him suck in a sudden breath, like you’ve hit him.

And God, maybe you have.

Mark doesn't say anything for a long moment. You eventually force yourself gaze at him, and the look on his face nearly undoes you.

Confusion. Hurt. That obstinate edge of fury he tries so hard to mask when he’s terrified.

"Why?" he demands hoarsely. "Did I—did I do something wrong?"

The worst thing is how real he sounds. Like the prospect of harming you is the worst thing he can conceive. Like it doesn't even occur to him that maybe it’s not just one thing. That maybe it’s everything, everything you’re both carrying, everything you’re both too terrified to express.

You shake your head swiftly, blinking hard.

"No," you murmur. "It's not you. Not like that. I just-"

You falter. How can you explain that you’re lying to him every day? That every time you smile, every time you kiss him, you’re hiding something essential about who you are? How can you explain that you see the same tiredness in him, the same secrets, and yet you’re both too cowardly or too in love to ruin the fragile thing you've built?

"It feels like there's this... this wall between us," you remark finally, voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't know how to get over it. And… and I keep thinking if we just pretend everything’s OK, it'll go away, but it’s not. It’s getting worse."

Mark flinches, just a bit.

You press on before you can lose your nerve.

"And you’re hurting, too. I see it, Mark. I see the bruises, I see the way you shut down sometimes like you’re carrying something too heavy to say out loud. And I — I’m not stupid. I know I'm doing the same thing. We’re both faking. We’re both... hiding."

The words seem heavy, pushing your heart down like stones.

"I love you," you say, raw. Honest. "God, I love you so much it makes me sick sometimes. But I can’t... I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay. Not if it means lying to you. Not if it means lying to myself."

Mark glances at you like he’s trying to memorize what you’re saying. Like he understands, deep inside, there’s no taking this moment back.

"I don’t want to lose you," he says finally, and his voice cracks straight down the center. "Please don’t do this."

And for a single second, you almost cave. You nearly throw yourself into his arms and tell him none of it matters, that you’ll figure it out somehow, that you’ll keep lying if it means being close to him.

But you know that’s not love. Not really.

Love isn’t intended to be a chain around your throat.

"I’m not… I'm not leaving forever," you manage, voice heavy. "I just... I need time. We both do."

Mark scrapes a palm over his face, the way he usually does when he's overwhelmed and trying not to lose it. His fingers shake.

"I don't want time," he mutters, almost to himself. "I want you."

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard it hurts, since hearing him say that is like a dagger to the ribs. Because you want him too. More than everything. But wanting someone isn’t necessarily enough to make it work. Not when there’s so much broken between you already.

"I’m sorry," you mumble.

He lowers his hand, gazing at you like you’ve pulled something out of him.

"You don’t have to be sorry," he replies harshly. "You didn’t do anything wrong. I just..." His voice drifts off, helpless.

"I love you too," he adds finally, barely audible. "Even if you don't think it. Even if you, if you think we need space or something. That’s not gonna change."

You nod, even if it literally aches to do it.

"I know," you mumble.

You sit there in silence for a long time after that. Neither of you moving. Neither of you understanding how to say goodbye, even momentarily, without pulling something fundamental out of yourself.

Finally, you gather your bravery, your pride, the shattered parts of your heart, and push yourself out of bed. You take your clothing, your phone, your dignity, and you don't look back.

If you do, you’re terrified you’ll never leave at all.

Mark doesn’t attempt to stop you.

Maybe he knows that if he did, if he pleaded, you wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.

You close the door quietly behind you, resting against it for a minute with your eyes clenched tight. Breathing. Hurting.

You convince yourself it’s transitory. That you’re doing this to save what you have, not destroy it.

But nevertheless, it feels like you’ve already lost something you’ll never get back.

And in the silence of the empty hallway, you wonder whether love, true love, was ever intended to feel this much like death.

The cool morning air strikes you harder than intended as you step outdoors, like it’s punishing you for leaving. For going away from a man who would’ve moved heaven and earth if you asked him to.

You draw your jacket closer about yourself, but the chill isn’t something a jacket can solve. It’s deeper than that. Sunk into your bones. Your steps are slow, dragging, like your body’s fighting to reject every inch you put between yourself and Mark’s building. You don’t even know where you’re walking at first.

Your thoughts are rushing, your heart a cracked, stuttering thing in your chest, and you’re so exhausted you feel like a puppet moving on ragged strings.

It’s instinct that pulls your phone out of your pocket. Instinct that calls the one person who’s always been there, even when he had no reason to be. Even when he was an obstinate, entitled, spoilt pain in your ass.

Harry.

Harry Osborn. Rich kid. Norman's son. Probably woke up on silk sheets this morning. Still an arrogant little shit most of the time. Still the one person you trust when the world feels too heavy to hold.

He responds after two rings, sounding half-asleep and half-pissed.

“This better be good," he mumbles. "You know what time it is, right?”

You open your lips to say something casual, ‘Yeah, sorry, wrong number,’ but all that comes out is a trembling breath, heavy and nasty.

Harry falls completely quiet. Instantly alert.

“Where are you?” he demands, harsher now. No hesitation.

You just get to stammer the junction before he shuts you off with a mumbled curse.

"Don't move. I’m sending someone."

The call goes dead.

Typical Harry. Doesn’t even wait for a thank you.

Five minutes later, a sleek black SUV glides up to the curb. The driver seems like he could snap you in half without wrinkling his suit. He says nothing as he opens the door for you, simply offers a brief nod like you’re some VIP getting saved.

The travel to the Osborn estate is smooth, luxurious, silent.

You try not to think too hard about how out of place you are in the rear of a car like this, how you feel like an invader, like a disaster dropped into someone else’s clean existence.

Harry’s already waiting outside as the car comes up, arms crossed, shirt wrinkled, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He seems exhausted. Pissed. Worried.

Mostly furious.

“You look like hell,” he exclaims the second you come out.

“Gee, thanks,” you rasp.

He doesn’t argue. Just pulls you into a violent embrace that’s more of a tackle, actually, like he’s half enraged at you and half frightened you may slip away if he doesn’t grip you firmly enough.

Inside the mansion, it’s all marble flooring and frigid air and costly artwork. Nothing warm. Nothing real.

Harry takes you through the maze without a word, bringing you to the living room, the one area in this house that genuinely seems human. Lived-in. Messy.

He shoves a blanket into your arms with a grimace. Disappears into the kitchen. Comes returned a few minutes later with two cups, one in each hand.

He plunks a cup down in front of you.

“Hot chocolate. Figured you couldn’t manage something stronger without having a breakdown.”

You scream out a faint, sad chuckle. You take the cup. Hold it like it would hold you to the earth.

Harry collapses onto the couch next to you, sprawled like he owns the house. (Which, technically, he does.)

And he waits.

Not patient, Harry Osborn was never patient, but giving you space the only way he knows how.

You drink the hot chocolate. It burns your tongue a little. You don’t care.

It takes a long time before you can get the words out.

“I broke up with Mark.”

Harry springs upright, nearly spilling his drink.

“What?”

You flinch. He instantly scrapes a hand through his disheveled hair, grumbling under his breath.

“Jesus. Okay. Not angry. Just... surprised. Thought you two were glued together like gum on the damn sidewalk.”

You gaze at your cup. “Yeah. So did I.”

Harry waits, drumming his fingers restlessly on his leg, until you start talking.

You inform him about the bruises. The quiet. The way it seemed like you were both sinking, deeper and deeper, and pretending you could still breathe. How you loved Mark so deeply it seemed like your ribs would break beneath the weight of it, and how it still wasn’t enough to keep the walls from rising up between you.

You talk till your throat aches.

Harry listens, mouth tense, bouncing his knee like he’s barely restraining himself from breaking in with one of his nasty comments.

When you finally finish, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath the whole time.

“So what, you think breaking up with him’s gonna fix it?” he says frankly.

You shrug hopelessly. “I don’t know. I just, I can’t lie to him anymore. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

Harry glances at you for a long second, something inscrutable flickering over his face.

“You’re a mess,” he says finally. “You know that, right?”

You give a broken chuckle. “Yeah. I figured.”

He lays his cup down with a crash and leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“Look, if this Mark guy’s half as crazy about you as you are about him, he’s not going anywhere. You take your spot. You sort your shit out. If he’s smart, he’ll still be there when you’re ready.”

You nod, wanting to believe it.

But there’s still something eating you alive from the inside out.

The biggest secret.

The thing that made lying to Mark feel like tearing chunks off yourself every time you kissed him goodbye.

You take a trembling breath.

“There’s something else,” you mumble.

Harry moans. “Oh, what now? You’re secretly married? You’ve developed a gambling addiction? What, you’re going tell me you’re secretly, like, Batman’s lovechild or something?”

You gaze at him.

Dead serious.

His smirk vanishes.

“…Oh. Shit. It’s serious.”

You grasp your cup closer. Your heart smashes against your ribs.

“I’m Spider-Woman.”

The words land like a fallen bomb.

Harry stares at you, absolutely blank.

For a second, you assume he didn’t hear you.

Then he tips his head back and lets out a hoarse bark of laughter.

“No, seriously. What is it?”

You don’t laugh. You don’t smile.

And that’s when it hits him.

“You’re not kidding,” he replies slowly, voice odd and thin.

You shake your head. Silent.

Harry blinks at you. Hard. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“You’re —you’re the nutjob swinging around the city in spandex?”

You wince. “I mean. Technically it’s a polymer composite, but-”

He slams a hand over his lips like he’s physically attempting to stop himself from saying anything worse.

“Holy shit.”

You want to sink into the floor. You want to disappear.

“I didn’t tell you because it was safer if you didn’t know,” you explain gently. “If someone found out, they could come after you. I couldn’t risk it.”

Harry glances at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“You’re a goddamn lunatic,” he says eventually.

You flinch.

But then, after a long, drawn-out moment, he lets out a nervous breath and rakes a hand through his hair again.

“But you’re my lunatic.”

He nudges your knee with his own, harsh but real.

“Jesus. You’re Spider-Woman. You’re going get yourself killed.”

“Probably,” you acknowledge.

Harry grins, a bit wild, a little affectionate.

“Well, guess I gotta stick around, then. Someone’s gotta bail your crazy ass out of jail when you inevitably assault a senator or something.”

You laugh. It’s soft and foolish and half a sob.

He pulls you into a half-hug, headlocking you like you’re kids again.

“You’re an idiot,” he mutters into your hair. “But you’re my idiot. Don’t you forget it.”

And you sit there, wrapped up in Harry Osborn’s tangled, difficult, tenacious loyalty, and for the first time since you stepped out of Mark’s bed that morning, you start to hope that maybe you’re gonna survive this after all.

Maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you imagined.

Not even close.

Because the people that matter, the true ones, they remain.

Even after they find out who you really are.

Especially then.

Harry keeps you there for a minute, caught in the type of rough, protective half-hug he used to give you in middle school, the kind that says you’re secure, even if the world’s on fire.

You don’t realize how long it’s been since someone held you like this. Not romantically. Not like Mark had, with all the painful love and the unspoken things straining between you. This is different. This is simpler. Raw. Heavy with history.

"You smell like smoke," Harry mutters against your hair, voice muffled.

You let out a weak laugh. "Occupational hazard."

He draws back enough to squint at you. His eyes seem a touch red, like maybe he’s still trying to digest all of this. Maybe part of him still believes you’re going to grin and say, ‘Just kidding, got you!’

But you don't.

You simply sit there. Small. Real.

"So what, you been creeping around this entire time? Playing Iron Man while moonlighting as Stark’s sexy cousin?"

"Basically," you say, sniffing. "Except with, like, more broken ribs and less press coverage."

Harry lets out a long, leisurely breath, falling back against the couch like the weight of the talk finally caught up to him.

“Holy shit,” he says again, peering up at the high vaulted ceiling like it may reveal answers. “I thought you were just bad at answering texts because you sucked at being social. Turns out you were, what, fist-fighting criminals in alleys?”

You shrug faintly. "You know. Typical Tuesday."

He chuckles, low, skeptical, and runs a hand through his hair again, making it stand up even worse.

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner," he says, but his voice isn’t furious. It’s weary. Hurt, maybe. Like he’s trying to figure out how he fits into your life now that he realizes he’s been missing half the tale.

"I wanted to," you reply gently. "I really did."

"Then why didn’t you?"

You close your eyes. Try to find the words.

"Because if you knew," you say, "you’d worry. You’d treat me different. You’d look at me like I’m... broken. Or like I’m gonna die any second. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you to see me as anything except myself."

Harry is quiet for a long time.

Then he continues, voice a bit scratchy around the edges, "You’re still you, dumbass."

You open your eyes. He’s gazing at you, serious in a manner Harry nearly never is.

“You think throwing on a mask and swinging around like a lunatic changes who you are? Please. You’ve always been a disaster. You’ve always been brave in the dumbest conceivable ways. Now you’ve only got matching spandex.”

A wet chuckle spills out of you before you can stop it.

He grins, crooked, a touch cocky, like he knew precisely what he was doing.

“And for the record?” he says, jabbing a finger at you. “If I find out you’re starting fights with people twice your size without help again, I’m personally gonna hunt you down and kick your ass."

You sniff, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. "You and what army?"

He smirks, leaning his head back into the couch. "Please. I’m rich. I’ll just buy an army."

The two of you fall into an easy quiet after that, the type you haven’t shared in what feels like forever. Comfortable. Weightless.

You drink your now-cold hot chocolate, and for a few precious minutes, you let yourself imagine everything’s normal.

That you’re just two dumb kids again, skipping school to sneak into the movies, arguing over popcorn and whining about how the rich people at school always got away with everything even though Harry was one himself.

Harry taps his foot on yours lazily, like he’s anchoring himself from the contact. Like he needs it as much as you do.

"So," he says finally, breaking the calm. "What’s the plan now? You going rush off to Tibet and train with monks? Pull a Batman?"

You snort. "No. I just... need some space. Need to figure out who the hell I am without harming everyone I care about."

Harry's mouth twists.

"You think leaving people behind makes it better?" he says. Not accusing. Just... sad. "Trust me. It doesn’t."

You gaze at him.

There’s a shadow about Harry occasionally, a weight he wears that you comprehend all too well. The shadow of a father who loved money more than anything, who etched jagged edges into Harry’s heart without ever meaning to.

You reach out and squeeze his hand.

"I’m not leaving forever," you say. "Just... putting some distance. So I don’t pull Mark down with me."

Harry is quiet for a second. Then he mutters, "Idiot’s gonna be miserable without you."

Your throat tightens. You gulp past it.

"Maybe," you say. "But maybe he has to be. Maybe I do, too."

Harry makes a face like he wants to dispute, like he wants to tell you you’re being an idiot (again), but he doesn’t.

Instead, he responds, “You’re staying here.”

You blink. “What?”

“You heard me.” He crosses his arms, resting back against the couch with a stern look. “You’re staying here. I’m not allowing you go hide up somewhere alone like a kicked pet. You’ll just spiral and start watching sad documentaries about seahorses or something."

You chuckle wetly.

"Harry, I can't-"

"Shut up," he says without fire. "You’re staying. We’ve got, like, thirty spare bedrooms. Pick one. Hell, you can have two. I’ll even toss out whoever executive my dad's had locked up in the guest wing this week."

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. "You’re an asshole."

He grins.

"But I’m your asshole," he says. "And you’re stuck with me. Deal with it."

You wipe your eyes again, leaning your face on his shoulder for a second, simply inhaling him in.

The cologne you purchased him two birthdays ago. The lingering fragrance of coffee and old books and something particularly Harry.

Comfort.

Real.

For once, you let yourself lean into it.

Because even if the world is crumbling, even if you’re not sure who you are without Mark, without Spider-Woman, at least you’re not crumbling alone.

At least someone’s still here.

Harry’s still here.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for today.

Maybe it’s enough to start putting yourself back together again.

Slowly. Messily. Honestly.

One broken piece at a time.

You wind up crashing at Harry’s for much of the day.

You didn’t mean to.

You promised yourself you’d simply sit down for a minute. Just breathe.

Maybe stop feeling like your chest was a fractured glass pane, spiderwebbed and ready to shatter if you moved too rapidly.

But a minute slipped into two.

