#thank you for putting up with me even if most of the crap doesn't even bleed into here that much to probably be truly bothering

[a-s-levynn]

Time got away from me a bit today with all the Tiny Token stuff so i kinda.. haven't done a small offering.. but it'll be back from tomorrow on. I just completely forgot i got to get to work tomorrow and i can't be half asleep for it. :/

[iwriteyanderes2023]

Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

[kurokawaia]

❛ TOO POLITE ❜

Shinazugawa Sanemi X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers apart from sanemi being a lil mean >.<, reader is very polite and timid, she doesn't really understand the whole concept yk, she's like innocent.

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Could you please do sanemi with s/o where he tries to degrade her and stuff but shes SO polite and just says Like 'sorry' and 'thank you' and obeys every command without question with like EXTREME politeness that its just too difficult to degrade, and its so cute😭 Im curious to see how he'd react. - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Sanemi had forever been known for his whiplash tongue and his rough character, he had no time for dribble, no use for sissies, and most definitely did not have the time for anything that even smacked of being very soft and very cutesy, very demure, LMA- sorry in the remotest way.

And that was the major reason it dumbfounded him, completely and absolutely, to have ended up with you-a person so soft, so sweet, and endlessly, impeccably polite that he often wanted to bash his head against a wall. Almost.

It had been a very long day, and all he wanted right now was to come home, maybe blow off some steam, and just bag all the tension built up. You were there waiting as he walked through the door with that same soft smile that chipped away at his gruff exterior.

"Welcome home, Sanemi," you smiled, your voice like honey. "How was your day?"

He grunted in response, not in the mood to answer that question with anything more than a noncommittal noise, and tossed his sword on the table with a clatter. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, trying to ignore how your mere presence seemed to make the knots in his shoulders loosen just a bit.

You reached for his haori, folding it carefully and setting it aside. "Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like to wash up first?"

You always were so goddamn considerate, always trying to think ahead, trying to make sure everything was just right for him. It was. maddening in a way. How the hell was it so easy to be nice, so completely put off by his roughness?

"No," he snapped, sitting heavily at the table. "Just hurry up with the damn food."

"Of course, my love. I'll bring it right away."

You didn't bat an eye at the sharpness of his tone and moved with that calm grace that always seemed to unsettle him. You readied the food, all the while Sanemi watching you sideways for something-anything-to continue acting that way.

Another command was barked out, this one more biting. "But don't scorch it. I'm not in the mood for your usual bland crap.".

"Yes, dear. I will get it soon-the way you like it," you replied quickly in your always-soft respectful tone. You didn't even pause with the job on hand and that soft smile, until you got it to the table, just about perfectly prepared.

Sanemi frowned, attempting to find fault with it, but of course, there was nothing to be found. The food was great- exactly how he liked it. Still, he would never admit that, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath as he started to eat, hoping you didn't pay attention to the slight softening of his features.

You sat down opposite him, your hands neatly folded in your lap, and watched him eat with that gentle expression that drove him crazy, for reasons he could not quite fathom. It wasn't long before his irritation began to bubble up again, this time more at himself than you.

Why couldn't he just stay angry? Why did you have to be so… so…

"Why do you put up with this?" he finally snapped, his head jerking up from his meal, to meet your calm gaze. "Why don't you ever get pissed off? Why don't you ever talk back or tell me to shut up?"

You turned your head slightly, as if genuinely considering his questions, and then you smiled. A soft, warm smile that made something in his chest twist.

"Because I love you, Sanemi. I know you're just trying to cope with everything in your own way. If being rough with me helps you, then that's okay. I just want to make things easier for you."

Sanemi blinked, taken aback by your response. How could you say that with such sincerity? How could you look at him with so much affection after everything he'd said and done?

He opened his mouth for the argument, to say something sharp and biting back, but the words just wouldn't come. Instead, he felt the anger drain out of him, replaced instead by a confusion he couldn't quite shake.

"Easier for me?" he repeated, all but disbelieving. "How the hell is letting me treat you like crap easier on me?

"Because it gets it out," you said, like it was the most painfully obvious thing in the world. "I know you're not really mad at me. You're just frustrated sometimes, and that's okay. If it means that you need to get a little rough around the edges, then I'm cool with that. I know you don't mean it."

Sanemi stared at you, utterly dumbfounded. You seemed to take the wind out of his sails and left him floating, directionless because he did not know what would or should happen next. He was used to people fighting back, to fights and resistance, and you… well, you didn't push back. You don't fight. You just… accept him. And somehow, that was more disarming than any argument could have been.

He sat there, just staring at you for a moment, his brain racing to catch hold of what feeling was moving around inside him. It was annoying and confusing and-strangely comforting all at once.

He'd wanted to say something, to tell you that you didn't have to put up with his bullshit, you could be angry, you should be angry-but the words just wouldn't come. And that was it.

Finally, he exhaled loudly and rubbed his face in his hands. "You're too damn good for me," he grumbled, smiling more for himself than for you.

It was enough for him to see you smile again. "I'm all right, Sanemi. Do what you need to do-I'm here for you. Anything.

"Damn it," he muttered, the tension in his shoulders melting completely.

He couldn't stay angry, not when you looked at him like that. Not when you made it so damn hard to be mad. He stood up, walking around the table to pull you into a rough but heartfelt embrace. "You're too damn cute for your own good, you know that?

You giggled softly, leaning your head against his chest. "Thank you, Love."

"Don't thank me," he growled, though, by now, there was little true anger left in his tone. He tugged you closer, burying his face in your hair. "You're too courteous. It's annoying."

"I'm sorry," you said, but your voice was light, nearly playful.

His eyes rolled but a smile played at the corner of his lips. "Dammit, woman. Impossible.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list| demon slayer m.list

HONEY A/NOTE :: ill be making multiple parts to this btw !! i find the troupe of grumpy/easily mad x sunshine oblivious reader, so expect more of these!! if any of you have any specific ideas that would be lovely if you could let me know :D

[veren-cos]

Bachelor(ette)s react to a handmade gift!

Aka Bachelor's and ettes x reader

Honestly a lot of these can be read as platonic, and for Sam, if you just ignore that bullet point, it can be platonic too lol

Loosely based on a request by @vvnbxz !

Sam

• Loves it.

• Loves it Loves it Loves it Loves it.

• Like anything from you and he is happy.

• But If you made something just for him? Oh he would be crazy happy.

• Peppers you with kisses all over your face.

• Then gives you a hug and like gushes about how cool you are.

Sebastian

• He would probably be the most chill.

• He would obviously say thanks out of politeness and genuinely liking it!

• But he doesn't make it a thing.

• If you are close with him tho, he gets very happy about it when he is just thinking before he goes to sleep.

• Like woah! They made this just for me!

• It makes him feel special.

Alex

• Awh Alex is just a sweetie.

• He would be so so so happy.

• Whatever you made him, he would try and figure put how you did it.

• Then, he would make one for you!

• Whether that be a piece of clothing (the one he made would be falling apart), a mug, literally anything.

• Just enjoys your presence and your sentiment and wants to reciprocate the gesture.

Harvey

• Stoked!

• Like he is so precious about it.

• He displays whatever you give him on a shelf on his room.

• He feels like it's too precious to ever actually use it in fear of damaging it.

• Eventually he learns it's okay to actually use the things, but he is just so happy to receive something from you!

Shane

• He probably wouldn't realize it was handmade at first.

• You gave him a cup cozy that you made for all the soda he drinks haha

• When he realizes he just thinks it's cool!

• Wouldn't be dramatic or flabbergasted like some of the others.

• He already knows you've been crafty.

• But yeah he thinks it's neat!

Elliott

• He would be over the top.

• My dramatic man haha

• No but he would be complimenting you left and right, saying how talented you are!

• Would not let it go for nearly the whole season!

• Brags about it to Leah. Constantly.

• He is just so happy he connected with you, and that you actually think about him!

Haley

• Thinks it's so cool!!!

• If you just met Haley, you'd probably think she only likes brand name stuff

• But she is a sucker for home made!!

• She can't make things for crap imo, so she thinks you are so talented.

• I think she'd love if you knew how to sew or crochet.

• She would wear the clothes you make her all the time.

Emily

• Oh Emily would just die if you made her something

• Like she would be flabbergasted.

• You would probably learn how to make something just to give it to Emily.

• Like you'd learn how to paint and give her a mug you painted?

• She would be so touched that you thought of her! Would use/wear it constantly

Leah

• Leah, like Emily, would be so happy!!

• You'd learn how to sculpt just to try and make her something!

• She ends up getting a finger pot from you, as it was the very first thing you ever sculpted.

• She thinks it's so sweet that you learned a new skill just to give her something.

Penny

• Penny would love it!

• She definitely appreciates the sentiment of a gift more than the gift itself.

• So give this girl anything and she is over the moon

• I feel like she would like a good scarf or clothing accessory

• So you made her a big warm scarf!!

• She wears it all the time.

• Once she even tried to style it for spring and got wayyyy to hot that she felt sick-

• But she just wanted to show you how much she appreciated it!

Maru

• Thinks it's very sweet of you!!

• She has a lot of technological crafty stuff, but doesn't really work much with artsy things.

• So if you gave her something you made (ie a scarf, clothes, artwork) she would think it's super cool!

• Would probably ask you to teach her. She loves to learn new things.

Abigail

• Not going to lie, y'all probably made it together!

• She is super hands on with literally everything, and is pretty crafted herself.

• You probably were both making bracelets and then traded at the end of the day!

• They ended up having the same color scheme, totally on accident, so Abigial wears hers all the time.

• She always gets really happy when she sees you wearing yours too!

An* I've never actually written for any of the bachelorettes, so this was really fun!!! They are all just short and sweet blurbs :3

Masterlist

[demonsslayersstuff]

When You’re Sick (JJK Men x Reader)

A/N: Doing my first head canon/ drabble for JJK men. This about how they take care of reader when they are sick because I am battling a nasty cold. No major warnings mostly fluff, maybe slight angst. I'm going to do this for AOT and Demon Slayer too, so stay tuned for that!

Characters: Nanami, Choso, Gojo, Sukuna, Higuruma, Geto

Kento Nanami:

I feel like this man is 1000% husband material, like he is not my top choice for who I find the most attractive in JJK, but he is my top choice if I was going to marry anyone cause this man would take care of you and treat you right

When you wake up with a sore throat and cough he is immediately checking your temperature, telling you to stay in bed, and going to the pharmacy.

If its not a bad sickness he'll feel comfortable to go to work as long as you promise to check in with him throughout the day. If your really really sick he's taking the day off, driving you to the doctor and keeping an eye on you

Nanami would always make sure you had enough water, tea, soup, whatever. I could see him drawing you a bath and also cuddling you. He doesn't care that if he might sick, if you want to be held, he's holding you

"Ken", you call out, voice scratchy. Today was not a good day for you, you felt like utter and complete shit. "Honey, what's wrong?", he asks coming back into the bedroom. "I don't feel like I'm going to make it to work today, I feel like crap", you say before curling up into a ball, your head was killing you. Nanami places his hand your forehead, noting that it was a little warmer than usual. "You do feel warm, let me go run to pharmacy across the street and get you some cold medicine", he tells you. In record time Nanami is back giving you your first dose of meds. "Ok take the next dose in four hours. I put crackers and tea on your nightstand, do you need anything else?", he asks. "No, thanks love, what would I do without you?", you mumble, feeling drowsy. "Of course, I'm gonna head to work, but I'll text you, rest up", Nanami says before leaning down to give you a soft peck as the medicine pulls you into sleep.

Choso Kamo:

I feel like Choso would freak out a little bit the first time your sick. Like he's never seen anyone like this and would be a bit panicked. He'd worry about you so much, like will do anything in his power to stay home with you, even if its just simple cold.

Will do anything and everything for you. Want your favorite food, already ordered. Achy from the illness, Choso is giving you a soft massage. Want some tea and honey, he's making it for you.

If your really really sick, I could see him immediately calling Shoko and being like "What the hell do I do?". Takes you to the doctor and monitors you 24/7

If for some reason he cannot stay with you, Choso is texting you as much as possible and calling you every couple of hours, he needs to know you are ok.

Choso places the mug next you as you cough hard, nearly hacking up your lung. "Baby, is there anything else I can do?", he asks, worry evident in his voice. "No Cho, the doctor said to rest as much as possible", you tell him with a weak smile. Choso pulls the blanket around you and gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Ok, I'll be downstairs if you need anything, please tell me", he says before standing up to turn off the light. "Cho, can you, maybe cuddle me? Would that be ok? I don't want you to get sick-" you start to ramble, but he quickly cuts you off. "Absolutely", Choso says climbing into to bed with you. He pulls you on his chest, fingers gently massaging you temple. "Thanks", you mumble. "Anytime, anything for you love", Choso replies as you snuggle down into his warm embrace.

Satoru Gojo:

This man is a silly boy, but at the same time I feel like he would be caring. Like he hides his true emotions behind this playful manner, but if you were sick he'd be generally worried. Gojo would 100% be texting Shoko at the first sign of your illness.

He's a busy busy guy, so as much as he wants to, unfortunately he would not be able to stay home to take care of you. Gojo would make the effort to text you throughout the day more than he normally does and would probably call you halfway through the day to hear your voice.

If he can't do it himself he's having someone going to the pharmacy, picking up food for you, and I really could see Gojo asking Shoko to stop by and check on you if you were fairly sick.

