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jjonglemons · 4 days ago

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all my works can be found here

Don't Speak

part two

song for chapter link - this story is based on a dream i had the other night. i decided to make it into two parts!

Summary: you’ve been friends with mingi for a while now. finally, you’ve confessed your feelings and it seems like he feels the same… but not without complications.

WC: 2.5k

Tags: smut, fratboy!mingi, fem!reader, drinking, partying, praise, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral, squirting

“Hongjoong, could you come zip my dress up, please?” you groaned, arms aching from your attempt to stretch them around your back to do it yourself.

Soon enough, Hongjoong was standing behind you, allowing your arms to rest. “There.” He said, pulling up the zipper.

“Thank you.” You turned around and patted his arm affectionately.

It was Mingi’s, one of Hongjoong’s frat brothers, birthday. For once, he didn’t want to have a lavish party; he just wanted a small dinner and to hit the club afterwards. He and Hongjoong were very close, and knowing how close you two were, the invitation was naturally extended to you, as well. In fact, Mingi had grown to like you, having gotten to know more about you a bit from the times you’d interact with him when coming over to their house to see Hongjoong.

“We should get going,” Hongjoong announced, “Mingi just texted me and said everyone else is there already.”

Showing up fashionably late was not your thing. Frankly, you were an early arrivee in most cases, and it’d bother you to be late. However, this time you didn’t mind so much. You noticed Mingi’s eyes on you the moment you stepped foot into the restaurant, preventing any possible annoyance to develop. Whilst everyone else casually greeted you and Hongjoong before going back to their conversations, Mingi continued to scan up and down your frame. The way your dress hugged every inch of your curves, the way your silver jewellery glistened in the warm lighting of the restaurant, the way your dark curls touched the tip of your nipples poking through your dress, the way your smile became an extra lamp in the room. Mingi could go on and on in his head about how felt about you. He’d be pleased to hear you did the same about him, but his feelings were unbeknownst to you and vice versa. Who knew how long it would be until you let him know how you felt?

“Good to see you, Hongjoong, Y/N,” Mingi nodded in your direction, being careful to move his eyes between you and Hongjoong in hopes neither of you would notice his stares, “thank you for coming.”

“Thanks for having us,” you smiled, sitting down in the seat across from him at the table.

The dinner moved along joyously, everyone socialising and filling the restaurant with curious chatter. Occasionally, someone would get a bit too loud, causing others in the restaurant to glance over at the table with slight annoyance. But nonetheless, it didn’t seem to become too disruptive.

You were careful not to drink too much, because you wanted your drunk feelings to be more prominent at the club later. The club which you were going to made the best gin and tonics, too. Despite only having a shot, though, you were feeling a bit giddy. You weren’t necessarily a light weight, but you weren’t a heavy weight, either. You eyed Mingi across the table as he chatted with Yeosang beside him. You watched the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. God, he had such a beautiful laugh. You closed your eyes for a moment to just focus on his deep voice as he continued to talk about whatever topic it was; you weren’t really paying much attention past the tone of him speaking. When you opened them again, you found Mingi peering back at you, a small smirk playing at his lips. You blushed as you watched him pick up his shot glass, subtly tilt it in your direction, then down the clear liquid. Beginning to feel hot, you couldn’t help but think about dancing with him later. Your bodies pressed against each other, hearts pounding in sync with the music, his breath falling down the sides of your neck. You took another shot, and you were already starting to feel more courageous, so perhaps tonight would be the night you confessed to him.

Around 10 PM, after a two hour long dinner, you had finally made it to the club. It was crowded, more than you expected it to be for a Friday night in the summertime; there were always less students around this time of year.

Hongjoong stood beside you at the bar, taking a sip from his tequila sunrise. “I’ll catch you later, I’m going to talk with San and Seonghwa for a while,” he said, glancing behind you, “you good?”

Whatever Hongjoong was staring at behind you moved and was now in front of you. It was Mingi. “Yeah, all good,” you smiled. Hongjoong was never one to leave you alone in a club, so when he saw Mingi approaching, he took it as an opportunity to not only bond with his brothers more, but give you and Mingi some time with just the two of you. He knew of your feelings for one another, which was to be expected, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to spill the secret.

“Having fun?” Mingi sang, leaning against the bar on his elbows. When he did this, he purposefully made sure it was a bit closer to you.

“I am,” you admitted, sipping at your cocktail, “are you?”

“For the most part, yeah,” he said honestly, “I think I’m getting a little peopled-out at this point, though.”

You laughed. “Then why are you talking to me, hm?”

“You’re an exception.” He waved the bartender over to order a drink. “Rum and coke, please.”

“It’s on me,” you inserted, sliding a ten to the bartender, “keep the change.”

“You didn’t have to pay,” Mingi blushed, now plopping himself in the bar stool beside you so he was more level with you.

“Don’t mention it,” you said, “it’s your birthday, after all.”

The bartender returned quickly with the drink, Mingi politely nodding and muttering a thank you to him. He turned to you as he took a sip, “Well, I appreciate it. Thank you for coming, really.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

There was comfortable silence that fell over the two of you as you quietly enjoyed your drinks together. Heat radiated between your shoulders that were mere millimetres apart from touching. After a few moments, Mingi leaned in closer towards you so his lips were now hovering over your ear.

“Let’s dance a bit, yeah?” He whispered.

You allowed yourself to fall into his touch, his hand gently guiding you through the crowd of people. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him so that your bodies were flush against one another. You could feel him getting harder through his pants, and it only made you want to tease him more. Smirking, you turned your body so your ass was against him, beginning to sway slowly and seductively to the music. You heard a groan from him, chuckling quietly to pretend you didn’t hear anything. As time went by, you felt his grip on you become stronger, and his hunger growing. You weren’t far behind.

He leaned over and whispered, “Do you want to get out of here?”

You squirmed within his arms, his deep cadence sending shockwaves through your body. You took a few moments before answering, but you felt a sudden rush of confidence and impulse to be completely blunt. “Mingi,” you started, turning to face him, “I just need you to know that I like you, and I absolutely want to get the fuck out of here with you right now and you know what else?”

“What’s that?” Mingi responded slyly. He could sense where this was going.

“I want to fuck.”

Mingi was a bit surprised by your straightforwardness, but soon darkened his eyes at your confession. Biting his lip, he pulled you even closer, closing any remaining gap between the two of you, “Seems like you just read my mind,” he chuckled before kissing you.

The taxi ride home was a blur as the two of you were completely distracted by one another, making out in the backseat much to the driver’s dismay. At least you kept it quiet. Once you arrived at the house, it didn’t take long before Mingi had you pressed up against the front door after stumbling inside, tongue prodding open your lips and slipping it across your teeth. Since everyone else was still at the club, you had the entire house to yourselves.

“Where do you want it?” Mingi asked between kisses, “we have so many options.”

You giggled as you bit down on his lip, a moan erupting from him. “I think the kitchen would be fun, then your bedroom.”

“I like the sound of that,” he growled before picking you up and carrying you into the kitchen. You kept your legs wrapped around his waist and hands around the nape of his neck as he placed you down on the countertop. He moved his lips to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as you wriggled beneath him in pleasure. “Mingi,” you exhaled, dropping your arms to his back to dig your nails into him.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” he groaned, “but I need to hear it louder.”

You inhaled sharply as you felt his hands slip under your dress, pushing aside your panties so he could reach your clit. He began to make small circles, teasing the entrance every now and then to get you wetter.

“Fuck,” you yelped, feeling one of his fingers enter you. Your breath was heavy, soft moans dripping from your lips as he added a second finger, then a third.

“Say my name again, baby girl,” Mingi growled, pressing against your g-spot, “get loud for me.”

“Mingi!” you screamed, allowing yourself to move closer to your peak. “F-fuck,” you stuttered, feeling unable to hold back anymore. With one final pump of Mingi’s fingers, you felt yourself unravel, your orgasm spilling out onto his hands. He knelt down to drink you up, lightly kissing your sensitive nub and the surrounding area as he did.

You were shaking the entire trip from the kitchen up to his bedroom, causing him to chuckle at the sight of your pleasure and feeling you convulse in his arms. Once he laid you down on the bed, he gently helped you remove your clothing and you did the same for him. You stared at him in awe as his bare body came into view. You’d been dreaming of this moment for months now, and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” Mingi asked softly, crawling above you to align himself with your entrance. Biting your lip, you nodded. You let out an elongated moan as Mingi sank into you, he himself humming in ecstasy. “You’re so tight, fuck!”

“No need to go easy on me,” you mewled, eyes rolling from the feeling of his hard cock brushing against every inch of your walls.

Mingi laughed on tempo with a hard thrust, a scream escaping you. “Be patient, we’ll get there.” You couldn’t help but just allow yourself to scream and cry without a break. Feeling him fill you entirely sent electricity through your body, the pleasure becoming nearly unbearable. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” Mingi pounded into you, voice cracking with a moan, “letting me fill your pussy like this.” You gripped his hair and pulled hard, a loud cry spilling from your mouth as he began to pick up his pace. He could feel your arousal growing, the squelches of your slick and the slaps of his pelvis against yours filling up the room. “I’m going to come, s-shit,” he stuttered, eyes rolling back as he began to drop himself onto you, losing his balance from his incoming orgasm. He growled loudly, waiting until the last possible second to pull himself out and spread his white ribbons all over your stomach.

You managed to fit your hand between the small gap of his hips and yours, circling your clit as you watched him come on you. You bite your lip and moaned as you felt his hot seed on your stomach, reaching another orgasm. Mingi quickly gathered enough strength to drop himself to your dripping cunt once again so you could come in his mouth again. You cried when he replaced your fingers with his, pushing his tongue into your seeping hole.

“G-god, Mingi!” You yelled, gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles started to turn purple, “I’m so sensitive.”

“Come again for me,” Mingi demanded, “be a good girl for me, hmm?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“Come. For. Me.”

You thrashed your body at the feeling of his tongue pressing against your g-spot whilst his fingers played with your throbbing clit. “FUCK!” You screamed again, shaking continuously at the intensity of your third orgasm.

“That’s it,” you heard Mingi chuckle, “that’s my girl.” Mingi slowly moved himself over to the side of you, allowing you to come down from your high before pulling you closer to him for cuddling. “You did such a good job for me,” he cooed, kissing your cheek before nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, completely fucked out. You allowed yourself to slip into sleep in his arms.

When you awoke the next morning, Mingi was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t deny you felt hurt by this, but before you would come to any conclusions, you’d search around the house first. Once you were dressed, you made your way around the house, asking his brothers if they had seen you if it wasn’t a place you were able to check yourself.

“Sorry, love,” Hongjoong frowned, patting your head, “I’m not sure where he is.”

Your heart sank. It’s happening again, you thought, remembering all of the times in the past you’d been left alone after sleeping with someone. You knew Mingi had a bit of a reputation, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as some people made it out to be. You knew enough about him to know he wasn’t as much of an asshole like people said he was. Though, now you were starting to question that…

You decided to text him, hoping for some sort of answer.

You: i didn’t see you when you woke up. the boys said they haven’t, either. where are you? are you ok?

When you didn’t receive a response for nearly three hours, you decided to check to see if he had even read it yet.

Read at 10:24. That was only ten minutes after you sent the message.

You tried not to worry. Maybe he opened it then had to go do something? You tried to reason with yourself. But it was no use, your anxiety had kicked in. What the fuck?

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #kpop smut #smut #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho

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tarjapearce · 1 year ago

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dancing to sexy latin pop or reggaeton music with miguel. he's got two left feet and slight rhythm but he's also very turned on by you 🤭

Another Pre-Soccer Family and how they keep flirting? Yes. 🤭

Couldn't help but imagine this with these songs 🤭

Even though the little outing after soccer game you had invited Miguel to was success, your wallet surely suffered some damage.

The man ate. He was kinda quiet mostly of the time, but surely enjoyed the food you had treated him with. You were just taking mental notes of what he liked and what not. The spicier the better, definitely a Horchata team man, and of course, a carne asada man. The conversation was sparse, but it was nice. You were as nervous as he was, didn't actually think that he would accept.

He loved meat. And once you finished you drove him home. He ended up 'telling' you about this upcoming party at Peter's to celebrate MJ's birthday.

"If you wanna come, though."

"Are you... inviting me?" You gave him a smug smile and he just cleared his throat and shrugged.

"I'm just telling you."

You pursed your lips, smile fading.

"Oh... okay. I might go. "

"Might?"

"Hmm." You parked outside his home, "Not sure if I can make it that day. But let me see what I can do"

-----

Miguel gave Peter's house entrance subtle glances here and there. He was busy with the food, Peter had asked him for the details of your date which, he plainly just shrugged off as a normal outing.

"Did you invite her to the party?" Jess spoke

"I told her about it." He frowned at the disappointment in Peter's and Jess, even Gabriel's face.

"Telling is not the same as inviting! It's the etiquette rule to invite someone, when you want to see them again that is. No wonder she looked kinda bummed out."

"Yo tampoco vendría si me lo dijeran así." (I wouldn't come either if I'd get told like that)

His deep red eyes glared at his brother's comment.

"Si viene, mínimo baila con ella." (If she shows up, the least you can do is to dance with her.)

"Okay, okay. Leave the guy alone. He hasn't dated someone in ages. But yeah, you're a dumbass. C'mon." He offered a beer, Miguel took a long swig of it.

------

He didn't had your phone and certainly approaching Jess was out of the equation. She'd tease him to no end before anything. Party had started two hours ago, and still no signs of you.

He rubbed his face, deep in thought on how he had possibly screwed it up as he nursed his Horchata glass in the kitchen. He was preparing an extra plate of food when your voice echoed through the entrance.

"I'm so sorry for the delay! Got too carried away picking a gift" You hugged MJ.

"You hungry?" Jessica spoke as your voices approached. His grip on the spoon tightened.

"Ah, don't worry. Kinda ate in my way back. Maybe later."

Your eyes met his. His jaw tightened and you just gave him a little smile and a wave before disappearing back with Jessica.

Awkward.

----

You had been dancing the last few songs in a row with Jessica and MJ, he just watched you from afar. You had rejected a couple of men that had asked you to dance.

"He keeps staring" Jessica mumbled and you shrugged.

"Can't do everything myself. Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but he doesn't seem too keen in making an advance either"

"You kidding? He's been staring holes at the door waiting for you to come." MJ whispered at your ear.

"He's just... shy I guess?"

The music was a bit upbeat, the lights were down, you refreshed yourself before going back again at the dance floor. You saw him across the room, bored out of his mind, and taking swigs of his beer that was warm at this point.

He nearly choked as you approached him.

"Let's go"

You offered your hand and he looked away.

"No puedo bailar" (Can't dance)

"No te preocupes. Yo tampoco pero te enseño" (Don't worry, Me neither but I'll teach you.)

He took a last swig of his beer and stood. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or it was the whole thing that was about to happen that made his ears warmer. The beat changed into something more slow and mellow. A bachata.

You giggled as you stood before him.

"Now what?"

"We are supposed to get closer"

He crushed your heeled foot with his boots

"Sorry... fuck." He rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Relax, it's fine. It happens alot."

One of your hands went around the small of his waist as he took your hand. Delicate and small snuggled against his calloused and big one.

His heart skipped a beat when you guided his other hand on your waist.

"Right"

"Bachata is easy. It's just swaying your hips left and right. It's the easiest dance" You stepped closer, and moved with the beat. He could feel your curves moving. His feet followed. Clumsy, step dances were enough to make you laugh. He frowned.

"Perdón, perdón. Ya, no me voy a reír" (Sorry sorry, Ok. I won't laugh)

"Suelta esas caderas, mano" (Let those hips go, man)

Your hands went to his hips, and moved them.

"One, two" Your hips swayed to accentuate the little whip move at the end of the second step. He gulped.

"Eso, Miguel!"

You clapped softly, he just chuckled.

"Now, just do that to the left and right and that's it."

"Really?" He took your hand in his again and placed the other one on your lower back.

"Yeah." Your lips stretched in a bashful smile.

For once you were glad the lights were down as you danced. You still could see him. And of course still could feel his feet crushing yours. People stared your way, but neither of you cared, too focused in teaching eachother things as you laughed out of nervousness.

The song changed, into something more Sultry, yet danceable.

That was definitely one of Gabriel's songs.

"I don't know how to dance this one, does the previous dance moves apply to this one too?"

His technicism in speaking was plain endearing to you. You giggled at his pouty face.

"Not really, but if you feel comfortable with-"

"Enséñame, pues." (Teach me, then)

That shut you giggle off. He smirked.

"Estás seguro?" (You sure?)

He shrugged and crossed his arms on his chest.

"We're already making a fool of ourselves, so..."

"Me gusta tu entusiasmo, Dracula" (I like your eagerness)

"Qué te digo, me gusta aprender." (What can I tell you. I like learning.).

You slapped his chest playfully then took his hand and guided him to a wall, like many other people around. His hands were on your waist again, and this time yours rested on his neck. The lyrics of the second song only added a little sizzle to the mood.

Imagínate en mi cuarto

Comiéndote a besos

Your body swayed, it took a little for him to get your rhythm. And it was almost intoxicating for him, borderline overwhelming. The closeness of your bodies didn't help, the lyrics of the song only made his eyes to stop at you lips, Your fingers had ended up entwined, and certainly that little red dress you wore didn't help the upcoming override in his system. The song was over, but it didn't matter.

One of your hands caressed his nape and he shuddered, you bit your lip, he inched closer to your face. Nails raking softly the exposed part of his skin underneath his neck, his breath fanned over your lips. But one finger stopped him, said finger separated your lips from his.

"Nuh uh. No me invitaste, recuerdas? " (You didn't invite me, remember?)

With a smirk you separated your body from his. His eyes blinked, trying to process what was happening

"Thanks for the dance" You smiled oh so sweetly before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving him there, a flustered mess. Mind was in 404 error.

Dios mío...

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#t writes✨

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bumblesimagines · 2 years ago

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Headcanon:

Becoming the Quinn-Goldbergs obsession

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns for y/n: he/him/his

~~~

Living in Madre Linda had its ups and downs. The community was tight-knit and you could practically always count on someone for something. As long as that something wasn't gossip worthy.

The soul sucking residents of your town were irritating to deal with and borderline hellish on a bad day. Over all, you were able to count on one hand the amount of neighbors you considered friends.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

The Quinn-Goldbergs. A young couple who were new to the wonders of parenthood. It only took an hour after their arrival for you to learn virtually everything about them through Sherry and her minions.

You met Love first. She'd been out grabbing mail when you returned from town with some groceries. She'd flashed a charming smile and seemed more than happy to chat until the duties of motherhood swept her away.

Popping open the trunk of the car, you slipped out of the driver's side and closed the door. Barely noticing movement in the yard over, you walked to the back of your car and began picking the bags into your arms.

"Hey, neighbor!" A cheery voice called out and you leaned back, catching sight of a brunette standing on the other side of the fence. She carried some envelopes in one hand, lifting the other to wave at you. "I'm Love! We just moved here a couple weeks ago."

"Nice to meet you, Love." You returned the smile, using your free hand to close the trunk before approaching the fence. She perked up and stepped closer, resting her hand atop the short picket fence.

"You must be (Y/N). Sherry mentioned we were neighbors."

"Did she?" You didn't intend to sound so ticked off about it but from the knowing look that passed over Love's features, she understood your distaste completely.

"I'd introduce you to my husband but he's off at the library. He's pretty serious about his books." Love chuckled lightly.

"Oh, really? I'm an avid reader myself."

"Seriously?" Her brows rose, eyes practically twinkling. "Oh, then I'm sure you two will get along!"

Only a couple days would pass before you were invited to a party and there you'd meet Joe, the beloved husband and polar opposite of Love.

It'd been a little awkward at first with neither you nor Joe knowing exactly what to say. That was until Cary spoke and you exchanged an exasperated look with Joe. Afterwards the conversations began, going from complaining about the residents to books and the library.

Love grew obsessed first. She often found herself over at your place with Henry, finding solace in the fact she finally had someone real and honest to talk to in the neighborhood.

She didn't realize the signs at first, too caught up in the bliss of what she believed was innocent friendship until she began keeping track of your day to day life and involving herself more and more.

She frequently cooked you meals and brought them over, insisting she just wanted to do something nice for you and 'I just really appreciate your company'.

Love only truly noticed her obsession when attending a birthday party and overhearing Sherry giggling about you and another woman. The dread, rage, and jealousy that erupted inside her was enough to push her into a full obsession.

Smiling softly, Love watched Joe tend to Henry as she picked up a slice of cheese from the table and took a bite from it. Without thinking, she began searching for you in the crowd of guests, taking slow steps until she neared Sherry and Kiki.

"I heard the reason they divorced was because she was seeing (Y/N) on the down low." Sherry whispered, nodding wildly when Kiki gaped at her. "I mean, I believe it. She's always flirting with him."

Love felt her body freeze, eyes dancing around frantically in search of you. It couldn't be true, could it? If you were seeing someone... No, you'd tell her, right?

Finally spotting you in the crowd, she walked forward, pace quick but not fast enough to draw attention to herself. You sweetly smiled at her upon noticing her and she felt herself relax, unable to resist smiling back.

"(Y/N), I was looking for you everywhere!" She breathed, turning her attention onto the woman you'd been speaking with. Looping her arms around yours, she tilted her head.

"Could I steal him for a moment?"

"Of course, no problem."

"Great!" Whipping out her best fake smile, she resisted the urge to sneer at the woman before pulling you away from her.

Upon recognizing her feelings, Love grew conflicted. She still loved Joe completely and hated the thought of ruining their family, especially after powering through the Natalie situation. So, she remained silent... Unaware of her husband's own dilemma.

It had taken Joe only a few days to realize his obsession. He had brushed off his desire to be around you and hear more about you as the want for a friend in the nightmarish town of Madre Linda.

Until he found himself putting on his favorite cap and watching you from the safety of his car. It had clicked the moment he turned his car engine on and began his typical monologue.

Joe was no stranger to obsessions. In fact, one could consider him extremely experienced in the area. There had been Nurse Fiona, Candace, Beck, Love, and Natalie. All of them shared some minor similar traits but the biggest one being they were women. You were not.

This realization had sent Joe through a bit of an identity crisis where he both distanced himself from you- limiting his face to face interactions with you, sending Love on his behalf- and kept an eye in you by continuing to watch you.

But, you had noticed his odd behavior and finally confronted him about it, much to his relief and dismay.

"Okay, what's up?" Joe blinked, tearing his eyes away from his wife and child. His throat tightened as he stared up at you, internally cursing and panicking.

"Wh-What do you mean?" He chuckled nervously. You raised a brow and plopped down beside him on the bench, noting the way he rubbed his palms on his pants.

"You've been avoiding me." You pointed out, giving him a look when he attempted to protest.

Time to come clean. Or at least, partly come clean.

Clearing his throat and exhaling deeply, he shifted to face you. "It's nothing personal, I promise. I've just had a lot on my mind between Henry and settling into the new neighborhood." He explained softly, reaching out to touch your shoulder.

"Is that all?" You asked, frowning at him. "You can tell me anything, Joe. You and Love are the only people here I actually trust."

Trust... Trust and eventually... Love. Joe was sure of it. You'd love him just as much as he loved you. He just needed to play his cards right and avoid drawing suspicion from Love. She'd done enough already. Natalie's decaying body was proof of that.

From then on, the couple tiptoed around each other, fully unaware they had similar feelings for you.

Joe found it easier to keep from Love. He'd already slipped into your house, taking small things he knew you wouldn't notice go missing. He kept them stored in a spot he knew Love wouldn't think about looking and plotted ways to make you fall for him.

Love, on the other hand, found it more difficult. She felt guilt and worry eating her up inside. She loved Joe wholeheartedly but she felt similarly about you. Eventually, she couldn't keep it up, desperate to get closer to you without risking Joe lashing out.

"Joe, we need to talk." Love called from the kitchen, staring at the freshly baked cupcakes in hand. She set them down on the island and sighed, looking up at Joe as he entered the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He asked immediately, finishing his tea and placing the cup down. Dread filled both of their stomachs, staring at one another.

Joe worried she'd figured it out and attacked you impulsively.

Love worried he'd discard of you as easily he'd done with the others.

"It's about (Y/N)."

"What about him?" Joe asked, attempting to keep a calm and cool mask. Love dug her teeth into the inside of her cheek, fingers tapping against the island.

"I... I think I love him, Joe." She whispered and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. "No, I'm... I'm obsessed with him." She added just as quietly.

"Are you serious?" Joe stared at her, a wave of surprise washing over him. When the brunette nodded, Joe pushed himself away from the island and turned, listening to her panicked calls for him. Removing the painting and reaching into the little nook he had created, he pulled out the book and returned to the kitchen.

His wife blinked, brows furrowing. "W-What is that?"

"Guess." Joe answered, lifting the top off and pushing it toward her. Hesitantly, Love peered inside and reached in to pull out the silver ring. Her lips parted when she remembered having seen you wear it the day you had met Joe.

"Joe... Does this mean...?" Love trailed off, meeting her husband's eyes.

"Yes."

They had nothing to fear from each other. They could learn to share, learn to love you equally. They could plan together. They could finally have you all to themselves.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #you x reader #you x male reader #you show #you netflix #joe goldberg #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg x you #love quinn #love quinn x reader #love Quinn x male reader #love x joe #you Netflix x reader

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flowery-mess · 10 months ago

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Hotel room

Ugh, I loved it from the beginning, not so much in the end. Let me know your opinions about this! Also, I struggled a lot with using past and present tense, English is not my first language, so I think there is lot of mistakes, feel free to let me know about them!

Summary: reader struggles with rumors about Noah dating their tour support, that leads to heated conversation with open ending and some hurtful words

Noah Sebastian x female reader

THIS STORY IS FICTION

Do you believe in love at the first sight? No? Me neither. But it’s the closest thing to describe my relationship with Noah.

We met at my friend’s James birthday party. I was newly moved to the states. I initially moved here for a year because of my work internship and James was the first person I became friends with at work. Somehow, he was connected to Matt, who was also invited to the birthday party, and he brought the guys along. “The more the merrier.” His words, not mine.

I heard about them, I listened to their music, but I didn’t want to let my inner fangirl out of me, so I kept it cool the whole night, even forgetting that they were also there.

I can’t say I am not a party person, I am, just my social battery lasts around two hours, then I need to recharge myself. So after wishing James happy birthday, talking to some of our coworkers, dancing and drinking, it was time to slip outside to take some time off.

Sitting on a garden sofa with wine glass in my hand, with my eyes closed, I heard the glass door slide wide open, the noises from inside entering my ears for a minute, second slide of the door cutting them off.

Out of curiosity I opened my eyes and saw tall person in the dark, just standing and looking around. After minute, the person started walking towards me. As I was sitting in the dark, I guessed I wasn’t seen by the person.

“Already taken.” I spared that poor person a scare.

“Oh, sorry, I’m gonna go back then.” I heard slight disappointment in that voice, and after thinking that person was feeling just like me, I spoke again.

“That’s okay, it’s big enough, you can sit here with me.”

“I don’ want to bother you, seems like you’re enjoying whatever you’re doing here.”

“I’m enjoying the silence, that’s what I’m doing here.”

“Interesting, that’s exactly what I came to do here.” I laughed a little, surprisingly not so mad about someone interrupting me anymore.

“Come enjoy the silence then.”

I realized it was him the second he came out of the shade, as the light of the moon covered his face.

“Oh hi.” I tried not to sound too obvious.

“Hi.” With that he sat down next to me.

And that was the beginning of a very long night. Lots of talking. We talked about everything, the conversation flowing like it would never stop.

“So how do you like the states so far?” Noah asked.

“Do you want me to be honest or are you too American and can’t take it?”

“Try me.” He said playfully.

“The food? Terrible, I’m surprised you Americans don’t die at the age of 30. People? I’m so glad for working at company with foreigners, you Americans are weirdos.” He smirked at that answer. “But I’ve been here just for two months so far, so who am I to judge right?”

“Yeah right, who are you, you European woman.” We laughed at that.

He was actually pretty funny, calm and very well spoken. Which, judging by lyrics of his song, wasn’t surprising.

“So how do you know James?” I asked Noah, honestly curious, cause I knew James knew Matt, not the whole band.

“He worked with us on a few shows. On our smaller shows in the beginning, he actually helped us a lot. We didn’t have security or something back then, so it was either no security or security at the venue we were playing. James sometimes grabbed few of his guys and came to the show and helped us with security in general.”

“By his guys you mean our coworkers?” I found that funnier than it probably was, but it seemed funny to me, that he referred to them as James’ guys. Me and James work at a security company. We work “at the top” aka in the office. Hire people, make contracts with venues or artists, schedule shifts etc. We provide security of any kind. We both are on the same position, most of the time in the office from 9 to 5, but he never mentioned he used to go out in the field before.

“Oh so you two are coworkers?”

“Yes! He is actually my favorite coworker and favorite American. For now.” After few glasses of wine and talking to Noah already for an hour, I felt confident in little bit of flirting. If you count that as a flirting.

“For now huh?” at least he seemed to catch on that.

After what felt like forever, Jolly came to get Noah, said that him and the guys are leaving. Noah went with them, we said goodbyes and I thought that was it. Nice tipsy talk, no exchanged numbers, no see you next time.

But exactly three days later I received a message from unknown number, saying “hey it’s Noah, I asked James for your number, I hope that’s ok. We’re having release party for the new album, thought you and James could come if you wanted to :)”

So, me and James went to the party. After few hours I found myself sitting outside again, Noah coming too just a minutes later, saying it was coincidence, but later in our relationship admitted he saw me going out and went after me.

We talked again until James came to get me and said we’re heading home. Same scenario as last time.

And then we had dinner at his place. Dinner at my place. Movie night at his. Movie night at mine. Sleepover at his. Sleepover at mine. Little innocent touches became into lustful and needy ones. Everything went great, we completed each other just perfect.

We didn’t rush into anything, we handled him going on tour just fine.

I also made big decision with extending my job in the states and staying for Noah, not moving back home to Europe. We were perfect, so what changed?

It all went downhill before the guys left for the tour with Bring me the horizon. I always felt bittersweet about them touring in Europe, cause that was my home and it made me feel homesick, almost kinda jealous? And knowing they would then continue with their headlining tour made it even worse.

We made a plan that I would fly to my home country week before their concert there, spend some time with my friends and family, join them for the rest of the tour and go back home with them.

I was handling everything really well through the tour with Bring me the horizon. Loved the content and the opportunity for their band. But everything changed when they released their new song with Lenora. Their support on the tour, female singer from the same label. The song started wave of content with Noah and Lenora. Edits, rumors, theories, because our relationship isn’t public, so everyone thinks they are in one.

I didn’t have any reason to be jealous of her, because I trusted Noah, he knew her longer than me, he would tell me if they had history. It was the edits and rumors and seeing it everywhere. It made me uncomfortable. Everyone saying how cute they are on stage together.

So it all mixed together, Noah being in Europe with different time zone, so we couldn’t talk much, Noah and Lenora content jumping on me everywhere, it was too overwhelming for me.

I didn’t want to take it out on Noah tho, it was not his fault. But something in me changed, some of my insecurities I guess, went out and he noticed.

“What’s going on love?” He asked later today when we were on the phone with worried voice.

“It’s nothing, I just really want to be on the plane already.” I said little white lie, sitting on our bedroom floor packing my things for next days flight.

“Only 9 hours and you’re on the way babe!” he said with excitement in his voice.

“Oh you’re counting?”

“Of course I am! That makes it 7 days and 9 hours before we’re together.” His smiled made me feel a bit better, but I was sure I can’t tell him anything now. He was enjoying the tour so much, it felt wrong worrying him with my feelings now.

“I can’t wait Noah.” I felt like I was gonna burst into emotional mess soon.

“Me too love, me too.” We shared a look through the screen for a minute, before Nick saying they had to go on stage in a few minutes. We said our goodbyes and I love yous and hang up.

I closed my eyes for a minute, just focusing on my breathing and trying not to cry. I couldn’t explain what was going on in my head even if you held gun against my temple.

Long story short my week with friends was amazing. I felt more relaxed, until I saw Noah’s contact on my phone.

Everyday I felt my mood change a bit and my body stiffen more, when he texted or called me. And he noticed. Last few days it projected to the way we spoke to each other. It was cold? Just simple “Hi, the show was great, can’t wait to see you, love you.” conversation for literally two minutes.

Through the week I also couldn’t miss the new content about Noah and Lenora and that made me less and less excited for my hometowns show and for seeing it live. They were going to the next city later the next day after my hometown, so we decided to stay the night at a hotel, which I saw as great opportunity to talk about this tension, that was created by the lack of communication and through phone screen.

I went to the venue earlier to meet the guys there, then I would be coming back in the evening with my friends.

Entering the venue was weird. I wasn’t this nervous meeting Noah for our first date, so that was a weird sign for me. Security guys led me to the green room, so there I was. Standing behind the door, holding my breath in and not wanting to go inside.

It took me few more minutes to calm myself down, but I opened the door.

First person I locked eyes with was Folio. You can’t be sad seeing him excited and happy that he can hug you. Folio is the one I’m closest with from the band, so the hug really gave me a bit of courage that I needed. Then I was met with Jolly’s big hug, then Nick.

Last but not least, right, was Noah. We stood just looking at each other for a minute, neither of us making the first move.

“Hi.” I said first.

“Hi.” was Noah’s reply. I spoke first, he acted first. He grabbed my face by my cheeks and kissed me. Just a peck, as if he was asking for permission. So I kissed him back. The kiss was so tense, nothing like before.

“I think we should talk.” He whispered, keeping this conversation just between the two of us.

“Yeah we should. Can we do that after the show?” I really didn’t want to make tonight’s show bad for me, him or anyone else. He was enjoying this tour so much, I couldn’t be the one taking the joy from him.

“Okay. You’ll leave from here with us right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, meet us here after the show okay?”

“Yes.”

And that was it. I stayed for an hour, but we didn’t talk more then the short conversation. When they left for soundcheck, I left to meet my friends for drinks before the show.

Their new collab song with Lenora started playing and I prepared myself mentally for what I’m going to see.

Lenora was dressed in tight navy jumpsuit, with her long hair in low sleek bun as she started singing her part. I saw Noah come on the stage, with the mask on his face. For most of the song he sat on the led display, but then he came down and I saw them interact in real life for the first time. It didn’t make me jealous, it made me think of how many new videos I’m gonna see the next morning. Their little handshake. Cute, right? Gonna be on my for you page too. The song is great, she is great singer, I don’t have anything against her, I just can’t help the pressure from fans. I knew what I was getting myself into when we became a couple. But you can’t prepare for some things until you live them through.

I enjoyed the show, I love their music and it was really lovely to see Noah performing live after long time, seeing him in his element enjoying himself. We locked our eyes few times, seemed like he was checking in on me, because he doesn’t like me watching their shows from the crowd, saying he’s scared some is going to hurt me. We shared looks, smiles through the entire show. For a moment I forgot what was waiting for us once we make it to our hotel room.

After saying goodbyes to my friends I made my way to the green room. I walked in and felt the good mood coming from everyone in that room.

“Hey Y/N! Did you like the show?” Jolly gave me a side hug after I closed the door.

“I loved it! And the fans did too, wasn’t the crowd amazing?”

“It really was, hometown making you proud huh?”

“Oh definitely, I was scared you’re not gonna come back here if they fucked anything up.” I continued conversation with Jolly for a bit longer, feeling Noah’s gaze on me the whole time. He looked sad that I was talking with a smile on my face to literally anyone other than him. That went on for like an hour, then he finally spoke to me.

“I’m done with this. Let’s leave and short whatever shit is going on out.” Was what he said to me.

“Hey everyone, we’re leaving. We haven’t seen each other for a bit and I’m really tired. So goodnight everyone, thanks for tonight, good job.” Was what he said to others.

Ride to the hotel was silent. Neither of us spoke a word. He already had key cards to our room, so we went straight to the elevator, then straight to room number 497.

Noah opened the doors and let us in. I started opening my suitcase to get something to sleep in, I was in need of shower.

“Can we talk now, please?” Noah finally broke the silence in the room.

“I would like to get shower first. I need a minute to process everything in my head and what I want to say.”

“Oh, okay.” I felt bad, because he looked like he was tired from the show and from whatever was going on between us, like he needed this pressure off his shoulders, but I needed to think what I was actually going to tell him, because suddenly I felt like I was making big problem over nothing.

Hot shower helped relaxing my body, but my mind was still tense. Do I make this bigger than it needs to be? Is he going to laugh at me, my feelings? Is he going to break up with me?

So many thoughts at once. That gave me courage to get out of the shower and get this over with. Release the pressure off bot of our shoulders.

I slowly opened the door that were connected to our bedroom.

Noah was sitting in bed, his back against wall behind him and his phone in one hand. I carefully walked around the bed, sitting on my half of the bed in the same position Noah was. He put the phone down at my presence, but looked straight ahead of him. I did the same. We stared at the wall infront of us for a moment, neither of us wanting to start the conversation.

I never experienced this tension and atmosphere between the two of us. This was new and we didn’t know how to handle it. Neither one wanted to start a fight, things just needed to get cleared.

“I want to say something, but I don’t really know what. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if I did something. I’m really confused now. It seems like everything changed overnight.” Noah was the one to speak first.

“You did nothing wrong, Noah. I don’t know where to start I am so confused with my mind right now.” I felt tears forming in my eyes already, as very sensitive person, I cry every time I have to deal with something. And honestly this was making me so sad I was surprised I didn’t cry much sooner. But I needed to get it off my chest, so I continued.

“It’s just after you left for the tour to Europe, I started feeling really weird, jealous I guess? This is my home and it felt weird, you being here without me. I love that you are enjoying it and loving it here, but it made me miserable. Made me feel homesick, because I realized that except you and the boys, I have like two friends in the states. So, I just felt like everything I was missing was here at the other end of the world than I was. And honestly, I felt like shit.” Before continuing my monologue I turned to face Noah, see if he was listening to me, watch out for his reactions. He turned to face me too, he had look of worry and empathy in his eyes. He made me feel heard.

“And then Concrete forever started and suddenly there was Lenora with you. I know what you are going to say, but let me finish first please. I know we talked about her and I told you that I feel fine about her and you don’t have to ask me for permission to work with someone. And that is still true, but I can’t stand the rumors about you two. I want to keep our relationship a secret from the public, but I really wanted fans to know that you are dating me, not her in that moment. I can’t stand those tweets and videos on my page, with theories about you, how you look cute together and other shit. That hurts me Noah.” At this point I was crying, letting it all out.

His face got worried, he tried to hold my hand, but I started feeling tight knot in my chest and I needed to do something rather than sitting in this bed. I stood up and started walking from one wall to the other. It was also the first time I let Noah speak since the start of conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could talk about it and come up with solutions that would be okay for both of us.” Of course, I was expecting question why didn’t I tell him sooner.

“Because it’s not your fault Noah, or Lenora’s. You do your handshake; you sing together and that’s fine with me. I don’t blame you two. You two are not the ones that make content of that. I trust you 100% and I didn’t want to make you feel like I don’t. I thought I should deal with that on my own.”

“Well we are in a relationship, both of us, it’s never just you. You can tell me anything and I will listen, okay? We can always make a statement or perform differently if that’s what’s gonna help you. I don’t mind that at all.” At this point Noah was standing in front of me, trying to catch my hands in his to make me stop panic. After he managed to catch my hands, he pulled me in for a hug. I realized I needed that. Physical touch, just feel his body. Our chests rising at the same time as he took deep breaths with me and held my head against his chest.