Two became into hours.

Now it’s late afternoon, and the world beyond Harry’s mansion windows is drenched in that drowsy golden light, the type that generally seems secure, comfortable.

Today it feels heavy. Like the sun itself is pounding on your shoulders.

Harry paces the living room like a caged beast.

He’s barefoot, in sweats and a shirt that probably costs more than your laptop, hurling a basketball up into the air and catching it with delicate, rhythmic slaps.

He’s pretending he’s not seeing you.

He’s horrible at faking.

You’re curled up sideways on the couch, drowning in one of his sweatshirts, knees pressed tight to your chest.

Staring at the muted TV flickering through a marathon of infomercials.

You haven't talked in hours.

The stillness is comforting.

It’s also awful.

You think about saying anything, a poor joke, a weak "this is fine" but you can’t get your tongue to move.

At some point, fatigue triumphs.

Your head tips back against the sofa.

You drift.

When you come back to yourself, the room is dimmer and Harry is standing over you, prodding your foot with his own.

"Hey," he says, voice quiet but forceful. "We gotta go get your stuff."

You gaze up at him, your heart lurching hard against your ribs.

May’s house.

Mark.

Right.

You nod stiffly, your throat dry.

Harry observes you, throwing the basketball from hand to hand like he’s thinking through about seventeen different things he wants to say but knows better than to dump on you right now.

When you just sit there, immobilized, he huffs a breath through his nose and mutters, "I’m coming with you. No negotiations."

You blink again, experiencing a flood of emotion you can’t identify. Gratitude. Embarrassment. Relief. All of it. None of it.

You fumble for your shoes, missing the first time because your hands are trembling, and try to make a joke.

Try to be normal.

"Man, what would I do without you?" you murmur beneath your breath. "Actually have to be an adult or something. Ugh."

Harry snorts and flips the keys of his Rolls-Royce into the air with a practiced spin.

"You’d die," he replies nonchalantly. "Or worse, you’d get emotional in public."

You let out a faint, choked laugh. It feels like something cracking in your chest.

You push it down.

You follow him to the door without another word.

The drive is suffocating.

The city goes past in blurs of neon and early evening haze, painting the sky with strokes of dying orange and blue.

You rub your fingers impatiently against your thigh, plucking at a stray thread on Harry’s sweatshirt sleeve.

The air feels heavy.

You think about saying something.

Maybe a joke about how you’re really a raccoon breaking into your own emotional garbage cans.

Maybe an apology.

Maybe a scream.

Nothing gets it past your teeth.

Harry taps a steady rhythm against the steering wheel, eyes fixed hard on the road like it's directly accountable for the fact that your heart’s in pieces.

He doesn’t hurry you.

He doesn’t lecture.

He just drives.

When he pulls up outside Aunt May’s house, your stomach lurches so fiercely you almost gag.

The porch light is on.

The curtains flutter lightly in the air from an open window.

It’s so natural.

It’s like standing at the border of a dream you woke up from incorrectly.

Harry shuts the engine but keeps the keys dangling, his foot tapping softly on the brake pedal.

He glances at you, mouth twitching like he wants to say something.

"You want me to wait out here?" he offers, his voice harsher than normal.

You open your mouth.

Close it.

Open it again.

You don’t want to make this harder.

You also don’t think you can survive stepping in there alone.

You shake your head.

But Harry’s already opening his door.

"Not happening," he murmurs under his breath. "You’re not doing this by yourself, Webhead."

You stumble out after him.

Your legs feel like they’re made of paper.

Your fingers fumble to zip your jacket even though it’s not chilly.

You trail him up the front steps.

The wood creaks under your sneakers.

The door’s slightly open, the light from within spilling out like an invitation you don’t deserve anymore.

Harry pushes it open wider without knocking.

He’s done this a thousand times before.

This home has always been a second home to him too.

"Aunt May?" he says, voice rough but firm.

"In here!"

Her voice floats from the living room, pleasant and comforting and so heartbreakingly normal you want to cry.

Harry sends a glance back at you, the type that says breathe, and walks through first.

Shielding you without making a huge issue out of it. (You love him a bit for that.)

You follow.

The living room smells like coffee and lemon cleaning and vanilla candles, all the things that typically signal comfort.

Today it feels like a blow in the chest.

And there, sitting on the couch, slumped down, elbows braced on his knees, is Mark.

Mark Grayson.

His head snaps up at the sound of your approach.

And for one dreadful, amazing second, The look on his face is so full of raw, naked hope you forget how to breathe.

But then it crumbles.

Sinks into something broken and little.

He doesn’t stand up.

He doesn’t move.

He just looks at you, like maybe you’ll disappear if he blinks too hard.

You can’t meet his gaze.

If you do, you’ll shatter.

You duck your head and focus on the floor.

Harry strides in easily, like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life.

"Hey, May," he says. "Just here to help her grab her stuff."

Aunt May, sitting alongside Mark, her hand still resting softly on his back, glances up and offers Harry a sweet, sorrowful smile.

She knows him too well to be startled.

Harry’s been crashing her Thanksgivings since he was five.

"Good," she responds gently. "She shouldn’t have to do it alone."

Harry moves uneasily, slipping his hands into his pockets.

He shrugs like he’s trying to shake off the gravity in the room.

"You know me," he says nonchalantly. "Obnoxiously loyal since kindergarten."

You snort beneath your breath, a pathetic, broken sound, but it’s something.

Mark’s hands tighten on his knees.

You don’t look at him.

You can’t.

May pats Mark’s shoulder once more, then stands, giving you all a kind nod.

"I’ll be in the kitchen," she adds. "If you need anything."

Her footsteps recede down the hallway, leaving the three of you alone in a hush that feels like it may split the home in two.

Harry nudges you toward the stairs with his elbow.

"C’mon," he mutters under his breath, voice just loud enough for you to hear. "Let’s get out of the heartbreak zone."

You wobble toward the stairs.

Harry follows closely.

A quiet guard dog with nice shoes and too much heart.

The guest room, your room, is precisely way you left it.

Messy.

Alive.

It smells like you.

It smells like Mark.

You blink hard, battling the pressure growing behind your eyes.

You pack swiftly.

Shoving stuff into your bag without caring how wrinkled they get.

You only need to relocate.

Harry leans against the doorframe, arms folded, like he’s not watching you like a hawk.

"You really taking that ugly hoodie?" he replies after a pause, voice taunting yet tender at the edges.

You take up the sweater, Mark’s hoodie, and clasp it to your chest like a lifeline.

You attempt to joke.

Try to sound normal.

"It’s vintage," you say hoarsely. "You wouldn’t understand."

Harry smirks.

But there’s a melancholy there too.

"You’re such a loser," he mutters.

You grin faintly.

You zip the bag closed.

You square your shoulders.

You move.

Because if you don’t move, you’ll stay.

And if you stay, you’ll break.

The stroll down the stairs seems like stepping toward an execution.

Mark is still there.

Still gazing.

Still silence.

You pass him without a word.

Without a glance.

Without the apologies roaring within your chest.

Harry opens the door for you.

Lets you go through first.

You step outdoors.

Into the chilly evening air.

Into the world that doesn’t quit hurting simply because you left a room.

You don’t weep until you’re in Harry’s car, the seatbelt ripping into your chest.

Harry drives.

Silent.

Solid.

He doesn’t hurry you.

He doesn’t push.

And when you finally speak, when you choke out, "I feel like I left a part of me back there," he only nods.

"Yeah," he says. "You did."

And somehow, it’s not the end of the world.

It just feels like it.

For now.

You breathe.

You survive.

And you move onward.

One shattered, defiant, important heartbeat at a time.

The next morning feels like attempting to move through wet cement.

You don’t bounce back easy, not from this.

From hearing the way Mark didn’t follow you.

From recognizing you were the one who had to go because staying would’ve meant breaking into pieces too small to pick up again.

You’re wrapped in one of Harry’s hoodies, sleeves stretched over your hands, laces running free on your sneakers as you trudge into the kitchen.

Harry’s there already.

Coffee in one hand, sunglasses perched on his absurdly flawless hair even though it’s not even bright out yet.

"Morning, sunshine," he drawls, tossing his keys in the air. "You ready to pretend we’re functioning adults?"

You snort without humor. "Define 'functioning.'"

Harry grins, sharp and reckless.

But when you glance aside, his expression falters, only for a second.

He sees you.

He’s always seen you.

"You’re not doing this alone," he adds, tossing you a granola bar like he’s handing you armor before a war. "I’m skipping class today. You got my entire, undivided, unwelcome support."

You catch the granola bar clumsily.

Your chest hurts.

You say a gentle thanks and follow him out without objecting.

Campus is extremely noisy.

Too bright.

The air buzzes about you, people screaming, laughing, moving in packs with coffee cups and bags hanging off their shoulders like they belong here, like the world didn’t end for them yesterday.

You and Harry remain close to the perimeter, the way you always do when you’re both too exhausted to cope with crowds.

The way you used to do in high school when it was you two against the world.

You’re just starting to believe you might make it through the day without fainting when Harry stiffens alongside you.

You follow his eyes and your stomach collapses right through the sidewalk.

Mark. Eve.

Standing under the large oak beside the quad fountain.

Close.

Too close.

You freeze, heart smashing into your ribs so hard you believe you hear it.

Harry pulls out a quick breath through his nostrils.

Mark’s leaning forward, pointing animatedly with his hands.

Eve’s smiling, that gentle, confidential smile people save for internal jokes and late-night discussions.

You catch fragments of their discussion, just enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

"You were really rough with me last night," Eve says, laughing low in her voice. "I’m still sore."

Mark chuckles a little, that carefree, boyish sound that used to be your favorite thing in the world. "You could’ve told me to go easier," he says. "But you kept egging me on."

You blink hard, your ears scorching.

Harry shifts next to you, his stance growing tight.

"And that move you pulled-" Eve nudges his arm playfully. "I wasn’t expecting you to be that good with your hands."

Mark grins, confident and smug and so heartbreakingly familiar. "What can I say? Got a lot of practice handling... tricky situations."

You feel unwell.

Your fingers burrow into the sleeves of your hoodie, nails digging into the fabric.

You dip your head, attempting to pretend you didn’t hear that.

Trying to pretend it doesn’t mean precisely what it sounds like it means.

Harry swears beneath his breath.

You don’t look at him.

You can’t.

If you see the wrath there, the pity, you’ll come apart.

You attempt to make a joke, because that’s what you do.

You swallow hard and gasp out, "Wow. Guess he, uh... moved on fast."

You force a chuckle, but it breaks halfway through and dies in your throat.

Harry doesn’t laugh.

He looks like he’s ready to murder someone.

Preferably Mark.

"Maybe they’re just talking about..." you trail off helplessly, waving your hand. "You know. Gym class. Sports injuries. Wrestling. Whatever people do when they have functional relationships and cool secret handshakes."

Harry snorts, but it’s a nasty sound.

"You’re a terrible liar," he mutters.

You look at the earth, thinking it would open up and devour you.

Mark moves closer to Eve, muttering something you can't catch, something soft and low and confidential. And Eve’s palm brushes his arm softly, comfortable and casual like this isn’t the first time.

You don’t know you’re moving until Harry pulls your sleeve.

"Where are you going?" he says sternly.

"Away," you say quietly. "Anywhere but here."

You rip free and start walking quickly, dropping your head down, darting through the mob like maybe you can outrun it if you just move fast enough.

Harry follows at your heels, silent for a few steps.

Then, when you think maybe you’ve avoided it, he pauses.

You feel it immediately.

The absence of him at your side.

You whirl around, heart thumping.

Harry’s standing there in the center of the sidewalk, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his mouth set in a tight, furious line.

"No," he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. "Screw this."

Your stomach lowers.

"Harry," you beg, racing back to him, grasping his jacket sleeve. "Don’t. Please. Don’t make things worse."

He looks at you, actually looks at you, and for a second, you see the boy he used to be.

The boy who sat next to you during recess because you didn’t have anybody else.

The boy who fought Flash, a guy twice his size in eighth grade because he called you weird.

"You don’t deserve this," he says, voice low and scorching. "You never deserved to be the afterthought."

You shake your head wildly, but he’s already breaking away from your hold.

Already walking across the quad toward Mark and Eve with that arrogant rich kid aura that screams ‘I control this sidewalk, and you’re going to regret your life choices.’

You stand there, paralyzed and powerless, your heart in your throat.

You’re going to kill him.

You’re going to murder him.

But you don’t move.

You can’t.

Because part of you, the part still wounded from last night, wants Mark to see it.

Wants him to feel it.

Wants him to know you’re not standing there alone anymore.

You clutch yourself closer, watching as Harry Osborn, your cyclone of a best frend, gets ready to light a match you’re not sure anyone’s going to be able to put out.

And somewhere, deep inside the fractured, frail mess of you, It almost seems like breathing again.

Almost.

You can barely breathe.

You stand transfixed at the edge of the quad, people flowing past you, the cacophony of laughter and yelling and the distant snap of skateboards dissolving into white noise.

And across the grass, you see it happen.

Harry.

Marching toward them.

Toward him.

He walks like he owns the earth under his feet, a little too confident, a bit too reckless, the way Harry’s always been when he’s angry and doesn't know what else to do with it.

Mark and Eve don’t see him at first.

They’re still talking, Eve giggling at something, Mark grinning, soft and easy in a way that feels like another dagger between your ribs.

But then Harry’s standing there.

And the air shifts.

Mark glances up, bewilderment flitting over his features.

Eve shifts, arms folding defensively across her chest.

"Well, well," Harry replies, voice loud and keen enough to break glass. "If it isn’t the happy couple."

Mark frowns quickly, straightening up.

He blinks at Harry like he’s trying to figure out what language he’s speaking.

"What are you talking about?" Mark asks, apprehensive.

Harry laughs, a brief, humorless sound.

"Relax," he replies, flashing a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Wouldn’t want you to pull something. You’re probably already sore from last night, right?"

Eve’s brows draw together.

Mark stiffens visibly.

You flinch like you’ve been smacked.

You hug your bag tighter to your side, your fingers numb and awkward on the strap.

"What is your problem?" Eve replies forcefully, moving half a step forward, not aggressive but obviously ready to shut this off if it becomes worse.

Harry doesn't flinch.

He just continues beaming that horrible, hollow smile.

"My problem?" he replies, voice dripping with feigned amazement. "I don’t have a problem. I’m just here making sure certain people realize exactly what type of mess they leave behind."

Mark’s whole body tenses.

His eyes flicker reflexively, intuitively, examining the audience.

Searching for you.

You dip your head down swiftly, hiding behind a throng of students passing with armfuls of books.

You don’t want him to see you like this.

Broken.

Stupid.

But it’s too late.

Because Mark’s face changes.

The understanding striking him like a truck.

He knows.

He knows now.

Harry sees it too.

And it just makes him angry.

"You know," Harry adds, edging closer to Mark, his voice lowering lower, harsher. "Some people actually give a damn when someone loves them."

Mark’s mouth opens, to protest, to defend himself, to say anything, but Harry cuts him off with a harsh, nearly chuckle.

"But hey," Harry shrugs exaggeratedly, "if you’re into sneaking around with someone else before the body’s even cold, who am I to judge?"

Eve’s jaw drops wide, enraged now.

"That’s not what’s happening-"

"Yeah?" Harry snaps, finally turning his cutting stare on her. "Because from over there?"

He flicks his thumb back toward where you’re hiding. "It sure as hell looks like it."

Mark strides forward, rage blazing over his features for the first time.

"Back off, Harry," he whispers, low and menacing. "This isn’t any of your business."

Harry laughs again, louder, harsher. "See, that’s where you’re wrong, Grayson. It’s my business when she’s the one standing there looking like she was hit by a goddamn train while you’re playing touchy-feely beneath a tree."

Mark recoils slightly, his jaw tightening tightly.

Eve slips a hand softly on his arm, not personal, just steadying, and says something too low to grasp.

Mark shakes his head, eyes narrowing.

He takes a quiet, deliberate breath, attempting to push calm into himself the way he usually does when he’s ready to lose it.

"You don’t know what’s going on," Mark says firmly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Maybe not," Harry answers, shrugging with a crooked grin. "But you knew she was hurting. And you still stood there smiling with someone else like she never even existed."