When he is able to be home with you, your wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't care if he might get sick, he was unable to prevent you from getting sick, so he will keep you close watching over you until you get better and then he'll still keep you close lol. (Why do I feel like he would be a cuddle monster)

“Sato?”, you mumble as you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards their chest. “Yeah it’s me, how you feeling?”, your husband asks as he gives you a quick peck on the cheek. “M’feeling better, still a bit tired and achy”, you say before turning your body to face him. “When did you get back?”, you ask threading your fingers through his white locks. “Just now, I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today”, Satoru says and you see the sadness in his eyes. “It’s ok love, Shoko came by to check on me and give me some more meds”, you tell him. “Still…I should be the one-”, he starts but you cut him off. “Satoru, it’s ok. You’re here now and that’s all that matters”, you tell him gently. “Let’s sleep, yeah?”, you continue. “Ok”, he whispers before kissing you softly, hoping sleep finds him quickly that night.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Listen, this man has got other things to be doing than taking care of you. That being said he would still task someone with watching over you

Would want updates on the hour every hour especially if you were really sick. While he himself isn’t the one caring for you he still wants to know your ok

He makes sure you have plenty healthy food, tea, etc ready for you at all times. If you were sick enough that you needed to see the doctor he’d have Uraume personally be there with you every step of the way with again updates every hour.

At the end of the day while you’re sleeping he’d come by to check on you personally. If you want him to hold you it’s gonna take a lot of coaxing on your end, but at the same time I would see him coming to sleep/ lay next to you at the night.

“Make sure you drink all of this with your medicine”, Uraume instructs as they hand you a full glass of water. You grimace as the giant pills move down your throat. “Where is he?”, you question as Uraume takes the cup from you. “The master is busy as always, why?”, they reply. You sigh as you lay back into the bed. “Nothing..I just want him, that’s all, it’s not a big deal”, you say as Uraume pulls the covers over you. “Regardless I will pass your message along. Rest”, they instruct before leaving the room. Hours later you awaken, feeling his presence. “Ryo?”, you call out into the darkness. “You should be sleeping”, he replies, though you note a barely there worry in his tone. “Hold me please”, you say. “Why should I do that brat, you’re sick”, he replies. “Because I’m sick. I feel like shit and I just want to held”, you say as tears well in your eyes. Sukuna sighs, but you feel his hands grip your waist, pulling you to him. “Sleep”, he commands as you lay your head on his chest. For once you don’t argue, clueing Sukuna in on how sick you really were.

Hiromi Higuruma:

This man is a lawyer turned sorcerer so needless to say he is a bit busy. However if y’all are married/dating this man is most definitely putting you first.

Similar to Nanami he’d go to the pharmacy or take you to the doctor to get you the help you need. As long as your not too sick, he’s going into work, but calls you throughout the day when he has time

I see him being a bit more on the hesitant side to kiss or cuddle you cause he doesn’t want to get sick, but he’ll still find other ways to show you he cares like buying you your favorite tea or cooking your favorite sick food

If you’re sick sick, he would totally work from home. Checking on you and making sure you’re taking your meds and keeping fluids down.

“Hiro”, you call from the bedroom, voice scratchy from all the coughing you’d been doing. “What do you need”, he calls, head poking through the door. “I’m sorry to ask, I know you’re working, but would you get me a hot tea please? My throat hurts”, you ask, slightly embarrassed that you didn’t have the energy to do it yourself. “Of course, one tea coming right up”, he says before heading to the kitchen. When he comes back you give him a small smile. “Thank you, sorry for disturbing you”, you say before taking a sip. “Hey now don’t apologize. You’re sick and I know you’d do the same for me”, Higuruma tells you. “You should try to sleep more”, he continues before laying his palm against your forehead, noting that you were still feverish. “Once I finish this, thanks again Hiro”, you say. “Of course, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything else”, he says with light smile before leaving you to get some much needed rest.

Suguru Geto:

For some reason I see him knowing you’re gonna get sick before you even get sick. He notices your sneezing a lot or that you have a light tickle in your throat, so he hits the pharmacy to buy meds before you even need them

When you do wake up sick the next day you see a box of tissues, cough drops, meds, and your favorite hot drink already prepared for you

Texts you throughout the day to keep an eye on you and if you’re sick sick, like the others he’s staying home. Similar to Higuruma he’s gonna keep his distance cause he doesn’t wanna get sick, but still takes care of you

If you aren’t sleepy he’ll bring a chair into the bedroom and watch your favorite movie or read your favorite book to you. Makes sure you take all your meds and drink plenty of fluids

You awaken with a pounding headache and sore throat. “Fuck”, you mumble, sitting up a bit before you see the array of things on your bedside table. Almost if on cue your phone rings. “Make sure you take the blue pill first and then the cough medicine”, Suguru says as you pick up. “You know me too well, thank you Sugu”, you say with a light chuckle. “Of course, I have to be out most of the day, but call me if you need anything ok?”, he tells you. “I will I promise”, you tell him before hanging up. Just as you finish taking your meds you phone pings with a text message. “Drink the whole glass of water love”, Suguru had messaged. “Damn”, you sigh as you look at the half empty glass of water. “He knows me too well”, you mumble before finishing the water. You snuggle under the covers willing the meds to kick in soon.

[melonsodypop]

H-hi! I hope It's ok if my first request is not a smutty one? Yakuza men and what makes them feel loved? Thank you in advance!

yakuza men and the things that make them feel loved !

❀ pairing -  kazuma kiryu, goro majima, taiga saejima, shun akiyama, y0!akira nishikiyama, daigo dojima, ryuji goda/reader (all seperate)

❀ tags - fluff, angst, gender neutral reader, probably sloppy character analysis, these men all really need therapy, love languages, alcohol/smoking mentions

❀ a/n - of course non-smut requests are welcome!! stares at my college degree on the wall that focused almost entirely on how people's experiences, relationships and environments affect them and their inner wounds/ways they want to be loved... i am so ready to break these down hehehehe (also i learned how to use gradient text are u guys proud of me)

kazuma kiryu ❀ spending time with him

deceptively simple, kiryu feels the most loved when you decide to just exist near him

oftentimes he feels like he's undeserving of company or that his mere presence is a danger to his loved ones, so frankly your insistence on being close to him is going to freak him out at first

he might even start avoiding you in the early stages of a relationship - don't take it personally, it's just that he loves you so much that he's anxious about hurting you

the more and more you stick by him, the more he realizes that he doesn't have to do everything on his own

in fact, he likes not doing everything on his own, a wave of relief every time he remembers that he has someone he trusts and admires deeply at his side

it slowly heals that deep emotional wound he carries that for someone to love him means for them to be hurt

the reason i hesitate to use the word 'quality time' with him is that he doesn't even really need you to be doing something with him

just being in the same room as him, focusing on whatever you both are working on separately

he's never been one to be comfortable expressing himself in words, the silence between the two of you like a warm blanket instead of awkward

i could get into my hc that he's autistic so it's a form of parallel play to him, but i digress

if you look over at him, you'll see that there's a rare soft smile on his lips

wordlessly will walk over to you and pull you flush to his side gently, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead

"i like when you're here," he'll grumble softly to you - which in kiryu-isms, really means 'please stay by my side like this forever'

goro majima ❀ letting him vent/talk about his feelings

oh boy i have so many thoughts about majima and how hard of a time he has accepting love

he's a master at self-sabotage - he doesn't know how to process feelings of love or affection, nor does he really feel that a piece of shit like him deserves it (see: how often he tells others that they'd be better off without him)

so he often chooses to bury his feelings instead of doing something about it

it was much the same when it came to you - he loves you so much, painfully so, but there was always that annoying voice in his head that told him that that you had better things to do than spend time on a mongrel like him

he'll keep his conversations surface-level with you at first, but ask him how he feels about everything and validate what he says

it'll catch him off-guard at first, and he might even try to put up a front and say he doesn't like talking about that sappy shit

but he'll eventually start giving in, going on long rants about all the crap he had to deal with that day or his 'tragic fuckin' backstory' while you listen intently

the more you wrench his ribcage open and force him to expose his real heart to you, the more he starts falling helplessly for you

not only are you letting him acknowledge and let out the emotions he keeps bottled up close to his chest, but you're seeing every ugly, rotten part of him and you still love him

now, that doesn't mean don't hold him accountable when he's kinda being a dick

praising everything he does will just make him feel like you're putting him on a pedestal or seeing some idealized version of himself you made up in your head

which will give his brain an excuse to run out on you before he eventually disappoints you

so don't let him run - from his feelings, from accountability, from you

the mad dog doesn't like to be collared, but for the person who looks past every facade he puts up and lets him just be goro majima - he'll happily put himself on a leash if it's you who's holding it

taiga saejima ❀ giving him physical affection

for most of his life, saejima was treated like a dangerous beast due to his size and that perpetual scowl on his face

it only got worse after the ueno seiwa hit - shackled like a circus tiger as he was dragged from jail to jail, never able to escape whispers of 'the man who slayed eighteen' and 'the stone-cold hitman' that make him sound more like an urban legend monster than a man

saejima has his own pride in his strength, and for the longest time he just accepted that he was the untouchable, scary beast that everyone made him out to be

it's not until you come into his life and start to subjecting him to little casual touches of affection that he realizes how touch-starved he is

grab his hand, cuddle him, catch him off-guard with kisses to his weary face - it makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn't understand just yet

he feels silly that such small, soft things are affecting him this much at first, but every casual little touch you give him makes him feel less like the boogeyman and more like a person

the fact that you trust him enough and feel safe enough to him to attach yourself to him... he feels like he could cry

it takes a while for him to start returning your touches, but when he does he suddenly turns into the biggest teddy bear

every time he holds your cute little face or holds you protectively against his chest at night, he's taught that his hands can do more than just inflicting pain

he'll never, ever admit it out loud but he loves it the most when you hug him, your arms barely able to wrap around his thick torso but trying your best regardless

he can't help but chuckle as he feels your body meld against his, patting your head and wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders

he knows people would gawk if they saw how cuddly he gets with you, but he can't really bring himself to care

he's not a monster, a beast, stone-cold, or a killer when he's in your arms - just a big, soft tiger

shun akiyama ❀ taking care of his physical needs

akiyama SUCKS at taking care of himself, often relying on other people (i.e. hana-chan's scoldings) to remind him to eat or get his work done

it's not like he's completely helpless, he insists - he at least keeps himself clean and well-groomed

but being homeless for as long as he was, he eventually just forgot how to attend to his needs

even now, with all the money in the world, he's still unlearning how he had to just suppress his hunger pangs when food was an uncertainty and sleeping on a regular schedule when shelter wasn't always guaranteed

his body does it unconsciously now, often attending to his paperwork for hours on end without even noticing that he's hungry or tired

he feels embarrassed when you start slipping him bentos here and there when he's so wrapped up in his work, often giving you an apologetic smile and profuse thank you's

but the fact that you cared enough to notice, and cared even more to go out and get him something to eat makes him remember why he fell for you in the first place

he might protest weakly when you pull him away from his work when you notice his eyes are getting sunken and his body's lagging behind

or roll his eyes with a smirk when you snatch a cigarette from between his lips and smush it in the nearby ashtray, reminding him that he was whining about needing to quit smoking just yesterday

but he's truly, genuinely thankful that you're forcing him to take care of himself, the fact that you're invested enough in his wellbeing to scold him

he'll be damned though if he becomes one of those boyfriends that treats you like his mother, though - he may call himself a bum, but he's not THAT much of a bum

expect to be taken care of in equal measure, akiyama insisting to pay for your meals and run your errands for you to show with his actions, not just his words, how cared for you make him feel

akira nishikiyama ❀ praising him

yeahhh i couldn't not talk about nishiki's inferiority complex and how damaged his self-esteem is

his cool-guy bravado very thinly covers up a mountain of insecurities

he doesn't really feel like he does much of anything right, too pathetic to be a scary yakuza and too cowardly to stand up for himself or what he believes in

so anytime you genuinely praise him and tell him he did a good job with something, the high he gets from it is strong enough that he could probably quit nicotine, he thinks

he preens when you compliment how stylish he looks or how well he styled his hair - he takes a LOT of pride in his appearance, probably one of the few things he doesn't really have insecurities about

he can't help but grin ear to ear when you cheer for him at karaoke, or clap and whoop when he gets a strike at the bowling alley

he admires you so, so much, and that verbal affirmation that you think just as highly of him soothes that little boy inside that never thinks he's good enough for anything or anybody

every time you compliment him, he gets so giddy that he'll grab you by the waist and start pressing kisses all over your face