“No you don’t get it Noah.” I pulled away, ready to let all my thoughts out.

“I don’t know what is going on, I never felt this way when you went on tour in the US. I just- it makes me think if moving to the US was good idea. I love you Noah, I do, but you are the only thing keeping me there and when you’re not there, I go crazy.”

“Let’s not make any sudden decision right? Cause you’re making me scared right now of what’s going to happen. Your feelings are valid and I get it, but I’m gonna be back home in a week and then we can find solution together. You can come with us on the next European tour.” As if that was solution to everything.

“It’s not just that and you know it. I don’t even know what solution I want, I’m a mess Noah and I don’t even know what to say, how to explain my feelings.” I started sobbing so hard. I hated this feeling. Feeling of being so distant with myself, not understanding what I feel.

“Oh baby, let me help you. Let me in so we can do this together.” I knew he was asking for me to stop pulling away from his touch, because that’s what I did for most of the conversation.

“It’s hard for me Noah, I’m used to dealing with everything by myself I don’t know how to do this. Maybe I wasn’t ready for a relationship yet? Maybe we should have waited before making it this serious.” I saw the hurt on his face, he was scared of what I’m gonna say next, but there was nothing, just silence.

“I think every relationship has its ups and downs and that break up isn’t solution, if that’s what you mean.” He was being very patient with me, but I saw him losing it a bit.

He was tired, physically tired and I wasn’t helping with this emotional mess. After a moment of him waiting for my answer that never came, he continued. "I hear you, I want to help you, but I don’t really know what you want from me now. We can’t stop going on tours in Europe, you say you don’t want to go with us. What’s gonna happen if next time another female singer is coming along? The rumors won’t just stop, until we make it public. You know I hate that idea just as much as you do, but I’m willing to do that if that helps you.”

He spoke for a few minutes so I calmed myself down a bit, focusing on my breathing, but before I could say something, Noah spoke again.

“And I don’t want to hold you against your will in the states. If you don’t like it there, you can move back here and we can do long distance, but apparently that’s not what you want either.” Guess he just had enough and decided to choose harsh words.

“Yeah well maybe you could be more understanding, that I moved there to be with you, because I love you. I love you, not the country. I would move for you anywhere.” I spoke words of love, but my tone was just as harsh as his. I know repeating the whole night that I don’t know what I’m feeling or what I want is frustrating but attacking me for my feelings for sure doesn’t help.

“Didn’t you say you needed to escape this country? From your broken family and ex? Don’t put this on me, you could have said no to moving.” Ouch, I didn’t expect that.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say now, you know why I took the internship. We talked about that. Don’t make up something that’s not true.” My voice was quieter now, because he stabbed in a wound that he knew hurt me a lot.

I took the internship 3 months after me and my ex-boyfriend decided to end our relationship after 5 years. It wasn’t ugly break up, we grew out of each other and wanted to experience some new things, meet new people. I didn’t leave the country because I was broken hearted, but because I felt like I finally had space to try new things. I chose united states, simply because it was the only open spot that did require only English, not other languages I can’t speak. It’s that simple.

“Something that’s not true? So you didn’t run away from you mother who thinks you’re not good enough and caused you mental problems and from dad that doesn’t give a fuck about you?” ouch again. I didn’t recognize this side of Noah.

“Noah I-“ I scoffed with a deep breath, “why are you bringing this into conversation that is about something else? My family has nothing to do with how I feel about us. And for your information I told you all about that because I thought I could trust you, not for you to have something to throw at me in a fight for fucks sake!”

I let my hand slip through my hair, turning my back to him, because I didn’t want him to see that he made me cry again. But he didn’t stop.

“Well your upbringing has so much to do with how you handle your relationships so I think we should talk about that.”

“You know what I think I should change room with Nick or get new one just for myself. I wanted to have conversation about what was happening to us, but I believe you’re just tired and didn’t mean anything you just said. So I’m gonna pack my things now, leave this room and I’m gonna see what plane tickets I can find for myself for tomorrow. Seems like we both need more time to think about what’s going to happen with our relationship, how we treat each other, because I know damn well I don’t deserve you talking to me like this when I have been nothing but respectful to you.”

“Running from another problem, aren’t we?” He laughed, making reference to me moving to the states.

“Shut up Noah, shut up. Get some sleep and think about what I told you in the beginning. Think about what you want from this relationship, because we’re gonna have another conversation when you come home.”

I didn’t listen if he said anything else, I went to the bathroom to pack my things. When I came back to the bedroom, he was sitting on bed, facing the big window and his back was facing me. I made sure everything was in my luggage, I left my key card on the bed and went for the door.

“Goodbye Noah, I love you.” No reaction from him. My heart ached so much.

I got myself new room, paid for plane tickets for tomorrow evening and tried to get some sleep.

Actually, I cried myself to sleep, thinking of what was going to happen with our relationship once Noah comes back from tour. I didn’t recognize him tonight, he was like a whole different person than I knew before tonight. I was hoping for an explanation, for a valid reason he acted the way he did tonight, still hoping it was just his tired mind talking. Or maybe his frustration from the lack of my communication skills.

I was almost asleep when my phone buzzed with a new message.

I managed to read it before fully falling asleep.

“I’m sorry, I love you.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #noah sebastian band #noah sebastian x reader #jolly karlsson #nick folio #nick ruffilo #bad omens band #bad omens cult

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thescrapwitch · 4 months ago

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Bilbo is sitting on a bench in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the quiet peace of Elrond’s garden, when he sees her: a tall, dark skinned woman with curly black hair and a warm smile. The fact that someone who looks neither elf nor Maiar is in Valinor startles him. Makes him sit up straighter, drop the book he was reading to the ground. All in black, wearing a dress not unlike a Gondorian noble with a peculiar pendant dangling from her neck, she makes for a strange sight. But her smile is so kind, so gentle, and it makes him smile back.

Bilbo debates, briefly, about getting up to shake her hand, but his legs have been very weak the past few days. He does not want to rise only to crash face-first into the dirt by her feet. That would be rude. So he stays sitting on the bench and gives her a friendly nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says.

“Good afternoon, Bilbo Baggins,” she says. Bilbo is not surprised that she knows his name. As he is one of the three hobbits in the blessed lands, it would be more strange if she didn’t. But she says it with such familiarity that it makes him frown.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he says, “but have we met before?” He knows her. Bilbo knows he knows her, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Like he sent her an invitation long ago and, now that she’s come as promised, completely forgot about their plans. “Were you a guest at one of my birthday parties?”

She laughs. “No. I don’t normally get invited to those. But I heard your eleventy-first one was quite the event! ”

A shame. She seems like she would have been a wonderful guest. “Could you tell me where we met, then? I know we must have met somewhere, but my brain is not as nimble as it once was, and the memory is escaping me.”

“It was less a formal meeting,” she says, “and more like having crossed paths many times.” Her eyes, which do not carry light the same way an elf’s would, are very, very dark. “I watched as you avoided becoming troll food, as you stumbled in the dark and traded riddles with Gollum, as you crept into Smog’s lair and fumbled as the Battle of the Five Armies tore at each other. But you escaped all of that unharmed, and so we never had a chance to be properly introduced. Until now.”

The answer hits him then, the knowledge rising up from his heart. Oh. Of course he knows her. He’s always known her. It was just easy to forget these past years in Valinor. “Death.”

“Yes.”

“Is it time then?” Bilbo feels, suddenly, very self-conscious. He’s wearing his second-best waistcoat today and wishes he’d worn his first-best one instead. He would have, certainly, if he knew such an important guest was coming to visit him. “I am dying?”

“You are dead,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. Death does not appear to be in any hurry, no grabbing or pulling him along to wherever mortal souls go. Instead, she tips her head back to bask in the sunshine. “Mind if I rest my feet? I don’t normally have to travel this far for work, you know. Still, a change of scenery is always nice. Have they been good to you, these immortals?”

“Yes,” he says, because they have. Elrond and dear Gandalf and all the other friends he’s made in this land. He will miss them all, and hopes they will not be too upset to find him gone. He hopes that they will take care of Frodo and Sam, and that they will not waste a long time grieving. Then, because he cannot help but be curious, even at the end, he says, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all,” she says. “Take your time. The dying part is already over with. You don’t have to go on until you’re ready.”

She really is so very polite. A shame Bilbo never had the chance to invite her over for tea. He is certain that Death would have had lovely stories to share and impeccable manners. “From what the elves have told me, the Vala Mandos is in charge of death. How is it that you are here for me and not him?”

“Mandos manages death for the elves,” she corrects, not at all upset with the question, “and Aulë the dwarves. But mortals, humans and hobbits, you come with me to receive my gift.”

“You’re a much different god than him.”

“Oh, don’t call me a god.” Death gives him a grin, a flash of bright humor. “That’s too fancy a title. I’m less a divine being and more…more someone with an endless task to do. That’s all.”

“My nephew, Frodo, and his Sam, will you come for them too?”

“Someday,” she promises. “But not yet.”

“Good.” Not that he wants Frodo or Sam to die, but all mortal things must, and he’d rather they had a friendly face for such a journey. Let this one be much kinder to them than the road to Mordor was.

They sit in silence for a moment longer. Bilbo takes one last look at the garden, at the bluebells and primroses that Celebrian planted, at the robins searching for worms, at the book which has fallen from his hands and landed half-open on the ground.

It was a good life, he thinks, and a long one. But all stories have to come to an end eventually, and this will be as best an ending as I could ever have hoped to earn. He stands up, straightens his waistcoat, and looks Death in the eye. “All right. I’m ready.”

Death stands up as well. There is a softness in the way she looks at him that erases any fear or dread Bilbo expected to have when his time was up. It feels more as though he is going on a long walk with a dear friend.

“What is it like, this place of endings beyond the circles of the world? Is it…nice?”

“You will see when you get there,” she says, and holds out her hand. “Think of it as one last adventure.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” says Bilbo. He takes Death’s hand. “Well then, lead the way.”

#I rewatched the death episode of sandman repeatedly #because what else do you do when existential dread hits you in the middle of the night #and people you love are dying #I can’t help it: she is my comfort character when I get upset over those things #but then somehow it crossed over with lotr #and then this came out #so enjoy?#my writing #sandman tv #lotr #bilbo #death #crossover

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lackingspace · 4 months ago

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Scurrilous (Feyd-RauthaXReader)

Chapter 3

Rated: M Word Count: 5.9K Warnings: Harkonnens are their own warning. Violence. Language. lots of banter. Author Note: Giedi Prime is here. And Feyd wants to play.✧

Prev Ch: Admonish

AO3 link: Scurrilous

There were few times you'd made the trip to Giedi Prime in the past. Always for some generalized celebration. Always with your family. And each visit was only a few days at most.

The Harkonnen rarely hosted events that warranted extending Great House invitations. But when they did, they were not to be missed. No one wanted to snub Harkonnen, that privilege was Atreides alone.

At least their functions weren't wholly unpleasant, in fact, if gluttony and extravagance were your prerogative, you'd quite enjoy them.

Everything was different this time. You were alone, the stay was undefined, with no clear reason for the occasion.

The first time you'd come was when you were 6. Glossu had officially been named the na-Baron. The title previously belonged to his father, Abulurd, but in some scandal you were too young to fully grasp– a disownment of Harkonnen to Rabban– the title was stripped from his person. You'd attended with your House to pay the appropriate respects that naming, or renaming as was the case, an heir was due.

All but Atreides came.

You barely remembered that trip. If not for it being the first time you'd sighted the black sun, you would have forgotten it entirely. You had spent far too long straying in and out of the light and shadow pondering the effect. You remembered how your eyes stung on the return to Erif IV.

The next was when you were 8. The Baron had constructed a massive amphitheater to serve as the new gladiatorial tournaments arena. As you understood it now, he had also changed it from predominantly a means to train their militia into a bloody spectacle of execution. As its inaugural fight, all houses were formally invited.

That was the first time you'd watched a man die.

At 13 you were again invited, this time to Feyd's 12th birthday and débutante celebration. A strange occurrence as the only time a débutante occurred was if the person in question was the named heir or female, sometimes both of those were true such as instances like your cousin Josephine, but he was neither. However, Vladimir Harkonnen did as he pleased and his uncle had made it very clear he was to be given the same consideration as the na-Baron– even without the title.

It would be years before you came to understand the type of man that led House Harkonnen and the horrors that were committed within their walls. Even still, with your limited understanding, you still remembered thinking how lamentable it must be to have an uncle like that. Feyd hadn't even been in attendance. An injury– broken rib and sternum– prevented his direct appearance.

His true debut into society came a month later at a House Ecaz function. He'd seemed hesitant, shy even, but nodded when you asked if his ribs made a full recovery.

When you were 15, the Suk school had allowed you enough leave to attend your political duties to house Ezharian. An invitation to attend Feyd's entry into the arena had been sent to all. The show he put on was violent and visceral for someone so young, but his performance was morbidly captivating. Death of men was not uncommon to you now, but they were typically in an infirmary and not surrounded by thunderous cheers. You wondered how much violence he must have suffered to be so ferocious already.

Later, at the feast when all houses made their simpering praises to the hosts, you followed suit. Praised his performance and thanked them for the invitation– the same as all before you. All traces of shyness had long since been replaced by haughtiness.

Before you'd made your way back to the assigned Ezharian table, Feyd had smugly asked how the Suks allowed a doltish female into their field.

In return, you politely inquired if he'd like an accident arranged so he could experience what a doltish female could do firsthand. The curl of his lips had dropped as you walked away.

That was the first of many candid remarks the two of you would trade over the years and it was the last night you spent under the infrared sky. There hadn't been any attractions to Giedi Prime that required invitation in almost a decade. You'd since seen the family at other high society conventions, but not on their home territory.

This would mark the fifth visit in total and the first solo at 25. In all previous trips, the weather had always been fair. As if the atmosphere wanted to join in the novelty, rumbles of thunder could be felt throughout the shuttle. Flashes of lightning peeked through the half-covered viewing window.

The inky rain wouldn't do to be caught in– you'd heard enough stories that the pollution of their atmosphere caused it to leave an oily residue on whatever it bathed. Thankfully, the Harkonnen compound had landing ports that sealed behind craft for this reason.

You weren't too worried about it though. Your focus was pulled by the storm itself and the sight it created. Having retracted the shade into its housing, the view from the window was captivating.

The sky was a monochromatic kaleidoscope of crackling lights within smokey clouds making even the industrial landscape beautiful. The dusky gloom blotted out much of the natural infrared light, emphasizing the small pinpricks of illumination from various buildings– appearing as stars in the dimness.

Its untamed violence was a stark reminder that although brutal, Giedi Prime did hold beauty. One that was enticing when discovered, but buried so far beneath all the hard edges that it was rarely seen.

This was the same kind of lure Erifian seas had from shore. The soft crashes and twisting waves invite one to tread into its depths. If you treaded carelessly, icy riptides were more than happy to drag you under and never let you up, but if you managed to avoid them, the ocean's secrets were a sight to behold.

A much too close flash left you blinded for a moment, blinking rapidly, your vision faded into focus as another struck further away. Its plasma appears black to your eyes before dissipating to a white mist and then into nothingness.

For the brief second a strike occurs, everything is illuminated in its wake– flaring infrared back to life before the shadows consume it again. Brief blindness was a worthy trade for the sight.

You were almost sad when the view was swallowed on your descent into the Harkonnen compound.

Lowering the window cover as the ship's elevation shifts before the telltale signs of a safe landing. That was signal enough to stand and stretch your legs. It would only be moments before the doors lowered and you were assailed by a barrage of attendants. Sharking life back into your bones seemed needed if you were to deal with people properly.

The black heels Cleo had chosen were fashionable, more sturdy than you’d expect, but damn if they were much too high for your comfort and the ache had set in even as you were seated. But pain was good. It would remind you to stay on your guard.

Cleo had done that on purpose you supposed. She was a clever little thing. More your confidant than a servant. She'd packed each outfit meticulously and provided instruction on what occasion they'd best fit.

She'd also seen fit to stain your hands before your departure. A traditional Erifian custom utilizing the argena root, a herb native to your planet that stains skin silver when mixed with acid. She'd made an elaborate design both geometric and organic, artfully weaving your House sigil into the pattern.

It matched well with the dress she'd stuffed you in. A black leather bodice that hugged tightly until your midriff when the material quickly fell in two strips on your front and back down to your ankles– silver roses inlaid at its bottom edges.

Your hips and legs on display, but not completely exposed thanks to the thin black gossamer underdress and delicate silver chains at your hips holding the heavier material in place. A deep carmine cloth looped around your back and through the silver hoops dangling from the stiff shoulder caps before free-falling towards your feet.

Your house colors on full display– Black, silver, and carmine. A reminder to all who gazed upon you that an Ezharian was among them. Even the jewelry she'd selected was a subtle tell of your heritage. Necklace a silver geometric rose design that encloses your upper chest and mid-neck like a cage.

Lifting your silvery fingertips to straighten your hair and ensure the twisted chain is still in place on your forehead. The effect caused the inked diamond to appear like the jewel within a circlet.

It was effective for its reminder, though the warmth it provided was subpar. But you had little use for warmth in a place like this anyway. You would need to be demure, witty, and no small amount of cunning– qualities more suited to the cold.

Hearing the vents of the ship become louder and the rush of non-recycled air clued you in that the door had finally lowered to allow your exit. The soft echoes of the outside thunder were another indication that you should have been rushed by the staff at this point, but they’d yet to enter. Harkonnen had always been particular in their commands, perhaps their instruction was to wait for your exit before attending to their task?

If that was the case, it'd be best to exit and let the work commence before some imagined disobedience occurred. Would there be a welcoming party? All times before it was some steward who welcomed your family with politeness and instructions. Would this stick with tradition or be another surprise?

Stepping out of the shuttle’s warmth into the chill of the landing dock the attendants were indeed waiting. Five standing in a line with their eyes towards the floor. Their identical black outfits marked them for what they were. A steward stood perpendicular to their line with his hands behind his back, “I hope– I hope your t-travel was w-well, My lady.”

Familiarity, at last. Although, is that a stutter or something else? Releasing the breath you hadn't realized you were holding slowly as his words registered. The quiver in his voice spoke more of nervousness rather than a speech impediment. But what reason would he have for anxiousness? It couldn't have been you. Those were his first words and you had yet to respond. Something else must have already shaken him.

The little reputation you had shouldn't be fearsome in the least nor enough to reach their ears. It was wholly benign in comparison to those he served. Keeping your face neutral and your stride steady on your way down the ramp, “It was comfortable, thank you…” waiting for his reply to your questioning tone, “F-forgive me, my– my lady. Emil, I am Emil.”

As your heels clicked down onto the solid level flooring you waved a hand in dismissal, “Nothing to forgive, Emil.” Now that you were a few steps from the ramp, he made a clap and the line of attendants began toward the ship in single file. Standing next to the man you watched them enter the ship, “Are you to take me to the guest wing then?”

The man's jaw twitched and now that you were in closer proximity you could see the sweat upon his brow, “Yes, my lady.” From your new position, you could see his hands were wringing together behind his back. Your eyes narrowed as you assessed him.

His breathing was elevated, sweating, but his color seemed fine– no flushing or paleness that wasn't natural. ‘Something is causing him excessive anxiety. An order? If he is to try an assault on me, they chose their would-be assassin very poorly. I’m almost insulted.’

“Well,” inclining your hand towards the direction you last knew led towards the guest wing, “Shall we or is there some other reason I should stand here in uncomfortable heels?”

His eyes widened as if he committed some great offense that you had to initiate the request, “Yes! At on–” A disapproving tsking sounded from the shadowed corridor followed by slow firm footsteps.

Raising an eyebrow at the sound and turning towards its origin revealed Feyd-Rautha slinking out of the darkness. He wore a fitted black leathered outfit. Edges of the material embossed with a blocky industrial pattern indicative of Harkonnen fashion. At his shoulders, two darker rectangles were stitched much like the traditional designs used in their anointments before ceremonies. ‘Ah, the source of his discomfort.’

His dark eyes appeared to glitter as he passed varying lights on his walk towards you. The occasions you saw him were infrequent enough that you were always struck by the unusual allure he possessed. Delicate bone structure set against eyes like knives. An unassuming strength until someone stepped out of line. Teasing mischief until anger ignited.

He'd always been a strangely enticing individual to be around.

“Does a lady's presence stupefy you or do I need to cut out what my uncle hasn’t?” ‘Ah. There it is.’ The reason you'd never pursued anything more than banter with him. ‘His mouth generally leads to more trouble than its worth.’

The lightness of his voice didn't match the stinging accusation of his words, “You stood there as if she was to wait on you.”

How long had Feyd been standing there awaiting your arrival? Huddled in the dark scrutinizing his staff? The image was almost enough to make you laugh, but here laughter was meant to be wielded as a weapon in conversation, not truly for amusement.

If his attendant was thoroughly in the throes of an anxiety attack as you'd left the transport, there must have been some exchanged warning– more likely a threat– not too recent, but not excessively long ago either.

‘As if he needed an excuse for pain beyond breathing the same air.’

Fluttering your eyes to avoid rolling them at his nonchalant manner, “Lord Harkonnen,” you inclined your head in a greeting bow, “How kind of your uncle to send you instead of the na-Baron.”

To anyone outside of Great House politics, that may seem like a snide remark, but in your circle of society, it was well-known how vexing you were to Glossu Rabben. You quickly scanned his form, “You look well.” And he did. The suit hugged his form enough to see more muscle than he’d usually display at a court gathering. You couldn’t say you disliked the sight.