Mark flinches at that.

Really flinches.

You feel it like a hit to your own stomach.

Because you know Mark.

You know he didn’t mean for it to look like this.

You know he’s not the villain Harry’s depicting him as.

But right now, none of that matters.

Because all you feel is the anguish.

All you see is the distance.

Mark opens his lips again, to explain, to mend things, you don't know, but Harry beats him to it.

"You’re not worth it," Harry says, voice so low it cuts more than if he'd yelled it. "She deserves someone who actually notices when she's standing right in front of him."

And then, without waiting for an answer, Harry turns on his heel, striding back toward you.

Your legs feel like they’re made of wet paper.

You don’t move till he approaches you.

Harry doesn’t say anything at first.

He merely hooks his fingers gently into your sleeve and gives it a slight tug.

"C’mon," he says forcefully. "Let’s get outta here."

You follow him.

Silent.

Numb.

You don’t look back.

Not even when you feel Mark’s stare scorching into your receding back.

Not even when you hear Eve’s low, desperate voice attempting to express something you can’t make yourself listen to.

You simply keep moving.

One step at a time.

Each stride pulling something else loose inside you.

But nevertheless, it still feels better than standing still.

Because at least now you know.

At least now you’re not wishing for something that was never yours to hang onto.

And for now, for today, that’s enough.

Barely.

But it’s enough.

You don’t recall much of the trip near your next class.

Just the weight of your bag straining at your shoulders.

Just the odd, faraway hum of students laughing somewhere far away.

Just the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears.

Harry doesn’t say anything at first.

He matches your speed, not too close, not too distant, allowing you enough space to breathe but not enough to be alone.

You don’t look at him.

You can’t.

Because the second you do, the second you see the remorse and wrath stretched across his face, you’ll lose whatever frail grasp you have left.

You cut across campus in quiet, slipping down side streets and back routes you know by heart, until you’re far enough away that the cacophony fades into something bland and innocuous.

Eventually, Harry guides you into one of the tiny brick courtyards buried behind the science building. It's half-hidden by ivy, generally abandoned this time of day, the type of spot people forget exists until they need somewhere to cry or kiss or scream.

Right now, it’s wonderful.

You slump into one of the stone seats, your legs giving up like they’ve been waiting for permission to cease holding you up.

Harry remains there for a second, moving awkwardly from foot to foot.

Like he’s not sure if he should sit, hover, or fabricate a medical emergency to get you both out of this talk.

You pull your sleeves down over your hands, curling into yourself like you can make your body smaller.

Make the hurt less.

The hush extends.

Tight.

Heavy.

Finally, Harry pulls a hand through his hair and mutters, "Okay, this is officially the part where I’m supposed to say something meaningful and emotionally mature."

You breathe out a broken, wet chuckle, scrubbing your palms over your face.

"You?" you stammer, voice tremebling. "Emotionally mature? I think the planet would literally burst."

Harry snorts.

He kicks at a loose stone near his foot, hands buried deep into his jacket pockets.

"Yeah, well," he admits, almost apologetic. "Desperate times."

You chuckle again or try to.

It comes out half-sob, half-hiccup.

You put your hands tighter against your face, ashamed.

Harry steps closer.

Still not touching you.

Still giving you space.

"You don’t have to do that," he replies gently. "Don’t have to pretend it’s funny."

You put your hands into your lap, peering down at your sneakers like they would provide you some kind of script for surviving this.

"I just..." You fade off, your voice tearing apart. "I didn’t think it would feel this bad."

Harry drops down onto the bench next you with a deep groan.

Close enough that you can feel his warmth.

Not near enough that it feels like pressure.

"Yeah," he says after a beat. "It always feels worse than you think it will."

You blink hard at the ground.

Your throat feels rough.

Your eyes burn.

Your chest hurts like someone’s hollowed you out with a spoon.

"I knew he didn’t love me as much as I loved him," you mumble.

You’re not sure if you’re talking to Harry or simply... gushing.

Bleeding out in the open.

"I knew," you say again, softly. "But I thought... I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d be enough anyway."

Harry’s jaw tightens.

You see it out of the corner of your eye, the way he grinds his teeth together, straining to choke back all the furious things he presumably wants to say.

He doesn't say them.

Not right now.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

current taglist: @adeptusxia0 / @moonjellyfishie / @ladynoirx321 / @moraxussy / @saturnalya / @the-good-kooshe / @atomspidyr / @iansimpsforeveryone / @luvvcharxo / @jiyeons-closet / @weponxwrites / @xzmickeyzx / @heiankyonoeiyuukun / @edgycatx / @oxymorondemon / @bluerrie / @swtheartz / @maxi-ride / @nightmarewasteland / @hot15936 / @rotinginmybed / @deleted-1-800 / @thehumanradio17 / @mhrasm / @yzzaqczec / @pickledsoda / @qxuanii /

#invincible #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic #invincible season 3 #invincible angst #invincible x you #mark grayson x reader #invincible smut #reader insert #x reader #mark grayson #mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut

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sicko4smut · 3 months ago

Text

Everybody’s A Suspect! | B. Floyd

synopsis: A string of murders in the fall of ‘84 in a small town shakes the residents of WoodSprings to their core

warnings: violence, murder, eventual smut, gore, porn with a whole lot of plot, inaccuracies of the 80s (have mercy), personal head cannons of characters/dynamics, dubious consent, pushy male characters who can’t take no, bullying, physical harm, other warnings i can’t think of right now

PSA- i do not own any characters, names, ideas, or royalties of the ‘Scream Franchise’ or ‘Top Gun Maverick’

CHAPTERS

📼 1.1 - A Body…In WoodSprings?

PLAYLIST 📻 (no particular order)

The Perfect Girl - Mareux

Dark Red - Steve lacey

Somebody’s Watching Me - Rockwell

Hidden In The Sand - Tally Hall

The Red Means I Love You - Madds Buckley

Smooth Criminal- Micheal Jackson

Arms Tonite - Mother Mother

Sippy Cup - Melanie Martinez

Headlock - Imogen Heap

♪♫♪

─•────

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

MEET THE CHARACTERS

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 🏈 - Jake Seresin as ‘Dumb Jock’

* Jake is captain of the football team and son of the town’s mayor, super rich boy vibes

* Wholeheartedly believes you and him should be together because he is captain of football team and your cheer captain

* All brawns no brain up there, his poor skull is sitting there collecting dust and head trauma from getting tackled one too many times. 🏆 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔

🎸⋆⭒˚｡- Bradley Bradshaw as ‘Punk Outcast’

* Rooster is a free-spirited, rule-less, angsty, outcast

* Stays to himself and rarely ever talks, seriously no one has heard the guy say more than three words since high school

* working to put himself through college even though the stress from college and work is kinda making him flunk out

* Butts heads with Jake, two sides of different coins mixed with egos, passive aggression, and LOTS of testosterone leading to many physical fights between the boys. ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ - Nat as ‘Freak Loner’

* Out of her nerdy, timid shell from high school and free as can be…Natasha has voiced her disdain for all oppressive nature and love of the unknown, terrifying, and paranormal.

* She doesn’t feel the need to pretend to be uninterested in her education to fit her aesthetic when all is said and done, Natasha wants something to call her own and a degree is just that. So she’s willing to swallow her pride on how the world forces you into school for years right into the capitalist system of working for even longer before screwing you over even more the longer you let them..though she sure won’t be quiet about it

* But don’t be fooled by her dark makeup, passionate outburst, and spooky demeanor as hard she tries to bury her, that nerdy timid girl within Nat keeps kicking no matter how hard she beats her down. 𓉸ྀི ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ -You as ‘The Town’s Sweetheart’

* You never wanted for anything in life for as long as you could remember, born with a silver spoon in your mouth however you were never snotty about it…never let it get to your head

* Miss goody-two-shoes as you were called was always the first one to volunteer your help whenever needed, first to be picked for the cheer team, first to speak up when someone was being bullied, first place in the Woodsprings beauty pageant, Prom Queen, Co-class president, captain of dance committee. It was all honestly a little overboard but you loved it all, love how busy it made you and how you were praised by seemingly everyone around you.

* Your family being the second wealthiest people in Woodsprings (thank you mommy and daddy) it was a given you never worried about how you were going to pay for college, the thought never crossing your mind until you overhear some peers complaining about how THREE jobs weren’t even enough to cover book fees so they would have to go to the local community college instead…it left you with an odd feeling never really having had the chance to acknowledge your privilege °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⊹₊⟡⋆ 🔪 - Bob Floyd as ‘Ghostface’

* The man of the hour, our beloved robby. Fed up with being bullied and patronized, bob fights back…he didn’t mean for the guy to die but he would be lying is he said he didn’t like the silence that came with one less of those losers gone.

* Sweet boy who lives with his single mother trying to help her pay bills by working a variety of on campus jobs, from handyman to security to library assistant…anything that pays to lighten the load off her back

* Geek Charming in the flesh, bob but always robby to you has always been super smart which is why he was head of chess club, class president, and valedictorian in high school and awarded a full-ride scholarship to Woodsprings University

* Robby has had a crush on you since the first grade, it’s honestly a mix between creepy and embarrassing how bad he had it for you but you rarely noticed him anyway. When you did seem to remember his existence you were always so sweet just like he knew you to be his sweet girl

🪓 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

• This a masterlist/promotion for a WIP soon to be fic

• All actual chapters will be published on my main account @smutmaniac

• Please like and reblog

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friendlyneighborhoodhottie · 1 year ago

Text

─🕷────────────── Don't Lie To Me (Peter Parker x Reader -Angst-) ─🕷──────────────

You know Peter is cheating on you, and you want the truth.

I had no specific Peter Parker in mind when I wrote this, but enjoy. Language, cheating, angst, implied sex ahead.

770 Words

Peter had been increasingly coming home later than usual. You were sick of him hiding his phone all the time whenever it rang. You hated to be suspicious of him like this but you had a gut feeling something was wrong.

That gut feeling was confirmed when you saw the text light up his phone when you both were in bed one night. He was asleep and went to bed clutching his phone in his hand. It slipped out to lay flat on the mattress beside him. You didn't want to accidentally wake him, so you got out the bed and tiptoed around to his side. Hesitantly picking up the glowing device, you read the message:

New Message From Felicia

Hey Spider...When can I see you again? Last night was too fun ;)

You felt your heart sink.

You started to breathe rapidly, trying to focus on something else before you had a panic attack.

You brushed yourself off for a couple of days thinking maybe it was a coworker. Maybe it was taken out of context. Your Peter could never betray you like that.

But when his phone rang with her name once again, he tried to hide it, and you had enough.

"I got promoted today" He said glancing at you and then digging into his pasta.

You stayed silent as you shook your head and raised your eyebrows. You held the metal fork, gripping it hard, wanting nothing more than to stab him with it.

He continued cautiously, it didn't take his spidey sense to notice your grip on the fork: "I think it'll be good for the both of us, and in a couple months I can probably become assistant manager of the company. What do you think?"

He waited for your answer, and when he received none he frowned.

"Baby, you're being so quiet, what's-"

"Yeah, Peter, I'm sorry for being quiet, and all, while you want to celebrate, but you know what I think? I think fucking other people while you know how much I love you is fucking cruel. Who the fuck is Felicia?" You exhaled through your nostrils, eyebrows furrowed as you let your hidden rage out.

You could see his face go pale, confirming you discovered something he always meant to keep a secret.

"She's...she's just...she's just a-" he stuttered not helping his case whatsoever.

"Peter. Don't you lie to me." your voice stern.

"She's an old friend, we've been catching up and there's nothing going on between us." You could tell he was lying.

"Then let me see your phone, Peter."

"What? No, (y/-)"

"Let me see your Goddamn phone!" you yelled. You hated to yell but you were at a breaking point. You tried to stay strong, tears attempting to form in your eyes.

He reluctantly put in his password, and handed it to you while sighing deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.

"Wow."

That was really all you could say. Because the second you clicked on her contact the evidence spoke for itself. Dates they had planned, nudes sent, sexts exchanged. It was worse than you ever envisioned it would be.

You nodded your head accepting that this was reality as you prodded your tongue in your mouth before asking:

"What, so you were going to..just keep me around in case that didn't work out?" You folded your arms.

"It's not...it just kind of happened." he answered struggling to explain himself. What can he say? He was caught.

"But you still kept it going?" you threw your hand up and then back into your arm fold.

"I'm sorry." he says his voice starting to croak.

Your face was full of sadness, but you knew what you had to do. That trust was something that could never be replaced. And it's gone now.

"Sorry won't bring me back" you stated sadly.

You called a friend and asked if you could stay the night, telling them about the situation. You pulled your suitcase from the closet and stuffed as many of your clothes and items in there as possible.

You'd have to collect the rest of your stuff eventually. But tonight you just wanted to be away from Peter.

"Have fun with that" you said pointing to his phone as you left the house, pulling your suitcase behind you.

You got in your car and turned the key to the ignition to drive. Your tears finally flowed as you let yourself cry. You blinked rapidly and hot tears came rolling down, its warmth feeling oddly comforting in this cold time.

#dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #marvel angst #dark peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman angst #gender neutral reader #lol

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your-friendly-sociopath · 2 years ago

Note

Part two was so good I’m invested I need to know how it ends please make part three to running when you have the time!

Sincerely 🕷anon

You bet part 1 , 2

Channeling my inner demons for this one

Red text is alastors pov/dialogue

Slanted red is when he is mentioned or refered to

Tw: yandere themes, possessive behavior, slight PTSD, reader got issues, so does alastor really

Running Pt 3

A week had passed since your leg had been chopped off

It was weird, getting up every morning only to fall in your face immediately

You were right about your father leaving his shadow on you

You swear every time you fell each morning, it would laugh at you

This morning was no different

You woke up, sat up, went to stand on the side of your bed, and promptly fell flat on your face

The shadow in the corner made a strange hissing sound

Which you had now come to identify as laughter

Grumbling, you flipped off the shadow as you, shakily, got to your feet

Well, foot

You figured that the only good thing to come out of all of this, was that your remaining leg would be super beefy from carrying all your wait

You hopped over to the bathroom connected to your room, and did your business

When you reentered your room, you noticed alastor sitting on a lavish armchair in the corner by your bed, sipping a dark red liquid (blood, most likely) and reading a book

You had half a mind to just close the door and hide in the bathroom

You did that the first morning after your leg was sawed off, he didn't take to kindly to being ignored so rudely

Instead, you let out a grumpy sigh, and hobbled over to the edge of your bed, waiting for him to notice you

Or to decide to grant you the honor of his attention

He did this every morning

Let you fall in your face, use the bathroom, then appear out of fucking nowhere and wait for you in your room

After that he either got your wheelchair and took you to the kitchen, it would just let you stew in your anger for ten or so more minutes while he read

Both options were a little awkward for you

Seemed like this morning, he found himself content with simply letting you be while he read

You were not in the mood to just sit here

The fucking prick

Instead of putting up with his bullshit, you decided to rush things along

So, you loudly cleared your throat to get his attention

Apparently, he wasn't in the mood for your attitude

Out of nowhere there was a loud static pop, which, admittedly made you jump a little

You could feel your large furry ears go stiff at the obvious warning

Your spine went ridged, and suddenly, memories of the last time he was displeased with you came rushing back

The blood soaked table

The horrific voodoo symbols that surrounded you, preventing you from moving

And the dark..

You wanted to run

To leave, and never have to set eyes on the monster behind you ever again

But it was running that got you into this shit

Running

You'll never be able to run again

He had done something to your leg, weird voodoo symbols engraved in the skin that prevented it from regenerating

You'd never walk again

You were dependent on him, much as you hated to admit it

A creak in the furniture from behind you told you that he was getting up

You flinched, involuntarily, when you felt him lay a clawed hand on your shoulder

"Well my dear, Id say that's enough dilly dalling for today! Why don't we get some breakfast hm?"

You couldn't respond, at least not verbally, so you opted to nod instead

The hand on your shoulder gave you a warning squeeze

Right, you forgot, he hated it when you didn't use your words

"..kay.."