"i did that for you, baby," he'll claim proudly, his eyes shining with affection

the first time he cried in front of you, he was shocked that you didn't call him a crybaby or told him to man up

you just held him gently and wiped away his tears, whispering that he did the best he could and that you were so proud of him

he absolutely crumbles when he hears that, hugging you close and crying even harder :(

it kills him (in a good way) that even when you see him at his most vulnerable, you don't think he's pathetic or weak, just someone who needs the reassurance and comfort he's been deprived of his whole life

i'm not saying you'll fix him, necessarily - but perhaps the entirety of 1 could have been avoided if someone just told him he was doing a good job

daigo dojima ❀ letting him be weak

from the moment daigo was born a dojima, he was expected to be as strong, proud, and cold as the rest of his family

even when he left the tojo clan after the ryuji incident to not have to carry that expectation anymore, he still had a gang of people who started to follow him and put them on a pedestal as their leader

and now, as the sixth chairman, he has even less opportunities to let his guard down, not with thirty thousand people looking to him as an example and his enemies lurking at all times

daigo's resolve is strong, having long since accepted his lot in life as a leader - but he can't deny that he just gets so exhausted sometimes

so when he can come home to you, who doesn't expect him to be the sixth chairman, a dojima, or hell, even a yakuza, just daigo, is when he feels the most loved

sometimes just lays his head on your lap when it's just the two of you on the couch in the living, the feeling of your fingers threading gently through his jet-black hair and just being able to relax making the stress in his muscles melt away almost instantly

his greatest peace is when you both lay down to sleep at night, holding him in your arms and whispering to him about how hard he works and to get all the rest he needs

he hums softly and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, not saying anything back as he revels in the feeling of your fingernails scraping against his scalp as your digits comb through the tresses of his hair

there's no expectations, no danger, nobody expecting him to make a decision on the spot or suppress his personal feelings for the good of many

just his darling lover who sees him for who he is, feelings and weaknesses and all, and still loves him

he knows that there's a long list of things he has to do tomorrow and put on a strong face again, but for now he lets himself cuddle in your grasp, letting your words and gentle touches soothe him to sleep

ryuji goda ❀ when he gets to show off for you

a very... simple method of affection for a very straightforward man

he's just got some somewhat dated ideas about what it means to be a man in a relationship, and a lot of them revolve around flexing how strong and skilled he is to you

nothing makes him more satisfied than seeing your eyes shine with awe when he helps you move an insanely heavy piece of furniture or when he shows you just how much whiskey he can knock back in one go

it's less of the showing off itself that makes him feel loved - he's confident in his strength and his skills so he needs no reassurance in that department

but your cutely surprised reactions and the fact that you're so openly proud to call him your boyfriend that you'd let him strut his stuff out in public to show the world how cool and strong he is... yeah, that's what makes him happy

he gets so determined to show off for you that he sometimes gets in way over his head about things he usually wouldn't give a shit about

for example, when he tried to get you the cute stuffed animal that you wanted from the ufo catcher

ryuji scoffed and told you to step aside, confident that he would get it first try

until he didn't. and didn't on the second, third, fourth, fifth tries-

he let out a string of colorful curses as he watched the claw uselessly pinch at the round little sparrow, his jaw tensed in concentration as he shoved another coin into the machine's slot

ignores your reassurances that he really didn't need to do this for you, retrying until he eventually gets the damn thing to drop in the hole

he feels stupid until he hands the round bun-chan toy to you, your eyes wide and a smile on your lips

as soon as you hug him with a squealed thank you, he laughs, patting your head and telling you that it wasn't a huge deal

ryuji's not one to usually lie, but your praise and admiration is, unsurprisingly, the BIGGEST deal to him

as he wraps his arms around your waist to walk the streets of sotenbori, showing off both you on his arm and the little plushie he won you, he knows he would move both heaven and earth if it meant it would make you proud to call him your lover

[messedupfan]

Chapter 19

Summary: Y/n finds some interesting information about Rachel while cleaning her room.

A/n: I wasn't sure about this chapter but considering tonight is the presidential debate, nothing can be worse than that. I hope this is better than that. Enjoy!

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Wanda sets the last box on top of another and puts her hands on her hips as she looks at the shed. It was a mess when she first opened it yesterday. She couldn't believe how much crap had collected inside over the years. She threw out most of the useless items and whatever gardening and landscaping tools she had, she moved to the garage. Though she doubted she'd need them again since the tools were only used once by Vision before he hired a team of people to take care of the yards. 

The shed is once again a disorganized mess of boxes but she knows that you won't let them collect dust. “I should probably patch up some holes in here before I leave, I don't know what the weather is going to be like before I can get in here and really set up and I don't want anything to get ruined.” You say as you analyze the space. 

Wanda nods, “Yeah, do whatever you have to. It's your space now.” 

“Almost like we're moving in together,” you joke, which makes both of you laugh awkwardly. “Sorry I don't know where that,” you start but Wanda doesn't let you finish as she waves you off. 

“It's okay,” she says with a kind smile. The two of you get quiet and stand in front of each other awkwardly. Not sure what to say or do. She wants to ask you so many questions. She wants to hold you and tell you that she loves you. She wants to throw caution into the wind and ask you to move in. But she knows that she can't. She's not ready. She takes a slow breath and opens her mouth to ask if you're feeling better but thankfully, her phone starts ringing. “I have to take this,” she says as she puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, yeah, let me get somewhere private.” She mouths an apology to you just before turning to the back door of her house. She rushes up the steps of the deck and then to her office. She feels you trailing her up until she gets to the stairs inside of the house. 

“Since when do you need to find privacy to talk to me?” Agatha says on the other end of the call.

Wanda hurries into her home office but isn't careful enough to ensure that the door is shut all the way. She stands in the middle of her office with her back to the door. “Since I realized that I'm in love with Y/n and I needed to get the words out before I self implode,” she rushes out as if she was holding a deep breath. 

“Woah, woah,” Agatha says with a hint of humor in her tone. “I’m going to need you to slow down and annunciate for me, honey. What's happening?” 

Wanda swallows and inhales through her nose. “I'm sorry, I'm kind of losing it lately. Ever since I started seeing Dr. Winslow I feel like I can't keep a secret anymore because it doesn't feel good. But now is not the time for me to go proclaiming my love to Y/n.” Wanda starts to nibble on her thumb nail. 

“Why not? I'm sure they'd love to hear how you feel about them,” Agatha asks.

“Because they have a lot going on. And I still have a lot of things to work through.” She doesn't want to go into the details with Agatha so she keeps it vague. “But I can finally admit it to myself and well, you, about how I feel.” 

“Yeah, why are you telling me this now? I’ve been losing bets over this and now you feel this way?” Agatha scoffs as she thinks about how much money she's lost because she could see what her friend continued to deny. 

“I'm sorry, it's still relatively new to me. If it makes you feel any better, you indirectly helped me get to this point,” Wanda lamely offers up. 

“That's why I called you,” Agatha says as she is reminded why she even dialed up her friend. “How has the therapy been? Good for you?” 

“Oh they've been amazing! Thank you for introducing me to Dr. Winslow, I really don't think I could thank you enough,” Wanda says gratefully. 

“I told you, he's really that good,” Agatha states proudly.

“Yeah, he has made me feel things I haven't felt before, or I guess, he's made me understand feelings that I haven't been able to identify before. Yeah, that sounds better,” Agatha laughs and it makes Wanda laugh too. “Stop with your dirty mind. You know what I mean.” Agatha agrees. “It’s really weird though, I feel like he understands me better than I understand me. I'm not sure I like it but it's been helpful so I can't really complain can I?” 

“I told you not to go to him unless you were ready to really learn about yourself,” Agatha says. 

“I know, I know. I am appreciative and grateful and all of the other positive words. But gah, I miss the ability to hold in my feelings.” Wanda shakes her head as she thinks about you. She turns around when she hears footsteps and her eyes widen as she realizes that she didn't shut the office door all of the way. “I um I uh shit! I have to call you later Agatha! I forgot to close the damn door!” 

“So much for that privacy you were looking for,” Agatha quips. “I love you, hon. Have a good rest of your evening?” She ends the call and Wanda sets her phone on her desk as she sits against the front of it and puts her face into her hands. 

She takes a moment for herself then she remembers that she hasn't washed her hands yet.  She quickly makes her way to the bathroom in her bedroom to wash her face and her hands. By the time she dries off she has convinced herself that you didn't hear anything because you would have come inside and done something. She considers that one of the kids might've heard but she knows who's footsteps those belonged to. They were definitely yours. 

Wanda walks into the kitchen to find you chopping vegetables. “You're already starting on the salad? We haven't even talked about what we're having as the main course,” she says as she grabs her apron to have her hands do something other than wrap around your body. She hardly wears it but it was a mother's day gift from her boys a couple years ago so she keeps it around. 

You shrug as you focus on chopping. “Yeah but I'm sure it's going to include a salad so I figured it'd be better to start instead of sitting around doing nothing.” You stop chopping for a second to look at her. “How was your phone call?” 

Wanda gives you a tight smile as her heart pounds in her chest with fear and anticipation. She isn't ready for you to know about her feelings yet. “It was good. It was Agatha. She was just checking on how my therapy is going. Since she recommended him to me and all,” Wanda opens the pantry to start pulling out ingredients. 

“I should probably start looking into therapy,” you state as you start to feel like an idiot. Of course she was talking about a therapist! She didn't push you away to be with another person, she pushed you away to be with herself. But that doesn't mean you need to feel guilty about dating. It's what she wants and you're respecting that.

Wanda surprises you by placing her hand on the middle of your back but you settle into the touch as it spreads a warm tingly sensation throughout your back. “I think with everything going on, that sounds like a great idea.” She leans her head against your shoulder. “Have things ended physically between you and Jean before?” Wanda asks carefully. Her hand starts to rub small circles on your back. You stop moving the knife as there's no more vegetables to cut. 

“I wouldn't say that it was crazy physical but this isn't the first time she's smacked me out of anger. It's probably the third or fourth time. That's not to say I didn't deserve it,” you say softly. Wanda shakes her head as she moves away and turns you to face her. “Wanda, I should not have confronted her like that. It wasn't fair to her. And honestly, I felt out of control. I'm glad it went the way that it did and not the other way around.” 

“Do you really think you're capable of something like that?” Wanda asks as her eyes bounce back and forth between your eyes. 

“I like to believe that I'm not. I didn't feel like I was going to hurt her physically. I had no intention to. The idea wasn't in my mind. But who knows what any of us are capable of?” You reply as honestly as you can because you don't know if you are capable of inflicting physical harm on anyone. You got into little nothing fights in high school that ended in laughter before anything got serious. But nothing has pushed you past your limits enough. Even drunk and getting into arguments with someone, it never ended in a real physical fight. 

“It was never going to end that way. Don’t doubt your abilities to keep yourself in check, Y/n. You are capable of many things. Choosing physical violence isn’t one of them and that’s a great thing,” Wanda says with a firm tone that makes you believe her words. You nod and thank her. “Any time. Now let’s make these kids some dinner before they start getting cranky,” she says with a kind smile before stepping away from you. 

The two of you step into an easy rhythm of cooking together and when the ingredients start to create an aroma that travels throughout the house, the kids are running down the stairs eager to be part of the process. There isn’t much for them to do other than watch and wait since it was just a simple pasta with a side salad. The kids, however, made themselves useful by setting the table and getting drinks poured for everyone. When the meal was ready, everyone served themselves before meeting at the table. You love the dinners that you are fortunate to have at Wanda’s but you know that you’re going to have to dial it back soon. It’s not fair to the kids to get attached to the idea of this family. Because it's not real. 

Something that you didn't realize was already a problem until a couple of weekends later. You are cleaning Rachel's room because it had gotten messy throughout the weeks and you didn't feel like arguing about it. She wasn't a bad kid and with things being tense between you and her mother, you don't feel that she should be punished for an unkempt room. You remember being a kid with a tense family dynamic and how your room would be a mess as a result of it. Cleaning her room for her healed a part of your inner child. The younger version of you who was struggling for a long time and instead of being met with compassion or concern was only ever berated and punished for things like a messy room. 

Rachel had a sleepover with Tommy and Billy at Wanda’s house the night before. Wanda tried to convince you to join them but you declined. Instead, you spent the free night with Nebula. The two of you met for dinner then ended the night at your place. She has a great sense of humor and she made you laugh for hours. You attempted to do the same, unfortunately she had to politely inform you that your humor needed some work. 

“But don't worry, I'm still willing to stick around,” she flipped her hair and leaned in. You smiled at her and kissed her cheek. You enjoy her company, you aren't sure what kind of future you'll have with her, but you like her enough to find out. 

Spending time with Nebula made you realize what you liked about Daisy and why you kept that relationship going for as long as you did. It was how she admired you. At least how she admired an idea of you that she cultivated for years. That she managed to still like you past the mental pedestal. You might not have been aware of her crush on you when she was younger but the comments that Kate made about it made you feel good about yourself. Being with her made you feel a bit more confident even though it was at her emotional expense. 

Being with Nebula is refreshing. She isn't your former boss’ daughter. She isn't your current one's sister. She doesn't know anything about your past aside from what you choose to share. And you have no ties or connection to her and her past. A past that hasn't come around to haunt her. Not that you minded Wanda’s troubles. You have plenty of your own. But spending time with Nebula gave you a new perspective when it came to dating. Sure, you still have stronger feelings for Wanda, but she doesn't want you. This time around, you have a real confirmation that she doesn't want to be anything more than a friend. You can't put your life on hold on the chance that she might change her mind. 

You are snapped from your thoughts when you step on something poking out from under Rachel's bed. You look down and see a small trail of ants marching from there. “Gross,” you make a face and leave the room to get gloves and a face mask on as well as a handful of trash bags and bug spray. You hated finding old food. You hadn't realized how bad she was getting until you looked under the bed. There were stacks of paper plates with food leftover in them. There were some clothes that you suppose were meant to help hide the unfinished food. You feel a little better when you see bite marks in the moldy food but you know that you're going to have to have a talk with her when you pick her up. 

You end up having to move the bed in order to get it properly cleaned and disinfected. Jean used to do the same thing when the two of you were growing up. You hope you can help Rachel with the habit before it gets bad. As much as you don't want to talk to Jean, you know you're going to have to discuss this with her. Especially since she's going to have to clean under Rachel's bed at her house. 

When you're done cleaning from under the bed, you decide to strip it so that she can have clean sheets to return to. When you do that, you notice something sticking out from between the mattress and the box spring. The paper looked oddly familiar and you are reminded of the top secret project that she wouldn't let anyone see. You want to respect her privacy but the curiosity and concern takes over and you lift the mattress to pull it out carefully. 

It's a flimsy poster made up of construction paper taped and glued together. At the top in big letters it says, “How to get Ms. Wanda and Baba together!” You pull it all of the way out and sit on the bed with a deep frown on your face as you read the steps of her plan. At the bottom is a little note that says, “Check Rocket for updates.” You set the poster down and go into her closet where you had found her plush raccoon toy earlier. She named it Rocket because it has a spacesuit on and she was in her astronaut phase when she received the toy as a present. 