The smug little smirk stayed in place as his gaze rolled from the servant to you, “Lady Ezharian, you look…” He made a show of dragging his eyes across your form as he sounded the words. By the time he finally reached your face again, the smirk had flattened and the look in his eye changed from duplicitous into something smokey with a hint of yearning. His voice took on a gravelly quality as he finally completed his assessment, “Vibrant.”

His shoulder rolled in a shrug to relieve tension and you could tell that wasn't quite the word he wanted to use but the pretense of civility was still in place. Pressing your tongue against the back of your teeth to prevent the acerbic remark ready to spill from your lips for the perusal. If he wanted to appear civil, so would you. For now.

If he asked, you would admit that his coquettishness had improved since you'd seen him last. But there was no need to inflate whatever ego he'd since gained by confirming he’d finally figured out how to fan the flames of desire.

“And my uncle made no request. I’m here because it pleases me.” Blackened teeth peaked from behind a half smile-half smirk. Your eyes narrowed at the sight, ‘That's a new development...’

Matching his nonchalant quality you jutted a hip and tilted your head thoughtfully, “How flattering. I had no idea my presence inspired such fervor in you.”

His look transformed into an isolating glower– dark focus so intense that you almost forgot the shaking man standing between you. The half smile fell back into a full smirk as he grumbled at you, “Fangs poised already, little viper?” The question was said more like praise than reproval.

His voice raised as he addressed the steward, but his gaze never moved from you, “Emil,” that was the sharpest you'd heard him yet and the man visibly flinched at the sound, “Why are you still standing?” The even tone didn’t betray his ire yet, but you knew him well enough to expect what was coming next.

If a stiff breeze were to blow through the compound, it'd likely knock this man over with how unsteady he was. You ran a hand through the length of hair that hung free down your back waiting for the show Feyd wanted to put on. Whatever was about to come out of the Harkonnen’s mouth was likely to be explosive, spiteful, and wholly unpleasant.

After another moment when the man had still yet to respond or move, Feyd's eyes ripped themselves from your form to pin him with a scathing glare. Taking the few steps forward to come within arms reach of the steward, he hissed, “I said…” Watching as Feyd placed a hand on the shaking shoulder you could see the clear pressure he applied both by the amount of crinkling in the fabric and the wince Emil displayed, “Why are you still standing?”

The last word was snarled savagely as he pushed the man to his knees. “Your incompetence reflects poorly on my name. Beg her forgiveness.” The shaking intensified as the man half sobbed at your feet. ‘Well, his dramatics are certainly unchanged.’

The bubbling sound made any sputtered words incoherent. Feyd perceived the babbling sobs as another trespass against his hospitality. Kicking the man in the side, albeit softer than you expected, “Kiss her prettily polished feet.” Another kick to his ribs, “If she deems it acceptable, I might even let you keep your tongue.” Finally, his booted foot fell hard and heavy on the man's hand, “Beg!”

That was enough for Emil to choke out a clear apology for his ineptitude, the shakes of his body infiltrating each gurgled word. Feyd looked pleased with his handiwork and you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling any longer. With a sigh you chided, “Feyd, my patience is already thin from travel, I have little left for your antics– either end it now or leave it for your private amusement.”

His disappointment was palpable by the scowl replacing the smirk, “How dull…I had hoped you’d request my knife.” A snort almost left you at that– almost– but you contained it for a huff instead, “Ignorance doesn't suit you. You know my conditioning.”

He rolled his own eyes and his voice took on a mocking drawl, “Ah, yes. Your aversion to causing harm like the good little Suk doctor you are.” Continuing to scowl down at the shuddering servant, “Leave us.” That was all the man needed to try to leave the scene, but as he pulled away his arm yanked painfully in the socket. Feyd's foot was still crushing his hand and wasn’t letting up. A choked whimper left the servant as the pressure only increased if the deepening grey of his hand was any indication.

There was little you could do for him, not that you wanted to, this was typically Harkonnen savagery after all, albeit from you to interrupt, but your feet did tire of standing in these shoes. “Would you like to escort him or Ito a room? If torture is more enticing, I'm sure I can find the way myself.”

The jaw clench was your only indication he'd heard you through whatever violence clouded his mind. His answer came a moment later when his boot slowly released the hand and the creature disappeared faster than you'd thought his shaking legs could carry him.

Feyd’s complaint was quickly hurled at you while you both watched his servant scurry away, “We both know your conditioning allows for more fun than that. What is it you once said to me?”

Instantly, you knew what he was referring to. Your eyes momentarily widened in surprise, that must have been three or four years back now. The fact he remembered it was dangerous and startling. He was intelligent enough to recognize its significance, but it was surprising he recalled it so easily.

You were under the impression Feyd only frequented your side at parties because you were more than a conniving halfwit and responded to his banter with equal vitriol. But if he recalled that…’He pays much more attention to my words than I give him credit for.’

“Only ignorant men believe themselves absolved of murder.”

Decidedly something you shouldn't have said, but between wine and teasing conversation you’d let it slip. You weren't so delusional or indoctrinated to think yourself incapable. It didn’t matter that it was true either– everyone had a breaking point regardless of what the imperial rhetoric toted– but if the Suk school heard you say it, well, you didn’t want to find out what consequences would come of it.

If the need ever arose for Feyd to persuade or coerce you into something, he had the perfect leverage. There was no doubt in your mind that he knew it and that he would use it should it come down to it… If that time ever came, you’d show him true venom. But he hadn’t mentioned it as a threat, so until he turns on you, it is best to give it as little attention as possible. ‘And to be careful with my words in the future.’

A satisfied hum sounded from his chest followed the confirming recognition of, “That's it,” as he turned away from the corridor his steward sought shelter in. Facing towards you with a scowl as he stepped closer, “Travel makes you petulant.” The tension he’d unwittingly dragged to the surface of your shoulders relaxed as you snicker at his accusation, “That it does.”

His size still dwarfed you– even in heels, the top of your head only coming to his nose. He lifted a covered arm out for you to take. A courteous court gesture that held no real purpose here other than a show of his respect for your position– or maybe habit. It wasn’t uncommon to see your hand rest against his forearm when moving through crowds of surrounding noble families.

But you two were alone for perhaps the first time. ‘It must be habit then.’

Your contemplation of his offer passed too slowly for him if the snippety grunt was any indication, “Well?”

Your silvered hand came up to accept the offer, it stood out starkly against his forearm, “If it please you, my lord.”

His non-existent brow raised at the silver, “Did you think we’d forgotten the Ezharian name? Or is this extra preening to turn my head?” Although skin staining was a traditional Erifian custom, you rarely sat for the time the process took. It was a rare sight when you bore the marks. But there was no need to confirm you'd done it for another layer of protection– that your father had demanded you sit for Cleo to apply it as a subtle reminder of which family they were entertaining.

Smoothing the hand against his arm, cool material slid beneath your fingertips, drawing both your eyes to the way the intricate designs sat against your skin, “Hm, I have occasionally wished to turn your head.” Dragging your eyes slowly up his arm to lock gazes, “Slowly,” fluttering your lashes at him as it was your turn to mock, “Over an open flame.”

His smile was a slow unfurling thing that bespoke of the perverse delight your words sparked, “Finally, the little vicious ice bitch comes out to play.” Your heels clicked as he started a slow stride towards what you assumed to be your room, “I could kill you for such a taunt.”

Your lips pursed in a clear sign of disbelief, “Come now, who would you speak with at tedious soirees then? Ward Ecaz? Hector Metulli? Neither are as stimulating as I am.” The doubt was replaced by a taunting haughtiness, “Or perhaps you aim to replace me with Nyla Galloway?” The poor simpleton of a girl was always panting after him. Always trying to initiate conversation and trailed his shadow unless you were already at his side.

She would balk if Feyd ever spoke to her the way he did you. Chuckling as you continued the jest, “She's been vying for your attention these last few years. I'm sure she'd be happy for my disappearance.” Peeking at his side profile, showed his nose scrunched in disgust and strong jaw grinding at your words, “The only attention she’s worthy of is that of my knife.”

That brought a slithering satisfaction to wriggle within your stomach. It had nothing to do with jealousy and all to do with getting under his skin. You were one of the few to manage it and continue to draw breath. The compulsion to goad him further of Nyla’s attention was hard-pressed to bite down, but it was unwise to continue, so you changed your approach.

“I think,” your words pulled his attention down to your scrutiny– eyes betraying his irritation at the previous notion, “You enjoy my malice too much to be rid of it.” Turning your gaze forward away from his penetrating regard you continued steadily down the corridor.

Keeping your voice light– musing even– and not as snide or invasive as your tongue wished while asking, “Is that not why you always keep our talks out of earshot from anyone of consequence? Why you have never alerted my father– or your uncle for that matter– to the very reprehensible things I say to you?”

Grumbling unhappily, affirming his threat was idle and you'd called it correctly, “You've made your point, I find your venom an enjoyable irritant.”

Pulling real confessions from Feyd was hard fought. Like safely trespassing through a dire wolf’s territory. Generally unwise and not worth the trouble. But if you did manage it, there was a deep satisfaction that bubbled at the accomplishment. This time, the feeling settled low in your chest mingling with a slithering heat running down your spine, “Good, I prefer the dull press of a knife to my throat than a sharp one.”

You knew that was a mistake the moment it left your lips. It was too easy an opportunity. The chuckle he released was as instant as your regret. The purr of amusement was obnoxiously thick as he cooed, “Do you think of my blade pressing into you often?”

Refusing to look at him directly, your peripheral was still enough to sight the devilish grin on display, “Is that what you fantasize about in our time apart?” The smug glee triggered irritation in you that threatened to consume everything else. “It was a metaphor, nothing more.” He wouldn't take that for an answer though, not when you'd made teasing so easy.

“It doesn't have to be. I’m more than willing to press whatever you’d like against you, though I do admit your blood coating my knives is an enticing thought.” Your reply was a very quick and very indelicate jab of your elbow into his ribs, “You’re too bold.”

He didn't even stumble from the action, only let out a responding groan that was much less of a pained sound and more of a pleasured one than you'd intended. "Masochist.” The slithering warmth was still present and it sunk lower to settle between your legs at the sound of his groan. He shouldn't be allowed to sound like that.

“Careful, Ezharian, if someone sees your abuse they might think you enjoy my company enough to pick up habits. How repulsive that would be for your perfectly pleasing reputation.” A scoff instantly left your lips at his goading words.

He had always been teasingly suggestive with you– a stimulating jest that he continued to push until you’d bite back at him. Narrowing your eyes and looking up at his pleased grin, “They would be blind to it unless I stabbed you openly in the middle of some event. And still, it's more likely you'd be seen for the offense. Your Harkonnen presence has corrupted my prudence.”

He looked even more pleased as he was contemplating the scenario, “Now there’s a thought. I’d enjoy every second of that corruption. Especially if Moritani was made to watch.” Your face scrunched at the mention of Cesare Moritani. Feyd detested him for no reason in particular as far as you could tell. But sometimes with Feyd, reason didn’t enter the picture. Before you could become too lost in thought his next words pulled you back, “You'd still face consequences for assaulting someone of my station.”

Crinkling your brow in disbelief, that's where he wanted to take the conversation, “Your station? Really?” He hummed in confirmation with that stupid grin still in place. You shook your head at the incredulity of it. He was making some poor flippant remark, likely probing for a mock apology for the imagined assault, but if that was his aim, you were in the wrong mood to grovel.

If he wanted you playful, speaking of rank was the wrong approach. You had very sturdy ground to stand against him in that regard and he would hate any reminder of that fact. Which meant it was the perfect response.

With a hiss, you turned on him, “Well then, my lord, should I remind you why we can speak so candidly?” Slowing your pace until you came to a complete stop which had the desired effect of Feyd stopping with you.

Turning his body towards you in a mock show of rapt attention, you lift your hand from his forearm to brush imaginary dust off the chest of his suit, “Until your dear darling uncle pulls the title from Glossu, you are not na-Baron.”

Just because his uncle does treat him as if he were the named heir, that doesn't give him the rank officially. The shift in his eyes went from playful to an unamused smolder. He stood straighter and stepped forward invading your space, but you didn’t bow away.

Head craned back to maintain eye contact as you refused to move even when his chest brushed yours. The clench of his jaw drew your eye to the flexing muscles before narrowing as they moved back up to his leering ones. This was the closest he'd ever been. Much too close by proper standards, rumors and whispers would have spread from this display if anyone were here to witness it. Your father certainly would have pulled you away at this point.

But you were alone. And neither of you seemed to mind the proximity.

The stare was intense– his pinched brow would say it was anger, but if you had to name it, it felt more like burning hunger. It affected you more than you’d like to admit. His hazel eyes were so expressive this close. Taking a deep breath you spat each word while heat ignited in your lower stomach once again, “You are the son of Harkonnen’s second born and I am the daughter of Ezharian's second born.”

You could see his eyes drop from your gaze down lower. To your lips or your throat? It didn’t matter, to know that you were affecting him just as he affected you was pleasing to the roiling heat in your veins. After a moment, his eyes dragged back to yours and his face seemed even closer than before.

His breath tickled your cheek as you smiled maliciously at him, if either of you leaned closer your lips could easily brush. But you had more to say. “What's more, I am the only child of my father. We both hold no titles, but by lineage I outrank you.”

Letting your smile fall into a smirk similar to the one he so fondly wore, “However, I am only female, so far as it stands, we are to be considered equals.”

His fingers lightly dragged up your forearm towards the dangling silver hoop at your shoulder, “Equals.” It wasn’t said with any strong emotion attached to it– only repeating the word in his raspy husk with no denial or objection. A shiver ran through you at his light touch. He reached for the carmine silk that hung free, his fingers bunched the fabric into his hand, crinkling its smooth appearance as he all but growled, “My darling viper,” The look in his eye was now openly wanting and it had your thighs clenching.

He had no right to be this tempting. The flare of his jaw should be offensive, the anger in his eyes should flare your own, and his closeness should spark disgust. None of it should flare desire, but your body was being as unruly as everything else today.

In your musing he leaned in towards your ear, lips lightly brushing the edge, shocking you back to reality as he whispered, “You can be such a quarrelsome little cunt.”

The combination of feeling his lips and hearing the praise in such derogatory words sent another pulse of heat through you. The moment seemed to pass slowly as he shifted slightly and you felt the light press of his plush lips against your pulse point– not a kiss, but it was something. Something he shouldn’t have done.

You drew in a sharp breath before he pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet. You’d always known he was attractive, you weren’t blind, but in that moment there was a smooth sensuality you wouldn’t normally attribute to him. His eyes trailed back down to your lips and you felt your breathing turn heavy, you wanted him to do it, but he shouldn’t. His eyes flicked back to yours as his head tilted.

Quietly, you murmured his name, “Feyd.” It was breathless and full of an unvoiced plea– for him to stop or to continue, you weren’t sure. This was dangerous…And beyond stupid.

For as flirtatious as he could be in conversation, it had always stayed just that. He had never crossed that line physically. It was only ever a light touch to your hand, a brief press of his fingers to your shoulder, a hand pressed to your back if being directed through crowds, nothing lingering that could be confused for indecent. If this was how interactions were to be without an interloper observing, you were in trouble. This hadn’t been something you considered before now.

“We shouldn’t.” Your voice was a shock even to yourself. You hadn't even felt the words leave your lips. His answer was calm, unbothered, as his voice gruffly vibrated his agreement, “I know.”

But he didn’t pull back immediately. His eyes continued to scan your face and you could see the conflict there. If you had no rank, he could do with you as he pleased, but you were a Lady of a Great House. That made things vastly more complicated.

Finally, he dropped the scrunched fabric and pulled away. He straightened his top before offering his arm once again. Accepting the gesture the two of you resumed the walk as if nothing happened.

#dune part two #dune movie #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fics #writing #fic writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #I was going to try for a medium burn #you know like 20k words before they do anything #but idk if I can manage that

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kinglivv · 4 months ago

Text

Leaving Her

Kate Stewart x g!n reader

Summary: When you and Kate’s relationship gets rocky, you run away with the Doctor. Four months later, your run in with the Toymaker forces you to confront each other.

Warnings: None

A/N: because not enough attention is paid to the fact that kate uses guns now ALL the time

You find her outside, smoking.

“I thought you’d quit.” You state.

“Yeah well,” she taps away the ash, “we all have our vices.”

You don’t really want to be out here on the helipad with Kate. It’s raining for one, and you’d been managing quite successfully to avoid being left alone with her. However, as the adrenaline of day wore off, you found yourself in desperate need to get out of the command room. The walls were closing in and you hadn’t breathed fresh air in 12 hours.

And there she is.

She’s a vision against the London skyline, blonde hair still somehow perfectly neat and brown eyes still longing, threatening to draw you in.

You remind yourself that you hate her.

You stand next to her for a few silent moments, leaving a healthy distance between you as you regard the view over London.

“You didn’t visit,” she says suddenly.

“Why would I?”

“I just thought…” Kate shakes her head, refusing to look and you and taking another puff. She waves a hand exasperatedly, “It was like you were there one day and gone the next.”

“There was a bit more build up to it than that and you bloody well know it,” you snort. “Late at the office every night. Cancelling our anniversary trip. Forgetting my birthday. It may as well been you who upped and disappeared.”

“You’ve seen my work here. You think I can just abandon it?” she snaps, waving to the building behind. The wind whips around you and her words are carried away.

“You have a second in command, Kate,” you snap back, “You’re allowed to delegate. Have an actual life outside your job.” You want to smack your head against a wall. Months apart and here you were, back again having the same argument you’d had a million times before.

“You knew this wasn’t a normal nine to five when you got with me.”

“Yeah but you changed, Kate,” you almost yell. “Look at you. Where’s the woman who used to take me out to dinner every Friday? Where’s the woman who used to drive me out to the countryside to stargaze? You’re a workaholic.”

“You don’t get to come in here and lecture me after running away with her for the last four months.” She spits.

And there it is. Laid bare. How nights sleeping on the sofa, endless arguments and weeks worrying she was having an affair had culminated in you taking up the Doctor’s invite to travel with her. It was her smile, her humour, her energy, her short blonde hair and brown eyes. If you squinted, the Doctor could be anyone you wanted her to be. You’d packed a bag and left not only your Kate but your planet. It felt like no where was far away enough.

And now the Doctor had regenerated, replaced by someone you didn’t quite recognise anymore, and that had only given you more time to think about all you’d left behind.

“The divorce papers arrived, by the way.” she breaks the silence, “Do you want me to sign them?”

That’s another punch to the gut. Distantly, it strikes you that you haven’t been home in so long that you hadn’t checked your mail. You opt not to answer her.

Neither of you say anything for a moment. Voices carry over from inside the command deck, presumably Ibrahim issuing clean-up orders or the Doctor catching up with his old friends. You shiver in the cold of the helipad. Horns honk in the streets below.

“Since when did you use guns?” You ask quietly, because the silence is agony.

It was something that had been bugging you the minute you got off the TARDIS. Kate Lethbridge Stewart, the woman who was supposed to be reforming UNIT, leading with science and not weapons, had been so eager to whip out a side piece the minute there had been any hint of danger. You’d flinched when she’d so breezily ordered her men to open fire, as if it were a well-rehearsed, familiar line. The woman you’d married had abhorred violence.

Her cigarette struggles in the rain, and she curses under her breath, pulling out her lighter. You watch her, really watch her for the first time that day. You notice the deeper crow lines around her eyes, the hair that isn’t as cropped as she usually preferred it.

“It’s practical,” she eventually offers as explanation.

“I seem to remember you saying you dragged UNIT kicking and screaming to get them to put down their guns.”

“UNIT is a military operation. We’ve always used guns.”

“Yeah but I mean you, Kate.” You reply, “That handgun is new.” You glance at it holstered on her hip.

She shifts self-consciously, shrugging so that her blazer falls over it, obscuring it from your view. It’s a nice blazer. New you think, and it suits her very well. You blink, trying not to get distracted by her figure or that strong hand clutching the cigarette.

“The Colonel and I thought it would be wise for me to carry one after the Cyberman siege on our old office.”

“The one you blew up?”

“Yes,” she laughs bitterly.

“Why now?” You argue, “You’ve seen off the Zygons, the Master, Sontarons. Why start carrying a weapon now?”

She twists her wedding ring. She’s still wearing it you realise, and you look down at your naked fingers in unexpected guilt.

“They tried to convert me,” she confesses. “They were this close to managing it and I only just got away. Had me tied to the chair and everything.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at her, this women who you knew inside and out, who you had dedicated the last three years of your life to. This woman who had seen you cry and laugh. This woman who held you in bed at night and this woman who you had run from. You want to reach out to her, to promise her she’s safe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask instead.

“Didn’t know how,” she shrugs. “Kind of worst case scenario, isn’t it? Nothing compares to a cyberman.”

You silently agree with her. Of all the monsters in the universe you’d come across, none could strike fear into you quite like the metallic, robotic Cybermen could. There was nothing more violating than the prospect of having your emotions stripped away and your body turned into fodder.

“I think I started working longer to stop thinking about it,” she adds. “I mean, there was the big clean-up operation afterwards which took a lot of time, and after that I just found it easier to not stop.”

Shame floods your body. All this time she’d been hurting and you’d abandoned her. You can’t help yourself, you slide an arm around her waist, and then another, pressing your front to her back and burying your face into her shoulder. She still fits in your embrace perfectly, and her hand - the one that isn’t clutching the fag like a rubber ring - cautiously reaches to cover yours.

“I’m sorry Kate,” you murmur. “I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“No,” you feel her shake her head, “God I hate you for it but leaving me forced me look at things. I haven’t been good to you. I am a workaholic. And somewhere along the line I stopped being a wife.”

You blink back tears and press a kiss to her jaw.

“Don’t sign the papers,” you whisper.

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #gender neutral reader #fluff #kate lethbridge stewart #angst #hurt/comfort #jemma redgrave imagine #jemma redgrave x reader #jemma redgrave #kate stewart imagine #kate stewart x reader #kate stewart #kate lethbridge stewart x reader

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literaila · 2 years ago

Text

the luckiest

part one.