You mumbled

It was the best you could do

----

You used to be so defiant, so fiery

Not that it wasn't a nice change of pace for him, but he did miss your spunky additude and witty remarks

But ever since he had cut off your left leg, you were so quiet and meek

A part of him hated how he had to resort to such drastic measures, while another part was pleased that you were finally in your place

He knew you probably hated him for doing this, but he had no choice

At least, it seemed like that to him

You needed to learn that fighting back and running would only get you in more trouble

A shame though, how it took him needing to physically, mentally, and permanently damage you to get you to listen

He doesn't regret it though, this way, you'll always need him

Forever

----

Weeks went by, then months

The cycle never ends

Except for the falling on your face part, you've broken the habit of getting up then falling down immediately

A relief for you, a disappointment for the shadow that was always watching you

Life (or death) had become boring and mundane

There wasn't much you could do now without assistance

Alastor refused to give you a prosthetic, and your wheelchair only came into use when he wasn't around

And he wasn't around as often anymore

Apparently he had found a new source of entertainment

Which involved a strange hotel ran by a demon determined to rehabilitate sinners

So now, you spent most your days alone in the cabin/mansion/house

You had become a master of hobbling around on one leg

Unfortunately, the house was not "baby" proof, and you found yourself with an assortment of bruises at the end of every day

And thus a new cycle began, every day you'd wake up, your father sitting in the corner of your room, then take you to the kitchen for breakfast before leaving you on your own

It was kind of nice, having your own space again

Yet it was still so incredibly boring

Luckily for you, your father soon decided to introduce you to the demons of the hotel we often went to (you later found out it was called the Happy Hotel)

The only demons you knew there were Husk and Nifty, though you immediately hit it off with a spider demon (PLATONIC)

You started going daily with Alastor to the Happy Hotel

He even got you a prosthetic limb for your visits

(The moment you tried to escape though, it would morph into a ball and chains and trap you)

Even if you weren't exactly free, you weren't alone anymore

And for that, you were grateful

If only you could shake off the feeling of dread, like all these good things would soon come to an end

And done, once more ot 4 is a possibility

Not anytime soon tho cus j have a few asks I need to work on/finish

#yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere radio demon #hazbin alastor #platonic yandere alastor x reader #platonic alastor #platonic yandere alastor

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im-a-writer-sometimes · 2 years ago

Text

Thank You, Doctor (Miguel O’Hara - Part 4/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: violence (like icky ewy game of thrones violence at the end there), language, general unaddressed trauma idk

🕷

If Sam noticed you were quiet the next morning, he didn't mention it. He simply ate the waffle you brought him, occasionally flicking his eyes over to you. After a while, the silence had apparently grated him enough to move him to conversation.

“You never told me how you landed here,” he said around a bite of waffle, drawing your eyes towards him.

You sat down on the end of a bed, watching him eat. “I was never supposed to be born.”

“What does that mean?”

“My father was what they call a jumper, and he knocked up my mom in a universe other than his own, leaving my DNA split between two different universes.”

He took another bite, considering you. “I don’t see how that’s your fault.”

You shrugged. “It’s not, but my universe was collapsing because of me, so…”

“So you came here,” he finished.

“Came is a nice word for it.”

“You were taken like me,” he said, and you stood from the bed.

“We don’t need to talk about this,” you said, beginning to prep your station.

Sam stood, dropping his empty food container in the trash can right beside you. “Do you ever think they’re lying to us?” he asked, his voice dipped into a whisper.

You went still. “I—I don’t know. I saw my universe glitching. I could feel it collapsing.”

“And have you seen it since then?”

After no response, Sam quietly slipped out, leaving you to your work. His words kept turning over and over in your mind, and every spider that came through that day was met with a distant-eyed, little-spoken Y/n, a sight none of them had encountered before.

Were you mad at Miguel? Yes, because he’d spoken thoughtlessly, perhaps unveiling some unconscious belief he still needed to unravel on his own. But to think the man that had done something so soft as carrying you to your room and bookmarking your book after you’d fallen asleep was in charge of some multiversal fascist regime, using a fabricated conception of the universe to blind people to his own abuse of power was—

No. That wasn’t right.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t turn around at the voice that sounded behind you. The med bay was empty save for you, but it still felt wrong having this conversation in public.

“About what?” you asked, still facing the counter, not turning to face Miguel.

“About what you said last night,” he said, before tacking on, “And what I said.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“You don’t owe me anything, Y/n,” he started and you could feel him stepping closer. “I’ve never believed that you have, and—I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. Neither of you are prisoners, except maybe of your own circumstances. While you are here, you can do as you please.”

You still didn’t turn.

“We begin clearing out the lower-threat anomalies at the end of the week. Sending them back to their own universes,” he said. “You know you aren’t low threat, but I’ll give you the option to go.”

“What?”

“I believe you’ll choose right in the end,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s your universe, not mine. I shouldn’t have robbed you of your right to choose.”

You slowly turned around, finding him once again standing in a t-shirt and sweatpants instead of his suit. He didn’t look like he’d slept a wink.

“You’re telling me—I can leave?”

He nodded. “Staying is also an option. But it’s up to you.”

“And what about the inevitable collapse of my universe?”

He looked down at the ground, bringing his hands to his hips. “You’ll have time once you return. Time to see for yourself. Decide for yourself.”

“And if I leave and decide to come back?”

“You will still have a place here,” he said, and without a response from you, he nodded once and turned to leave.

“Miguel,” you said, taking a few steps towards him. He paused, looking at you over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He looked you over once before nodding again, stepping out of the med bay and leaving you to quell the two worlds now colliding within you. You looked around at the space around you—too big. It seemed to swallow you whole. Was this just another trick?

🕷

It was two days later—the end of the week approaching—when Lyla appeared before him at his station with a wide smile.

“Guess what?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Don’t remember programming any guessing games.”

“You’ll want to play this one,” she said.

He rolled his eyes. “What is it?”

“I’ve found the Jumper,” she said, and Miguel only blinked at her.

“You found his trace?”

Lyla shook her head. “I found him. He’s been in the same universe for the last two weeks.”

Miguel glanced towards the door, imagining the stretch of the med bay just beyond and the woman currently pacing its floor. He looked back at Lyla with a nod. “Full alert,” he said. “I want every spider on base in the Jumper’s universe pronto.”

🕷

Sam stepped into the med bay long before his shift, ten minutes or so after the entire base had been cleared out—save for a few spiders to guard the prisoners, far off from the med bay.

Miguel had come to say goodbye before he left, and you could tell simply by the rigid tilt of his back and the apologetic look in his eyes that he was going after your father.

“I thought you could use some company,” said Sam, sitting on one of the beds at your station. “Seeing as this is likely the calm before the storm.”

You nodded, not turning to face him fully. You couldn’t—not when you’d been given the option to leave, and he hadn’t. Or maybe he had, and he was withholding it from you for the same reason.

“Have you always worn that?’ he asked, nodding his head towards your wrist. You looked down at your wristband, furrowing your brows as you met his eyes.

“Since I got here, yes,” you said. “You felt how painful it is to glitch.”

“Have you? Glitched, I mean,” he asked.

You shook your head, turning back towards your station.

“Odd,” he said. “Considering you are supposedly an anomaly. Figures you would have spent your whole life glitching in and out in your own universe.”

“It wasn’t really mine,” you said, turning to face him. “Do you have a point?”

He did, and it was the pointed end of a scalpel coming down on your wrist, severing your wristband and letting it fall to the floor.

“What are you doing? Are you insane?”

You lunged for the scalpel, but he dodged your reach, stepping away and leaving a chasm of space between you as you—didn’t glitch. You felt no different at all.

“And if I do it—” he started, before slicing off his own wristband. You called out, taking a step closer as he began to glitch in and out.

“You’re different, Y/n,” he said, as his body became shapeless, jumping between forms. “Someone like you shouldn’t exist.”

“Someone like me?” you asked, voice on the verge of breaking. “Please, Sam, just—let’s find another wristband, we can—”

“Someone who is made up of more universes than one,” he continued, his voice distorted and strange. “Someone who can exist in any of them.” And then for a heart stopping moment, he coalesced back into his own shape, long enough to offer a sickly-sharp smile. “You’re welcome, kid.”

🕷

It was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, if Miguel caught the tail end of one of the Jumper’s escapades, the dimension was in chaos as he liked it. But this was a simple, peaceful universe, with nothing more than a light flickering on and off in the Jumper’s window.

“You’re sure he’s here?” he asked as he swung up onto the building, landing outside the window.

“I’ve never felt a trace so strong,” said Lyla, and he glanced inside, seeing nothing more than a messy apartment. A few other spiders had jumped with him, even more coming up through the stairwell, even more keeping watch around the building to make sure everything went smoothly.

Miguel shook his head. “Something’s not right,” he said, before slowly easing open the window and slipping inside.

He smelled it first. As did the rest of the spiders trailing in behind him, covering their noses at the stench of decay.

“God, who died?” snapped one of them, and Miguel began combing through the apartment, stepping into the kitchen and pausing his step.

“The Jumper,” he said, finding the man’s body laid out on the floor.

“Was he killed?” asked one of the spider’s, and Lyla appeared above the body, shaking her head.

“This can’t be right,” she said. “I felt his trace for certain. And there’s no sign of death.” She flickered out and appeared again on the other side of the body, scanning it. “It’s like he was never even alive.”

“Boss!” came the voice of a spider still in the living room and Miguel stepped away, finding a book in the spider’s hand. He grabbed it, scanning the cover. The Gentleman’s Guide to Astral Projection. He looked up at the spider, and she gestured to a stack of books on the table. He stepped closer, thumbing through the titles.

How the Demons Do It: A How-To Guide to Possession

The Multiverse Within Each of Us

The Mutable Physics of Personhood

Unhappy With Your Own Body? Steal Someone Else’s!

“O’Hara!” came a voice from another room, and he left the books, stepping into what must have been the Jumper’s bedroom. The walls were lined with photos and madly-scrawled notes—so many that Miguels’ eyes could barely catch on one.

“Look at this,” said the spider, and he came up to the far wall, following the spider’s gaze to a picture and a various set of IDs. He blinked. Blinked again. They were for one Dr. Sam Eddard. “I think the Jumper found himself a new ride.”

“No,” he said, “That’s not—”

“—the worst part,” finished the spider, gesturing to the entire right wall. The wall Miguel had somehow not even noticed. Hundreds of pictures.

Of you.

Just you.

And a note in the middle he ripped down—the key to multiversal travel? no singular universe’s DNA; can exist in any (and destroy any?).

“I don’t think Sam Eddard is his final destination,” said the spider, and Miguel’s heart went still in his chest.

“This was a trap,” he breathed, taking in all of the spiders currently combing through the apartment. All of the spiders. Away from base. It was a split second before the note was fluttering out his hand and he was stepping—no, running—through a portal.

🕷

You don’t think you’d ever run so fast in your life. Sam—your father—whoever he was, was nothing more than a blocky, multicolor glitch of a person as he tailed you, but somehow that made him faster.

“This is your destiny, Y/n,” he called after you. “You can’t run from it.”

“Watch me,” you said, skirting to a stop inside Miguel’s control room. You looked around for something—anything—to use as a weapon as Sam stepped through, finally settling back into his own shape.

“I’m the reason you exist,” he said. “You owe me this.”

“I don’t think you understand the concept of fatherhood,” you answered, trying and failing to yank a metal bar off a piece of shelving, feeling him drawing closer.

“Do you know how long I had to wait?” he asked. “Wait until you’d grown, wait until I’d figured out this body jumping bullshit.”

“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” you said, finally managing to rip a slender iron pipe free, leveling it out before you as a warning.

“And then when I finally find my way back to your mother’s universe,” he shook his head, laughing. “You’re gone. Snatched up by a horde of spiders.”

“Lucky me,” you said, before swinging the pipe out, narrowly missing his head.

“Are you really happy here?” he asked, dodging another blow. “Think of it as me taking your life off your hands.”

“Oh, well when you put it like that.” And then you lunged, iron pipe suspended between your hands as you crashed down on top of him. His head ricocheted from the pipe to the floor to the pipe again, and he kicked out beneath you, sending you tumbling.

When you regained your senses, he had jumped on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

“You’re not getting anything for father’s day,” you said, kicking out your feet enough to leave him unstable for a moment, but not enough to get him off you.

And then he started chanting.

“Is that fucking Latin?” you asked, squirming beneath him.

He continued, eyes distant, not focused on anything at all. As he chanted, the edges of his form glitching in and out, there was a moment where you blinked and found yourself staring down at your own body, falling limper and limper beneath Sam’s hold.

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t call out and beg your body to keep fighting. You could only watch.

You saw the flash of orange light cast sinister angles around the room before you saw the portal, and by the time Miguel had stepped through, you were back in your body with a sharp gasp.

He’d ripped Sam off of you in the matter of a second, tossing him across the floor like a rag-doll. He spared you one glance—chest heaving, teeth bared—before he launched himself off his haunches and directly on top of Sam.

“Yep, I see the half spider part now,” you said, kicking your feet against the floor to get as far from the fight as you could. You braced yourself against the nearest wall, watching as Sam clawed back at Miguel, something so desperately futile in the way he fought, his face already wrenched with defeat.

But he was holding Miguel off. He wouldn’t keep him at bay for long, but perhaps, just as long as he needed. Because, with Miguel on top of him, he started chanting again.

“No,” you said, crawling closer. “Shut him up. He’s trying to—”

But Miguel couldn’t hear you, he was too invested in landing blow after blow, ignoring the Latin curses whispered in between each one. You looked around, reaching for the iron pipe still rolling on the floor beside you.

It was another adrenaline moment, one you’d never be able to describe in detail. You thought you could remember shouting a warning. You could vaguely see Miguel ducking out of the way. But the image of driving an iron pipe down into your father’s skull was one you’d never forget.

It stopped the chanting.

You and Miguel barely had a chance to glance at each other before portals started opening up all around you, the flickering orange light making it seem like the room was slowly burning. In a lot of ways, it was.

🕷

“Follow the light,” said Miguel, waving a flashlight in your eyes.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you said. “You have bruised knuckles and possibly a broken rib, but I am absolutely fine.”

He clicked off the light, simply staring at you, the both of you sat on your own bed in your own room. He’d wanted to take you to the med bay, but you quietly admitted you couldn’t stand being around all the spiders who’d just witnessed the aftermath of you killing your father. Or, at least, the body your father was in.

Miguel shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t know. I can’t believe I played right into his hands.”

“He had a long time to plan this,” you said.

“And I’ve had a long time to catch him.” He stood up from his spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “He would have stolen your body and disappeared without a trace.”

“Is it true?” you asked. “About me being immune to all the glitching?”

He shrugged. “I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even think about you when we picked you up,” he said. “All I knew was that your universe was collapsing, and you were at the center of it. If I stopped to think, I would have realized the lack of glitching was strange. But I didn’t.”

“So, I was right,” you said.

He pulled back the curtain on your window, looking down at the view below. “I was so caught up in my mission to save the multiverse, that I forgot it was made up of people.” He looked back at you, stiff shoulders falling at the sight of your soft, kind eyes watching him. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you said, before looking down at your lap. “Is your offer still on the table?”

He blinked at you for a moment. “What?”

“To go home,” you said, lifting your eyes to his. He could’ve broken down right there, but his swallowed whatever words threatened to come out and simply nodded.

You smiled before looking back down at your lap. “I’d like to go home, Miguel.”

🕷

Epilogue

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction

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awlumii · 3 years ago

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rain check.

# — pairing: (spidey!)kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, kazuha

# — warnings: n/a

# — summary: "i'm late, i'm late! for a very important date! no time to say 'hello, goodbye,' i'm late, i'm late, i'm late!" — white rabbit, alice in wonderland

# — tags: spidey!kazuha au, fluff, brief angst, making up, getting together, there's kisses involved, reader's also a simp (lol)

# — notes: [stands awkwardly in the corner] heyy... i tried my hand at the au again... as always, reblogs and reactions are greatly appreciated, and i really hope you enjoy this!

wanna join the tag list?

✧ — 🍁 + 🕷 — ✧

the meeting time was 7:30 pm originally.

7:45 pm. the waitstaff asked you if you wanted to order anything. you politely declined and informed them that you'd order when your date arrived.

8:15 pm. you texted kazuha and got no response. you eventually grew impatient and reluctantly ordered food for yourself. your face burned at the looks of pity you received from the employees.