You didn't know that it had a zipper on the back until now when you find it as you try to figure out how he was storing updates for her. You open it and find folded pieces of paper each labeled with a date. You open the one from the beginning of the year and are shocked to find out that she witnessed the kiss between you and Wanda. You open another one and read about the time that you and Wanda played a dance game together in the living room while you guys thought the kids were playing with each other upstairs. She wrote about how happy Wanda made you. 

Another page, she wrote about how she really felt about her accident. That she was having nightmares about the fall but that sometimes you or Wanda were there to catch her in the dream. She wants Wanda to be her mom. She wrote, “With Anna I didn't get a choice. Mommy loves Momma Anna. She's nice but she isn't Ms. Wanda. I know that I can't make Baba choose Ms. Wanda. But I can make them see that Ms. Wanda is the best person for them. I think Baba could love Ms. Wanda already. They are brighter and happier when we are with Ms. Wanda. The smile on Baba’s face is bigger than when we have Miss Daisy over. I don't like Miss Daisy. She isn't Ms. Wanda.” 

You stop reading because these updates feel like personal journal entries. You fold them back up and stuff them in Rocket. You finish cleaning her room and make her bed. Not sure what else to do, you drive to a nearby store and buy Rachel a real diary with a set of pencils and erasers for her and put it all together in a small gift bag. 

You leave the present in the car when you get to Wanda’s house. You text Wanda to have her meet you outside so that you can chat with her before confronting the kids. You stand outside of your car with the poster and Rocket in your hand. As you were putting the papers back inside, you realized that some of them weren't written by your daughter. So this matter wasn't just a one on one with you and Rachel. The twins were involved as well. 

“What's going on?” Wanda asks as she meets you in the driveway. You hand her the poster and her eyebrows twitch with confusion. She smiles at first and it slowly drops as she processes what she's reading then it returns because it’s so silly. “Honestly, this is so cute. They ship us,” Wanda turns to you with her amused grin. 

“You don't see this as a problem?” You ask as you pull out the “updates” that the kids have written and hand them to her. She reads a couple of pages before her expression changes. 

“Okay, it's kind of creepy knowing that they're watching us so closely. Gahd, I really thought Billy bought that story that you had a nightmare,” she shakes her head as she lowers the pages from her view. “But, I don't know. It's kind of sweet that my boys want me with someone like you. Someone that they've only ever seen make me happy. And that Rachel would choose me to be another mother for her. Especially with everything going on with Jean. How is that by the way?” 

“I stay in my apartment at pick ups and drop offs now. They don't want me near their house,” you state. “Which is fine with me, I don't want to see them either.” Wanda nods to show her understanding of the situation. “Anyway, I think we need to talk to the kids about this. I don't think it's good for them.” 

“They're just kids with an innocent fantasy of becoming a family,” Wanda defends their actions. “What's wrong with letting them continue to believe that they can bring a family together?” 

You frown as you look at the so-called operation. You don't know why you feel the need to crush their dreams. But it's not going to be a reality. “It doesn't seem like it could be damaging? Now I know why Rachel was so adamantly against Daisy. She won't accept anyone I date if she thinks there's a chance,” you look away from Wanda. Avoiding actually having to verbalize a rejection you're still coping with. You close your eyes and take a slow breath through your nose as you think about one of the reasons this bothers you. “I started seeing someone. It's still new and I don't think I'm at the point of introducing Rachel to her. But I might someday and I don't want a repeat of last time.”

Wanda tries to keep her expression neutral. She can't believe that you're already feeling serious about someone else. She thought you might date around but in the way she was dating around. Nothing serious, just a person or a few people to have fun with every now and then. She didn't think that you would find someone you would like enough to crush your daughter's dreams. 

“You've made it clear that you don't see that kind of future with me,” you state with an emotionless expression that catches Wanda's attention. She wants to correct you but she doesn't feel that she has the right to. She knows that she is in love with you, but she isn't ready to be in a relationship. Not yet. Telling you those words would only mean she felt that way and not that she was ready to act on them. 

“Right,” she nods. “Well, I don't think we should rush in there and tell them that this will never happen. Let's think about it. If by next Sunday we don't agree on an appropriate approach, then we will think about it longer. It will be okay. Besides, they might grow out of the idea.” 

You nod as you feel a little bit better about the whole thing. “You're right, we shouldn't confront them about it yet.” 

“Where did you get that?” Rachel says with the boys standing behind her. You and Wanda turn to look at them, then look at each other with panic in your eyes. Wanda tries to hand off the evidence to you but you push it back towards her. She pushes it towards you and the two of you go back and forth until you surrender. 

“Kids, we need to have a little chat,” you finally say as you take the papers from Wanda's hands and walk towards the house. You pace in front of the kids as they sit on the sofa. The evidence is displayed on the coffee table between you and them. Wanda stands behind you, leaning against the wall. 

The three kids look at each other as they wait. Each of them comes up with a different story in their heads as they wait under your glare for you to say more. They can't handle your silence and crack under the pressure. Tommy is the first to point a finger at Billy who blames Rachel who then throws Tommy under the bus making him turn on Rachel. It goes in circles until you hold your hand up. They all stop. 

“No one is in trouble,” you start. You look at Wanda who doesn't have much to say on the matter. She wishes they had the week to think about this. You turn back to the children, not quite sure where you're about to go. “We are just concerned because,” you helplessly look back at Wanda. “Want to help me out?” She shakes her head and encourages you to continue. You drop your head for a second and return your attention to the kids. 

“Can you explain what this is exactly?” You ask helplessly. The three children exchange looks but end up deciding to stay quiet in the end. “Okay,” you back up to where Wanda is standing. “I'm not good at this,” you whisper to her. 

“I think you're doing great,” she says with humor in her eyes as she holds back from laughing. You tilt your head at her unamused. She sighs, “Okay, let me try.” She steps forward and crouches down to level with the coffee table. She looks at the pages that are full of words and drawings. Her eyes danced from page to page in thought. “Y/n is right, none of you are in trouble. We're just concerned and a little confused. What exactly are you guys hoping will happen if you,” she looks at the master plan, “‘keep leaving us alone together’ and ‘drop hints to be together.’ Do you guys think that's how families are made?”

Rachel is the first to crack this time. She starts with a shrug. Then a soft, “I don't know.” Wanda nods and with a soft expression she asks Rachel to try and explain the idea. “I just, it started when my Baba was building your wall. And I got to hang out with Billy and Tommy and Luna. I don't like being an only child. I like pretending I'm Billy and Tommy's sister. We have a lot of fun together. Then we were having the kind of family dinners I've always dreamed of. Plus Tommy said that my Baba is nicer to you than their dad.” 

Tommy chooses then to speak up. “They make you smile a lot. Dad, used to make you smile sometimes but not like Y/n. I like how happy you are when they're around.” 

Wanda starts to feel herself getting choked up and you can feel the weight of their words. You decide to sit with Wanda at the coffee table to continue to hear them out. “Yeah, I've never heard Y/n call you mean names. Daddy called you so many mean names,” Billy says next. “He calls us names too and we don't like it. But Y/n is always nice to us and they're nice to you.” 

Wanda tries to fight her tears as she is overwhelmed by her emotions. She fucked up. That's all she can think about. She fucked up. “Mom don't cry, we're sorry,” Tommy says as he stands up and walks around the table to hug his mom. Billy joins in, cutting in between the two of you to hug her other side. It causes Wanda to cry harder even though she doesn't want to be having this breakdown in front of her boys. You start to rub her back to offer your comfort and support. Wanda believed that she was careful to not let the boys witness the darkness that loomed over her relationship with their father. That only recently they've witnessed the relationship taking a turn. To know that they've always been aware of the animosity is heartbreaking. 

Rachel joins the pile. She apologizes as she does and Wanda can't tell her that she shouldn't because she is sobbing. You didn't realize that Wanda had so much pain built up inside of her. You feel guilty that you can't give her the privacy that she gave you weeks ago. With the way she holds onto her boys, it's easy to see that she doesn't mind at the moment. 

When Wanda stops crying she excuses herself to clean up and instead of following her, you stay with the kids. You sit with them and listen to what they have to say. It is flattering to know what the boys think of you. And it's sweet of your daughter to want you to have what she thinks is the type of love her mom found. She wants you to be happy and she thinks that's with Wanda. You sigh at the thought. 

“Honey, I am happy. I don't need a relationship to be happy. You know that,” you say. You don't want her to believe a person's happiness stems from another person.

“I know, but I want you to be happier. Ms. Wanda makes you happier,” she argues and you sigh again. She wasn't wrong but you couldn't tell her that. 

“Alright, we're going to drop this and we're going to order something to eat. How does that sound?” You say because you don't know what else to do. You don't want to tell them that it's not a possibility when deep down, you hope things will change. 

They agree and you clean up their little project. You don't want to throw it away so you just collect it and remove it from the coffee table. You take it out to the truck and put it in an unused folder for safe keeping. You walk back inside to find the three debating on a movie. You take the time to look for Wanda. 

She is lying on her side on her bed. She is clutching a pillow to her chest. You don't walk into her room just yet. Instead, you walk back down stairs and fill a glass with ice and water, the way she enjoys water the most. The kids are focused on a movie when you pass them. 

You gently knock on Wanda's half closed door and wait to be invited in. She lets out a soft, “I'm okay, I'll be down in a few.” 

It breaks your heart to hear her so forlorn. “It's me,” you say in a broken whisper. 

“Come in,” she sniffles and you step through the door. You shut it behind you before you walk to the side of her bed. She doesn't move when she sees the glass of water so you set it on the coaster on her nightstand. You sit on the floor in front of her and the both of you stare at each other for a long time. Her nose is red and her cheeks are pink with puffy eyes. She has mucus making its way down her nose. Her cheeks are wet with tears. You want to take the tissues from her nightstand and wipe her face but you don't want to invade her personal space without her permission. 

“What do you need,” you ask after a while. 

“A time machine,” she answers softly with a small tug on the corner of her lips. You flash a smile and look down at your hand for a second then look back up at her. 

“Don't we all?” You pause and tilt your head so that you match her head's position. “Unfortunately, I don't have access to one of those. Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

Wanda scratches under her nose and cringes. She quickly grabs tissues to clean herself up but it ends up being for nothing as she starts crying again. “I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening.” 

“You've been carrying a lot. It's okay to have moments like this,” you say you offer your hand. She takes it and squeezes it tightly. 

“I know, but why today? Tomorrow would have been better. Or Monday. Or even next Saturday. Why now? When my boys are here. When you and Rachel are here,” she whines as she stuffs more tissues in her face. You frown and sigh as you shake your head. 

“I don't know,” you answer honestly. “At least you’re not experiencing this alone. The kids are fine, they will continue to be fine. I will be here, I will take care of them. I will take care of you. I will-” Wanda’s body starts shaking as she starts to cry hysterically again. “Screw it,” you say as you climb in the bed with her and wrap your body around her to help soothe her. “Breathe, Wanda,” you say as you hold her tightly. “Breathe,” you take slow breaths for her to mimic. She struggles at first but eventually she is able to breathe with you. When she settles down and stops shaking you stop holding her and you climb off of the bed. 

You clear your throat, “Drink your water. I’m going to chat with the kids and order some food. I'll check on you in a bit.” You walk out of the room and shut the door behind you as you do. 

The kids each state what they are craving and so that you can help them come to an agreement, you offer them three options that come close to their requests. Then you have them vote on which one they want the most. Tommy is the first to cast his vote which makes Rachel lean in a different direction. Billy ultimately agrees to whatever Rachel wants so it makes it slightly easier until Tommy gives a compelling argument. It doesn't take too long before you're putting in their orders for Chinese food. You order your favorites and order what you know Wanda likes. 

You stay with the kids and watch the movie with them to allow Wanda the time alone that she wants. Tommy expresses his boredom when you're trying to pick another movie so the four of you start to play a video game while waiting for the food to be delivered. 

When the food does arrive, you serve the kids before you collect Wanda's food and display it on a tray that she has stored in one of her kitchen cabinets. You make her another glass of water and set it on the tray and carefully carry it to her room. Wanda’s face is clearer when you walk in. She sits up in her bed when she sees you and offers a tired smile as you set the tray over her lap. 

“Oh this is perfect. How did you know?” She asks as she looks hungrily at the food on her tray. 

You shrug and smile, “I'm just that good.” You grab her empty cup from the nightstand. “I'll leave you to it.” She thanks you as you walk out of the room. You enjoy your meal with the kids on your own and when everyone has cleared their messes from the table, you decide to bring out a board game. Wanda finds the four of you laughing together while she is bringing her tray of empty dishes down the stairs. Instead of continuing on, she hides in the shadows and just watches. 

She used to do this when the boys were younger, usually after fighting with Vision. She thought about leaving him so many times but then she'd see him with the boys. He would be watching a soccer game and the boys would want his attention. He would typically ignore them or give them something to distract them or he'd send them off to their room. Those times, she worried about what their lives would be like without her. But there were moments when he was a doting father. He'd play with them. He'd watch their favorite movies with them, at the time they were animated musicals, and he'd sing along. That's when she was reminded of how she fell for him in the first place. Because when he was in a good mood, he could light up a room. He had the ability to make everyone feel as good as he felt. His mood swings were not healthy, but she couldn't justify leaving him at the time. 

Now she wishes that she had done it sooner. She wonders if she had left him before he left her, would she have been able to let you in when you confessed your feelings to her? She wonders if she would have this doubt that she will ruin you and make you as bitter as Vision. Logically, she knows that Vision has always been who he is. But there is a convincing irrational voice in her head that says she is the reason Vision went from loving and present to distant and bitter. 

She walks down with her tray and a fresh face. She tries to pass without bringing attention to herself but her boys jump out of their seats and run up to hug her. Wanda smiles as she greets them. You stand up and take the tray from her hands so that she can hug her boys. She thanks you as you take it all to the sink. 