summary: you consider yourself a generally unlucky person, but when you meet peter parker it becomes even more apparent that the universe hates you.

warnings: past trauma, death, grief, self-conciousness, there’s a fire, and spider-man, fluff, angst, all that

a/n: so technically i lied because it’s 3 in the morning. but here you go. disreguard all of the bad parts until i have a chance to go throw and fix it tomorrow. love ya

the weekend after peter came over to your apartment, you were filled with the overwhelming realization that he was your friend.

that he wasn't going to put a label on it, and neither were you, but he still meant a lot more than you'd intended. more than you could've expected.

and he had your number now, so he was texting you.

he was asking you how long you'd be able to survive on the leftovers he'd forced you to keep. telling you that he could feel you falling out of bed from his house.

he was there, even when he wasn't.

and you loved it. you laughed at every message he sent you, felt your chest ache every time his name appeared at the top of your screen. when he asked you what you were doing for the rest of the weekend...

you wanted to respond seconds after every message. you wanted to eagerly joke with him, scold him for thinking so little of you.

you really wanted to be peter's friend.

but the past had a hold on your heart, and it tightened every time you felt any sort of admiration for him. any desire.

so you couldn't be. and you ignored his texts.

it wasn't often that you really thought about it.

you tried to keep the memories out of your mouth, the guilt out of your chest, and the words away from your head.

you tried so hard to just forget everything that had happened. everything that you'd done.

but the images flooded your mouth like water.

they took up any capacity to breathe, any sense of control you might have had.

and you knew, you knew that it wasn't fair for you to try and forget. that there were people--so many other families--that could never forget. that would live with your mistake, your happenstance for the rest of their lives.

and you tried not to think about it.

not to count the days since all of it had happened. not to track the years since it'd started.

but it was three years since you'd mistakenly walked into that building.

three years since you'd allowed yourself to sit comfortably within the public eye and not watch everyone else.

two years since you'd had a friend.

it was easy to push people away. when you were so angry at yourself that you couldn't stand to be talked to, that you had no more idea how to laugh, or want to care about the people you loved. when you started pushing people away, they let you.

and if they pulled at all, they'd come to learn that you were a lot stronger.

so, now, three years later and almost a year into your tragic decision-making, you hadn't wanted to think about how much you'd been craving.

intimacy, in any capacity. someone to laugh with besides yourself.

someone to look at and understand.

to watch the flicker of someone's eyes and be allowed to ask about it, to know what they were thinking about.

you hadn't had a real friend in three years.

there were your old neighbors that invited you to parties, brought you leftover desserts, and flowers when they'd heard what happened.

the girls that had offered themselves up willingly, just if you needed anything.

and then you moved.

in the last year, you'd spoken to hundreds of people. you'd thanked every person that held a door open for you, said excuse me every time you walked by someone just a bit too close. you laughed at strangers' jokes while waiting in line for lunch. you'd said happy birthday to your coworkers.

but you hadn't said a thing to any one of these people.

you hadn't reached out and stuck yourself to them, like some type of syrup, wanting to seep into their pores and discover the very being behind all of these words. you hadn't latched your claws onto anyone, hadn't wanted to.

but peter.

peter was just an accident. he was a man who hated you, and that was okay. but as soon as that shifted into something else--like tolerance--you'd crossed the line.

you probably should have quit as soon as jameson called the two of you partners. you should have left then, but selfishly, you liked this job too much and were too comfortable to even think about walking out the door.

just another mistake you'd wound up making.

and now you were stuck; because peter was something else. he wasn't just a partner, or an acquaintance at work, or a boy that made you laugh sometimes, and texted you about the people at work when you weren't around.

he was hard and strong, bitter and bold, but so incredibly soft.

and you wanted to push him. you wanted to poke and prod at him until you left bruises.

it was your own fault for letting this need, this sort of desperation build for so long.

you'd like to believe that peter is just a coincidence. that you couldn't control who you got along with, and it wasn't your fault that he was funny or intimidating, or incredibly beautiful. you couldn't control that.

and you tried not to think about it.

but like every other time, every other mistake you consistently made--it was your fault.

you knew that.

there was a day when you stayed late in the office.

overtime wasn't a thing at the bugle, but being reprimanded for turning something in late definitely was. and you'd been... slightly distracted the past couple of weeks.

so you're sitting in the dark--with only the flashlight on the phone to find a spare pencil--typing to yourself, and humming.

you'd moved from the cave, as wonderful as it was, to sit in a comfy chair that one of your coworkers had spent way too much money on.

but no one else was there, so you don't think they’re going to mind.

you're going over your own writing, trying to answer emails, and fix any mistakes you'd left behind all at once. you don't want to head home, with all of those people as collateral damage, so sitting here with your computer in your lap wasn't a bad way to spend the night.

it was almost calming. if the building sunk into the ground, you’d be the only one there:

but about forty-five minutes into this, the elevator chimed.

and you knew enough about this building--about the stabilizing structures, the pillars, and columns that kept the walls standing, the schedule of every person that worked here--to know that it wasn't just a janitor coming to clean. you’d studied the floor plan in many reckless hours, and gotten a copy of the building records. you could trust yourself on this.

and besides, jameson believed in taking responsibility for your own messes, which means avoiding the bathroom at all costs.

so, you look up, dimming the light on your computer. it was stupid of you to move from your desk into the open office space, but the back support was a little too good to pass up.

you bite your lip while you wait for someone to walk around the corner.

luckily, you're met with hanging limbs, a t-shirt and jeans, and completely messed up hair.

peter, with all of his casual walking and leaning against walls and coming into the office at six.

he doesn't seem to notice you there, even though you're right in his eye line. he's groaning to himself, bending down to stretch his back, and trying to fix a shoe that slipped off.

he was completely oblivious. but you sort of appreciated the moment you’re allowed to stare.

a moment to notice how disheveled your usually calm, usually controlled coworker was.

you squint at him, testing to see if you're just hallucinating.

but peter is moving around in the dark. he's grabbing something off of his desk--you hope--and being almost perfectly silent as he does it.

and then, as soon as he finally slips his shoe back on, he looks over to you.

"mother hubb--" he gasps while holding a hand to his heart. "why are you sitting in the dark!?"

you lean back in the chair, crossing your arms. "why are you jumping around the office like a college student waking up at someone else's house?"

"first of all--"

you smirk at him.

"i don't like that comparison. second of all, i forgot something here, and i need it."

"what'd you forget?"

peter's face falls--or at least, that's what you think you see in the dark. and then he looks over to his desk, mouth opening, and closing as he reaches for something. "my--my water bottle."

you blink at him. "you needed to come back for your water bottle? it was that important?"

"it's an emotional support thing," peter shakes his head, frowning and scratching at his neck. "i don't need to explain this to you. what're you doing here?"

"working."

"it's 6:11."

"some of us have actual deadlines."

peter scoffs, grabbing his water bottle off of the desk, and walking over to you. "this isn't your chair."

"i'm borrowing it. this is good representation of teamwork."

peter sits down in a chair next to you, getting far too close for comfort. "what are you working on?"

he turns your computer towards himself, scrolling with his ring finger and thumb.

"it's just some mistakes i need to correct."

peter frowns. "this is the article for the bakery on 51st."

you nod.

"this isn't due for at least another week. jameson hasn't even asked me or any of the other photographers to get a cover image."

"well, i like to be on top of things, peter," you say, stealing your computer back. "i'm sure that's very unfamiliar to you."

"why are you here, kid? you don't need to be working on this."

and his words are soft and considerate, but all the same, they feel like ridicule. the judgment coming out of peter's eyes reminds you of a particular day from months ago.

"why are you here, peter?" you ask, frowning. "you could've gotten that tomorrow. you hate this place, why would you bother coming here when you don't have to?"

peter clears his throat, pushing his chair away from you, and tapping his feet against the floor.

you recognize this move now--now that you've known him for months and actually heard the thoughts coming from his head. he's stalling. or trying to come up with something to say.

doesn't matter. you just know that he's hiding something.

"it's not that bad. i just... needed to get out of the house, i guess. needed to get out of my head."

and even though you're almost sure he's lying, you nod. if anything, you can completely understand that. even his presence here, you know, is a bit nerve-wracking.

"so you came here?"

at that peter hits your foot with his. he's smiling that half-smile. "well you're here, aren't you?"

you almost have to close your eyes.

"you didn't know i would be here."

peter tilts his head. "maybe i was hoping."

and then he stands up, closing your computer for you. "c'mon," he whispers to you, breath just inches away from yours. "you can work on this tomorrow. i'll even help if you want."

you laugh at the idea.

but peter ignores it. "let's go get something to eat. if you're gonna work on anything tonight let it be your eating habits."

"i don't appreciate that," you tell him, but stand up anyway.

and when peter walks out, so do you.

monday morning, you wake up to your first alarm.

your eyes open and you stare at the ceiling, wondering when this had happened.

when you'd stolen your own control right out of desperate hands.

and you wait in bed, for an hour, as each alarm chimes; loud and broken. you stare at the ceiling and allowed yourself to feel bitter.

and then you got up out of bed and left the house thirty minutes early.

it was completely unnecessary to be at work before the sun could, but you couldn't sit at home and wait.

so you sit at your desk, watching the water leak from the ceiling.

you know that this isn't just a strange morning, and you hadn't just felt like getting to work early. what you really wanted--want--was to avoid peter. to not have to walk past his desk and whisper good morning to him.

you want to act as if you'd never done any of that in the first place.

but you can't make peter feel the same, and you don't want to.

so when he comes up to your desk around eleven, smiling and tapping on the back of your computer, you have to look up.

you meet amorous brown eyes, honeysuckle, and driftwood.

peter tilts his head at you, asking you a question without asking.

last week you would've been overjoyed.

but today, your eyes sting.

"peter," you say, "hey."

you watch his face twitch, and he almost frowns but seems to catch himself before he can.

"what are you working on?" he asks, coming to lean over you so he can stare at your computer.

and so he can make you feel even more claustrophobic than you already had.

"i'm covering for lindsay and finishing an article for her."

"does jameson know that?"

"yes, peter, i don't offer my talents for free," you say softly, trying not to feel his breath on your neck or his eyes on the side of your face.

he chuckles in your ear, almost inaudibly. "have you eaten lunch yet?"

you turn towards him--mostly to get away from his proximity and to force him to stand up--and shake your head. "no. no, i haven't had time."

peter's eyes are bright and foreign. "do you want to come with me to get some coffee at smooth brew? i didn't sleep great last night, and the mediocre company-supplied coffee isn't cutting it."

you take a deep breath in. you're looking at him because you can't look away. and you can see the circles under his eyes, the slight yellowing of his skin in certain spots. the scar he has under his chin.

you're trying not to frown.

peter is smiling at you. he's smiling that smile that you can't actually believe exists, that feels simultaneously wrong and right on his face.

the smile you've only seen him give you.

and then you sigh. "can i--" you stop, swallow, tell yourself that this isn't worth it. "can i take a rain check? i'm supposed to finish this by the end of the day, and jameson keeps nonchalantly walking by my desk."

"was he whistling?"

"twinkle twinkle little star."

peter's smile falls just enough for you to notice. "ouch, " he says, leaning back and walking around your desk. "that's okay, some other time."

"sorry," you add, like a squeak. and then you mentally berate yourself.

"don't worry about it," he whispers. then tilts his head, still observing you. "do you want me to bring you something back? a latte?"

his hand is out and reaching toward you, he's trying to climb his way back in.

but you'll be damned if you lose peter just out of desire.

"no, that's--" you smile at him, fake and wide. "thank you, peter, but no. i'm okay."

"okay, well..." he blows a breath out, taking a few steps back. "don't work too hard. and don't let jameson see your candy stash."

"never."

peter grins at you for just a moment, and then he walks away.

on tuesday, your chest hurts so bad that you can't take a deep breath.

your limbs laugh and laugh, and your head pounds to the rhythm of someone else's heartbeat.

you call in sick, deciding to give up.

on wednesday, when you wake up you have an email from jameson, notifying you that you'll be taking over an interview for cathy--who apparently, has hay fever--and going to the art museum.

he tells you not to bother to come into the office, and that he'll lighten the article load for the rest of the week so you can get everything done.

he's not asking.

so, you're interviewing with the director of the art museum about a new monet exhibit, and you're going to be accompanied by everyone's favorite photographer.

peter parker.

"hey, kid," peter says, as you fiddle with the visitor badge you're supposed to be wearing.

you don't typically handle giant, public places well.

"hi," you mutter, trying not to look around.

but the museum is huge. it's long and wide and there are so many walls, so many different pillars that could fall on you any moment.

you try not to let it show on your face, how nervous this is making you. you wonder if you could ask the lady at the front desk for a building layout.

wonder if jameson has teamed up with the world to ruin your life.

"you okay?" peter asks, nudging you with his arm.

"what?"

"where'd you go?" he says, amused.

"oh, i'm--just, i didn't get a lot of sleep last night. sorry."

peter laughs and begins to walk up some stairs--stairs. "don't apologize to me. you going to be okay during the interview?"

"yeah, cathy already had a list of questions prepared, so..."

peter shakes his head, looking back at you. "no, i meant, are you feeling alright?" he stops, studying your face and your eyes and every inch of your skin. he's practically burning you. "you were gone yesterday."

"i didn't feel very good. i'm better today."

"you sure?"

you nod, looking away from him, and then you step past him and begin walking up the stairs.

he can take pictures and you can take notes.

it doesn't have to be anything more.

peter waits for you to pack up so you can both walk out together. he's smiling when you look towards him, gesturing towards the hallway you might've come from.

you're hoping that he knows the way out of this maze because you definitely don't.

"how'd it go?" he asks you after you've been walking for a minute or two.

"oh, um, okay, i think. cathy's questions were a bit unorthodox--"

"'do you think monet would appreciate his art being displayed in your museum?'" peter mocks, recalling one of many slip-ups you'd made earlier.

"yeah," you snort. "so i had to improvise. but i don't think they'll be calling jameson about any problems."

"except for when you almost ripped that painting in two."

you scowl, not appreciating his reminder. "i tripped."

"into something that costs over a million dollars. probably more."

"it didn't break," you excuse, glaring at him and walking in front.

but peter catches up because his legs are abnormally long, and he's bumping into you every couple of steps, his hand brushing your arm, his shoulder grazing yours.

he's so close, but you couldn't feel any farther away.

and you know that you shouldn't, but you can't really stop yourself from asking, "get any good pics?"

peter raises a brow at you--which you are definitely not looking at. "nothing new, obviously, but some of them will work. i have to go and edit out all the people walking by."

"even the man with the parrot on his shoulder?"

peter stops walking, turning towards you. "wait. that was an actual person? not just another display?"

you laugh and peter smiles and everything feels fine.

and so ridiculously wrong.

you're quiet for a bit, trying not to think about the ceiling collapsing on you both, or the bridge you're walking on beginning to crack. you're keeping track of the nearest fire exits, and looking for rooms you could hide in if anything happens.

because it might.

you try to keep this indiscreet, only looking behind you every few minutes or so.

peter clears his throat. "do you want to go get something for lunch? there's a good diner just around the block."

you squeeze your eyes shut. this is another hand held out, another thing peter wants you to grab onto.

but there's that pounding in your ears, that heartbeat that you can't let fade.

and you'd like to explain to peter that he should keep his distance. that you can't do this with him, and that it's all of your fault. you want to apologize for letting it get this far.

instead, you say, "i have to go edit an article that i was supposed to be doing today."

"oh, okay." peter nods his head and doesn't say anything else.

you let him walk ahead of you, praying that nothing will happen as long as he gets out first.

and then you leave him behind.

that night, you finish editing the article that you and peter are supposed to work on that week.

you write descriptions and attach them to the file peter sent you with his pictures.

and then you email jameson, telling him that you can't make it to work for the rest of the week.

your hands are shaking and your apartment suddenly feels much too large for you to be in.

suddenly unsafe for every other person that lives here.

you close your computer and crawl under your covers.

and you try to sleep but you keep hearing them scream in your ear, blaming you.

your eyes are stuck in one place when you hear the knock on the door.

they are picturing a girl falling from a cliff, a boy riding his bike, a mother screaming, and a child crying.

you keep hearing someone whisper in your ear, someone begging for your help.

but all of this is interrupted when someone pounds on your front door, shaking the walls and causing you to really open your eyes.

you're thinking to yourself that they'll probably leave if you don't answer--that they'll walk away and you'll be alone again--but then you're thinking about falling down the stairs, about having no one to help.

and so you get out of bed, feeling yourself shake with the effort it takes.

you answer the door, uncertain of what you're expecting.

but it's definitely not brown eyes, not a frown that you've come to covet in more than just dreams.

you suck in a lazy breath, feeling your lungs freeze. "peter. what are you doing here?"

even you can hear how labored your voice is. how damaged and rotten it's become in its misuse.

peter is wincing, and you don't know what else you're supposed to say. maybe neither does he, because instead of answering your question or greeting you with a casual smile he's become more comfortable with, he just walks right past you.

into your apartment--the one place you're supposed to be safe.

even just being in the same room with you, breathing the same air, and seeing the same images feels dangerous.

peter is scanning the area. he's looking around like he can't stand to look at you.

but then he does. "what's going on?"

his voice is rough and his words are fast.

you can't let yourself meet his eyes. "what?" you whisper, looking back to the door.

you could just leave. you could walk out and keep him away forever.

"what is going on?" he repeats, but sternly. like a parent lecturing a child.

you bite the inside of your cheek. "peter, i don't..." you shake your head, eluding the idea of anything being wrong. there's nothing wrong except for the fact that he's in your apartment. staring at you.

seriously staring, because his brown eyes are burning a hole in your smile. they are ruining every ounce of control you still have. "what happened?"

these words are softer. a parent concerned.

you shake your head, brows furrowed. "nothing happened, i'm just--"

"what did i do?"

you swallow, confused and broken and terrified of his voice.

peter is in your apartment. he just won't let go.

"i've been--" he runs a hand through his hair. "i've been trying to remember. trying to think of what happened last week, or the week before, but i can't--"

he looks at you.

his eyes are haunted by something that you put there. a ghost that you've given him.

"i can't think of anything. we were--just, just fine. we were laughing and teasing each other and i thought that." peter stops, closing his eyes. he licks his lips and looks at the ceiling. "i don't know what i did. but whatever it is, i need you to tell me."

"peter..."

his face is concerned and his shoulders are tense as he looks at you. "i need you to tell me so i can fix it."

and all you can think about is whiplash as a car hits a sign. the feeling of snow covering your lungs. all you can see is a woman with tears running down her face, and a hand that can't move. a building that can't stay up.

you're not sure what to do. how to get him away from all of this before it goes too far.

you can't talk to him, and you can't be around him, and you can't keep looking at his lips like they're something you deserve--

"there's nothing to fix, peter," you whisper, repeating the words to yourself. "you didn't do anything."

i did.

"then why are you avoiding me?" peter says, shaking his head. "why aren't you coming to work?"

you look at the ground, thinking about it falling while you're both standing there. you scratch your neck, rub your eyes. "i'm not avoiding you. i just haven't been feeling well, and i, well, i'm not sure what's wrong. but it's probably contagious so--"

"then why haven't you called me back?" he whispers, but bitterly. "why didn't you come to smooth brew yesterday? why didn't you let me know that you were going to be gone?"

you sigh. "i forgot, peter, i'm sorry.”

"you didn't forget," he argues, and his breath matches yours. his sighs sound so familiar. "you're still avoiding me. you won't even look at me. so, just tell me what's going on. whatever it is--"

"there's nothing, peter, just..." you stop, staring at the ceiling in hopes that it might disappear. "just nothing."

you think about swallowing your lies until they suffocate you.

there's just so much.

peter is staring at you. he is waiting for something more.

"thank you for checking on me," you whisper, after a moment. "i appreciate it. but honestly, i just need some sleep, so you should probably go."

"are you serious?" peter asks, and it doesn't even sound mean. it doesn't sound like any voice you've ever heard from him. something desperate. "have you looked in the mirror at all? have you seen yourself?"

"of course, i've--"

"because you look like a ghost. you look like half a person. your eyes are glazed over, and i'm not sure that you're even listening to me. you look like a statue."

beautiful and wrong.

"peter, i don't know what you want from me."

he clenches his jaw. "i want you to talk to me, y/n. i want you to tell me what's going on, and stop pretending like i don't know you, or i don't care about what you're going through. you think it's easy to watch this? to know that something is going on but that you can't trust me enough to tell me?"

"i trust you."

"then tell me how to help," he pleads. "tell me what i can do."

"nothing, peter," you finally crack, eyes meeting his, heart clenching around something that has never been yours. "i can't do this. i can't--i can't, peter."

he's frowning. he's the same man you met nine months ago. "you can't what?"

"i can't do this. whatever this is, whatever we--" you gesture between the two of you with a hand that isn't yours. "i can't do it. i won't."

"you can't do us?" peter repeats, his voice almost stagnant.

the air has stopped moving, and it's your fault. it's all your fault that he's here, that he's looking at you like you've just stolen something important from him.

"i can't do this with you. i can't be your friend or anything else, and i can't have you here right now. i can't let you be here."

you can hear a little girl screaming. you can see a woman you don't know falling.

"why not?" peter asks, no fight left. "what can't you do?"

"i can't let you get hurt because of me."

peter's face goes blank. his eyes stop. "what?"

"peter, if something happened to you, if anything happened--" you stop, shaking your head. "i can't watch that. i can't be there."

he takes a step toward you, hand reaching out like it always does. "what do you mean?"

you take a step back. this dance is one you're familiar with. you trip over your own feet.

"remember what you said about me, that day at the coffee shop?"

peter blinks at you, shaking his head.

"you said that danger was attracted to me. that i was reckless," you swallow, looking at the door like it might call to you. "you're always saying that i'm reckless.

"what does that have to do--"

"you're right, peter. being around me is reckless. being around me is dangerous."

he's frowning. he waits a couple of seconds like the words might start to make sense. "no, it's not."