8:45 pm. you still didn't get a response from kazuha. you tried not to text him too frequently in fear of sounding clingy or belligerent, but after an hour or so of radio silence, you couldn't help but triple (or even quadruple) text him.

9:00 pm. you check your phone. still no response from kazuha.

9:15 pm. you figured that dessert wouldn't hurt, but it was hard to stomach what with the waitstaff watching you from afar. if you strained your ears, you could hear them whispering something about a customer being stood up and having to eat alone.

9:30 pm. you didn't eat the dessert.

9:45 pm. you asked for the check. they refused to give you one. they gave you their pity instead.

10:00 pm. you left.

10:05 pm. five minutes after you started walking home, there was a blinding flash of lightning. that was the only warning you received before the skies opened up.

the frigid rain seeps through your clothes and chills you to the bone. surprisingly, it's not as unpleasant as it sounds; you were starting to feel a little numb, anyway. quiet splashes echo from the sidewalk as you drag yourself home. people pass you by one after the other, each with umbrellas, but you pay them no mind. you continue on your way.

maybe you're being dramatic, but you feel like shit right now.

when kazuha first suggested going to such a nice restaurant, you were a little hesitant to agree. never mind your preferences — kazuha isn't one for lavish affairs. he's told you as much before. even if the place wasn't super pricey, the ambience seemed to be a bit too much for his tastes. it took some coaxing on his part — he said he wanted to ask you something important, which only served to make your stomach twist into knots — but in the end, he finally got you to say yes. (truthfully, you folded as soon as he took your hands in his — you really need to learn to say no to him.)

it wasn't until you were getting ready to leave that you realized that this was going to be your tenth date with kazuha. is that why he was so insistent on going somewhere nice? you thought it adorable that he seemed to be keeping track of the number of dates the two of you have been on. it made you excited to see him — so excited in fact, that you showed up fifteen minutes early.

and yet in spite of this whole thing being his idea, kazuha never showed up, leaving you to make a fool of yourself in one of the nicest restaurants in the city.

"knew i should've stayed home," you grumble as you trudge through the downpour. you're totally lying to yourself; you had no intention of saying no to him. kazuha could suggest anything and you know you'd agree at the drop of a hat. but as they say, hindsight is 20/20; you should have dug your heels in and said no and suggested something else — maybe something that didn't involve you looking like a fucking moron at a restaurant.

your vision blurs suddenly, forcing you to come to a halt. you think it's because of the torrential rain, but the heat radiating off of your cheeks tells you otherwise. you wipe your eyes free of water — a futile effort — and chuckle humorlessly to yourself. why are you doing this? it's not like anybody's going to notice, right? you sniffle; that can easily be because you're cold and wet.

you sob. you tell yourself it's just a cough.

stop being so dramatic. keep walking.

the second you turn onto a narrow street, you hear a familiar thwip-! coming from overhead. you barely have time to acknowledge that spider-man is swinging around before he's landing right in front of you, blocking your path. you brush rainwater (and tears) out of your eyes to see him better. "you're, uh, kinda in my way, spider-man," you call out over the downpour. "could you move so i can go home?"

"what're you doing out here without an umbrella?" spider-man asks. he doesn't move like you asked; he just steps closer. and if you strain your ears a little, you think he sounds really worried. maybe you're just hearing things. "you're drenched! you're going to get sick at this rate."

for some reason, his concern makes you want to laugh. you crack a smile, though there's very little joy to be found in it. "i'm just taking a nightly stroll." you lie. "and don't worry, i won't get sick. i'm the nurse here, remember? now could you move, please?"

you step around him and start to walk past, but he grabs your arm, stopping you. why is he being like this? what is it with the men in your life tonight? "i... can't be too sure that you'll go straight home." he lets you go and holds out his hands for you to take. "at the very least, allow me to take you."

you make a face. "shouldn't you be saving someone somewhere?"

"i'm offering to take you somewhere, aren't i?" he asks. it sounds more like a retort to you. "and aren't you someone?"

"uh-huh. and what are you saving me from, exactly?"

"if we move fast enough, probably a really bad head cold." spider-man shakes his hand, silently urging you to take it. "come on. i can't have my doctor getting sick, can i?"

you sigh. you don't have it in you to turn down his offer. you never do, now that you're thinking about it. you should really do some self-evaluation. besides, the rain is fucking freezing — it felt nice a few minutes ago, but you can feel yourself starting to shiver and shake. that cold may just catch you regardless of how quickly you get home. "fine," you say and take his hand.

spider-man pulls you in by your hand and wraps an arm around your waist. instinctively, you cling to him as tightly as you can. he's as warm as ever, you note, even in the freezing rain. at this distance, you hear him chuckle: "at least you know to hold on tight." you get no other warning before he's zipping through the air with you in tow. you shriek at the sudden movement, but spider-man only laughs. "you're alright," he reassures you over the wind.

in no time at all, you're being rested on your balcony. you slide open the door and stumble into your apartment on wobbly knees, ignoring spider-man's amused laughter. "you're like a baby deer every time," he giggles. "are you not used to it yet?"

"stop making it sound like i'm the weird one here." you grumble as you lower yourself into a chair. your body feels too stiff and heavy to move. you're still drenched, but all you can do right now is shiver in your seat. meanwhile, spider-man isn't making any moves to leave. he's just watching you — or at least, you think he is. "what're you s-standing there for?" you stutter. you're cold. "what's the matter?"

spider-man puts his hand on the back of his neck and rubs it awkwardly. are you missing something right now? why is he suddenly acting like this? "are you... going to tell me why you were walking in the rain?" he holds the back of his neck, his eyes seemingly still on you. "i refuse to believe that you were taking a 'nightly stroll'." he uses air quotes to repeat your earlier words.

you laugh shakily. "are you interrogating me, spider-man?"

for once, he doesn't laugh with you. "i... just want to know. i'll leave you alone as soon as you tell me; you need to go and warm up."

you open your mouth to explain, but as you look back on the whole incident, you once again feel embarrassment take you by the shoulders. why were you really walking home in the rain? you could've ducked into a store and called a cab or taken public transportation -- what possessed you to do something so childish? your skin, though clammy, heats up as you avert your eyes.

you press your palm against your lips, muffling your voice. "i was, uh... stood up."

"...really now?"

you grimace and nod. "it was, um... supposed to be our tenth date, actually." you recall the blush that coated kazuha's cheeks when he asked you out the other day, and you start to feel the beginnings of a smile on your face. he's so cute — you'd give anything to see him right now.

because as upset as you may have been earlier, you realize that deep down, you just really want to be with kazuha. you're pissed that he still hasn't contacted you yet, but you have faith that he will; this kind of discourtesy isn't like him.

spider-man doesn't know that, though. he makes a noise of disapproval. "pardon my harsh language, songbird," he comments, "but he sounds like an asshole."

you gasp, scandalized. you've never heard him swear before. it sounds so wrong coming from him — was he really that upset about you being stood up? why did that thought make your heart skip a beat? "don't say something like that!" you open your mouth to continue chastising him, but instead you sneeze, hard. you groan and rise to your feet. if you don't move now, you really will catch that cold. "say something bad about my boyfriend again, and i'll fight your face off." you call over your shoulder as you head to your bathroom.

"your boyfriend?" spider-man's words give you pause. you whirl around to glare at him, ready to retort and defend yourself, but he puts his hands up in mock surrender. "you said it, not me. but i must say," he lays his hand over his chest, "i'm wounded, songbird. and here i thought i stood a chance."

you freeze. he thought what?! your mind starts to race immediately, but you reel yourself in quickly. your feelings for spider-man are supposed to be a thing of the past. they were childish and impractical — kazuha is the better choice in every way possible. remember that, you tell yourself.

you flip him off with a sigh. "get out, webhead. i'm going to warm up."

spider-man shrugs, the perfect picture of nonchalance. if only he knew the things he did to your head. "alright, alright." he heads back to your balcony. "take care of yourself, okay?" he calls out to you.

"whatever!" you call back.

with a laugh, he leaps off of your balcony and swings into the stormy night, leaving you dripping in your hallway. you shake your head and start towards your bathroom.

once you've taken a hot shower and put on some warm, dry clothes, you drop yourself onto your couch and turn your tv on. you're not really watching anything, but the background noise is nice. you lay yourself down and roll onto your back.

so the date was a bust. you sigh heavily. that restaurant was so, so nice, too. the atmosphere was perfect — you're pretty sure that if kazuha had asked you to be his partner there, you might have cried. that, or you would have passed out; either one seems likely. you pause for a second. is that what he was going to ask you? oh, you definitely would've cried.

are you really upset about being stood up? you gave it some thought while you were in the shower and decided that no, you're not all that upset. at least, not with kazuha. embarrassed, yes — you can never show your face at that restaurant again — but not upset. kazuha's track record speaks for itself; you can always re-schedule the date.

again, you sigh. you're much too nice to him. simp.

you're about to change the channel on the tv when you hear a frantic knocking on your front door. you jump, startled by the sudden noise. hesitant, you make your way to the door. "uh, who is it?" you call out.

the voice from behind the door makes your stomach flip. "it's kazuha. can i see you? please?"

kazuha? he came here?

you look through your peephole and sure enough, kazuha is standing in front of your door looking very winded, very distressed, and very drenched. without thinking twice, you fling your door open and tug him inside. "what were you thinking, coming here in this weather without an umbrella?!" you hiss at him as you take in his rain soaked state. under any other circumstances, you'd be gentler with him — normally you would never be so snappy with him — but all that's on your mind as you dart over to your linen closet is how sick he's going to be because of this.

kazuha's eyes widen at your tone. "i had to come and see you," he tries to explain. "i--"

you don't let him finish. you drop a soft towel over his head and start rubbing him dry, ignoring the startled noise he makes. "you're still catching your breath, too. christ, did you run here or something?"

you move the towel so that you can see kazuha's face. he looks so apologetic and honestly, really cute with his face peeking out from under the towel. "if i said yes, would you be upset with me?"

"what the-- yes!" you head back over to your linen closet and grab a bigger towel before marching into your room to rifle through your stuff. you can't believe he risked a catching a cold like this! and for what? just to see you? you stop for a moment and recognize just how romantic his gesture is supposed to be. his sprinting all the way to your apartment (and judging by the way his chest was heaving, up the stairs, too) in the freezing rain makes your heart stutter — to think he would go this far just to see you... you shake your head. you can be flattered after he's dry. you hear a quiet sneeze from outside your room and quickly head back out to see kazuha rubbing at his nose.

you shove the clothes you found into his arms along with the towel. "go and take a shower and put these on." you shake your head when he starts to talk back. "nope, i don't want to hear it. when you're done, leave your clothes in the sink and i'll wash and dry them."

"this is--"

"kazuha." your tone is flat and leaves no room for argument. you raise a brow at him and he stares at you for just a second longer before doing as you said. once the bathroom door is closed, you drop yourself back on your couch and bury your face in your hands.

you thought that you weren't upset, but now that he's actually here, you're not quite sure what it is you're feeling. are you pissed because he risked his health to see you? or do you want to punch him for standing you up tonight? well, you think to yourself, he wouldn't have run in the rain if he didn't feel bad about the whole date situation. you look at the bathroom door with a tiny smile. he can be such a charmer when he wants to be — an impulsive one, but a charmer nonetheless. you decide that you're definitely just upset at him for being so stupid.

time passes and eventually kazuha emerges from your bathroom in the large hoodie and sweatpants you forced upon him. he looks adorable in your clothes. you tell him to make himself comfortable before tossing his clothes in the laundry. when you come back, you seat yourself beside him. he seems to be making himself small — either that or he's just drowning in the clothes you gave him. "am i allowed to speak now?" he asks quietly.

you snort. "yes, kazuha, you can speak now."

"i'm really sorry." kazuha's eyes are on you, and you can see the remorse swimming in them. he looks like he's gauging your reaction for permission to continue. when you say nothing, he goes on: "i swear to you, i was on my way there when something suddenly came up," he continues. "it was urgent and demanded all of my attention. i must have gotten so absorbed that i'd forgotten to contact you. by the time everything had finished, it was incredibly late and i figured that you must've gone home, so i..." he trails off.

you tilt your head. "so you ran here?"

kazuha nods. "i... didn't realize doing so would upset you so much. so please, allow me to apologize for that as well. i know my excuse may sound generic and unsatisfying, but you have to believe me when i say that i'm telling the truth.

well, there it is. there's your apology. you press your lips together to fight off a smile. "i believe you just fine," you say. "and i forgive you."

he blinks in disbelief. "are... you sure? aren't you upset with me?"

"do you want me to be?"

"you should be." kazuha winces. this is seriously eating at him; his brows are drawn and his jaw is clenched, showing in no uncertain terms that at least one of you is upset. upset may not even be the right word. he's starting to look pained, if not anything else. why is he being like this? for the second time tonight, you feel like you're missing something here.

you reach over and gently tap your fingers against his own in a silent request to take his hand. he visibly stalls before tentatively wrapping his pinky around yours. "i really do forgive you, you know." you murmur. "life happens, and sometimes plans don't work out. that's just the way things are."

kazuha sighs, unconvinced by your kindness. "the whole date was my idea." he takes his hand away from yours. "at the very least, i should have contacted you." he looks away from you. "and i know that... that this won't be the last time something like this happens. i don't want to keep disappointing you like this."

there's a hidden weight to his words that you pick up on. it's apparent that he's not telling you something, but it's not like you can just pry it out of him. he's barely listening to you as it is. you find yourself stuck between being flattered that he cares so much and worried that he'll truly never forgive himself for this. what can you do to convince him that you're not mad?

kazuha's shoulders tense and you can see color faintly rising to his cheeks. "and i was going to ask you..." he pauses for a second to look at you. "...something important, but i'm worried that i shouldn't. that i don't deserve to."

...you knew it. you fucking knew it! you see the way he's looking at you — he was totally going to ask you to be his partner. the problem now though, is that he's probably not going to. he's kicking himself while he's down, ruining your relationship before you even had a chance to form one.

it's not hard to see things his way. he's worried that he can't guarantee that he'll be able to confidently make time for you without interruption. it's a legitimate concern — who doesn't worry about this kind of thing? what he needs to hear now is not that everything's okay, but rather that it will be; that you're content with any mistakes he may make; that you're more than willing to take him as he is, urgent issues and all.

again, you knock your fingers on his. this time, you hook two of your fingers on his. "ask me." you tell him.

kazuha frowns slightly. "i don't..."

"do you still want to ask?"

"of course." he pauses to squints at you. "you already know what it is i'm going to ask you, don't you?"

you bite back a grin. "maybe i do, maybe i don't. ask me anyways."

a smile ghosts across his face as his cheeks redden just a little bit more. "i was going to ask if you wanted to... make our relationship official." he looks down at your joined fingers before looking back at you. "and it would mean the world to me if you said—"

"yes."

kazuha takes your hand fully. "i had a feeling you would say that." it's evident in the way he visibly softens and in the way he sighs that he's pleased with your answer (although 'pleased' is far too light a word to describe the pure, raw happiness that overtook his face). maybe you're going crazy, but you think that something akin to love flashes in his eyes. it overwhelms you. he takes your hand fully in his and you feel your own face start to warm just from looking at him.

"i was always going to say yes," you say when you manage to find your voice. "i want to be with you, kazuha."

his expression dims. did you say something wrong? "i want to be with you too," he says as he brings your hand up to cup his face. "but as i said, i may be a disappointment to you. i don't want to hurt you in any way, even if it's by accident."

you brush your thumb over his skin. it's warm to the touch. "you won't hurt me," you say softly. "and a little disappointment won't be the end of the world."

kazuha regards you closely. he looks like he's trying to be at peace with your hand on his face, but the draw in his brows gives away his internal conflict. for a second, you wonder if you're coming off too strong. you like kazuha a lot (it's probably too soon to say the big L word, but it surely doesn't scare you), but you're always afraid that you're either giving too much of yourself, or not enough. your insistence on dating him may be more repulsive than attractive.