“Do you want to join us?” You ask, walking out of the kitchen. 

“Um, I don't know. I don't want to mess with whatever you guys have going on,” she says as she looks at the board and how far they are into the game. 

“Oh we were just about to start a new game, right guys?” You try to get the kids to go along with you but they disagree. 

“You only want to start over because you're losing!” Rachel says, making you shake your head to deny the accusation. 

“Mom, we're kicking Y/n’s butt,” Billy giggles as he looks up at his mom. 

“Yeah, Y/n only wants us to start over because they're really bad,” Tommy laughs as he squeezes his arms around his mom.

“Alright, alright,” you surrender. “We're not starting a new game but I can use your help with being the banker. It's been difficult for me to keep track of everything on my own.”

“Okay, sure,” Wanda sits down next to you and takes over the banker role. She mediates arguments with the rule book. She helps you catch up with the kids with some tricks she's learned over the years and you wink at her when you notice the difference her help has made for you. 

When the game is over and Billy has won, Tommy looks like he's about to throw a fit but you quickly tell him how impressive he was throughout the game. Then you say that you are proud of both of them. He holds his hand out to his brother, says “Good game,” then goes upstairs to get ready for bed. 

You take Rachel home after washing the dishes and saying goodnight to Wanda and the boys. You give her the gift and suggest that she should start writing how she feels in the journal instead of random notes stored in her stuffed animal. She thanks you with a hug. When you get home you sit her down and talk to her about her recent food habits and ask her to come to you when she's ready and that for now, the two of you will be eating all meals at the table including snacks. 

“You're not in trouble,” you clarify when she starts to cry and apologize. “Your mom struggled with food for a long time, honey. It's not your fault baby girl. It's no one's fault. Just, we're going to figure this out together okay?” You say as you hold your struggling daughter. Promising her that everything will be okay. 

The next morning, you decide you have to violate the new rules that Jean and Anna have implemented with pick ups and when Anna sends the text that she and Jean are waiting for Rachel in the parking garage, you walk with your daughter hand in hand. Anna gets out of the car when she sees you in order to keep you away. 

“You're not supposed to come out, we still haven't forgiven you yet,” Anna says defensively. 

“We agreed that Rachel comes first, I need to talk to Jean about her,” you state firmly. Rachel squeezes your hand and looks up at you. She shakes her head. 

“I don't want to talk about it with mom, please baba,” she pleads and you lower yourself to her level. 

“Honey, your mom can help you with this better than I can. She needs to know. She can help me too,” you explain. 

Anna softens a bit and turns to the car to tell Jean to get out. The four of you walk back into your apartment and sit down at the kitchen table. You go over what you found underneath Rachel's bed and some of the things you read from papers you found around her room. You didn't mention that it was from entries for her plan to get you to be with Wanda. That wasn't necessary. Jean covers mouth and starts to cry as she thinks of her history with this struggle and feels terrible for passing this trait onto her. You rub her back as you offer her comfort telling her to not blame herself. 

Anna watches her wife be comforted by her ex over an issue that she wasn’t aware of. She had no idea that Jean had a food problem and she starts to realize that the signs have always been there. Moments when Jean would only serve her and Rachel and claim that she had a big lunch. Or the odd smell that came from Rachel’s room and the way that she would freeze whenever it was mentioned to her. The missing items of her step-daughter’s clothing that she couldn’t find and Rachel claimed she left it at her Baba’s house. She can’t believe she missed the signs. And she feels isolated from the family again. She feels isolated from her wife as she watches you and Jean start to make a plan for helping Rachel. Another reminder that she is your daughter.

You are unaware that Anna feels left out as you focus on Rachel and her needs. Jean thanks you for bringing this situation to her during this tense time between the two of you.

“Our differences aside, I will always put Rachel first as I’m sure you feel the same way,” you say while you hold Jean’s hand between yours. She nods as she agrees and that’s when Anna rises out of her chair. It feels a little abrupt to you.

Anna clears her throat and checks her phone, “We have to go, my mom invited us to see my parents' new place. Um, bye, Y/n,” she doesn’t look at you as she starts towards the front door.

You let go of Jean’s hand as you get up to walk your daughter out of your home. “Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea today,” Jean tries to explain. “It’s been a very emotional day for us. I don’t know if Rachel is up for that.” 

Anna stops outside the door, “Sure she does!” You are confused when she smiles at Rachel. Anna used to be the kind of person that would initiate a conversation like this. You learned a lot from her on how to be present, question, and listen to your daughter's actions and words. You don’t understand why she is brushing off something like early signs of an eating disorder. “Don’t you want to see Gammy and Pop-pop?” You cringe at the way she is talking to your daughter with a baby voice. You wonder what’s going on with her. 

Rachel shakes her head and wipes her tears as she leans into your side. “No, I just want to go home,” she says in a small voice. 

Jean looks at Rachel and starts to comb her hair with her fingers then looks at Anna, “Babe, let’s just go home. I’ll call your mom and apologize to her myself.” 

“Fine. Yeah. Okay,” Anna mutters as she walks off. 

Jean sighs, things have been weird between them after they lost the baby. Anna wants a family of her own. She knew that you weren't going anywhere and that you are very involved in your daughter's life. But she thought that she would be able to have more than a third of a say in what happens in her family. She thought you would keep your life separate from her's and Jean's and at first when she realized that the two of you were still close she thought she could handle that. Now, she almost prefers it when the two of you are fighting. Jean senses a frustration and a shift from Anna and she has begun to fear that her marriage might be in jeopardy. 

After Rachel is gone, you sit in your apartment alone in silence for a moment. Letting go of the tension in your body. This was an emotional weekend. It started off pretty light then plummeted from there. You need some relief. Your first thought is Wanda because you’re not sure if she should be alone today. But you decide against the idea. You can’t be there for her like a partner would and that’s exactly what it would feel like. If she wants to hang out, she will call you. Next, you think about dialing Darcy up to hang out and when you can't think of a reason not to, she declines your invitation. She is supervising the team that is packing up her belongings. You can’t believe that it’s almost been three months since she told you she was leaving. 

You haven't had a one on one with Steve since you found out about his relationship with your coworker. You've hardly even spoken to Bucky, who you've seen every day since. Neither knows that you're aware of their relationship. They think you're still upset over Steve's bad attempt at a joke. You're not against them being together but it's just weird for you. 

You knew Peggy and you liked her enough for your friend. For some time you thought her and Steve would get married and start a family. You feel somewhat responsible for breaking them up by introducing Steve to Bucky. Rationally, you are aware that you're not at fault. But you can't help the guilt. And you're not ready to face them about it. 

So you call the least complicated person in your life at the moment and invite her over. Nebula is more than happy to see you for a second time this weekend.

Chapter 20

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[rosesradio]

Hello! I saw that you were taking requests. Would you mind writing a Peter Parker x Reader fic where he is just absolutely head over heels and the reader just doesn't know. The two are good friends so when the reader needs a date for a destination wedding she asks Peter. Cue the classic tropes. ✨💕

hii, here you go !! 🫶 i put in all the best tropes, including friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, he fell first she fell harder…it’s a lot, and it was so fun to write. thanks for the request & reblogs are appreciated <3

my inbox is open, please read my pinned!

word count: 4,105

warnings: light swearing, some sexually suggestive jokes

The Wedding Date

"Hm," you hummed, pacing from one side of your living room to the other. In balancing out your racing train of thought, you had picked up the giant stuffed teddy bear that rested on your couch. "Hm, hm, hm..."

"Hm," Peter echoed, narrowing his eyes as he watched you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Can I ask what's bothering you, or am I gonna be left in the dark while you keep humming for another five minutes?"

"Ugh, I'm sorry," you sighed, forcing yourself to stand still and hug the giant bear to your chest. It was then that you remembered how you got this bear, Teddy, in the first place: Peter won it for you at a carnival. He must have played the stupid, rigged ring toss half a dozen times before he finally scored the big prize. He was such a gentleman, too, holding on to it while you got cotton candy for the both of you.

He was the most selfless person you knew. When you saw behind the Spider-Man mask after two years of knowing Peter, you weren't at all surprised; anyone else with his abilities would have given in to darker fantasies, though he had none.

If Peter was always so willing to be helpful, he could probably do you this tiny favor, right?

"I was just thinking," you started. "I got this wedding invitation recently from my friend, Lindsey—"

"A wedding?" Peter asked with raised brows. "On—on purpose?"

Noticing his smile, you rolled your eyes and flipped him the bird, unable to help but smile yourself. "I know, we're at that age—we're gonna get a ton of wedding invitations, and each one is gonna prompt some sort of crisis where we feel both too old and too young for any major milestone."

"Wow," Peter whistled. "That's so wise—are you seeing a therapist?" Without waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question, he continued: "You know, you could avoid a lot of crises if you just didn't have friends." He gestured to himself.

You looked at him incredulously. "You have me—and Ned. And MJ."

Peter hesitated. His brows furrowed, and he avoided your eyes. "Sure, but...I mean...you're not even close to getting married. You don't even have a boyfriend."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry," Peter cringed. "I didn't mean—"

"That's okay," you said. "You kinda have a point. That's actually what I've been contemplating. My plus one."

Peter's brows rose. "You need a wedding date."

You nodded. "I don't have to have one—and I'd ordinarily just say screw it and tell MJ to put on her best suit, but..." you shrugged, putting Teddy back down on the couch. "Lindsey is..." you sighed. "She means well, but she can be a bit...uppity about my love life? She always points out when I don't have a boyfriend, and it obviously makes me feel...well, like crap."

"Again, sorry," Peter said, grabbing Teddy and cuddling into him. It was honestly a cute picture—not that you would admit that to your best friend. "But you don't have to find a date to the wedding unless you really want one, you know? You shouldn't do anything just because of what other people are gonna think."

You smiled slightly. "Peter, you're starting to sound like an after-school special again." You paused. "But you have a point...I don't want the stress of finding some random guy for the wedding, and I can't bring just a friend..." you lit up. "So, I could make my own boyfriend! Peter, you're a boy, right?"

Peter laughed softly. "Last time I checked, yeah."

"Could you..." you started. "I mean, I don't want to take advantage. You're too kind for your own good sometimes. But, if you wanted to go to a beautiful destination wedding on a beach at Prince Edward Island..." you rocked on your feet from heel to toe. "You could maybe play the role of my fake boyfriend?"

Peter blinked, the smile not leaving his face, though his eyes appeared distant. "I don't know, y/n. That seems—"

"You're right," you shook your head. "It's not right of me to ask that—you need to be here because Spider-Man needs to be here. Forget I said anything. I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll download Tinder again..." although you tried not to, you made a face at the thought of plunging back into the cesspool.

Peter gave you a strange look, then, as if there were some sort of misunderstanding. You didn't like that—understanding social cues were a hit or miss, but communication with Peter was usually crystal clear.

"Wait," Peter shook his head with a sigh. "It's a beach wedding, right? At some point, they're probably gonna have popcorn shrimp..."

You smiled slightly. "Are you seriously thinking of going on a four hour plane ride there and back, pretending to be my boyfriend, and giving up your entire weekend just for...popcorn shrimp?"

"Yeah, of course," Peter nodded. "I've gone on trips and taken time away from being Spider-Man before. If anything really goes wrong, I can find my way back and try to help. Besides, I don't want this Lindsey girl to make you feel bad. I might not be the best looking stand-in boyfriend, but at least I'm here with fast and free shipping." He did some half-hearted jazz hands, though his smile was genuine.

"You're the best, Peter!" You sat down beside him, pulling him (and Teddy) into a hug. "And don't you dare talk bad about yourself. We're gonna go to that wedding with two missions—one, we're gonna make everyone jealous with what a cute fake couple we are. Two, we're gonna get you as much popcorn shrimp as you want."

"Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed, leaning his head against yours.

You could only hope that he really wanted to do this. You remembered all of those faux-sweet comments Lindsey would make about how she worried about you being alone. With Peter's help, you'd make even those newlyweds jealous, all the while making sure you and Peter had the times of your life on the trip.

———

The first bump in the road hit you when you arrived at the hotel room.

The flight there was nice; you and Peter watched movies and played games. In the last hour, you had drifted off to sleep leaning against Peter's shoulder. That was a little embarrassing to wake up to, but it was nothing that hadn't happened before.

This had never happened before.

"One bed," Peter commented blankly, though the surprise across his features was clear.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you huffed, dropping your bags down onto the massive bed. The place appeared pretty romantic, with a plush red duvet and a light dimmer. There was even a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, and—

"Chocolate dipped strawberries," you lit up, going over to the display and reading the adjoining card.

"Are we in the wrong room?" Peter asked. "'Cause I can go back down and—"

You shook your head, holding up the card with a smile. "For y/n and Peter, Compliments of Lindsey and Matt. You know, this doesn't surprise me at all. Lindsey's always had money, and she likes to keep up her appearances."

Peter narrowed his eyes, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he watched you eat one of the strawberries. "I'm still not sure if we're supposed to like Lindsey."

You shrugged. "She's got her flaws, but I like her. Almost as much as I like these strawberries. Almost." You offered him a strawberry, expecting him to take it. What you did not expect was for him to lean forward and take the strawberry with his mouth. Your face flushed, though you weren't sure why. You and Peter had done that with fries before, why were strawberries different? It was probably just the romantic vibe of the room, with the dimmed lights and the—

"So, the bed," you tried to distract yourself from that odd train of thought. "I can try to get a different room, but Lindsey might get wind of it and start asking questions...it's fine." You shook your head, offering Peter a smile. "I can just sleep on the floor."

Peter laughed. "You'd sleep on the floor? No way. This isn't like crashing at Ned's studio after a night out. This is a nice vacation. I'll take the floor."

"I don't want you on the floor," you protested.