"really?" you laugh, throat raw and hurting. "how about you talk to any one of the people that i've killed, then? you might want to ask them if you're so sure."

peter stops.

"when i was five," you continue, walking towards him, "me and a girl from my neighborhood were playing tag. we were running around a glass table, and she slipped and cut her arm open, shattered her elbow."

you take a breath in, listening to the voice in your head begging you to keep going.

"and then when i was eight, a classmate got a concussion while we were sledding. i was in the front, but he hit his head.

"when i was ten a friend's parents were driving me home from a sleepover and we hit a sign. all of them--my friend, her mom, her dad--had to go to the hospital. her dad, who'd been driving, was in the icu for three weeks. but i was fine."

peter's mouth opens, but you stop him before he can interrupt.

"ithe older i got, the worse it was. my mom died when i was thirteen. she had appendicitis. she was so busy taking care of me, making sure that i was fine, that she ignored the stabbing pain in her abdomen. she thought it was just indigestion. her appendix burst on the way to the hospital."

you stop, looking around your apartment, at bare walls and ghosts of people that still follow you. "my dad died a couple of years ago in an oil rig accident. i'd gone to see him that day."

peter is staring at you. he is breathing. and he doesn't say anything, because maybe he doesn't need to. maybe he already understands what you're trying to say.

maybe he should run out the door right now.

"you called me clumsy. and i am, but i'm also incredibly unlucky. it rains when i go outside, the power goes out when i walk into the building. i get the worst desk in the office, with a leaky ceiling. i get sent the wrong email about a meeting and walk in late."

"none of that--"

"all of these things, peter, they're not coincidences. eventually, when so many bad things happen to the people you love and not you, you have to look for a common factor."

"and you think it's you," peter finishes. "you think it's your fault."

you shake your head, and there are tears in your eyes. "i know it is. because it's not just the people i know and care about. three years ago, i went to see a movie. and in the middle of it, i decided that i wanted to leave. that it wasn't good enough to stay for. it was april, one of the days that electro attacked the city. i left the building right before he could do anything. i was standing there while everyone still in that movie got electrocuted."

you can't look at peter, but you can feel him there. you can feel his presence like a knife in your back.

"i need you to go, peter. because whatever sort of bad fortune i am, i won't let it happen to you too."

peter makes a noise. "it's not your fault that any of that happened," he says, "you couldn't control any of that--"

"exactly. i can't control it. that's why i stay away from everyone in the office, why i show up late, and why i've been staying away from you. if i'm around, and something bad happens..."

peter is right in front of you, he is taking your hand, leaning down, and cradling your cheek. "nothing bad is going to happen," he promises. "i would rather have you and the risk of breaking a few bones than not have you at all. anything else."

but just like you can't trust yourself, you can't trust peter to understand.

so you push him away, feeling barren and cold inside. the voice in your head is gone. the images have faded away. "i'm not going to let you do that. i won't."

"i'm stronger than you think--"

"peter, i appreciate you caring so much. and listening. and just... being here. but i couldn't mean it anymore when i say that i need you to go."

you meet his eyes, poison trickling down your face. "please."

and then you walk away, back to your cave, and leave peter standing in your apartment, all alone.

it's for the best.

you have to go to work on monday.

if there's one thing you want, it's this job that you like. that you're good that. that you can do without worrying about it.

and you can't lose another thing right now.

you can't.

so you go to work on monday, wearing clothes that scratch your skin, watching people with a bitter feeling in your chest.

any one of them, you think, all of them get to make friends and be around boys they like and...

all of them.

but you sigh anyway, go back to your desk, and sit there. you don't think about peter.

you don't deserve that.

"oh thank god," is the first thing you hear when you walk into the breakroom.

you've been staring at your feet all the way here. you've been trying not to look at peter's desk. trying not to find his eyes and accidentally smile like you would’ve last week.

the floor needs to be vacuumed.

but now you look up, frown on your face. there are three women there, all older than you, all mostly nice.

beth, jade, and rita.

and they're all staring at you.

you clear your throat. "sorry?"

one of them laughs. jade. "we were just talking about you and that young man. we're just glad you're back, finally."

"oh. thank you?"

"honey, he's intolerable as it is, but when you're gone he's a nightmare."

you frown, blinking at all of them. but the other two are nodding. "peter?"

"who else? on friday he almost broke the fridge trying to get his lunch."

beth chimes in. "on thursday he kept slamming the drawers at his desk. i could feel it from my desk. all day, just opening and closing. i genuinely thought he was going insane."

"yeah, he was at the copier while i was picking up a fax from an office downtown, and gave me the nastiest glare i've ever seen. and i don't even think he noticed that he was doing it."

jade laughs again, looking back to you. "that boy is polite enough, but we all know to avoid him whenever he's around."

you swallow, stumbling over some words. "that--that doesn't sound like peter."

all three of them laugh, creating their own chorus.

"well, of course, you would say that."

"yeah, he adores you!"

"you're the only person i've ever seen him smile at."

you take a step back, suddenly not hungry, suddenly not wanting to be at work at all. "what?"

and then they laugh again.

you're rushing out of the building at one.

jameson called you into his office--and by that, of course, he emailed you to come in. and then he asked you why the hell you were still there, and not at the exploration building, interviewing the president of the experimental medicine about the new nerve generator.

which, obviously, you didn't know about.

but jameson says peter is waiting, and you're out the door.

you're walking to the building, only a couple blocks away from the office, and thinking about how you're not supposed to be doing this.

you can't believe that you're covering for another coworker.

but you go anyway because you don't want to leave peter hanging. because you can't not go.

and when you walk into the building, you can see him there, waiting with his camera in hand, tapping his foot anxiously.

his backpack looks out of place between all of the briefcases.

he sees you too, but he doesn't wave.

"hey," you say, walking up to him. your voice is an out-of-body experience. "sorry i'm late."

"we're supposed to be on floor fifteen in two minutes."

and then peter walks away, leaving you to stand there, watching him go.

you and peter aren't making eye contact.

you're standing right across from each other, listening to this very smart, very nice man explain to you how all of the testing works in the building, and something about dna that you don't understand. but you're looking at peter.

and you're not really listening. your hand is writing down his words, but your mind is on brown eyes and flickering glances.

this isn't fair, you're thinking. there's a sting in your stomach, the punishment of double standards.

"wanna see the lab?" dr. hazzen asks, and you smile and nod.

peter is taking pictures of the wall.

you follow this man and your instincts, and you're standing right next to him. you can feel his body warmth, you can feel his aggravation from two inches away.

peter smells sweet. like some sort of candle you'd light in your house to get rid of everything else.

he's not smiling today. you're not missing it.

it's only a couple of minutes later when he finally looks at you, his eyes wide, his hands immediately falling inches above your waist.

the fire alarm has gone off. the sprinklers in the building are drenching you, and making peter's hands feel like an itch you can't scratch.

"what?" you look up, then down, then towards the door. "dr. hazzen, is that normal?"

"i'm sorry to both of you," he answers, looking towards the door. "my assistant will show you the way to the emergency exit. i have some things i need to attend to."

and then he's gone and this woman is ushering both of you out of the room, apologizing for the inconvenience.

you'd like to tell her that her mascara is running from the water. you'd like to ask her how to get the hell out of here before--

"you okay?" peter whispers in your ear, his hand keeping you next to him, covering your shoulder.

"do you think it's this floor?"

peter's face is still. "probably not. i didn't see any chemical testing in the lab."

"could someone have set a fire?"

"i don't know." peter looks around, at the people crowding around the door to the staircase, to the concerned look on dozens of faces.

but you're looking at him.

"peter?"

"i have to--" he looks at you, letting you go. "i left something in that room. i have to go get it."

"what?"

"i'll be right behind you," he promises, and then he's walking through the crowd, ignoring your calls after him.

"peter! c'mon, we can't stay here!"

but even you can't hear your voice amongst the others. against the siren that's flashing in your eyes, blaring in your ears.

and within ten seconds, peter has disappeared from your sight.

you try to push through the crowd, crawl your way back to him, but you can't get through all of the people giving you glares, all of them forcing you along.

and you know it then.

it's all happening again.

you manage to push yourself so close to the wall that you can't breathe.

you've managed to make every single person in this building angry at you, but you'll be damned if you make it out of this--like you always do--and peter doesn't.

you're not going to let him stay behind while you go down, escaping with everyone else.

and you can't believe that he was stupid enough to turn back around.

but now you're doing the same, walking back up the stairs and calling his name.

you're thanking dr. hazzen for not being on the thirtieth floor.

by the time you make it back up, you're out of breath and shaking from the water. but you don't hesitate to burst through the doors of the lab, searching for anything that looks like an idiot of a man.

brown hair, brown eyes, and an absolutely brilliant smile.

an attitude, and a sincerity you can't believe you've been allowed to feel.

"peter?" you call out, walking through another door. looking for a backpack, a water bottle, a camera on the ground.

but you don't see anything.

and you don't know where else he would've gone, why he would have gone anywhere but here, in this room, where he'd recklessly run back to.

"peter?" you say again, pushing a door that refuses to open, looking at the floor for any spare keys around. for any single thing to help you find peter parker.

you push even harder, muscles aching.

and then the door opens all on its own, and you're slipping, bumping into the chest of the person who's opened it.

you're being blinded by bright colors you've never seen in person before.

a strange voice says "what are you doing up here?" there’s a sigh, a groan, or something else. “don’t you know that you’re supposed to follow the crowd of people running out of the building panicked?” but you're barely listening

"spider-man?" you say, muffled and shaking, pushing your hair out of your eyes so you can look at him properly.

but even this surreal moment--where you meet the guy that's supposed to be saving everyone in this building--does nothing to deter you from getting back to peter.

"i have to--" you gasp out, pushing behind him. "my friend is still up here. he came looking for something. i have to find him."

"whoa," spider-man pushes you back, needing nothing more than a hand to do so, he grips around your arm so you can't squirm away. "there's no one back there, i already checked."

you shake your head. "i don't know where else he would be. he promised he'd be right behind me."

spider-man seems to be looking right at you. he seems to be grumbling to himself. "we have to get you out of here," he says, looking around for a door he can push you through.

"i'm not leaving without peter."

you're staring at him with a glare in your eyes, with a finality in your voice. spider-man could glue you to the ceiling and you'd still find a way to get out, to find the one person you care about in this entire place.

"i'll look for him, i promise," spider-man is saying, voice muffled in your ear. "but you've got to leave the building, sweetheart."

"not until he does."

the superhero sighs, putting an arm around your waist so he can push you out of the doorway. "let's go--"

but you don't hear the rest of the sentence. you don't hear anything more.

you can only feel a ringing in your ears. a sort of silence that stops everything, leaving the world to be nothing a mere figment of your imagination.

you can only see spider-man as he leaps towards you.

and when your head falls back, your eyes close in succession.

you wake up to banging in your kitchen.

you're laying on your couch, shoes off, head carefully rested on a throw pillow.

and your neck hurts. your body aches, like you've forgotten just how much physical strain you've been putting on it.

you wonder if it was all just a dream. if you imagined seeing peter again if you imagined meeting spider-man.

or maybe you died, and this is the only home you have left to return to.

either way, you're not sure what that sound is.

but something falls on the floor, followed by an angry noise, and then you hear the faucet running.

there is someone else in your house. and you have absolutely no idea who it is.

if this isn't a dream, then you shouldn't be at home right now. you shouldn't even be alive after what happened in that building. you shouldn't be thinking of anything else but--

"peter," you say, just remembering, just realizing what the whole point of all of this was.

you don't know if you ever found him. you have no idea if he's alright.

so you're sitting up, looking around your apartment, and moving to follow the sound of whoever's in the kitchen.

but a hand stops you, cautious, keeping you from running into the counter. "you shouldn't be standing up," a voice says, and then gently--or maybe not--leads you back to the couch.

you're not sure that you can believe what you're seeing.

spider-man, in your apartment, absolutely drenched, holding a bowl and a cloth.

spider-man, standing right in front of you.

"i'm dead."

you hear a sharp intake of breath. spider-man makes you lay back down, setting his bowl and cloth down on the coffee table beside your couch.

he leans down, and he must be looking into your eyes.

"you're okay," he says. "not dead. you're going to be fine."

"how did i get here?" you ask him, not bothering to process anything he said. "why are you here? what happened? did peter--"

"slow down. you just woke up." his voice is soft and chiding, and he hands you a glass of water, tipping it toward your mouth so that you'll drink some of it. "good. now, let me make sure you're--"

it's then that you almost fall off of the couch, vision blurred, equilibrium completely removed.

"jeez," spider-man is saying, keeping your shoulder up, making you lean back. "could you be any more out of it?"

"probably. where's peter?"

he sighs, taking the towel he brought over and dipping it in the water. "lay back," he tells you.

"this is crazy," you say, instead of listening. "i don't even know who you are."

"really?" the man asks, voice somewhat amused. "because you had a little starstruck moment back at the lab."

you blink. "that actually happened?"

the man chuckles instead of answering, and he wipes your face with the cloth. you can hear him breathing in and out, you can feel your own heart rate rise.

spider-man freezes, tilting his head toward you. "what?"

"did--" you pause, the answer already coming to your lips. you already know, but you have to ask anyway. "is everyone okay? is--"

is peter alright?

he stares at you for a moment, thumb rubbing over the skin of your neck, drawing circles over your pulse.

and then his warmth is gone, and spider-man is leaning back on his heels, raising a hand up to his face, pulling at--

oh.

as soon as the mask moves above his nose you already know what you're about to find. you already know what's happened.

you don't need an answer, or a superhero, or a goddamned article to tell you what happened.

you're looking at this man, at this--brown eyes and full lips and a tight expression on a sinisterly structured face.

a bruise on his cheek.

you reach out to graze your finger over it.

and you can't think of anything to say.

peter swallows. "i was going to leave before you woke up." his voice is raw, and you can't believe you hadn't recognized it fifteen seconds ago. "but i--i just wanted to make sure that you were alright. that you would..."

there's a moment. a silence so loud it bursts your eardrums.

"you hit your head pretty hard. i'm not sure what caused both of us to--anyway, i was worried that you got a concussion. or something else. but i wasn't, uh, i couldn't bring you down to an ambulance without carrying you through the crowd. so i just came here."

your mouth opens. "peter?"

his eyes close, and you finally notice how tired he looks. how worn his skin is under the mask.

peter parker is sitting right in front of you, in your apartment.

peter parker is spider-man.

"i don't expect you to..." peter laughs. "well, any reaction really. i know we've talked about, um, me, before, but this is--it's just different. and i don't have to stay for much longer, i just want you to drink some more water and stay awake for longer than ten minutes."

"i've woken up before?" you ask.

peter's lip twitches and that's answer enough.

"...how?" you whisper, looking up and down his face, watching his eyes follow your every movement. "why?"

peter breathes in, standing up and lifting your legs from the couch so that he can sit next to you. "it's a long story. probably one you shouldn't hear with a concussion."

"my head feels fine. i'm just confused."

peter nods, and he's not looking at you anymore.

but you can't look away from him. you can't help but notice the similarities between his suit and his face, the mask he's left on the floor, and the voice that you've heard on video so many times, the laughter in your ear, and--

you never even realized. it seems ridiculous now.

you clear your throat. "i'm sorry for following you. i didn't know--" you rub a hand over your eyes. "i didn't realize it would cause you more trouble."

and peter smiles. it's that same one he gave you when he apologized the first time. the same sort of olive branch you refused to see.

"it's okay," he says. "i would've come back for you, too."

the two of you sit for a while. peter doesn't speak, and neither do you.

instead, you listen to the way he breathes. you watch his face as he thinks, noting the little wrinkle between his brows, and the slight twitch of his lips every couple of seconds.

you've seen his dimples before, but somehow, you've never had the chance to look at them.

you feel ridiculous. you feel absolutely stupid for ever following him up there, for not realizing weeks ago, for letting yourself get so close to him that--

the guilt swirls in your chest. you shouldn't have gone to that interview. you shouldn't have gone to work at all.

"hey," peter interrupts your train of thought, tapping on your calf. "don't worry about it. everything is fine. no one was hurt, and the police are already dealing with the damages to the building."

you bite your lip.

peter blinks at you, moving a little closer so he can properly observe your eyes. "it's not your fault," he tells you, slowly.

the words are like a hammer pounding on the nails in your chest.

"i know you think this is just another example of you radiating danger--" peter says the words like they're ridiculous, like they're just some idea from a story a kid has written. "but it's not. it was an accident. and everything is fine."

"you can't know that--"

"i can," his voice is a bit louder than yours. "because i know you. and i know that bad things happen, and sometimes it's no one's fault."

you swallow and look away from him. from the eyes that are trying to convince you. plead with you. "peter, i don't think--"

"are you feeling alright?"

your brows furrow. "what?"

"are you feeling alright? because i want to talk to you, i want to explain some things to you, but i need to be sure that you're going to hear it. that you can listen."

you look back to him, confused.

"do you feel okay? is your head hurting?"

"i--no. no, it's fine, i told you."

peter nods, and he runs a finger over the exposed skin of your leg. "okay. are you ready to listen?"

you're not. you're not really ready for anything.

but you'd give anything to listen to peter's voice for just a little bit longer.

"yes, yeah. i'm listening."

peter almost smiles.

"i want to give you an explanation," he begins. "a real reason for why i was so... mean to you, before. and it's just an excuse, really, but i think--" he runs a hand through his hair. "i think you should know."

you nod. peter can't meet your eyes.

"i was terrified of you," he says, "for a long time."

"what?"

his nose scrunches. "you're undeniably beautiful. and intimidating. and something about the way you moved around all of the people in the office, just observing, not needing to join in on any conversation to understand what was happening... i don't know; there's just something about the way you react to things."

you frown, not sure what he's meaning to say.

"yeah, like that. i tried to ignore it for a long time. to push away that pull i felt towards you. but as soon as jameson paired us up, and as soon as you started actually smiling at me, telling me jokes that weren't funny--"

"hey--"

"--but were awkward, and overbearing, and reckless... well. i couldn't just ice you out anymore, not like i did with everyone else. and i was so scared of that--of you--that i took it out on you."

his voice is soothing, and his fingers are still grazing over your skin. and you're partially sure that you've gone insane.

"peter, you've already apologized for that. it's okay. i'm not mad."

peter laughs, a bit stiffly. "that's not all," he whispers, swallowing.

you nod, waiting for him.

you don't know what you're supposed to be doing.

"i know you believe that all of the terrible things that have happened to you are your fault." he meets your eyes, pursing his lips. "and i know that you think that bad things happen when you're around."

there's a second. one moment where your thoughts are echoed against the wall, and you know that peter can hear them all.

"but i've seen more of those bad things than you can imagine. and i know--i know that there's no reason to any of them. there's no reason for people to do bad things, or hurt other people. but they do them.

"and there's no reason for the world to put so much pressure on someone so kind, and so selfless, and listens wholeheartedly to every person she meets."

peter is leaning towards you. he is breathing your air, sharing your secrets. "i've never met someone i love to talk to more. i've never met anyone that i love so easily."

you stop breathing. there is not a single thing, a single pin-prick of your lungs that might get your heart to stop beating again.

"you're not going to change your mind about all of this just because i disagree with you, i know," peter is laughing, he's laughing at you and with you and. "but i'm not afraid of getting hurt. i'm not scared to be close to you. not anymore."

"peter, you don't--"

he leans closer. he says more with his eyes than you have heard from him in the last three months. "i believe that the world is a terrifying place. and i've gotten bitter about it over the past couple of years. i couldn't--i can't understand how great people can be treated so badly, and cruel people can have everything they want. i don't know why, and i don't want to. but you are a person that i know i can trust, without even knowing you. you're someone that i can laugh with, and someone that has turned the world back into something i can believe in."

peter pauses, you pause. and everything stops. "i believe in you," he says, "even if you don't believe in yourself."

his eyes are unbelievable. his voice is overwhelming, and you don't know how, you're not sure how any of the things he's saying can tune out the cruel words you can hear yourself whisper.

but he does. easily.

and this smile that he has on his face, it's one that you've been craving for weeks. one that you've so desperately tried to hold onto, even when you were pushing him away.

"you believe in me?" you repeat, voice breaking.

peter's smile widens. "i do," he says. and he's an inch away. "sweetheart?" he asks.

and you nod.

"can i kiss you?"

peter is close enough that his words are attacking you. his words are terrifying.

but looking at him, listening to him, and feeling the way he's staring at you.

you know that peter has more than enough courage for both of you. you know that he's strong enough to take whatever you can't control.

when you lean in, lips meeting his, you feel luckier than every other person.

peter is there. he is smiling against you.

you're awake, finally.

i’m thinking one more, very shorter, part. maybe peter pov?

let me know what you thought of it! thanks for reading.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters @petersirius

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obsessedelusional · 1 year ago

Text

read your mind

paring ↬ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ↬ you’re a famous singer. you meet Bella at a event. the two of you end up spending an intoxicating two weeks together. one day you wake up and Bella is no where to be found. this turns into a vicious cycle of Bella hitting you up whenever it’s convenient for them. when you finally have enough Bella does something extreme to prove their case to you. requested here & inspired by read your mind - sabrina carpenter

word count ↬ 2.4kish

authors note ↬ I love writing but It’s hard to find the motivation. Anyways slowly working through my Bella request. someone requested this so long ago and I started it and never finished it. thank you ily (also I physically can’t imagine Bella as anything but the sweetest ever so this was hard omf)

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

Bumping in to Bella Ramsey at an a event and becoming “a thing” was something you didn’t have planned for yourself. Yet here you are, have spent nearly everyday together in one way or another since the day you met. The two of you had been following each other on social media for a while so when you to were invited to the same award show you approached Bella. An innocent hello turned into an intoxicating two weeks.