"i like you," he suddenly murmurs, "so much."

your chest feels tight and you feel breathless. why did he suddenly say that? "i like you, too," you reply.

kazuha leans in and presses his forehead against yours. you hold your breath as his eyes slip shut. he seems so at peace at this distance, unlike you, who's trying to swallow back your heart that suddenly leaped into your throat. "i'd like to be yours," he says in the space between. "if you'll have me, that is."

you feel so dizzy, so drunk on your giddy emotions. this isn't how you saw tonight playing out at all, but you're not going to complain. "of course," you breathe your response. your voice trembles just a little, giving away your nervousness. "you're all i want."

at that, kazuha kisses you. it's slow and sweet, and also — if memory serves you right — the fifth time he's kissed you. if life were a cartoon, you would probably flushed bright red, lovestruck and dumb; a fool for the man before you. it takes you a second to kiss him back — he pulls away for just a moment but you capture his lips again and drink in the content sigh he rewards you with. this is different from the kisses you've shared before. the others were reserved and almost timid, hesitant kisses shared at the beginning of a new relationship. this kiss becomes intoxicating and gratifying — one you find yourself quickly getting addicted to.

believe it or not though, it's you who pulls away first, your heart stuttering in your chest. you don't go very far, but you turn your head away to try and retain some of your sanity. it's obvious that what you said had quite the effect on kazuha; his fingers come to your jaw and move you gently so that you're facing him again, but he doesn't close the gap. there's another silence before he kisses you once, then twice, before he pulls away and sighs. "if there's anything that i can do to make up for tonight," he says, "tell me. i'll do anything."

there's only one thing you can think of saying. "stay with me tonight." the words come out easily — maybe a little too easily. you fluster and your face heats up considerably as you start to ramble. "i-i mean, um... it's gonna be pouring all night and you clearly don't have an umbrella so i mean, i think you should stay. if you want to, then of course you can stay, but you can say no — i just don't want you to catch a cold, y'know..."

kazuha says nothing; he watches you with thinly veiled amusement in his eyes. "would me staying the night make you happy?"

you groan quietly. "stop enjoying this. you know the answer already."

"i do, i do. you're just really cute when you're embarrassed."

"you know what? forget it. i'm gonna go check on your clothes." you stand abruptly to escape your discomfort, but kazuha takes your hand in his, stopping you with a laugh.

"i'm sorry, dove, i'm sorry." he chuckles as he speaks. he stands and pulls you in by your waist. "i'll stay the night. does that sound good?"

you rest your hands on his shoulders poised to push him away, but think against it. your heart is hammering in your chest. it's hard to be mad at him when he's smiling like that, even if it's at your expense. asking him to stay was a spur of the moment decision, but when you look at him like this, up close, you know that you would've had a hard time letting him go. so... "yeah," you mutter. "sounds good. now will you please let me go and check on your clothes?"

he hums and leans in. his voice is barely above a murmur when he speaks. "one more thing." and for (what you think is) the eighth time since you've started seeing each other, kazuha kisses you, sending pleasure rocketing through your system. it drags on despite you trying to pull away, what with kazuha chasing after your lips with a mischievous smile the entire time.

eventually, you get fed up and hold his face. "knock it off, you." you say once you successfully pull away. "i have things to do."

kazuha, who looks far brighter than he was earlier, lets you go and raises his hands in mock surrender. "alright, alright. go on. i'll be here; i promise."

you open your mouth to say something snide, but quickly shut it. you're floored by just how happy he makes you, even if he can be annoying from time to time. perhaps it's because you're technically in the honeymoon phase, but you know for a fact that his smile is one you'd do anything to protect. becoming his partner is a decision you know you'll never, ever regret, and you're sure of that.

you turn on your heel and start towards the laundry room. "don't miss me too much!" you call over your shoulder. kazuha's quiet laughter follows you out of the room, warming your heart.

✦ [screaming and crying]

✦ I HAVE BEEN GOING THROUGH KAZUHA WITHDRAWALS FOR DAYS AND THAT'S WHY THERE'S SO MANY KISSES, I'M SO SORRY I'M SUCH A PATHETIC BITCHNDBSDJ

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha x reader #[ ✍️🏽 — scribbles! ]#does a half-happy dance

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earfqwake · 2 years ago

Text

𝓉𝑜𝓍𝒾𝒸 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 <𝟥

<<last chapter

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 6: 𝔰𝔩𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔣𝔬𝔵

adult trio x reader series warning 🕷 for daddy kink, nsfw mentions, yandere tones

What a chaotic yet calm rest of the morning with Illumi. After your little bathroom escapades, you shared a shower full of caring touches. While I was unsure of what I was doing he guided me gently. He washed my hair and he even let me wash his, which i did enjoy very much.

His hair is so soft and long, feeling him relax in my touch was satisfying. Drying eachother off, exchanging soft touches as we dressed ourselves. I wore a black silk slip dress with lace trimming, a sheer white long sleeve shirt underneath, and knee high white socks with white lace trimming. No bra on , but matching black silk underwear that felt smooth to the touch. Illumi had on a fitted black tee shirt , and some straight leg black pants, fitting his figure perfectly I can’t say enough about how handsome this man is.

Both letting our guard down with eachother slowly but surely. We ordered in for breakfast, not wanting to cook yet also not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed. Truthfully a quiet and blissful morning, I soon found my self lulling to sleep in his arms yet again.

When I awoke again I was alone , I couldn’t have been out for more than an hour or two. The sun shined warmly onto my face through open door of the balcony a couple feet to the left of the bed. My eyes flutter open to see both Chrollo and Illumi sat on the shared love seat embracing eachother. Cuddled in Chrollos lap was Illumi, he was stroking his hair and speaking to him in a gentle tone that I couldn’t quite make out. Whatever he told him had the man red in the face before they both brought their attention to your moving figure in bed.

Sharing a sweet kiss before Illumi instantly makes his way to you, Chrollo following suit with a charming smile on his face. The mattress dips as Illumi sits next to you, Chrollo still standing next to him. His hair wasn’t slicked back today it was down and framing his face very well. A white cloth wrapped around his forehead and he too was in a fitted black shirt except it has long sleeves and he had gray pants on, complimenting the color of his very own eyes. “My love, how are you feeling today? Did you sleep well?” Inquired Chrollo as you crawl into Illumis outstretched arms. And he instantly makes a mental note to himself that you two have grown closer given some alone time. Very well.

His voice is smooth like butter, deep and refined. Such a composed man, can never tell what he’s thinking. But I have questions! I need to know more about these people, I want to trust them but lord knows I’m playing with fire. If Illumi’s an assassin he has to be tied up in some equally fucked up shit, and I want to know.

“Yes thank you, Daddy helped me get ready today Im very thankful.” I sweetly reply , pressing a soft pec on Illumis cheek before turning to meet Chrollos eyes. Contently he smiles back, his mind at ease seeing his lovers get along well. “He also told me you were out meeting associates this morning. Who are they?” Batting my lashes at him, though my tone was nothing short of sassy. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was amused more than bothered by me asking so abruptly. Hesitantly I continued looking down at my lap “Me and Daddy talked and I want to trust you, all of you, so please tell me the truth.” Holding on to Illumis hand to emphasize my point, he only looks between the two of us but still squeezes my hand softly in support.

Giving me a closed eye smile he nods curtly. “Oh but of course sweetheart, anything for you. I want you to trust us much as we want to trust that you’ll be our good girl. And while I agree with your sentiment , honesty is needed on both sides in order for trust to be built. So let me ask you something Y/n.” Tossing my phone on the bed in front of me, the screen lights up.

67 missed calls

120 messages

And all from one contact.

jay💌

“Who’s Jay, Y/n?” His nonchalant tone changing instantly to one of pure seriousness. Chills raking through my spine as I feel Illumi tense under me. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

Jay was one of my old managers back at the restaurant, he’s truthfully my only friend. He stood up for me countless times to my piece of shit of a boss. Forever am I thankful for him, he was my knight in shining armor before anyone else. Now it sounds like I’m in love with him but we were definitely just friends, friends who flirted here and there , but certainly just friends. So what we made out in the work office once or twice. So what if we stayed up late binge watching movies together.

He was all I had , and at the moment I’m more relieved he wasn’t on shift during the massacre at the restaurant. But a new fear crept in me that they would harm him, he’s done nothing wrong. The only thing he’s guilty of is being associated with a nobody like me, I’ll be damned if they take his life away for something as useless as that.

Stay calm. Breathe. Can’t play coy, but you can be as sly as a fox.

“Papa he’s my friend, the only friend I have. He’s probably just concerned after the news of what happened got out.” Teary eyes burry into Illumis shirt, gripping the soft black fabric gently. “Daddy you won’t hurt him right? He’s done nothing wrong, I won’t ever talk to him again.” Tears running down my face as I sob dramatically into his shirt. I wish I could say these weren’t actual tears of fear. I’m scared for Jay but if the only way to keep him safe is for him to mourn me and think I’m gone then so be it.

“There, there, princess anything for you.” He says again, crooning at me as he rushes to my side to rub my back. Quickly tossing my phone in the air behind him before Illumi darts a sharp pin through it completely shattering the screen before it goes crashing down to the floor. Jumping up in Illumis arms in shock but Chrollo consoles me just as quick as he broke my phone.“We’ll get you a new phone today, new number as well, though I never want to hear another word about Jay again. Or else we will deal with him personally, don’t defy me either Y/n.” He spat his name like it was filth on his tongue , yet I nodded relaxing my head against Illumi. My heart however was going 100 miles per hour.

That was too close, I’ll be sure to never speak his name again, I want to ensure he’s safe from them for as long as I can. And if and when I escape, I need to be sure he’ll be okay. Just more fruit for thought , I don’t want anymore guilt weighing on my heart I would never forgive myself if he was harmed. “My pretty girl, shouldn’t cry over anyone but us, your daddy’s do tend to get so jealous. Will you cry for me like this?” Leaning over my shoulder, Chrollo presses teasing kisses on my neck.

“I know she would, I had her crying on my cock earlier today. That’s why she’s such a sleepy baby today.” Teases Illumi but he said it with such pride while twirling my hair around his finger. His eyes rake over my sniffling body as he drags his once comforting hand on my back very close to the swell of my ass, still rubbing relaxing circles. “That’s why your so calm today? I would have my way with you right now, but we’ve got so much to do today angel.”

Humming in agreement Illumi gets up from bed, but not before carrying me in his arms bridal style. “First, to your apartment before we go buy you anything else.” Replies Chrollo as he pinches your cheek, heading out the door with Illumi following suit. And he carried me all the way out the condo, down the elevator, into the parking garage, and even buckled me into my seat. Without breaking a sweat, okay then.

This is a very very nice BMW X6, all black inside and out. Shutting the door, Illumi then makes his way to get in the passenger seat while Chrollo slides in the driver side. Turning the key in the ignition while Illumi fumbles around with the gps for no more than 20 seconds. Starting route to 631 court bank goldsboro, YN.

Funny thing is I never gave them my fucking address.

Playing with the hem of my dress I lean back into the leather seats, I’m quiet the whole ride there, it took about half an hour to get there. Listening to them talk amongst themselves but it all became a blur as shame washed over me. I lived in a shitty one bedroom loft in the bustling city, which is more than others could afford, but still. These men look to finely tailored to step foot on the streets I live on.

Dont get me wrong I love my apartment with my whole life ! I worked hard to move out of my parents house, pay my own bills, and my college tuition. So it was my pride and joy, the only guest I ever had over was Jay and that was after months of contemplation. The car comes to a smooth stop on the side of the street next to my apartment complex. Trash littered the sidewalk, homeless people sleeping in the alleyway not too far from the entrance. As they move to unbuckle their seatbelts I throw my hand up in distress, “Wait ! It’s fine I don’t have much inside I need to get, I’ll be in and out.” I’m practically pleading to go in alone.

Illumi sighs pinching the bridge of his nose but Chrollo rests a reassuring hand ontop of his before turning to me. “Illumi will stay here but I’m coming in with you.” Oh for the love of god, I just give a small nod and unbuckle my very own seatbelt. He comes over to my side of the car again, not wanting me to walk on the concrete side walk in just my socks and I tell him where my apartment is, luckily it’s just on the first floor so truthfully getting things would be a quick in and out trip.

He reassures me about not having my key , and begins to swiftly pick my lock and under a minute we are inside. Meow! My fur baby ! Milo my baby cat ! They don’t need to know he was a gift from Jay, it’ll be our little secret. Quickly shrugging my way out his arms I kneel down on the carpet floor to pet and cuddle the little kitten. He’s about 4 months old but hasn’t grown much in size yet, he was the runt of the litter I suppose. Me and Jay found him on the way back to my apartment one night , cold and shivering all alone from the rain. Milo stole my heart ever since that day.

Turning my head back to glance at Chrollo before picking up the tiny gray kitten and walking over to him.“Oh Papa I can take my cat with me can’t I? I can’t leave Milo here all alone.” A pleased smile graces his face, I can only help but assume he loves me calling him that and me depending on him. So I’ll use it skillfully to get my kitty to come home with me! Softly scratching the cats head, Milo purs and rubs against Chrollos hand. “Hisoka isn’t too fond of pets, but I’m sure you could change his mind.”

“Did you want to grab anything else sweetheart, after today we won’t be coming back here.” And to that I frown, but nod and move towards my bed room. I didn’t own many clothes but I still wanted to take them with me, a few pairs of shoes too. I slipped on my doc marten quad platforms so I’m no longer just walking around in socks and throw all my clothes, shoes, underwear, belts, purses, jewlery all in one large bin. Sighing as I press the lid closed on the bin with my head down . “I-I’m sorry it’s not much, didn’t want you all to have to see this but I worked very hard for everything I have.”

“And I admire you for that. You have no reason to be ashamed, trust me I understand.” He spoke to me in earnest , his voice clouded in an emotion I couldn’t quite explain. “Those associates of mine I met with today .. They are family to me, we’ve been through thick and thin together. Growing up in meteor city all we knew was hardship so trust me Y/n I understand, but you have us now. Things may never go back to the way they use to be but that’s not completely bad, now is it?”

My heart skipped a beat at his reassurance, “May I meet them some day, your friends?”I question craning my neck to look at his looming figure. Beckoning me to stand in front of him before he placed a kiss on my forehead. “All in due time, in fact on the 11th we will all gather together.” Pulling me in and leaning down to kiss me, before Milo jump on his leg before hopping away. Shaking his head as I giggle at Milo being silly, he reaches down to pick up the bin. “I’ll carry this for you while you carry Milo, then we’ll get you a new phone like I promised. Feel free to get anything else you might want for while we’re out. If you don’t get it now we’ll certainly get it for you later.”

And with that, we set off for the car , with little Milo in my arms. My mind wanders to all the new information I’ve gotten today. As generous as they might be, they don’t seem too keen on the idea of me leaving ever. Slowly but surely I’ll find a way, I’ll craft a plan. Giving one last reminiscent look at my apartment before never looking back.

Illumis eyes instantly lock on the gray kitten in your arms before staring at you. You extend the tiny ball of fluff out to him, giving in he holds the purring cat in his own hands. “Hisokas not going to like this.” He muttered but his eyes were in awe at the cuteness it made my heart melt. The trunk closes and Chrollo gets in the driver seat again. “He’ll have to get use to it, Milo is staying with us now.” Illumi gives him a small smile, totally in love with the baby cat. And with that we pull off into the towns shopping center.