"I don't think anyone wants either of us on the floor, that's why we're here fake-dating each other." Peter pointed out. He said the joke quickly, as if not thinking about it, and his cheeks grew pink.

You snickered. You knew Peter hated when he let the dirty jokes in his mind get ahead of him, but it was something that endeared you to him. He wasn't always Spider-Man the superhero, or Peter Parker, dressed like a Mormon to meet your parents for brunch. Sometimes he was almost...normal.

You knew more than anything that nothing could be normal for Peter.

You rolled your eyes and finally settled. "If it's not pushing any boundaries, maybe we could just...share the bed? If you promise not to sleep naked, I mean."

You don't know what prompted you to say that...or to picture it, though you quickly tried to dismiss it.

"Okay," Peter's voice was surprisingly soft at the suggestion. "I mean, just a couple hours ago you were drooling on my shoulder on the plane, so—"

"I said I was sorry!" You interjected, your own cheeks heating.

Peter grinned. "You know, I think I brought my nightgown in case this exact thing—" the rest of his smartass reply was cut off as you pushed a pillow into his face, only able to hear a muffled laugh.

———

You were too focused on your own breathing. It was unnatural.

You rolled over to see the clock on Peter's side. 12:54 AM. You huffed, trying to nuzzle into your pillow. You'd had a couple glasses of champagne with Peter, which typically would have put you to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, but...

But...

"Can't sleep?"

Peter's voice was soft and low with sleep, though not so much so that you worried you had woken him. You couldn't see him in the dark, though you could picture him—tussled brown hair, his baggy I Survived NYC shirt wrinkled against the sheets.

You always took notice of him in the mornings—when you spent the night at his place or vice versa, and he'd make you both waffles. You could appreciate a gesture from a friend, but in those strange moments, he seemed almost like a boyfriend.

"No," you replied. "Not used to the space, I guess."

Peter nodded—you could hear it against the sheets in the darkness. "I get that—'m living the dream, though. Couldn't tell you the last time I had a girl in my bed."

"Gross," you jabbed him in the ribs, and you smiled at the sound of his snicker. "In your dreams, Parker."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter murmured. "I do kinda miss it, though. I don't have a lot of...experience, but that's not what I'm thinking about..."

In that moment, you were sure Peter was talking some half-asleep nonsense. You were tempted to ask him some silly questions, like what his dream blunt rotation would be, or what his social security number was.

Instead, you pressed on, curious. "What are you thinking about, then?"

"Mm," Peter hummed, hesitant even in this careless state. "Just...being in bed with someone, holding them close, feeling 'em breathe. Knowing that you're keeping them safe. Knowing they want you there, that you're not a screwup..."

Something in Peter's tone made your eyes sting. "You're nowhere near a screwup. You're a hero."

"I know..." he let out a soft breath, though something in it sounded heavy.

"I was friends with you before I knew about that, anyway," you pointed out. "Because you're more than a hero. You're Peter. That matters so much more than anything else you do. Anybody would be lucky to be in bed with you...even if you have the dirty mind of a teen about it." You grinned.

Peter let out another breath, this one of laughter. A comfortable silence spanned between the pair of you.

It was silent for so long, you thought Peter had fallen asleep.

"Do you," he started, and you listened curiously. "Would you be okay with maybe cuddling with me? We've done it on the couch with movies, but I know this is different, so..."

"Yeah," you replied in agreement. "I mean, um—yeah, of course, that's fine..."

Slowly, a little awkwardly in the dark, Peter reached out, his fingertips delicate against your skin as he sought you out. He found your forearm first, reaching up and tracing along the palm of your hand.

"Sorry," his voice seemed much more awake now, much more aware. "If you could maybe just..."

You nodded even though he couldn't see you in the dark. You rolled onto your other side, facing away from him as you pushed back against him. You felt the warmth of his chest against your back, the feeling all-too-overwhelming. The feeling increased tenfold when, all implications disregarded, Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath against the crook of your neck.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been in bed with someone like this.

You let out a soft, shaky breath of your own, trying to calm the sudden bout of nervous butterflies in your stomach that now fluttered with no bounds. Strangely enough, that feeling only lasted for a moment. The last thing you remember was the feeling of Peter's thigh moving against yours, wrapping you closer in the embrace. It was then that comfort overwhelmed you, and you found yourself drifting off to sleep easier than ever before.

———

The morning light was bright despite the blinds, waking you up as you hummed in protest.

You and Peter were still cuddled close together, though the embrace had lost all structure. His leg was slung over your waist, his hand somehow cupping the side of your face. He was nuzzled between your shoulder blades, letting out warm breaths against your skin that woke you up far more than the brightness.

"Peter," your voice was low in your drowsiness. You rolled away before stretching. "You were a second away from putting me in a headlock..."

"Mm," Peter hummed. "Sorry..." he yawned, blinking as he processed what was going on. Something then seemed to click within him, and he stiffened like a deer in headlights. "Shit, sorry!" He repeated, his cheeks flushing. "Man, I didn't mean to do that..."

"It's okay," you insisted. "Why are you all jumpy? What, were you worried about your super-strength or something?"

"Oh, uh," Peter avoided your eyes. "Yeah, that's exactly it—I mean, I could crush a watermelon between my thighs without even worrying—without even thinking about it, so..." he lifted his arm up to flex, which you glanced at with raised brows. He was no Captain America, but he was built well enough.

"Okay," you said slowly. Realization then dawned on you, and you sighed, your cheeks heating. “Is it that we, like, cuddled last night? Because that didn't have to mean anything—we both just like cuddling."

"Sure," Peter nodded. "I mean, I cuddled with Ned all the time in high school, but..."

"But?" You inquired.

"No but!" Peter shook his head. "No but at all, an absolute flat-ass situation..." he paused to catch his breath before nodding, his mouth pressed in a thin line. "I'm gonna go get ready."

He then went and locked himself in the bathroom. You looked at the door, then over to the closet where his clothes were, wondering what the heck had gotten into Peter.

———

Luckily, Peter seemed calmed down by the reception. The ceremony must have bored him; he kept glancing at you the entire time, as well as shaking his leg until you put a hand on his knee to still him.

Despite the social atmosphere, Peter seemed to open up more. After the first few times of introducing himself as "y/n's boyfriend", the obvious looks in your direction slowed to a stop. That did not stop his awkwardness, though. As endeared as you were to him, you were glad he never had to do any acting to save the world.

"Excuse me," a small voice piped up. It wasn't the umpteenth elderly couple doing their rounds of greetings, but instead a little girl of about six years old. She wore a pastel pink dress and small matching heels.

"Oh, hi," you smiled at the little girl. "You were the flower girl—Katie, right?"

Katie nodded. "I wanted a dance." She looked over at Peter, then back at you. "Mind if I take him for a spin?"

You nearly snorted. "Oh, sure—what do you think, Peter?"

Peter seemed to be trying to tone down his amused smile. "I'd be honored, Katie." He took her hand and allowed her to lead him to the floor.

As you ate—the shrimp here being unfortunately coconut, not popcorn—you watched them dance. She was standing on top of his shoes, and he seemed to be masking the pain from the jabbing of her tiny heels. As he smiled and chatted with her, you couldn't help but smile as well. Peter was good with kids—you wondered if that came from being Spider-Man, or just being Peter.

When the song was over, Katie curtsied and Peter bowed in turn, as if they were at a ball. Peter returned to the table beaming, and for some reason, it made your heart catch in your chest. You felt as if you wanted to say something, though you weren't sure what, or if you were allowed to.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Lindsey, who was practically glowing with excitement in her cream-colored reception gown.

"Hey!" You gave her a hug. "Wow, you look gorgeous. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Lindsey swept a black, curly strand of hair from her face. "And you do too! Is this," she gestured to Peter. "Is this your plus one? I saw him dancing with Katie, it was adorable!"

Peter nodded. "I'm y/n's boyfriend," he stood to shake her hand, then her new husband's. "Peter."

"It's so nice to meet you, Peter," Lindsey replied. "I didn't think y/n was seeing anyone, but she never lets me get too nosy. I was worried about her for a little bit, though!" She laughed.

Peter gave you a look, as if some of your previous description of her was clicking into place.

"We've been together for a little while," Peter shrugged, fixing Lindsey with a curious look. "Nine months, right, babe?" He glanced back at you and smiled, his gaze warm. "It feels like it's been years, but also a few great days."

For a moment, you sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond. His acting was so real; he seemed utterly infatuated.

Lindsey gasped softly, placing a hand on her heart. "That's exactly how I feel with my husband. Well, how'd you two meet?"

"Um," Peter started with a slight smile. "We were at this bagel place on 76th, and I was ordering my usual—"

"An everything bagel," you added out of habit. "With plain cream cheese, smushed down really flat, like a weirdo."

"Exactly," Peter laughed. "And you said that, too, remember? I remember you scoffed, and when I asked, you said that only a weirdo would want a bagel that was...what was it? Looked like it was ran over?"

"I had a point," you replied. "And you asked me what I liked, since I was such an expert in all things bagel. So I got my—"

"Blueberry bagel," Peter recalled. "Strawberry cream cheese, plus you paid extra for assorted fruit on top, like an absolute princess."

You grinned. "But you paid for mine...and you walked me to the subway, like a gentleman, while I spent the entire time roasting you on your food preferences."

"And then I offered to take her to dinner," Peter looked up at Lindsey. "I said that I knew this great pizza place, and if she wasn't blown away, I'd cover her bill. Turns out she was blown away, as expected," he met your eyes with a smile, reaching over and grabbing your hand. "But I paid, anyway. It was worth it times a thousand to get to know her..."

You squeezed his hand, and in that moment, you felt as if something were squeezing your heart, too. The way he talked about it made it sound so romantic...but, of course, neither of you mentioned the fact that his friends were at the dinner. That you had asked for it to not be a date, because you had been stood up a few nights before and were not feeling the dating scene. It was a friend thing, and at that dinner your friend status was cemented.

You never thought you wanted anything else, but...

"Excuse me," Peter's voice brought you back to reality. He smiled thinly at both you and Lindsey before standing and starting for the exit.

Perhaps he just needed to use the restroom down the hall, but something about his exit seemed...swift. Offering a smile to Lindsey as well, you followed in Peter's steps.

When you finally found him, he had a hand over his eyes, his face flushed as he tried to steady his breathing.

You felt as if you'd walked in on something you shouldn't have—or perhaps you needed to.

"Peter?" You asked softly.

Peter nearly jumped, looking at you before making a pointed effort not to do so. "Hey! Hey...y/n...I'm alright. Just...taking a second to—"

"Cry?" You asked, the word slipping out before you could think about it, and you slapped a hand over your mouth.

Peter laughed. You rushed through surprise, relief, and concern so fast, you had whiplash.

"Yeah," Peter admitted with a sigh. "I'm...not alright. But I'm trying to be. Just...go enjoy the reception, don't let me ruin it."

You shook your head. "That story...it was how we met, but you made it sound romantic."

Peter nodded. "I thought that was what we were supposed to do."

You swallowed. "It sounded really convincing. You...you like me, don't you, Peter?"

Peter seemed laser-focused on the sleeve of his suit. "How could I not, y/n?" He settled. "You're beautiful, you're fun in the same weird way I am, and you have no idea when someone's into you—you're exactly my type. But...I mean, I was trying so hard not to be that guy. You know, the 'be my girlfriend or I'll never talk to you again' guy? I can't do that—not to you, and not to myself. I want you in my life in whatever way I can have you, even if it kills me, because you're really important to me. And if you don't want to talk to me again, I understand, I won't push—"

His words faltered into silence as you reached out and held his hand.

"I like you, too, Peter. I don't think I realized it until now, but..." You started to smile. "You're one of my favorite people in the world. You’re already a great friend, so I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Peter seemed incredulous, though a moment later, his uncertain smile grew until he was fully beaming. His smile was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile as well. You went in for a hug, and he in turn lifted you, spinning you around as if you were in a romcom.

"So," Peter started. "Do you wanna go back in there and turn up the charm now that we're a real couple?"

You pondered the idea for about a half a second before shaking your head. "Screw those guys." You said. "You wanna get out of here? I bet we could find a good ice cream place."

"Sounds good to me," Peter replied, offering you a fist to bump. "Let's go to the room and get changed into some comfier clothes."

As he started towards the stairs, you reached for his hand, your heart skipping a beat as he squeezed your hand gently. You didn't want to rush things, though you wondered...perhaps when you got up to the room, you could kiss him. Perhaps, if he were interested—and while that romantic room was on someone else's bill—you could do a little bit more.

[numinousmysteries]

@leiascully mentioned airports. JessM wrote the quintessential airport fic and this lives in that universe. I owe them everything, and they owe me nothing.

This has not been beta'd, edited, or put through any quality control whatsoever. Read at your own risk.

@today-in-fic @xffictober24

Paved Paradise

It's Bill Scully's turn to host Christmas. There is some sort of algorithm within the extended Scully clan that determines this. It factors in variables such as who's stationed abroad, who's too pregnant to travel, and who's just being so goddamn stubborn (Scully's words) this year. It's a complex calculation that starts as early as July if Scully's sighs and eye rolls during her phone calls with her mother are any indication. And despite all the time and care that allegedly goes into these deliberations, it seems that more often than not–in Mulder's mind at least—they end up flying to San Diego on the busiest travel day of the year.

Maggie headed out a week earlier to spend more time with Bill's kids, so it's just the three of them hunkered down at O'Hare for an extended layover. One that's becoming more and more extended as the snow piles up.

William has been characteristically well-behaved on the journey so far but even the most mature six-year-old's patience would be worn thin by now. Fuck, Mulder thinks, even this not-so-mature 46-year-old is getting antsy.

"I'm so bored!" He calls out, squirming in the vinyl seat at the gate. "Can I go walk around?"