Bella was in town for press, who knows how long they’d be in town? Two famous celebrities running a muck all over Los Angeles. Of course it becomes public knowledge, paparazzi photos of you guys walking out your home get taken. Neither of you aware until the next morning when they’re plastered all over the internet.

You wake up reaching over to find the bed empty. Unusual but you’re not worried yet reaching for your phone. You have several miss calls and texts. All asking about Bella. Your best friend the first to notify you of the photos and then asking if you seen Bella’s Instagram story. Closing your messages app to open it, notifications ten times more than normal.

Bella just posted on their story, twenty minutes ago. You click it open, you are presented with a selfie of you two Bella took a few days ago. Your sat basically on top of Bella with the biggest smile, they’re smiling too. Your feel your heart drop to your stomach when you read what they captioned it. “my best friend”

“Bella?” You call out loud, excepting them to respond. Only there is no response. You try to phone them, no answer either so you typed out a text and press send.

You: best friend? really?

Only a few moments pass before they respond. So they were purposely ignoring your phone call, noted.

Bella: its better than every one knowing

You: knowing what? that this morning you woke up in MY bed and now we’re just friends

Bella: it doesn’t matter anyways I’m leaving back home

Now your infuriated, you call again no answer.

You: so wtf was the last two weeks then?

Bella: we’re just friends

You: you are not my friend and you never were

Bella: I just need to be alone

—

You don’t warrant that with a response. It’s a rough couple of weeks but you eventually move on, accepting that it’s over. The internet finally moving on from the thought of you and Bella being more than friends. For a while you couldn’t open your phone with out more than half of your notifications being related to Bella. Whatever that was is done. For good.

Or so you thought because as soon as you feel like you’ve stopped thinking about it Bella is hitting you up. Your sitting at your birthday dinner when your phone vibrates. Surrounded by everyone you love so your unsure who it could possibly be.

Bella: happy birthday I miss you xx

Your best friend notices your change in mood.

“You okay?” She asks. You don’t even respond just pass the phone her way, watching as she reads it.

“I thought you blocked them.” She says, quiet enough the others around don’t hear. You can’t form a response because you know whatever comes out will not be what she wants to hear. Knowing damn well you’re about to do something stupid. You take your phone back, shooting her an unsure look at her before tucking it away in your purse. Deciding you’d deal with it later, when you are alone.

—

Later that night when you’re alone you respond with a simple thank you. What was suppose to be a good night was filled with stress thanks to the text waiting for a response from Bella. As soon as your message says delivered Bella is calling you. You let it ring for a few moments before answering.

“Hello?” Bella says over the phone.

“Hi.”

“I missed you.” They say and you physically can’t come up with a response. Sitting in silence forcing Bella to speak.

“I’m sorrry, I never should of ended things the way I did. I need you.”

“As a friend?” You question, referring to the comment that lead to the downfall of the blossoming relationship.

“No I miss you in my life. I thought I needed to be alone but I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” You later find out that Bella is in town wanting to see you. It crosses your mind that it seems they only want you when it’s convenient for them. Against your brain telling you this is a horrible idea you agree to hang out.

It’s akward for a short moment but when Bella is the first to initiate conversation you two fall into the same feelings as before. This time Bella’s time in town is longer. They’ll be around for two months filming. Between your two busy schedules you make time for each other. Bella fills your worried mind with empty promises of being something more than just friends. You let the delusions of a possible relationship influence your decisions. Night and day your at Bella’s beck and call.

Only for the painful cycle to begin again. A month into Bella being in town they decide to exit your life with no warning. Your attempts to contact them go unanswered. Until a week later, Bella shows up to your home with some lame ass excuse about needing to be alone. They continue with this nonsense only to keep calling you at late hours of the night. The two of you only communicate and see each other on Bella’s time.

—

Eventually Bella goes home and just as you had expected to happened, Bellas doesn’t make an effort to make things work long distance. A few weeks pass since the two of you last speak. You pretend you don’t care any more, growing used to this treatment. Swearing one day you’ll find the courage to break it off officially. Only this time you see on social media that Bella is back in town, probably for an award show coming up in a few days. In the past by now, Bella has already slid their way back into your bed. You don’t dare text them first.

Your going to start tour in a week and you know that once that starts there’s no way you’ll get a chance to see Bella. Your tour is a few months long and will have you all over the United States. Eventually the award show passes and it’s safe to assume Bella is home or headed home. Their inactivity on social media not giving you much to work off of. You’re checking for the millionth time when you finally get a sign of Bella being alive, a short test message.

Bella: miss you gonna be in la soon

You read the text over and over again, only fueling you with anger. Bella was in town and not once did they think to reach out and suddenly they’re back on the other side of the planet and they want to hit you up. Before you can think about it you send a text.

You: I’m going on tour won’t be here

No response.

You’ve been on tour for a few days now, driving to your second show. Started in Seattle and now your in the tour bus headed for Portland. The first night went smoothly, exactly as you had hoped. Now sat on the tour bus doom scrolling through TikTok, waiting for tiredness to find you. Rolling onto your side and closing the app, opening Instagram. Greeted by a new post from Bella. It’s a black and white photo mirror selfie. Bella’s smiles as they take the picture. A girl stood behind them arms wrapped around Bella’s waist perfectly hiding her face in Bella’s shoulder. The caption a date in the near future.

A mixture of sadness and anger take over, quickly becoming only anger. Bella messages you a week ago about how they miss you. You don’t reciprocate the same energy and suddenly they’re publicly telling the world about this girl. You start feeling sick looking at the photo, blocking Bella on instagram. It’s not enough, so you block their number too. Taking this level of disrespect as a sign to stop whatever the two of you were completely.

When you arrive to Portland, your sad demeanor is noted by the people around you. Even when you go to perform your usual happy self is no where to be seen. At one point you cry on stage, as you sing on of your sadder songs. It gets video taped and plastered all over social media. You singing as tears fall down your face. Fans speculate what it could be about but nobody knows what caused truly your sadness.

After that hiccup it was rough for a good few days. Being surrounded by your team, always being busy, and not wanting a repeat of that night things get better. You alow the hustle of tour sweep you up so you can pretend to forget. The tour goes by quickly, last show left has you back in California. One of your biggest shows yet in your hometown, Los Angeles. You’re filled with excitement as it’s completely sold out.

Only for it to all come crashing down when you’re about to go on stage in a few minutes. One of your team members is cheery about the fact that your friend Bella is in the crowd, not knowing about your past with them. You had done such a wonderful job at avoiding Bella. Limiting your exposure to social media because you figured what you didn’t know, couldn’t hurt you. Allowing a team member post for you, you couldn’t entirely disappear like you wanted.

“Please don’t let them back stage.” Is all you say, your team member nods face filled with confusion. Not questioning your request and leaving you alone. Your sat in front of a mirror, looking at your self. So excited just a few moments ago, now you look miserable. Bella somehow succeeding in ruining another important day in your life.

—

You’re thankful for the large venue because wherever Bella is you can’t see them. Your eyes stay towards the front and rarely venture past the first few rows, doing everything in your power to not see Bella. When the concert finally comes to an end, your exhausted more than normal. Sweating bullets as you head back stage. Your team surrounds you momentarily, congratulating you and sharing a brief moment of excitement over your coming to an end.

You feel bad because you can’t be as excited as they are, eventually getting away from everyone and finally finding solitude in your dressing room. As you walk in your greeted by Bella stood there, looking as uncomfortable as possible.

“What are you doing in here?” You snap, turning your back to Bella fully prepared to leave and get security.

“I know I’m crossing so many lines right now. I have no choice you blocked me. I just needed to talk to you.” Bella speaks, your stomach dropping at the sound of their voice.

“Yeah because you were wasting my time. You only wanted me when it was convenient for you. Then your proudly posting som girl on social media. Not even a week before that you were trying to see me.” You snap, finally letting all your anger out on the source.

“That was a promo photo for the show coming out this month. It was a ploy to get people interested enough to watch my story, if you watched it. There was several stories about it.” Bella explains, a slight grin on their face.

“Doesn’t change anything. Why are you here?” You retort, feeling stupid but not wanting to show it. Bella’s grin disappears before they respond.

“I want to make this work, I miss you.” Bella admits.

“What even is this? One day you say you want to be alone, the next you just want to be mine. I can’t read your mind.” You say, sighing exhaustion heavy.

“I’m serious this time. I promise.” Bella says, looking at you. Trying to gauge your feelings on this.

“I can’t believe a single word that comes out from your mouth.”

“What can I do to prove it?” Bella asks, you don’t have an answer. Bella pulls out their phone suddenly typing away.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Bella grins, causing you to move closer.

“Check your phone.” Bella adds. You change your course and head for where you left your phone at the vanity. As soon as you unlock it you have a dozen texts from friends and family upset that you didn’t let them know about your relationship with Bella.

“What the fuck did you do?” You ask.

“You’re gonna have to unblock me on Instagram to see.” Bella smiles, laughing softly.

“No thank you.” You snap, switching to your private account. Typing Bella’s name into the search bar and seeing a recent Instagram story. When you open it a picture Bella took of you months ago, when you two first met. Your hand reaching for the camera, in the middle of telling Bella to stop. The smile in your eyes making it known that you don’t want them to stop.

the caption: my girlfriend

“Are you kidding me?” You groan, facing Bella.

“I thought that’s what you wanted..”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you right now. The whole world thinks we’re together now and we’re not.” You say, mostly thinking aloud. You look over to Bella who’s just sat there laughing at the situation.

“Don’t fucking laugh. This is a big deal.” You snap, stopping Bella.

“It’s not too late to post lol just kidding you all have been pranked.” Bella respond causing you to crack a smile.

“No.” You say.

“Oh so you wanna be my girlfriend now?” Bella teases.

“If I say yes you’re gonna have to make up for being such a dick head.” You respond.

“Anything.” Bella responds, desperately.

“I want to go on a real date. Out in public.” You demand.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Bella eagerly smiles.

“Not today. You’re coming home with me tonight.” You smoke, ready to pick up where the relationship ended. Hoping that you aren’t making a huge mistake.

#bella ramsey #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey fluff #the last of us #tlou

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dehydration-stati0n · 2 years ago

Text

Kid, Killer, and Law Friendship HCs

Rules Word Count: 1.0k Spoilers: Wano

Kid

Kid is hard to get close to, but once it happens, you've got a friend for life

If he catches anyone messing with you in any way, he'll beat the absolute shit out of them

He's ridiculously protective in that way, especially after what happened with Killer in Wano, he's gonna make sure none of his other friends experience pain or humiliation without him intervening

Despite what his reputation suggests, he's fairly decent at comforting people in his own special way.

He'll hand you a bottle of bourbon and the weapon of your choice, and the two of you will go blow off some steam in the area nearest to you.

If you ever asked him to build you something, he'd reluctantly go and do it. Even if he muttered a few curses under his breath as he did it, he'd secretly be really happy you asked him. He takes great pride in what he does.

If you're friends with him, it'd almost be expected of you to be a part of his little crime sprees. Killer is a good accomplice on his own, but imagine having two accomplices. The three of you would be unstoppable.

He'd almost be magnetized to you, following you around wherever you go. He really likes being around people he trusts, and you happen to be one of them. Even if neither of you say anything.

He might yell at you sometimes, but he doesn't mean it in a mean way. It's kinda like his love language. He gets loud to show he cares about you. It's another one of the weird quirks he shares with people he likes.

Arm wrestles anyone??

I could see them being one of his favorite past times.

Kid is really open-minded. You could bring up almost anything and he wouldn't judge you for liking or hating whatever that thing might be.

He wouldn't mind helping you put on makeup, he actually really likes doing it for his pals.

If you manage to get him to open up to you about his emotions and how he feels, just know you're at the very peak of affinity with the redhead.

Just you, him, and Killer, dressing horrendously and causing problems.

Killer

If you're friends with Kid, you're friends with Killer. You either get both of them or none of them.

He's so thankful you're here, he desperately needs someone to help out with watching Kid

Do you like cooking? He likes cooking. Maybe you could do it with him? There are a lot of people to feed and he'd really appreciate the help.

His way of comforting people is WAYY different from Kids. Some might even say more humane.

He's more of a hugger in these situations. Not much of a talker but he can comfort you physically.

He and Kid are horrible to have as enemies, but if you somehow manage to become friends with them, they'll be the most loyal friends you've ever met. Whatever you need, Killer is there to help you out.

You two are the therapy friends for the crew.

He's really good at calming people down, so if you're ever mad, stressed, or upset in any way, it's probably best to go to him instead of Kid.

He's really knowledgeable about random things within the One Piece world and will be very internally excited if you ever wanted to sit and hear him ramble.

He likes to check in on you and the other members of the crew as often as he can. You've all been through a lot together and he likes to make sure you're all good.

He has a great memory and hardly ever forgets important dates. So if no one else shows up for your birthday or whatever niche date you might find important, just know Killer would be there.

He really likes doing things for others. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you woke up one day to breakfast already made, or errands you were meaning to do already done.

Killer has such a great adoration for graffiti art and likes to go out with you to spray abandoned houses or broken walls with paint. He likes the artistic expression that graffiti holds.

Law

He's really big on quality time so he'll frequently invite you to sit with him in his office or out on the dock depending on if you're underwater or not.

He wouldn't mind it if you rambled on about something, in fact, he'd almost encourage you to do so.

He'd constantly ask for your feedback on a lot of his plans or thoughts he has.

The absolute dryest sense of humor. All. The. Time.

He'll try to solve just about all of your problems. Your noticing you have slow reflexes? Try this. Coffee's giving you headaches? Let him try making a pot. Something about your eye is bugging you? Let him take a look.

I hope you like cheap doctor visits, cause this guy will gladly treat you for free.

Sure, he's normally a private guy, but he'd be so honest with you. If you ask, he'll tell you. You're probably the only person who's seen him smile, or laugh for that matter.

He'd let you draw on his arm with a pen while he worked.

He's pretty strange himself, so if you had any out-of-the-ordinary hobbies, he wouldn't be the one to judge.

He wouldn't ever admit it in front of the Strawhats, but he really does like to explore, especially if it's just the two of you.

There's just something about wandering a new area with someone he finds endearing that's just so pleasant to him.

He loves to have mini-debates with you. Something about his thoughts being questioned makes him fall into a welcomed rabbit hole of new ideas and stronger plans.

Your lawyer in times of trouble.

Most nights it'll be you, Law, and the rest of the crew, sitting around below deck and playing whatever board games y'all got on you at the moment. Chess, Monopoly, Uno. Sometimes you guys'll even do puzzles.

#kid x reader #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #platonic eustass kid #platonic kid #platonic one piece #one piece #killer x reader #platonic killer #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #platonic headcanons #law x reader #trafalgar law #platonic law #platonic trafalgar law

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appocalipse · 2 years ago

Note

ok its me again… i cant decide if store or jewelry is better so maybe u just pick whichever one u like lol ty :)

hi ♥ i went with jewelry + exes to lovers hehe <3 hope you like it!

[JEWELRY; Wearing a piece of jewelry (ring/necklace/bracelet/watch) that the other bought. ]

Two seconds after you enter the bathroom, the door opens and Steve comes in.

"Here, let me help you," he says, already approaching before you can answer.

Breaking up with Steve had been one of the hardest things you'd ever done. The breakup hadn't happened because you didn't love him anymore, or because you were interested in someone else, or for any other reason ordinary couples break up.

No. You'd broken up with him for one simple reason: you were afraid you weren't good enough. Steve was kind, he was brave, and of course he was very handsome and charming, although those last two things didn't weigh that much in the balance of things. And if Nancy — who had been his first love —was anything to go by, you had very little chance of being the girlfriend Steve deserved. She was just perfect in your eyes; beautiful, smart, very, very brave. She would often risk her life for others, like he did. And if the two of them didn't work out together, why would it work out with you?

You're well aware that the whole problem may simply be in your mind, that you're being unfair — both to Steve and yourself — but you couldn't help it. So you had walked away, protecting yourself—even though part of you knew Steve would never hurt you.

That's why today, two months after you'd broken up with him, you considered not coming to Max's birthday; you knew he would be here. But you love Max and it wouldn't have been fair to her not to come for such a selfish reason.

Then, against your better judgment, you came, reason why you're now trapped in a very tiny space with your ex — with whom you're still very much in love with.

Steve does a brief damage analysis. There's a sizable stain on the front of the lovely green dress you're wearing, a mixture of scarlet and purple right over your heart, spreading like a bleeding.

It's just grape juice, of course. You're trying to remove it with a cloth soaked in ice water, but he's not sure it's working.

This unavoidably brings a memory to his mind, one he's not fond of. Steve hesitates.

Then he pushes it away; you're not Nancy. You and him aren't even together anymore.

He realizes he's not making himself feel any better with that thought.

"I'm fine, Steve," you say in a tone that's neither warm nor cold; a balanced, measured, trained tone. "You can go back to the party."

"I'm sorry," he replies, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks about what to say next. Uh...

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," he insists. It's a half truth; Steve and the kids were kicking a ball back and forth, some game you were trying not to pay attention to, and then it somehow ended up hitting the cup in your hand and disaster was done. "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."

You don't look at him, too focused on the stain. "It was an accident," you say, and Steve hears the usual gentleness behind your voice. "And it's just a dress, anyway. It's okay."

"It's a pretty dress-very pretty."

It's a risky move, he thinks. But by then he's said it and there's nothing he can do about it.

Steve watches the way you swallow, the way you pause for a brief second, how you look at him and quickly look away. It's a reaction, at least.

You don't answer. The trailer is small and the bathroom proportionately tiny. The air practically crackles with tension around you two.

The stain seems to be fading, but the fabric is getting wetter, sticking to your skin, turning transparent…

"Steve," you whisper, and his gaze darts to your face immediately. Is it a warning or an invitation?

He had definitely been staring.

"Sorry," he says again.

"Stop apologizing."

You put the cloth under the running water. Steve hears a metallic clink before he sees where it comes from: your arm. Your wrist, more precisely, where the bracelet he gave you as a gift just a few months ago is.

Steve can't stop himself from taking your wrist into his hand for a better look, half expecting the object to disappear at any moment, only a figment of his imagination.

"You still have it," it's not a question because it would be stupid to ask when he can see it for himself, but Steve still can't believe you're wearing it.

It doesn't.

He looks at you. You look flustered, your cheeks warm. Your parted lips can't get any words out, and the only thing Steve can think about is placing his hand on the back of your neck and kissing you slowly.

You gently pull your wrist away from his touch. "Do you...want it back?"

"I- what? No!" he exclaims, as if the idea horrifies him. "No, I'm just…I'm just surprised you're wearing the bracelet I gave you, that's all."

"I like the bracelet."

"Only the bracelet?"

Maybe he's pushing his luck, he thinks. But there's hope on the way you hesitate before answering, on the look on your face.

You look at the floor, dropping the cloth on the sink. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Dustin told me you have a date tomorrow."

It is true. To be honest, this date means so much to you that you had forgotten about it until this very moment.

"I'm trying to move on," you say honestly. And failing, is what you don't say.

"By wearing the bracelet I gave you? Doesn't it remind you of me at all?"

Every damn thing makes me think of you.

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. "I'm trying to move on," you repeat, weaker this time, a whisper. He hears it.

"So if I kissed you right now, you wouldn't feel anything?"

A single step is enough for Steve to be directly in front of you. Your heart seems to have been replaced by something three times faster and much louder.

"Steve-"

"Wouldn't you kiss me back?" he touches your face with a gentle hand, leaning into you slowly.

Not wanting to say yes, I'd kiss you back (the truth) but unable to say no (which is a big, big lie), you take a step back as he steps forward. Nowhere to go — your back hits the wall.

He breathes against your mouth and you close your eyes, letting your head rest against the wall. "Steve," you whisper.

"I love you," he whispers back. "I just- I love you. You can go on a date tomorrow, you can go on a hundred dates, it doesn't matter. I won't give up on you, you hear me? Not unless you tell me that I don't stand a chance."

You don't.

Steve walks away. You stand there, leaning against the wall long after you hear the door close behind him, desperately trying to catch your breath.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things drabble #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things oneshot #stranger things imagine #stranger things

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cherrycola27 · 1 year ago

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

Specific Chapter Warning: Mentions/ description of anxiety/ panic attacks

...........................................

Chapter 4: Ghost

Adjusting to life in California had been surprisingly easy. Teaching at Top Gun made you feel useful. And respected. Something you hadn't felt in a very long time. In the four months that you had been here, you'd grown close to the Dagger Squad. They considered you one of their own now.

You had let yourself form friendships with them, though you didn't tell them every aspect of your life. You needed a few secrets here and there.

You'd also found yourself spending more and more time with Bradley. He brought a light to your life that you had been missing for quite some time. Both of you were still dancing around the line between friends or something more. You yearned to let him in, to let him see some of the skeletons in your closet, but there would be too many questions. There are too many things you didn't have explanations for.

So, you settled for being wingmen, and dare you say it, best friends.

It was better than nothing

True to his word, you hadn't been able to get rid of Bradley. He came over a few times a week to watch TV, eat whatever you'd made, and play with Hydra and Cerberus. If he wasn't in your apartment, you would pop by his. The two of you spent so much time together, you'd exchanged keys to the other's place.

You weren't planning for it to happen, but Bradley had to go home one weekend to Virginia to see his cousin graduate from college and he gave you a key to water his plants and check his mail.