-K unedited

next chapter>>

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theprettyarachnid · 3 years ago

Text

what your favourite jjk man says about you

a/n: do not take these seriously

also i’m so fuckinn tired i literally have not slept for two days

warnings: none(?)

characters: itadori, megumi, inumaki, gojo, suguru, nanami, mahito

itadori

🕷 you root for the hero most of the time

🕷 very protective of the people around you

🕷 you have golden retriever energy or husky energy

🕷 you’re a little chaotic is what i’m trying to say

🕷 you give off gamer boy vibes who has a bisexual, goth girlfriend

🕷 i can see you guys not really enjoying sports but only because you’re not a fan of organized things

🕷 you also have a lot of clutter in your room but it’s neat at the same time

megumi

🕷 emo

🕷 you mind your own fucking business

🕷 you would survive in a horror movie, like you would be the final girl/boy/person

🕷 you guys are actually really sweet even though you have a resting bitch face

🕷 like even when you guys laugh or smile, it’s somehow still there

🕷 i can see you guys liking the ‘childhood friends to lovers’ trope or ‘only one bed’ trope

🕷 you should probably lowkey go to therapy

inumaki

🕷 y’all are literally the love of my life

🕷 you guys are pretty unproblematic and are overall just super super sweet

🕷 you’re either very quiet or do not stop talking

🕷 you probably have a collection of stuffed animals or you sleep with like 10 pillows

🕷 i can see you guys having cold hands

🕷 you’re very loyal and will cut a bitch for your friends

gojo

🕷 you are the reason mom friends exist

🕷 you’re on like 5 different antidepressants and yet you are still the horniest motherfucker I have ever met

🕷 you live for chaos, like anytime there’s drama you’re right there with a bag of popcorn

🕷 speaking of drama, you always know people’s business even when they haven’t told you

🕷 you guys wear socks with sandals purposely because you know it looks awful

🕷 you are the enabler of the friend group and you’re probably a little spontaneous

🕷 either that or the complete opposite

suguru

🕷 you are horrifically touch starved

🕷 you have anxiety, like a lot of it

🕷 you either love dogs or you’re terrified of them

🕷 you guys love changing up your hair frequently

🕷 might have a stick and poke or two

🕷 i love you guys and you’re really hot <3

nanami

🕷 cue daddy issues by the neighbourhood

🕷 you’re the mom friend and you have an awful caffeine addiction

🕷 you have never liked a single person in your age range

🕷 you act like you have your life together but in reality you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown

🕷 you probably have some kind of mental illness like ocd or depression

🕷 i can see you guys having a really nice room, like a few plants, some really cool paintings and posters and you probably have a wall dedicated to your loved ones such as pictures or drawings they’ve given you

🕷 even the pieces of papers that have a poorly drawn penis

mahito

🕷 you are a whole menace to society

🕷 like you were the kid who bit people during recess

🕷 you chew on your straws and pencils

🕷 your lips are really chapped

🕷 like for the love of god you can get lip balm for 2 dollars at a fucking cvs or walgreens

🕷 you made mud pies as a kid <3

🕷 but you might’ve tried it once out of curiosity

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vikkirosko · 3 years ago

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Can you write something about Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Valentino and Blitzø (separately) with an O/S who is very talkative and when they get tired of hearing him they kiss him turning into a nervous red mess?

Headcanons Talkativeness

🕷Angel Dust x Reader 💖

Angel was hardly quiet. He liked to chat, so he didn't mind that you talk a lot, but sometimes you talked too much even in his opinion and it started to annoy him a little. At such moments he was thinking about how to make you at least for a few minutes silent

After some thought, he came up with a plan that seemed to him ingenious. He pulled you to him, whispered into your lips that your chatty mouth needed to be occupied with something more interesting and kissed you. You didn't pull away, but you didn't respond to the kiss either. You stood frozen. When Angel pulled away from your lips, he saw how much you blushed and couldn't even utter a word

He thought your reaction was very cute. He's never seen you so embarrassed before. You hesitantly opened your mouth, as if about to say something, but closed it, as if for the first time in your life you had nothing to say. Angel was very glad that he decided to silence you in this way

Every time Angel started to get annoyed that you talked a lot, he kissed you, which caused your great embarrassment. You knew perfectly well that he was doing it on purpose, but you couldn't do anything. You were powerless before his kisses

🃏 Husk x Reader 🥃

Husk didn't like noise. He preferred to be in the bar in silence, but you were often with him. You were always talking. Sometimes it seemed that you were talking to yourself, because he didn't always listen to what you were saying. However, there were times when your chatter started to annoy him a lot and he started thinking about how to silence you

He didn't want to yell at you, because it could offend you, so he was looking for alternatives. However, when you started talking a lot again, he couldn't restrain himself and to silence you, he kissed you. He didn't expect it to have the desired effect, but it worked

When he pulled away, you blushed deeply and pressed your palms to your cheeks. You tried to say something, but you just couldn't find the words. You were very confused and didn't know what to do. Husk was quite happy with this arrangement, because while you were so embarrassed, he could enjoy the peace and quiet, although he was not sure how long you would be silent

He started using this technique sometimes to keep you quiet for a little while. He was pleased to see you embarrassed, but he would never admit it, justifying his actions with a desire for silence. He liked the fact that he made you blush on your cheeks even though he was quite rude to others and sometimes to you

💞 Valentino x Reader 🚬

Valentino spent a lot of time with you. You were one of Hell's most famous couples. Valentino loved you, but there was something that sometimes annoyed him. You were very talkative. On normal days, he didn't pay attention to it, but sometimes he had moments when your chatter started to annoy him. However, he knew exactly how to make you stop talking

Every time he got annoyed that you were very talkative, he kissed you. He knew that despite your relationship, every time he kissed you, you started blushing and clinging to him in embarrassment. He was touched by your reaction and he hugged you tighter, smiling at you

He did this every time you talked a lot, regardless of where you were and who saw you. He did not hide your relationship and he liked to see how others reacted to your kisses. It didn't bother you that other people saw your kisses, but the kisses themselves confused you

You knew perfectly well that he was kissing you on purpose and used it. You liked kissing him and, realizing that if you chatted a lot he would kiss you again, you talked even more. Valentino also understood this, but he didn't mind kissing you anytime and anywhere, because kissing was part of your relationship

🐍Sir Pentious x Reader 🎩

Pentious often heard you talking. You talked to him and his henchmen. You always had something to talk about and you liked to chat with others. However, sometimes there were moments when Pentious felt annoyed because of this. That's why he tried to think of a way to make you at least a little silent

He thought about it a lot, but couldn't think of a suitable way. Quite often he would say his ideas out loud when you weren't around. His henchmen perfectly heard what he was saying and tried to give him advice. He tried not to listen to them, but when one of his henchmen offered to kiss you, he decided to try this option

He took a long time to find the right moment to put his plan into practice. He hoped that the plan would work, because otherwise he would have to come up with another option. However, to his delight, the kiss worked. After the kiss, you really fell silent, not knowing what to do with yourself from embarrassment. He was satisfied with this result

He began to kiss you often. He liked the fact that you stopped talking and also liked to kiss you. Your talkativeness was an excuse for him to kiss you again and again, but you didn't mind, even though after each kiss you were very embarrassed

😈 Blitzø x Reader 🐴

Blitzø was very chatty. Everyone who talked to him for at least five minutes knew this. However, despite his talkativeness, he couldn't compare to you when you started talking. He got annoyed when you talked too much, but there was a way that helped him make you stop talking for a while

Every time you started talking too much, he kissed you. He didn't care where exactly you were or who was looking at you. He could kiss you even in the middle of an office meeting, completely unashamed that his subordinates and his adopted daughter were looking at you. After each kiss, you were very confused and stopped talking

Sometimes he kissed you even when you were silent. He justified it by interrupting your chatter beforehand, but in fact he liked to kiss you. He found a huge number of reasons to kiss. He liked to look at how embarrassed you were after your kiss as if it was your first kiss

You knew perfectly well that he was doing it on purpose, but you weren't angry, even though he interrupted you every time you spoke. His way seemed nice to you, though a little intrusive. You didn't mind blushing a little

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss x Reader #Helluva Boss headcanons #Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Reader #Husk #Husk x Reader #Valentino #Valentino x Reader #Sir Pentious #Sir Pentious x Reader #Blitzø #Blitzø x Reader

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moonslittlestar · 1 year ago

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okay this is just taking the piss out of me... not the first two cards I pick being my boys 😂😂

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #halsin #🕷 mind's never quiet #sorry they are mid turn my screenshot wasn't fast enough 😭

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runawayengineer · 3 years ago

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𝐀𝐥𝗼𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝗺𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 🕷

Pairings: Rui!Reader x Heartslabyul (minus Cater)

Warning: gn!reader, mentions of Blood. Minor Violence. Mentions of 1 or 2 characters overblotting. Cursing. (FAVORITISM towards Deuce)

Genre: fluff. (Very slight angst)

Synopsis: Headcanons for Heartslabyul boys running into a venomous little Creature, the last thing they wanted was to be stuck in this Pretty person's web of love.

RIDDLE who first genuinely noticed you during the grim incident when you had first arrived. He and azul Offering to chase after The Little Gremlin, however it ended as quickly as it started, Watching in awe as you seized ahold of the small and anarchic entity with your Thin and Lean Threads, and with a Yank of your Wrist, almost similar to a Fishing hook, Grim Came Reeling back at a astonishing speed, and just like that he was Restained in your iron grip. The Dormleader Standing there in shock, Didn't the mirror just say this student had no magic abilities?? Preposterous! Whatever you had just done was amazing!

RIDDLE who is Fascinated with your Spider like abilities, And is never not Amazed or shocked when he Finds you in higher up areas, His Shock forming into slight anger when he Tells you about a rule your breaking and you simply ignore him or Reply with "I'll do whatever i please, Rosehearts." Before he can even retort, You remind him that those rules of his only apply near or in his dorm, and you are in fact NOT apart of his dorm. He realized your right and Storms off beyond enraged, So don't be surprised if you see ace collared again, and tells you that he hasn't did anything wrong, only collared because he was the first person RIDDLE saw when he had returned.

RIDDLE who is quickly put in his Place when he decided to overblot over the fact he felt Like he was Underpowered and how he believed he was right, most people would've tried to calm him down, but not you, Without a second thought, You confirmed to him that yes, he was in fact weak. Weaker than most of the beings from where you came from, And it showed with how easily you wrapped Managed to Wrap your durable and Strong Threads around his Blotting Form. You and Him stood close, Face to Face. You watched Riddle's Face contort Viciously clearly hurt by how weak he felt right now. How pitiful he felt, along with the Invisible Scars that stretched along his Mental mind, those scars his mother gave him. "Your very powerless." You started off, Your tone was Dreary and your words we're cruel. "And yet you still managed to pull me in." ...Huh?

Lastly, RIDDLE who Manages to Regain control of himself, Crying out all of the things he wants to do, with both you and The dorm of Heartslabyul. Quickly being silenced when you step up to his sobbing form, only releasing little sniffles as he waits for you to speak. Taken by surprise and shaken up when you Grab his Face by the Chin, the pads of your Fingers digging into the fat of his cheeks. Before he can ask for forgiveness, You speak, first. "Don't ever let me catch you in that form again, Boy." You Warned. "Stay just as you are from here on out, i prefer you like this." Your words we're Straightforward, And although to the naked eye of Heartslabyul it sounded as if you were threatening him, Somewhere deep in the pit of Rosehearts Tummy, he felt a Tingle of Gratitude for your words. It sounded almost as if you we're complimenting him, Something he didn't get much of as a child. His face Reddened at you innuendo of admiration for him, He simply wipes The Residue of Tears from his already Glassy eyes. "Okay..." He Sniffles almost quiet enough for only the closer people to hear, which is only you and Trey.

TREY who Admires how strong you are with those Threads that you cast. Always paying close attention, in awe, whenever you decided to use them, although he's not very fond of getting his hat torn into shreds, which has caused him to stay a small distance away whenever he sees you getting ready to fight. If your defending yourself, he'll sit back and let you handle it. But if he sees your about to literally Dice someone into Flesh cubes, he's quick to Jump in, Trying to persuade you into calming down, while In the back of his mind, he's praying to the seven that you care for him enough to NOT Cut him up and Move on to whoever was bothering you. Which you don't because deep inside, your genuinely infatuated with him.

TREY, that's confused on why you stare at him for long periods of time. Although he has faith that you don't hurt people who don't bother you, he's still a bit nervous to be around you, especially when you Stare at him with Wide eyes, and without blinking as well, please give this man a break. He's nervous, so on instinct he Gives a nervous smile and waves, what if your judging him, or plotting something, all these things go through his head. Meanwhile the only thing that's going through yours is how annoying that damn hat is. Why is he wearing it like that? Your just about ready to send that hat Fluttering to the ground in the form of flower petals. "Take it off or wear it right." "Huh...?" "you heard me."

TREY who Decides to visit you one morning, after realizing you both had the same 1st period class. Knocking on the door once, twice, thrice. He feels a Cold sinking feeling when you don't respond to his advances to get into ramshackle, or respond at all actually. He opens the door Silently, He peeks in, and sees nothing in the living room. His next option is look for you up the stairs, You can imagine his Horrified Reaction when he sees a Unknown, Unconscious Student Hanging from the hallway ceiling, He's a pretty smart guy, so it doesn't take long for him to realize that that student is most likely stuck up there for your dinner later, He's definitely gonna have to talk to Crowley about this.

Ace That's Absolutely Terrified of you, When he Sees That Pretty snow white Hair, and Those Long slender fingers, He's scared for his life when he sees you and your Weasel chasing after him after he attempts to Shirk his Cleaning duties for Damaging the Queen of hearts Statue. He expects to get away, however he forgets just how powerful you are. "Ace!" You let a Bloodcurdling Yell of his name, and right before he can Get to deuce, He's being Trapped by Your spider threads, Fearing Building up as His hands are bonded by your threads that Attach itself to the wall, Almost similar to Chains, they don't budge. When you manage to Catch him, It isn't very pretty.

Ace that is incredibly Shocked at the way you manage to take down that Horrifyingly large ink monster thing that tries to attack you all after managing to Grab the Magestone from the Dwarf mines. While everybody else is panicking over the following threat, You know just how to take care of it. Deuce summons another one of his Very famously known Cauldron Attacks, You immediately take action right after, Using those pretty Threads to hold the cauldron in place, giving you plenty of time to escape. Ace Talks about how amazing you were back there till this day, And you don't seem to mind, Although he should stop soon, Your not sure how much bigger your ego could possibly get.

Ace who shows up to your dorm at 3 am in the morning with one of riddle's collars on. Declaring that he's wants to live here at ramshackle with you, although he's a bit concerned on how quickly you answered the door, where you even sleep? Doesn't matter to him, He lives with you now. Grim asks him what's wrong and why does he want to live with you, and ace explains Everything that happened to him all because of a Strawberry tart, Unaware that your Mind is Stirring Something up, Ace is annoying in your opinion, But your Interested in him nonetheless, So you do him a favor that's better than Spending the night at your dorm. a loud thud Echoing through ramshackle, Grim stares in awe and the way Ace Touches his neck and doesn't feel the Collar's material, You Stare at his Happy reaction when he realizes your threads were strong enough to Break Riddle's spell off of him. Riddle definitely had a bone to pick with you that next day

Deuce who actually isn't the first person to be infatuated in this relationship, believe it or not, it's actually you who takes a liking to him. Well it's more like a mutual interest. He's absolutely amazed by how strong you are for a simple prefect. And you love how dedicated and Strong-willed he is. Although it confuses him as well as Flusters him when you bring up him Making a perfect part of your family. Remind him that you don't mean it that way later.

Deuce that's a bit unnerved at how you don't blink as much as the average person should, especially when you stare at him for long periods of time, don't get him started on how you'll randomly cup his Face gently and Stare him in his eyes for long amounts of time, Sadly He cannot keep eye contact with you, without looking away and clearing his throat Atleast once. Especially after the dwarf's mine incident, When you witness the way The ink monster Hit Deuce and ace, causing them to Fly backwards, The way you seem to have favoritism towards him is embarrassing, but also cool knowing someone strong thinks so highly of him, what he ISN'T a big fan of is the way you'd Wrap your arm around his throat (possessively) while Threatening the students who demanded they and your team duel after grim spilled his Food onto one of they're uniforms, someone used a Water spell on deuce and did in fact NOT come out unscathed.

Deuce who has Noticed the Red marks that littered your skin, although he is used to seeing Marks, since he's from the Rose kingdom, The fact that no one knows where you've come from is what interest him the most, He'll ask you to 'Teach' him How you manage to summon those strings from your fingertips, and to his dismay you tell him that what you have is not magic, but a Natural Ability. He's immensely disappointed that your unable to do or teach magic, but he's glad your still willing to protect him in dangerous situations, And riddle's little collaring obsession, He's not exactly Satisfied with the way you and Riddle tend to go at it from time to time, or so he says as he Hides behind you whenever riddle points his Magic pen in Your direction. You? Enamoured? Definitely.