"No," Scully says. She's not even looking up from her book. Mulder doesn't know how she can maintain her stoic calm in the boisterous chaos of an airport on Christmas Eve. "They could call us to board any minute now. And besides, it's too crowded, I'm worried you'll get lost."

Mulder doesn't want to remind her that they could have been called to board any minute in the past three hours now. "I'll go with him," he says, jolting up out of his seat. "We won't go far. And I'll have my phone on me, so just send a bat signal if we need to come back."

She looks up from her book to consider it. The two of them must look desperate because she just shakes her head and sighs. "Sure. Stay close."

Mulder grins down at William who smiles back conspiratorially.

"Yes! Thanks mom!" Full of pent-up energy, the kid grabs Mulder's hand and pulls him into the mire of human mass in the terminal. Will's red hair makes it easy to keep track of him in the crowd although, to Mulder's dismay, it's been getting darker recently. He'll always have Scully's bright blue eyes, though.

"Where to, kid?"

"I'm hungry," he says, excitedly. "And maybe they have a book store. I finished my book on the first flight and then I read the whole thing again. And look—there's a Pizza Hut. Can we get Pizza Hut?"

Mulder stops in his tracks in front of the restaurant. Still in motion in front of him, William stumbles a bit at the abrupt stop. He's been here before. In this exact spot in this terminal seven years ago. But there wasn't a Pizza Hut Express there before. It used to be a Chili's To Go. A very special Chili's To Go.

"What is this crap?" He gasps.

"Dad!" William glares up at him in surprised disapproval. A look that could come from his mother. "You can't say that."

"This didn't used to be a Pizza Hut, Will."

"Huh?" His son asks, confused.

"There was a Chili's here once. Before you were born. Your mom and I went there after a case once."

William is still staring at him skeptically. "Didn't you go to like a million airports?"

"Yeah," Mulder says, gazing in shock at the new restaurant as if its predecessor will suddenly appear before his eyes. "But this one was...memorable."

"Why? Was the food good?"

"I don't remember any food."

"You're so weird, dad," Will shakes his head. "Can we get pizza?"

"Um, sure," Mulder says. He's sadder than he should be by the replacement of one chain restaurant in an airport by another. But god, what had happened at that Chili's. It was the first time she let him touch her. The first time they fucked. In a red vinyl booth, no less. It was where their partnership finally became something more. William wasn't conceived there—and for that, he is thankful—but it set in motion the shift in their relationship that would ultimately lead to William's conception. That would ultimately lead them here. To this airport. On this holiday. As a family. And the Chili's wasn't even there to witness them.

Mulder goes through the motion of paying for William's personal pan pizza, bottled water, and a large diet Pepsi for him and William to share. He eyes the corner of the restaurant where there used to be a booth behind a retaining wall. The wall and the booth are gone. Probably ditched in a dumpster somewhere, trash compacted, or sold at auction. They should have been given a proper sendoff. A 21-gun salute. A hero's farewell at Arlington.

Eager to eat his pizza, Will skips his way back to the gate, his dazed father following a half-step behind.

As Will sinks back into his chair, Mulder turns to Scully any says, "It's official. They've paved paradise and put up a Pizza Hut."

"Blow on that, honey, it's hot," Scully says to William, not missing a beat. "What are you talking about, Mulder?"

"The Chili's that was in this terminal. Our Chili's? It's gone. They replaced it with a Pizza Hut Express. Can you believe that shit?"

"Language, Mulder," she whispers, nodding toward William who's too absorbed in his cheese pizza to notice.

Mulder can tell she knows what he's talking about though. She's starting to blush. A light rouge rising to her cheek not unlike the fuzzy pink of the sweater she'd been wearing that day. One that, now that he thinks about, he'd never seen her wear before or since.

"Are you sure it was even this terminal? These all look the same," she says.

"How could I forget?" It comes out louder than he wanted, even startling William briefly before he turns back to his meal.

"It could have been this terminal. Or it could have been any of the other identical ones though."

He slaps his hands on his thighs in frustration. "No, Scully, you're wrong. It was this one. I know it was. And I know you know, too."

"Oh, Mulder." She shakes her head and turns back to her book.

Finally, their flight is called for boarding. They gather up their bags and herd William onto the jet bridge. Once they're settled into their row, William in between them distracted with a new book, Scully leans over him to whisper in Mulder's ear.

"We'll always have Chili's." She winks.

Her low purr makes his groin twitch and he makes a note that he'll have to do something about that later, even in Bill Scully's house. It'll be more comfortable than a booth at Chili's To Go at least.

[askthestans]

Are any of you older than each other like by 7 minutes or something

Stanley: Oh boy, here we go. Anon, I'll give ya one piece of advice when it comes to dealin' with my brother Ford: do not - and I repeat - do NOT remind 'im of anything he's either good at or proud of. Your ears will thank me.

Stanford: I'll translate that for you. He means to say, "I'm the younger twin, and I'm incredibly insecure about it.". There.

Stanley: Pfft, like a few minutes means anything!

All of the sudden, Dipper and Mabel walk into the room, looking quite bored. They see Ford and Stan having an argument and they both get sly smirks.

Mabel: Grunkle fight?

Dipper: Grunkle fight.

Stanley: Kids, that's not gonna work. I'm not gettin' into a fight with Sixer here just for your entertainment. Besides, I'm right: a few minutes doesn't matter. And even if it did, me and Ford are past fighting over petty crap now, because we're mature adults.

Dipper and Mabel give each other a skeptical look.

Stanford: Stan's right, kids. We might have fought in the past, but no longer. Our bond's been strengthened over a year of traveling together on the Stan-O-War II, and nothing - absolutely nothing - can make Stan and I turn against each other.

Soos walks in the room.

Soos: Do my eyes deceive me? Is another Grunkle fight upon us, and will it serve as good canon material to inspire more of my Stanfiction? Not gonna lie, the canon material's been kinda lacking these days. It's almost like the writers have forgotten about us!

Stanley: No! No Grunkle fights! And I thought I told ya to quit writin' Stanfiction or whatever about me or my brother! Stanford: Nonsense. He puts his hand on Soos' shoulder. Soos, I encourage you to follow your dreams. Write all the Stanfiction your heart desires. Stanley: You're only sayin' that 'cause Soos always makes you the hero!

Soos: It's okay, Stan. Ford may be the hero of my Stanfiction... His voice turns into a whisper and he tenderly pets Stan's hand. But you're the hero of my heart.

Stanley: He rips his hand out of Soos'. Yeesh, I take it back! Write about Ford all ya want! Just keep me out of it. He sighs. Anyways, the point is, is me and Ford are not gonna fight. We never fight anymore!

Soos, Dipper, and Mabel look at each other. It's a mix of a knowing skepticism, a smirk, and a glance that almost seems as if an agreement made in secret is being referenced. For some reason, Soos just smiles, then runs off to the kitchen, where the sound of popping popcorn can be heard down the hall for no reason in particular.

Dipper: Oh, right, right. Of course. We all know you guys are over that fighting stuff. I mean, you're the oldest ones here! Surely neither of you would ever get into a fight so petty that you turn the whole Shack into a warzone over something as dumb as whether or not who was born first matters. He glances over at his sister. Right, Mabel? They're responsible, mature adults, our Grunkles?

Mabel: Totally! Definitely! The most responsible adults the world has ever seen! Although... that argument you and me had the other day... nah! Never mind. I shouldn't bring it up.

Dipper: Oh, the one over... Dipper pauses, as if he's just making something up. Right, the one about whether Ford or Stan is the more fun Grunkle. Yep. A real snoozefest, that argument was. It was obvious what the answer is, anyways.

Stan and Ford glance at each other, suspicious, as if testing the waters to see if the other will start arguing about it.

Stanford: We're both equally fun, kids. And that's all I'll say about it.

Stanley: Exactly! Equally fun. His grin widens. Even if Ford's summer fun ideas involve more dangerous explosions and injuries and strange chemical smells than a World War I trench.

Stanford: Yes... His smile fades a bit and shoots Stan a major case of stink-eye. And even if Stan's summer fun ideas are as entertaining as a nursing home activity schedule, yet still somehow end up with us in jail 50% of the time.

Stanley: He pauses, his grin fading as well. Well, we can't all be interdimensional criminals like Ford here! I'm just tryin' to take after my older by only seven pointless minutes brother. Imagine havin' a whole Multiverse hate ya, and not just Earth!

Stanford: Well, for your information, what you call 'explosions and injuries and strange chemical smells' is something you wouldn't grasp in a million years: science. Some of us need to actually contribute to society, you know.

Stanley: Yeah? And some of us need to look up the definition of 'rational' and 'safe' in the dictionary, because apparently you can't tell the difference between a biohazard symbol and a welcome sign! ~

Three hours later, Soos, Mabel, Dipper, and now Wendy are on the front lawn of the Shack, sitting in comfy lawn chairs and inhaling popcorn and Pitt Soda like their lives depend on it. Mabel's knitting another 'Stanwich' sweater, Dipper's got his arms behind his head and is smirking, Wendy is recording, and Soos is writing Stanfiction on a laptop.

Stan and Ford are on the lawn in front of them, wrestling.

Stanford: I'm the more mature adult here!

Stanley: More mature? The only thing more 'mature' about you is seven stupid minutes and your ridiculous fashion sense! AKA, none!

Stanford: Trench coats and turtlenecks are stylish and classy, two words you don't know the definition of! At least I don't spend half the day in boxers!

Stanley: Yeah, that's 'cause I don't need to wear tight pants all day to hide a giant stick up my ass, unlike some people!

Soos: Tapping away at his Stanfiction. The Muses... they sing to me!

Wendy: Um... how long do these Grunkle fights usually last, anyways?

Dipper: Shrugs. Eh, anywhere from two hours to three days, on average.

Mabel brings out a scrapbook, showing a Grunkle fight prior. The pictures seem to indicate a squabble that involved the furniture turned over into cover to hide behind, a Stan and Ford with eyes more sleepless than usual and stubble that looked like it hadn't been shaved in days, a fist fight with oven mitts, and nearly the whole town watching at one point as Stan chased Ford down a street, both in Disney princess dresses, with a spoon and a goat in Stan's hands and Ford flipping a double middle finger behind him at Stan. Mabel: The world record is one week! Too bad you weren't there for Grunklegeddon, Wendy.

Wendy: Her eye twitches upon seeing the photos of Grunklegeddon. And what are the chances this one will turn into something just as bad or worse?

Dipper: Depends. Usually, we know it's gonna be at least four days if Ford brings up the meatloaf argument.

Wendy: Meatloaf?

Just then, Ford and Stan still wrestling on the lawn, Ford brings up said meatloaf argument. Something about their time on the Stan-O-War II, Ford making his favorite meatloaf recipe every Friday night, and a pack of mermaids always following soon after, asking if they had any more 'meat tasties' that the 'old man clone that smelled like cigars and regret' dumped overboard every Friday night right around dinnertime.

Stanford: You could have just told me you didn't like it!

Stanley: Newsflash, Poindexter, no one would like a meatloaf made of eel and gorgon meat!

Stanford: Come on, I spent thirty years in the Multiverse and ate way worse than that, and you couldn't handle a little eel and gorgon!? So what if it had some snake heads in it!? Besides, scientifically, gorgon and eel is much healthier for you than beef, and you did lose some weight, remember?

Stanley: Because I kept dumpin' that freaky slop in the ocean!

Soos, Dipper, and Mabel look at each other, excited. Wendy just looks concerned for a moment as Stan and Ford keep fighting, then shrugs and smiles, leaning back and watching the festivities commence.

[eightringsofsaturn]

My pure, unadulterated thoughts while reading The Sea Makes Bones of Bodies

By: swordsmans

And no, there is no context, thank you

I love, love Nami and Zoro's relationship here, it's like a found family type of situation, and this is actually my favorite

I love how fucking gay these two are, like, holy crap

The way Luffy was introduced, holy hell

Obviously you feel that way, that's your husband!! Fish you're not, that your man

I love how Zoro, without knowing Luffy for more than a few seconds is already risking his life for that man. It's almost like he knows

Zoro's just like, "lol, don't mind meee, just potentially screwing up my uncle's very precarious alliances to help this hot fish man I've literally met a minute ago while putting my life on the linee, you know, that hot girl shit"

That's called ✨ hysteria ✨ I believe

'we're not having a crisis'

proceeds to have a crisis anyways

"and Luffy lets out the most ridiculous noise they’ve ever heard as he careens through the air in a shower of fish and stupidity."

This is actually just Luffy any day of the week

"Don't. Don't give that to your human, trust me"

I lovee territorial Luffy, oml

There's just something about the way Luffy tells Zoro that he belongs to him is just *chefs kiss*

The way he asks Zoro to be his and Zoro, who doesn't necessarily know what the hell he's getting himself into says yes right away. It's not even that he asked, but that Zoro, whether he knew it or not, was Luffy's from the very first meeting

"A healthy dose of highly entertaining bullshit"

This is usopp

Usopp is literally their 'how hard can it be' fix-it man (until they pick up Franky at least)

Dear mmlord

They did the thingggg, yk, the oh. oh. (In italics)

And I'm just sitting here kicking my feet and giggling

ThAtS yOuR hUsBaNd LiKe- SIR???

Zoro prays to no other god than luffy

Zoro in the last fight scene:

and that's called, actually my husband, thank you, and I'd appreciate it very much if you didn't stab him with a whaling harpoon <3

I love how Zoro and Luffy are both predators in their own right

"Sabo says humans kiss soft, but you don't."