Phoenix and Halo had whisked you away the next weekend for a girl's trip, and you'd asked him to keep an eye on your Cerby and Hydra. Neither of you had returned the lent spare keys, but neither of you really minded. You enjoyed having that small piece of each other constantly with you.

You hadn't had someone you could count on in your life like this for a very long time. Sure, Minthe and Hecate were there to support you, but it was nice to have someone closer to you. It was nice to feel—wanted.

It was nice to be wanted

.............

The warm days of spring faded into the hot months of summer. One Monday afternoon, Hangman stopped you on the way to your card and handed you an envelope.

"What's this, Jake?" You asked him.

"It's an invite. I'm have a birthday BBQ and pool party at my house this weekend. I'll have food and drinks. You can bring your own beverages if there is something you really want, but not required, just pack a swimsuit and the SPF." Jake said before walking away to flag down more of the squad.

You tucked the invitation into your bag and got in your car to drive home. Later that night, you tossed and turned in your bed before drifting into a fitful sleep.

As you drifted off, the silk sheets suddenly became salt water. Your limbs felt like weights as you struggled against the drag of the water. Everything was cold and dark as you tried to keep your head up. You desperately gasped for air as you fought to keep from sinking, but the current was too strong. It was dragging you under. You couldn't breathe.

The water filled your lungs. You scream so loud, but no one heard a thing. Suddenly, you shot up out of bed and gasped for breath. A cold sweat had broken out across your body, and Cerberus and Hydra stood at the edge of your bed, looking at you.

You looked around and saw that you were still in your room on dry land.

You panted as you tried to calm yourself. You opened your nightstand and grabbed some of the lotus flower Dinoysus had given you. You broke off a small part of one and grabbed your water bottle.

Hydra and Cerberus gave you a judging look as you swallowed the herb. "Oh, don't look at me like that." You told them, as you laid back down and let the calming effects of the lotus wash over you and send you to a dreamless slumber.

You just wanted to be numb

Wednesday afternoon, Bradley came over. You'd unintentionally started a routine of pizza and reality TV. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the two of you, some food, and some mindless show. It was—nice.

During a commercial break, you got up to get some drinks for the two of you and take your plates to the kitchen. You were shuffling around when Bradley asked, "You're coming to Jake's party on Saturday, right, Angel?"

You paused as you stepped away from your fridge and closed it.

Why did he have to ask?

"Um—no, probably not." You replied quickly.

"What? What do you mean? Jake can be a massive dick, but he throws some great parties. Do you have other plans or something?" Bradley asks as he hops up from your couch and joins you.

"No, I don't. I was just planing in hanging out here." You shrug. "Then why aren't you going? You're a part of the team now. Everyone is going to be there. Jake is making a shit ton of food, and he had his own pool. We wouldn't have to share it with anyone like we do the one here." Bradley tries to convince you.

"C'mon, Angel, you'll have a good time." Bradley softens he holds your gaze for a moment and can see your jaw tick as you are trying to formulate an excuse.

You don't want to talk about this

"Why don't you want to go?" He asks you.

"I'm just not a party person. Can we talk about something else? Or go sit down before we miss the rest of the show?" You try to push past him and change the subject, but Bradley plants his feet and stays firmly in place.

"No, there is obviously something bothering you about this. I'm your friend, Hades. I just want to know why you're so against it." Bradley continues to pry.

"Bradley, can we not do this? You're going to think it's stupid or that I'm just overreacting." You try to convince him to drop the subject. But if you've leaned anything about him, you know that Bradley is just as stubborn as he is kind.

"Try me." Bradley says.

You sigh and finally give in and gesture towards your couch. You sit at one end, and Bradley takes a seat across from you. Hydra jumps up into your lap while Cerberus curls up at Bradley's feet.

"I don't want to go to Jake's party because I'm scared of drowning." You tell him. Bradley blinks slowly and looks at you with a strange expression.

"Drowning? Angel, correct me if I'm wrong, but you have to be able to swim pretty well to be in the Navy. And you have to go through tons of emergency water training. Why would you be scared of drowning in a pool?" Bradley asks you.

"Because of my last mission." You whisper. You drop your eyes to avoid Bradley's gaze.

"What happened on your last mission?" He asks you.

You sigh and take a deep breath. Were you really about to bear your heart to him?

What if Bradley thought you were weak after this?

What if he looked at you differently?

"I was stationed on a ship in the Indian Ocean. My squad, we went out and did a nighttime recon mission. It was supposed to be routine, nothing crazy. A monsoon was coming in, and the water was just crazy, we ended up moving the mission up because of the weather. Everything was fine at first, but on the way back, we had some faulty intel." We started taking fire." You explain to him.

"I was mission leader, I made sure my crew made it back safe, but I took a lot of hits. Lost both engines. I tried to gain altitude before I ejected, but I couldn't. I hit the water hard when I punched out." You continued.

I was all tangled up in my chute and couldn't detach from it. It was so dark, and the water was so choppy. I kept getting tossed around, and the waves kept pulling me under. It took hours for them to find me. I was unconscious when they did minutes away from drowning." You tell him.

"I spent weeks in recovery and therapy. I couldn't even look at water, let alone go in it. I can barely spend more than fifteen minutes in the shower without having a panic attack." You confess.

You don't tell Bradley, but you did drown on that mission. You just reincarnated before you were rescued. In your three thousand years of life, you'd died a lot of deaths, but drowning, that was the worst one. It was also the only one you had nightmares about.

"Hades—Angel—I—I'm so sorry that happened to you. I had no idea." Bradley says. He isn't totally sure how to respond.

"It's fine, no one knows." You say as you wipe a few stray tears from your cheeks. You can't believe you've let yourself be this vulnerable around him. Bradley is the first person besides the Navy mandated therapist your last post made you see that you've told all of this too.

Now he knows that you aren't as strong as he thought you were

Bradley lets out a heavy sigh. You know he is trying to process what you've told him and trying to come up with the best response to make the situation better because that's what Bradley does. He tries to fix everything. It's endearing really.

"Come to the party with me on Saturday. You don't have to swim, but you can still lounge around, have some good food, and day drink with us. And if anyone gives you shit, I'll take care of it." Bradley tells you.

"Bradley—"

"Angel, I wasn't asking. I'll pick you up at ten." Bradley tells you before turning his attention back to the TV with a smirk on his face. You shake your head.

What had you gotten yourself into?

True to his word, Bradley is knocking on your door just before ten on Saturday morning. Even though he has a key, he doesn't want to just barge into your apartment.

You're just about ready when you open the door for him. He does a double taken when he sees you.

"Wow." He says. "You look amazing."

You smile and thank him. He isn't wrong. You look pretty good. You're wearing a black one-piece suit. The top has a sweetheart neckline that makes your chest look amazing. There is a triangular shape cut out just under your breasts that offers a teasing peak of one of your tattoos. You have a long floral skirt tied around your waist as a cover-up. Your hair is in low messy bun, with a wide brimmed hat over it. Your aviator sunglasses are perched on your nose as you slide your feet into some sandals and grab your bag with your sunscreen, a towel, and a book.

You grab a case of wine coolers from your fridge, and Bradley promptly takes them from your hand as the two of you walk out of your apartment.

He insists on driving because you're both going to the same place, so there is no point in taking two cars. Bradley puts your things and his in back of his Bronco before opening your door and helping you in. He then jogs to the other side, his open Hawaiian print shirt flapping around as he does so before he climbs in. It gives you a wonderful view of the tonned skin under it.

It takes you a minute to realize it, but the two of you almost match. You chuckle to yourself.

The drive to Jake's is about twenty-five minutes. It's filled with fun conversations and throwback eighties rock, which is a personal favorite of Bradley's.

The last bars of an AC/DC song play, and Bradley is about to say something when you hear the almost tropical beginning of your favorite song play. You quickly hold your hand up to shush him.

Before he can even register what is happening, you're belting out the opening to Bon Jovi's "Miracle." Bradley slows down for a red light and watches you, awestruck as you sing every word to the song. He can't help but join in with you on the second verse, and the two of you are harmonizing as he drives down the road with the wind whipping through your hair and the windows down.

As the song finishes, he turns down the radio before turning to you. "You know that song?" Bradley asks with a surprised tone.

"It's only my most favorite song, ever." You tell him with a laugh.

"Really?" He acts like he doesn't believe you. "Yeah, there's just something about it." You shake your head.

"It was one of my mom's favorite songs, too. She said my dad learned how to play it for her on piano and surprise her with it. She used to sing it all the time, even after he passed." Bradley said.

"Well, she had great taste." You tell him.

A few minutes later, the two of you are pulling into Jake's driveway. Bradley throws the Bronco in park before saying, "Don't even think about touching that door handle." He hops out and jogs to the passengers side and opens the door and extends his hand to help you out.

You thank him and remind him you could have done it yourself, and he reminds you yet again, that he was raised better than that.

You grab your things from the backseat, and Bradley grabs the wine coolers you brought before the two of you make your way to the front door. Javy, let's the two of you in. He takes your drinks and puts them in a cooler before wrapping an arm around Natasha's middle and joining the conversation she was having with Bob and Halo.

You find Jake out by the pool in a pair of American flag swim trunks. He is grilling and drinking a beer. He greets you and Bradley warmly before telling you where the bathroom is, where some extra towels are, and that anything in his kitchen is fair game.

You spot a lounge chair under a massive umbrella and take your things to set up shop. The rest of the team meander outside. You apply some sunscreen as Phoenix sits down next to you. Coyote gives her a quick peck on the lips before jumping into the pool with Fanboy and Payback.

Once your arms and face are covered in SPF, you stand up and untie the floral skirt cover you have on and put it in your bag.

Jake lets out a long whistle as he saunters over to you. "Hades, didn't know you had so much ink." He remarks as he shamelessly looks over your thigh and the lettering peaking out from the cutout in your bathingsuit.

"Yeah, I have a thigh sleeve of everywhere I've been stationed." You tell him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put on some sunscreen, and if you could not burn whatever you're cooking while you oogle me, that would be great." You tell him before plopping down. You're just about ready but can't reach your back. You would ask Phoenix or Halo, but they are on the other side of the pool talking now, and most of the boys are splashing around in the water. So, you politely call Bradley over and ask for his help.

He's more than willing to spread the coconut scented lotion over your back and shoulders. And you'd be lying if you said that his calloused hands on you didn't feel good. You wonder what they might feel like in other places.

He's your best friend and wingman. Stop

Once his finished, you thank him and slather a layer of sunscreen playfully on his face. You aren't sure how much it will help. It seems like no amount of SPF in the world keeps him from turning red.

The afternoon is actually going surprisingly well until sweet, stupid Bob makes the comment, "Hades, why haven't you gotten in the pool? It's like a hundred degrees today. Surely you're hot sitting up there?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Bob, really. I'm just enjoying getting my tan on and reading my book." You reply. That seems to satisfy him and the rest of the squad for now. Everyone except for Jake.

When Jake Seresin threw a pool party, everyone got in the pool. It was like the laws of nature.

After feasting on bugers and hot dogs and ice cream for lunch, everyone took a break to reapply sunscreen, refresh drinks, and chat for a bit. After about thirty minutes, Phoenix and Halo dove in the cool water and begged you to join them. You declined them.

A few of the boys got in and tossed a football around. You peered over the cover of your book. Using your sunglasses as a cover, you shamelessly checked out Bradley. The water glistened off his toned and slightly sunburnt body. You had to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan.

A few minutes later, Jake declared that everyone should play a few rounds of Chicken.

Nat quickly hopped up on Javys' shoulders while Paybacm hoisted Fanboy on his. Omaha helped Halo up, while Bradley scooped up Bob. The rest of the squad watched and laughed at the chaos.

You laughed at how ridiculous everyone looked. Everything was fine until Jake came up to you and grabbed you by the hand.

"C'mon, Hades, you're going to be my partner." He said as he tried to drag you to the water.

"No, Jake, I don't want to." You protested. "It will be fun. It's a pool party, you have to get in the pool." Jake said. You dug your heels in, but Jake didn't seem to care. He quickly scooped you up and ran towards the edge to jump in.

You flailed your arms and screamed at him to put you down, but it was no use. "Bradley heard the panic in your voice, but there was nothing he could do to stop Jake from tossing you into the deep end of the pool before he jumped in behind you.

The blue water enveloped you as you sank down. You struggled to orient yourself as you desperately sought the surface.

It seemed like it took an eternity for your head to break through the water. Once you did, you drew in a panicked breath, and the anxiety set it.

You were gasping for air as Jake and a few others laughed, but the moment they saw the wild look in your eyes, they knew something was wrong.

You were vaugly aware of Bradley and a few others calling your name, but you were blinded with the need to get out of the water.

You gripped the edge and hauled yourself out of the pool, not caring if your knees scraped on the concrete before grabbing your towel and running inside like a frightened animal.

A silence falls over the rest of the group as everyone gets out of the pool to process what just happened.

As soon as his feet hit the concrete, Bradley barrels toward Jake like a bull in a china shop.

"Bagman! What the fuck was that!" Bradley screams as he squares up with Jake. His hands land on his chest and push him back a few feet. Jake recovers and tries to remain composed.

"I was just messing around. I didn't know she was going to freak out like that." Jake defends himself.

"She said she didn't want to get in. You couldn't respect that, could you?" Bradley continues.

"Listen, I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I was just playing around. It was supposed to be a joke! It's not like she gave a good reason for not wanting to get in!" Jake shouts as Bradley continues to invade his space.

"It doesn't matter if she gave one or not! She had a good reason for not wanting to get in. Hades doesn't owe you an explanation. You should have just let it go. But no! Now you've probably given her a fucking PTSD flashback!" Bradley shouts.

That catches everyone's attention. "Wha—what do you mean?" Jake asks, suddenly shrinking down and lowering his voice.

"I mean—ugh—she asked me not to say anything, but Hades wasn't going to come today because on her last mission, before she transferred here, she almost died. She got shot down over the ocean, and her parachute got caught in currents. It was a night mission, and the water was rough, and she almost drowned. She said water has freaked her out ever since." Bradley explains to everyone.

Jake swallowed thickly. "I—I didn't know." He states. "Yeah, neither did I until she told me. I hope you're happy with yourself, Jake." Bradley spits out before turning to grab his shirt and towel and heading into the house to look for you.

You had bolted into Jake's house. You made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before dropping to your knees in front of the toilet and dry heaving. You really thought you were going to puke your guts out, but nothing came. After a few minutes of coughing and sputtering, you sat back and leaned against the bathtub. And then the tears came.

They streamed down your face like a river. They were tears of anger, embarrassment, and shame. You were angry at Jake for throwing you in the pool, but you were angrier at yourself, and the reaction you had.

You were embarrassed and ashamed that everyone saw you freak out. They were probably all laughing and making jokes at your expense right now. I mean, you were in the fucking Navy and afraid of the water.

You could hear them laughing at you now.

The thought of made you cry even harder. You were cold and alone and ashamed of yourself as you sat on the floor of Jake's bathroom. Your shoulders started to shake because you were sobbing so hard.

You tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but the anxiety thrummed through your body, racking your brain.

A few minutes passed, and you heard a knock on the door.

"G—go away, Jake. I don't want to talk to you." You stammered out between sobs.

"It's not Jake." You heard Bradley's voice through the door. "Can I come in?" You hesitated before reaching up to unlock the door. Bradley slowly opened it, and his heart sank when he saw you.

You were propped up against the tub, knees to your chest, tear stained cheeks, and shaking.

Bradley dropped to the floor beside you. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around your shoulders before pulling you into his lap. Bradley immediately began rubbing soothing circles on your back and whispering calming words.

You melted into his chest as you continued to tremble. "I'm sorry." You sqeaked out.

"Don't be, Angel. I used to have panic attacks when I was a kid. I've been where you've been. My mom used to take care of me and talk me through them. Just take some deep breaths. Try to relax." Bradley told you calmly.

You tried to relax and breathe, but the overwhelming feeling of dread wouldn't go away. Bradley could feel how tense you were in his arms, so he tried something else that his mom did for him. He sang to you.

At first, you didn't register it, but Bradley's soft voice washed over you as the familiar tune of "You Are My Sunshine" filled the small space.

You pressed your head further into his chest and listened to his heartbeat. That, in combination with his voice, started to bring you back from the edge.

You steadied yourself enough to sit up and speak to him.

"Thank you." You told him as you wiped the tears from your face. "Don't worry about it. Like I said, I've been there. My mom used to sing that song to me when they were really bad." Bradley smiles at you.

"She sounds like she was a great lady." You tell him. "She was." Bradley replies.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bradley asks you with genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm so embarrassed." You tell him. He looks at you confused. "Why? Do you think you're the first one on the team to have a breakdown in front of the group? When we were training for our last mission, Phoenix and Bob had to eject. The first time, they tried to get back in a jet after Bob froze on the tarmac and locked himself in the locker room, and Phoenix started shaking so bad she puked on Coyote when he went to comfort her." Bradley told you.

"Yeah, but you guys knew what happened. Nobody out there knew about my accident. All they know is the legend that follows me around. I'm supposed to be strong, unbreakable—not—not weak. And over something as menial as water?" You sigh and bury your head in your hands. Fresh tears threaten spill over.

"No one thinks you're weak, Hades. And don't be mad, but I kind of blew up on Jake and told everyone what happened. I probably shouldn't have, but I wanted him to know how much of an ass he was." Bradley admits to you.

"It's fine. It was going to come out sometime. You didn't hit him did you?" You ask him.

"No, but when I left to come in here, Nat was giving him down the road, and I wouldn't be surprised if she did." You both laugh.

"I'm sorry that I probably ruined everyone's day. Jake probably hates me for ruining his party. Good gods, that's all I ever do is ruin things." You sigh.

Bradley shakes his head and takes your face between his hands. "Listen to me, Angel, you didn't ruin anything. No one hates you, and no one thinks you're weak. You have been walking around with his burden alone when you didn't have to be. I've seen you fly. Hell, I've taken a peak at your file. You are an amazing person, and so fucking strong. You've got to be to put up with us all the time." Bradley laughs.

He looks deep in your eyes, and you can tell he's sincere. "I think you're amazing. You're the best pilot I've ever flown with. You're a great person in the air and on the ground." He assures you.

Your lip quivers as you fight the urge to cry again. Bradley rubs his thumbs across your cheeks, and before you can register what's happening, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours.

They're soft and warm and taste faintly of the salty margaritas all of you had at lunch. You're just getting used to the feeling of his plush mouth against yours when he suddenly pulls back and looks at you with wide eyes. You push yourself off of his lap and put some space between the two of you.

"Hades—I—I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was thinking. You're my superior officer, and my wingman and my best friend. I just—I'm sorry, can we pretend that never happened?" Bradley stammers out. Panic setting deep in his features

"Yeah." You say flatly. You've never felt more dejected in your life.

"Do you want to go home? Get some rest?" Bradley asks as he stands up and helps you to your feet.

"Yeah, that's fine." You sigh, willing yourself not to cry.

"Great. I'll go get our things and meet you out front." He tells you before bolting out of the bathroom. You're left standing there in a daze, the tingle of his lips still on yours.

Bradley quickly goes to grab your things and his. He's still mad at Jake, but more than that, he's mad at himself. He is still dizzy from the way your lips felt on his, how your body moulded with his, like it's where you were always meant to be.

The way you tasted, sweet, with a dash of salty, was exactly how he had imagined it—no it was better. He knew that he'd never get enough of it. But now he was kicking himself. He'd pushed you away so easily when he should have pulled you closer. But, he didn't want to take advantage of you. You were emotional and vulnerable, and it's not the way he wanted your first kiss to go.

He can't believe that he told you to forget it happened and that he gave you some bullshit excuse. You looked so hurt, and that's when he realized you'd wanted it just as much as he did.

"Fuck," Bradley cursed as he shoved your things into your bag, you probably think he is an ass now and he has probably ruined his chance with you.

"Is Hades okay?" Bob comes up to Bradley and asks him.

"Yeah, she's okay. But I'm going to take her home. She's still kinda shaken up." Bradley tells him.

"Understandable. You've gotta take care of your girl." Bob says. Bradley tenses at the comment. "She's not my girl, Bob, were just friends." Bradley tells him sharply.

"You sure about that?" Bob asks, as if he can read Bradley's mind. "Yeah, I'm sure." Bradley says before telling everyone else goodbye.

You're standing by the Bronco waiting for him when he makes it to the front of Jake's house. He unlocks your door, but you yank it open before he even has the chance to do it for you.

The drive back to your apartment complex is silent. There is no throwback playlist on, no playful conversation. Just the sound of the wind blowing around the two of you, and even that isn't loud enough to drown out the quiet for Bradley.

You don't look at him the whole drive back. Your beautiful smile, the one he's grown to love so much, is nowhere to be found.

He silently pulls into his designated parking space. You jump out of his car before he has even cut the engine. You grab all of your things before quietly heading to the elevator. It's a silent ride up to your floor.

You don't expect Bradley to get off when you reach your level, but he follows you down the hall to your door.

You unlock it without a word. "Angel, if you need anything, text me, I'll be right down." Bradley tells you as he stands in your doorway. He's hesitant to cross the threshold and come in. He's not as confident as he was before.

"Thanks." You say not meeting his eyes. "Angel, look—I—" Bradley doesn't know what to say, and quiet frankly, you don't want to hear it. So he settles for telling you that he hopes you have a good evening before turning on his heels to leave.

"Rooster, wait." You call to him. He pauses, you called him Rooster. You haven't used his call sign since the first week you moved here. Now he knows he's really messed things up.

"Yeah, Angel?" He asks as he turns to face you, still using the nickname he gave you.

"Here." You say to him as you had him the spare key to his apartment that you've had for well over a month that he hasn't bothered to ask for.

He's reluctant to take it from you. He liked the idea of you having a key to his place. He feels a piece of his heart break as you press the cool metal into his hand.

"Thanks." He breaths out before leaving.

You close the door behind him and lock it. You shake your head, trying to keep the tears that cloud your vision from falling. You were kicking yourself. This is why you didn't let yourself fall for someone because it always ended in heart break.

Who could love someone like you, anyway?

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