Tags: @coco-goat-milk

#twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland headcanons #heartslaybul x reader #heartslabyul #riddle x reader #Trey x reader #Ace x reader #deuce x reader #Riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #twst x reader #Twst headcanons #Twst imagines #©engineerdragon

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legendarywolf2022 · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: The Bad Guys Meets the Panda Squad, Part 3

(While they were heading their hideout, they needed to get to know with the girls. That is until the news came along…)

⏰ 9th of July 2022, 01:00pm ⏰

🌎 The Bad Guys’ Hideout, Los Angeles 🌎

Everyone were all quiet throughout the car travelling, feeling like they wanted to let their minds to be well fly by to the place where they could be alone and not knowing how to embrace their new experience…

Wolf - I am a wolf… It’s in my nature to be kind, gentle and loving no matter what. But know this… When it comes to matters of protecting my friends, my family and my heart… Don’t trifle with me for I'm also the most powerful and relentless creature, you will ever know…

Snake - Truth is as straight as an arrow while a lie swivels like a snake, but there’s both reasons we have lies and truths in our world because we need to protect each other as we knew it would hurt out of love.

Tarantula - Everyone expect someone to kill me because I’m a spider that everyone feared of. But one was willing to save me when I’m alone. They seemed to understand that the world can have kind people than just cruel ones.

Shark - I’m not a demon underwater, I just had a gentle heart when I’m not really using my teeth to scared everyone around me or the smell of blood to caused me insane. I wouldn’t dare to hurt anyone because they didn’t do anything to harm me or everyone who are dangerous creatures.

Piranha - I knew we were having problems when you never give everyone a chance just because we’re far different from you. I wish you all just not to be so judgmental, señor and señorita.

Catalina (wolf) - I can easily get sick of the people around me to be assuming that I’m okay because… I won’t say I’m not… being a wolf is not a crime when you believe they are dangerous without even giving a chance of knowing… I’d give anything to show you that they have changed…

Meilin Lee (red panda) - Someone once said that there is darkness to the animal when they can’t control themselves from strong emotions that we have when we can’t take it anymore. But we have to stay strong and be together as long as we stick together for facing the world.

Miriam (raccoon) - Being betrayed by the person you held so dear is hard to build the trust again until you realise what was the reason because we both wanted something different that would end up letting them down at the same time.

Priya (bat) - We both got a different story from both day and night when we thought it was the same page as the author except it would be. But we can easily rewrite the story by changing up from a fake theory to true story.

Abby (cat) - We all have one life each but we do wish that we would have 9 lives like any cats would have, but at the same time it would impossible. All we got is one life which it would make them special and have a great time by having an adventure.

🐺🐍🕷🦈🐟

Until Mr Wolf broke the silence once they arrived outside of the Bad Guys’ hide-out. "Thank you.”

Catalina smiled. “Hey, don't let that gorilla police-woman get to you. She is nothing but a big jerk."

That made Wolf chuckle a bit, knowing full well whose the gorilla she referred to. “Yeah, well… she’s sometimes our jerk because she is so stubborn with that hot temper of hers.”

“But with determination of believing she’s right all the time.” Catalina said which her four friends nodded in agreement.

“Why did you defend me?” Wolf asked. “I mean, you don't know me. And, yet, you know my criminal backround. So… why?”

Catalina looked thoughtfully, looking at Meilin who nodded to ‘go ahead’ before looking at him and replied. “A real villain wouldn't care of who is gonna get hurt or feel guilty. But you do care, I can see that. After all, you wouldn't follow us to make sure we're okay.”

Wolf was loss of words by her response, but then he just smiled before goes on one knee to actually pulled her in for a hugged, she smiled back and hugged him back. Then there was that strange smell again that caught up in his nose, he tried to ignore it while embracing this little girl that was in his arms.

“So…” Tarantula said. “Should we introduced ourselves again? ‘Cause, um… I think we had a rough start at first meeting.”

Catalina smiled after she pulled away from Wolf, “Of course. I’m Catalina McSchnitz, some sort of a leader for the Panda Squad, but you can also call me Cat. This is my best friend and second commander Meilin Lee, but we call her Mei, she had red panda powers that is amazing.”

“I think everyone might know that by now,” Meilin said as she rolled her eyes and smiled.

“How come you don’t have no clothes on when you turned into a panda?” Piranha asked out of curiosity.

“Piranha!” Snake said.

“What?” Piranha asked.

“That’s a good question,” Meilin said. “Which I have no idea either.”

Catalina chuckled. “This is Miriam Mendelsohn, she’s very loyal to us and would make sure that everything is spot on. This Priya Mangal, very chilled and finds something that is interesting to which is complicated like…”

“Everything that are goth, but I keep my favourite colour of gold and yellow in.” Priya explained.

“Yeah, that.” Catalina said, “and then… there’s Abigail Park, but we call her Abby.”

“Hi!” Abby waved at the Bad Guys.

“Hi,” Shark waved her back.

“She’s a fun-loving and chaotic girl you have ever met, she is a fighter and knows how to shows everyone who’s tough.” Catalina said.

“If someone messed with my girls, I’ll easily knock them out.” Abby said.

“Join the club, chica.” Piranha said.

“Well, you girls probably know about us.” Wolf said, “But I think you should know a bit about us. Mr Wolf, the leader of the Bad Guys who will become the leader of the Good Guys. The former villain of every story. My best bud, Mr Snake who’s the best safe-cracking machine and the kind of guy who’d tell you the glass is half empty, then steal it from you.”

“Whoa… You can crack any safe you could think of?” Priya asked.

Snake chuckled, “Yup.”

Wolf smiled, “This is Miss Tarantula. She’s our in-house hacker, our pocket search engine and our traveling tech wizard. We call her Webs.”

“You can hacked any technology for fun and for a reason?” Miriam asked, “That’s very cool. I bet you can’t hacked Donald Trump or Boris Johnson’s computer.”

“Hmmm,” Tarantula thought about it.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Snake glared at the spider.

“I might add note on that,” Tarantula winked at Miriam who winked her back.

“This is Mr Shark,” Wolf said. “The master of disguise. His greatest trick, stealing the Mona Lisa disguised as the Mona Lisa.”

“Whoa!” Miriam, Priya and Abby said.

“Bet you can’t disguise yourself as the Queen of London to steal the Crown Jewels!” Abby said.

“What?” Shark asked, “Now that would be impossible to do that because I would never do such a thing only because she’s old, wise and sweet.”

“What?” Snake asked, “You’re being too soft for the royal family in London?”

Shark glared at Snake but didn’t say anything.

“And rounding out the crew is Mr Piranha,” Wolf said.

“Hola señorita,” Piranha said in his Spanish accent.

“Yo,” Priya said as both she and Piranha handshake.

“Now, just to let you girls know…” Wolf replied as he was going to explain to them about his friend’s craziness. “…that he’s a loose cannon with a short fuse, willing to scrap with anyone or anything.”

“So, he’s brave?” Miriam asked.

“He’s fearless?!” Abby asked, excited.

“He’s crazy,” Priya said calmly.

“Correct!” Wolf and Piranha said to Priya who smiled.

🐺🐍🕷🦈🐟

Once they were inside, the girls couldn’t believe their eyes; This was the perfect home for the Bad Guys ever. Everything seemed to a good taste of the room as well as big couches, instruments, anything!

“I’ll take those bags to a spare room that you girls have a share.” Shark said as he and Piranha lend a hand to carry the bags to a spare that they had.

Catalina saw the window were her friends went over to admired the view. “How long have you been here?” She asked Wolf.

Wolf looked at her before replying, “Well… as long as I can remember.”

“You mean you live here as a kid?” Catalina asked.

“Something like that,” Wolf said.

Snake looked those two and smiled, he was a bit glad that Wolf was smiling all thanks to this little girl who seemed to care about them. He reached into the freezer to grab a cherry flavoured Push Pop. But before he could even open the thing, Abby popped up behind him and her eyes started to sparkles.

“I didn’t know you actually got Push Pop ice lollies,” Abby asked. “My tummy is rumbling like a washing machine now.”

“Oh, yeah?” Snake asked, “You want some?” He was looking so mischievous as he was holding a Push Pop in front of Abby.

“Snake,” Wolf said as he knew he wasn’t going to give a Push Pop to Abby.

“Don’t you dare,” Shark warned him.

“What?” Snake asked as if he doesn’t know what they were talking about. “I just want to kindly share some of Push Pop.” He held out a Push Pop, little waving it in front of Abby’s nose. “Here, take it.”

Abby smiled, “Thanks, sir.”

But before Abby could get a Push Pop from him, Snake tossed it into his own mouth and swallowed it whole, making Abby watch it devastating. Laughing, he teased. “Hah, sucker!”

“Snake!” Wolf snapped, he wasn’t happy with Snake being harsh on Abby.

“Seriously?!” Tarantula asked.

“Come on, hombre!” Piranha said, “She's just niñita.”

Snake looked at his face while Catalina was looking at Abby and nodded her head to ‘kick his butt’ which Abby smirked at that. “You know me long enough when it comes to Push Pops.”

Shark wished he could eat him now like he did last year. “Dude that was low, even for you.”

“Relax, Big Tuna.” Snake rolled his eyes, “It’s not like…” the. He trailed off because he noticed Abby’s face was mischievous fuming. “Uh… why is her face red?”

Everyone looked at Abby’s face turning red. “Uh, oh.” Meilin said as she and her friends were backing away as they knew the sign.

“Pusi pab-e daehae naj-eun geos-e daehae olhda,” Abby said in Korean.

“You took something that triggered her,” Miriam said to Snake while smiling.

“Dangsin-eun na-ege daleun pusi pab-eul eodneun geos-i johseubnida,” Abby still talking Korean which the Bad Guys doesn’t understand.

“You shouldn’t done that,” Priya said while reading her book that she still continued since the hotel in New York.

“animyeon dowajuseyo, jeoneun gong-gyeogjeog-il geos-ibnida!” Abby snapped.

“What?” Snake asked, feeling a bit lost.

“Now, you’re in for it.” Catalina said while pulling Wolf back just in time when Abby launch at Snake, attacking him to the ground.

“Puswipab-eul jwo, i gyohwalhan dali eobsneun domabaem-a,” Abby shouting at the Snake.

The Bad Guys looked shocked while the Panda Squad looked pleased.

“Wow,” Tarantula mumbled.

“Yep, never get between Abby and Push Pops.” Miriam said while smirking.

Piranha and Shark looked at each other. “Heh, just like you, amigo.” Piranha said, causing Shark smiled.

“Heh, you don’t say.” Shark said.

“Guys,” Snake yelled as he tried to get away from Abby. “Don’t you just stand there, help me!”

“Sorry, buddy,” Wolf said while smirking. “You’re on your own.”

Catalina noticed the fridge was covered with all the photos of the Bad Guys having a great time from the olden days to the brand new days, she walked up to the fridge to get a better close and smiled. Everything seemed to reminded of her when she had a great time with her friends. Everything seemed to be funny at the same time.

Few of them seemed to be her favourites: Shark lifted the couch while the others were sitting, Shark gave them a bear hug, the Bad Guys showing off the diamonds and the bag of money, they were enjoying ice cream, Piranha tried to blow the candle of his birthday cake, the Bad Guys trying to hold the portraits, they were wearing crowns, Wolf and Snake showing off who would blow the largest bubblegum, the Bad Guys on the beach, and they were celebrating Snake’s birthday.

She then goes to the couch while her friends were cheering for Abby who still wrestling Snake as the Bad Guys watched on, she turned the TV on and saw the news reporter Tiffany Fluffit talking about the car chase that happened today. “I, Tiffany Fluffit, giving you a breaking news on Channel Six Action News!” She said as the title of the news said; BREAKING NEWS! THE BAD GUYS AND THEIR CRAZY CAR CHASE… SO FAR!! “And let’s just say that… OMG! This is wild, literally. We just witnessed a car chase between the Bad Guys and what looks like as five teenage girls. Some eyewitness say they saw... a giant red panda. And more of them say they saw two cars jumping over police barricade... and landing on bunch of beds on highway?! Dave, is this some prank? Wait, it actually happened for real? Huh. Like I said, literally wild. The Bad Guys were caught on camera as they were chasing the sport car that got five teenagers girls inside, most of everyone were shock while the rest were like how is it impossible for one of them can drive...”

“Everyone,” she called out as she was trying to cut through the sounds of the Push Pop battle happening behind her. “Hold your horses! We’re on TV.” Everyone stopped fighting as Shark was holding Abby into the air and Wolf helping Snake up before everyone was heading to the couches to see what the news was reporting about them after today’s car chasing.

“Ow,” Snake mumbled as he was trying to stretch out before taking his seat next to Priya and Miriam so he would stay away from Abby who sit next to Shark.

Tarantula chuckled, “Serves you right for pulling prank like that.”

The reporter, Tiffany, continued. “Apparently those teen girls are under tempoary custody of Bad Guys. I wonder where their parents are? Hmm, who know. Anyhoo, the Chief of Police. Luggins, just got scolded by one of them, who was also defending Mr. Wolf? Wow, talk about a burn. This is definitely gonna be a story of the year!”

“Wow, who is she?” Miriam asked, “I love her feistiness she’s putting in.”

“She’s a news reporter Tiffany Fluffit,” Shark explained. “She’s proved to be the best with her attitudes towards everyone around the world!”

“She’s fighting the power like me!” Abby said, making everyone expect Snake laughed at that part.

Tiffany still continued talking. “Here to address this unexpected car chase is the police officer, Susanna Barlow, just to explain why they haven’t arrested the Bad Guys.”

On the television screen, Officer Susanna stepped up to the microphone. As a gaggle of reporters fired questions at the police officer, she held her hand up calmly and said, “Okay. Everyone, please. Let me speak, let me speak. Once we caught the Bad Guys and five girls where Professor Marmalade used to live, seemed like the little girl who was behind Mr Wolf’s legs had spoken up and claiming that they didn’t stole the meteorite last year as she pointed out that we did nothing but doing Marmalade’s theory.”

The Bad Guys and the Panda Squad stared at the screen in shock as the police officer continued, “The little girl seemed to defend Mr Wolf and proved that we weren’t doing the job properly as they were innocent by still staying at the gala were the meteorite was taken by. We should have investigate that scene, but instead… We arrested them for no reason. So, we let them go after the little girl had finished her words to our chief and I do hope that she and the other girls will be looking after by the Bad Guys themselves.”

Tiffany stepped up into the spot where Susanna was standing. “Sorry to interrupt your words to others, But there are some unanswered questions.”

Susanna smiled, “And what would it be, Miss Fluffit?”

“Where is the giant red panda people mentioning?” Tiffany asked.

“Uh oh…” Meilin said as she knew she was was about to be busted real soon.

“Where those beds came from?” Tiffany asked.

“Wait, what beds?” Piranha asked.

“What will happen with those girls under Bad Guys’ care?” Tiffany asked.

“Great,” Tarantula crossed her arms. “We’re fostering those girls until… what?”

“Does Governor Foxington knows about this?” Tiffany asked.

“No,” Snake said. “But I know she’ll soon finds out after watching this.”

“And most importantly: What's the deal with that red-haired girl and Mr. Wolf?” Tiffany asked.

“We don’t know all the questions yet,” Susanna said. “But what I do know that we’ll soon find out.”

“Okay,” Tiffany said. “Stay tuned for more on Channel from your best reporter Tiffany Fluffit. See you next time.”

Wolf then turned off the TV, everyone were all silent after watching the News.

“So…” Miriam broken the silent, “What should we eat? Because I’m a bit hungry.”

Just then, they heard a ding from the elevator. It was a bit surprised that someone would come to their hideout.

“I wonder who that could be,” Meilin said before heading the elevator.

“Let me handle this,” Wolf placed his hand on Meilin’s shoulder.

He head to the elevator and when its opened, it was revealed to be a crossed-arm disappointing Diane, wearing her governor suit while holding a newspaper in her hand.

“WOLF!!!” She shouted, she was this close to be so done with the Bad Guys big time.

(This is actually based Friend’s ideas for this that I finds it very well done, I wish that person would be an author than just artist, don’t ya agreed.

Oh, and that part where Abby attack Mr Snake was actually based on Pumbaa attack the hyenas when they called him ‘Pig’ instead of ‘Mr Pig’. That part always get me XD!”)

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