MMMMMMMMMMM

Literally screaming, crying and throwing up in the best way possible, like, I canttttt

Idk if you can tell, but this fic KILLS ME IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLEEE

[mymarifae]

jade did nothing wrong

oh yeah she only put aventurine in a new, fancier form of slavery, reducing him to a tool. an asset. a pretty little thing to make her richer that she'll cast aside the moment he's no longer useful to her.

and don't give me any crap about how aventurine "wanted" this - he was literally a slave?? his options at this point in his life were EXTREMELY limited and just killing his "master" wouldn't have been enough to secure his freedom. as we saw in this very cutscene, he was about to go on trial for murder. the ipc didn't give a damn that the man he killed was a fucking slave owner; they were still going to punish him to the full extent of the law, so he would have been going to prison for a VERY long time (or for life), or he'd be sentenced to death. playing off the murder in a way that caught their attention and made them consider his... "worth as an asset", so to speak, was his best bet. he'd be freed from his (literal, at least) chains, and he would have the opportunity to earn money and thus survive in this capitalistic intergalactic hellscape the ipc has been building up for centuries.

ah, and while we're here, should we talk about how she tells him here that his birth name is "destined to be buried in the dirt?" after seeing her interactions with topaz, this isn't a stonehearts thing. they don't HAVE to cast off their birth names and embrace the identity of their cornerstone.

i suppose it's only a coincidence that topaz's name is of slavic and greek origin while aventurine's is romani, and this totally doesn't play further into the (not-exactly-the-most-subtle-anymore) subtext of the ipc's chokehold on the entire universe being an allegory for the racist, white supremacist capitalistic systems plaguing the real world today. which, for the record, is an idea that has existed throughout the game's duration thus far and was articulated a little more loudly in the 2.1 update, with the deep dives into aventurine's past and all, and then was really hammered in with boothill's backstory.

(let's set aside the very valid complaints about hoyoverse's allergy to melanin for a moment - we know aventurine and boothill are not white, and the way their home planets were treated in comparison to, say, topaz's, means something.)

and even if you don't want to connect these two very obvious dots and want to pretend the ipc is more of a neutral force (????), let me just point out how fucked it is for jade to sever aventurine's connection to his birth name. one of his last ties to his culture. topaz gets to keep hers, gets to claim both her past and her cornerstone as integral parts of her identity - but aventurine only gets his cornerstone. the ipc encompasses every part of who he is now. i suppose this qualifies as doing nothing wrong too and not as an act of manipulation and cruelty?

(digressing for a moment to point out a positive because honestly this is a heartbreaking thing to say. aventurine's future self calling him Kakavasha suggests that he didn't truly give in to this treatment and instead fiercely clung to every scrap of his past he had left.)

and just. before i move on from aventurine and topaz completely, i guess we can ignore how inappropriately she touched topaz?

"they're both adults" yeah! thank fucking god! but topaz is said over and over to be Very Young for the position she holds. she, much like aventurine, has been working for the ipc since her late teen years. neither of them were promoted to stonehearts - a position that typically requires a loooooooooot of experience over SEVERAL years with the company - right away, remember that. backtracking to this for a moment:

jade is very much a Grown Ass Woman here. while aventurine is probably like, freshly 18. he and topaz are similar in age. jade is definitely more than one decade older than both of them. maybe you don't care about that; maybe you don't care about a senior boss figure taking advantage of what appears to be a puppy crush born from starry-eyed admiration (which is in turn born from topaz literally being indoctrinated when her home planet was "integrated" into the ipc's system) to make topaz more agreeable to whatever she's told to do. and notice how jade dangles the promise of a promotion right after overhearing how difficult topaz's recent demotion has made her life...?

also if you want to argue about me referring to jade as a senior figure that's quite literally what topaz says about her, so...:

but whatever, right? not a thing done wrong here. Nope.

and we can definitely overlook the way she runs bonajade exchange, right? surely it's of no significant note that she shows no mercy in the contracts she writes up. people come in, trade away their most valuable possessions, and almost immediately find themselves in a hard place with no options... except for another visit to bonajade exchange. consequences of their own greed, sure, but i really want to point out how she doesn't try to help. she doesn't try to include a clause or two that may work in their favor if they're clever. she doesn't leave any loopholes. she forces them to be completely dependent on her, and takes, and takes, and takes... to what end? i don't know, and i'm scared to find out.

i'm not saying she has to or should show mercy to the people that visit her pawnshop. i'm fine with a character who just does evil things, and some of her customers probably deserve whatever end waits for them in the jaws of the snake. but if they were going to show that she has a softness about her, a hint of good intentions... this is where they would have done it. the fact that this is completely absent says an awful fucking lot about the kind of person she is, yeah?

and on that note, i'm guessing you want to just ignore how numby is TERRIFIED of her?

because yeah i'm sure that has nothing to do with the very common trope of animals being able to tell when a person is actively malicious and dangerous. everything is fine, isn't it?

[writingroom21]

The Nanny

Pairing: Rafe x Nanny Reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside was dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: Angst, mention of drugs, sexual harassment (some creep tries to force themselves on reader), forced kiss (same creep with the reader), slight comfort?, (please be careful if you have any issues with sexual harassment it doesn't go far but I don't want anyone uncomfortable), (let me know if I missed anything), fighting

Wc: 7.0K

A/N: One more part to go! Sad to see it coming to an end but thank you for all of your support.

Chapter 8: What are we?

You just watch as Rafe leaves. A sinking feeling builds in your chest. It’s like when you’re on a rollercoaster and you get to the really big drop. You always hated that part of the ride, somehow this feeling tops it. Fighting back the tears you walk to your room. Wheezie can wait until the morning, right now you just need to go to bed. You try to calm your breath the whole walk to your room. Scared if you made too much noise someone will hear.

Entering your room you finally let the tears go, finding solace within the four walls. The tears well onto your lashes, falling down in fat drops. Choked sobs echoing inside the silent room.You furiously try to wipe them away, hating how small you feel at this moment. This isn’t what you wanted. Deep down a part of you wanted him to fight for you. Seeing him give up so easily just adds salt to the gaping wound.

You strip from your clothes, throwing on a pair of sleep shorts and stopping when you reach for a shirt Rafe left. A part of your brain is screaming to find another shirt, the other is dying to have at least one last piece of him. Against your better judgment you grab the shirt and put it on. It faintly smells like him, another reminder how you truly thought he cared. The birthday cologne smelt slightly more bitter than it did before. But it was still him.

You turn to your bed, the sage green sheets lay perfectly flat, a bouquet of flowers on top. Walking closer you notice that they are white roses, your favorite. There’s a little note tied on the string that holds them all together. You pick them, opening the card to read it. I’m sorry Sunny. I fucked up but I can’t lose you. Please let’s just talk it out. I miss you. -R

The note makes you sob harder. He knew your favorite flower and he wanted to work things out. If you had just seen this before interrupting maybe things would be different. Maybe he would be he instead of walking away. Why would he remember your favorite flower? You barely even remember when you mentioned it around him.

“What are you doing?” The voice behind you makes you jump. The rose in your hand flies as you grip the scissors tighter.  You turn your head to see Rafe leaning back on the kitchen counter. “Jesus Rafe you can’t do that. You scared the crap out of me.” You lean on the kitchen sink, regulating your heartbeat back to normal. He chuckles a little, a small smile spreading on his lips. 

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare ya. Just saw you standing there and was curious.” He eyes your ass getting a perfect view from his spot behind you. “I’m cutting the stems of these roses.” “What Rose wants to be in every part of this house now?” He thinks he’s funny but he’s not. “No smartass. They are my favorite flowers, specifically the white ones.” You got back to cutting the stems, picking up flower to flower. 

He sits there and watches and you finish the rest of the flowers. “Kinda seems corny doesn’t it? Like every chick likes roses it's never another flower.” Rafe remarks. Teasing you for the choice. “Well I like them because of my grandma. She used to get fresh bach every week and put them around the house. I get them because they remind me of her.” That’s the most you’ve shared about her since she died. 

She was kind of the glue that held the family together. She always knew how to make everyone laugh. Always made you feel safe and welcomed. Your parents weren't that bad when you were growing up at first. They loved you so much as a baby, couldn’t have been prouder. Then the older you got the more money they had to spend. The more time they had to put into you and not them. It seemed the older you got the more problems they had. The more pressure they would put on you to be better.

Your grandma did a great job at shielding it from you for as long as she could. The flowers were the thing the two of you shared. Spending time picking out the right ones just to go home and build a bouquet. It was the highlight of your weeks and after she died it was over. You held on to the last bouquet until all the petals were left to nothing. Rotting on your dresser, burning holes into the wood to leave their marks. No bouquet felt the same after but it brought you comfort.

“Remind you?” Rafe questions. “She died when I was eight. I make bouquets to feel connected to her.” He just looks at you as you fill the vase with water, adding the roses one by one. He remembers watching his mom arrange flowers for the house. She would bring him along as she picked out various flowers. Always asking him for his input because he was her special helper. It was their special day activity, Ward would get upset at the sight of Rafe helping out. His mother would go to his defense, nipping Ward’s words in the butt the moment they exit his mouth.

It hurt to remember his mom, the memory causing more heartache than anything. The image of his happy mom crushed when he realizes she’s gone. Left him behind with a man that hates him. In a town where no one will ever care for him. But then he watches you do a simple action that brings her back. It hurts but he can’t help but smile watching you. “I’m sorry. I bet it was hard losing her. They look good, she’d be proud.”

You look him in the eyes, a soft smile gracing your face. Rafe can’t help but to think how beautiful you look. “Thank you. That was very sweet of you Rafe.” You praise. He blushes, straightening up and walking off. “WHatever don’t tell everyone now.” You laugh at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The memory makes the feeling worse. He had remembered that conversation this whole time. It had happened early on to you working here, one of the first few meetings with the oldest sibling. You thought he was just being polite because you were new and you just told him something sad. But he still had that information stored away in some filing cabinet in his mind. The fact he still knew makes you want to find him and forgive him. Then you think about the fact he gave up.

You can’t really fault him, he has a right to do what he wants. Yet it still stings that you weren’t enough for him the first time and you weren’t enough for him this time. You place the flowers on the bedside table. Pulling the covers back you climb into bed, curling up into a ball and going yourself to sleep for the second night in a row.

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

The sound of voices stir you slowly awake. “Come on, leave her alone.” A hushed voice breaks through the door. “I want to know what happened last night. She never came to tell me.” Wheezie’s hush whispers fully wake you up. “No, let's go.” Sarah’s voice firmly states, footsteps fading down the hall. The room is bright, the curtains are fully open, you must have forgotten to close them last night. The light is harsh on your eyes, they still sting from crying the night before.

Everything keeps replaying in your mind. Memories creating a slow motion picture just for you. They are on a continuous loop as you get ready for the day. Your mind keeps going back to what Wheezie said to you yesterday. Would you be okay if you saw him with someone else? No you wouldn’t, seeing him with Sofia was hard enough. You don’t think you would be able to handle it further.

That realization brings you back to the flowers and the note. He has kept the memory with him since that day. Rafe wanted to make it up with you and showed you that he does care about you. He used the memory to do something that would make you happy, even if he caused you pain. The note made it obvious he wanted to work things out, maybe you should have listened to him. He didn’t actually have any reason to stay loyal to you, no conversation was had for the next step to happen.

Once you are finally dressed you slip on your shoes determined to find Rafe. You look around the hall when you step out, not wanting to run into anyone and change your mind. You make your way to his door and knock. Butterflies fill your abdomen, the nervous feeling eating you from the inside out. “Rafe?” You call out, keeping your voice low. Your right hand opens the door and you are faced with an empty room. The room is still a mess, things littered everywhere, a perfect match to him.

Sighing you close the door again, heading downstairs to get some breakfast. Voices can be heard from the kitchen, they aren’t loud so it’s hard to make anything out. Entering the kitchen you see Rafe talking with Sarah and Barry just sitting at the island. “He shouldn’t be here Rafe. Dad will flip out.” Sarah argues with her brother. “He already doesn’t like me, why should I care?” He huffs out and turns around, pausing when he sees you at the door.  Barry and Sarah to look at what caught his attention.

“Well hello baby. Thought I would never see you again.” Barry’s voice rings in your ears but you can only focus on Rafe. “Hi.” You squeak, your voice giving away how nervous you are to see him. His jaw is clench, his hands forming fists as he looks at the man staring you down. “Let’s go Barry. We got shit to do.” He says pushing the other guy's shoulder as he passes him. Rafe gives you a nod as he walks by you and leaves. Barry tsk’s as he gets up making his way out as well. “That boy never learns does he?”

You just stand there, eyes glancing at Sarah. “I’m sorry I didn’t think you would be up right now after last night.” You smile at her and go in further to make food. “It’s fine. He already said he was going to leave me alone from now on. I just didn’t take him seriously.” Boiling water, you get the oats out of the cabinet, oatmeal was the fastest thing you could think of. “Wait what?” Sarah exclaims. Her shocked face staring at the back of your head.

You know she won’t leave you alone for the rest of the day. You have picked up on a few things over this past year. Never interrupt Ward when he is in meetings or talking in general. Rose really does care but the kids will never respect her so she lets them be. Rafe has been hurt for so long that he refuses to be himself now. Even though Sarah and Wheezie are different people they have the same personality trait. They care so much that they don’t know when to call it quits. Granted Sarah is better at keeping it at bay than Wheeze.

Knowing this and knowing how she feels about her brother you give in. You spilled and told her everything. How Wheezie accidentally was the reason why Ward knows what happened. How Ward was yelling at Rafe and how you stepped in. Then told her about the argument between the two of you. Finally leading to him saying he will leave you alone from now on. The whole conversation lasted all of breakfast, the oatmeal you made for the two of you long gone.

“I can’t believe that he just walked away like that. He was the one to mess up, he can't be mad.” She’s saying things you’ve already said to yourself. He did mess up and he shouldn’t be mad. But another part knows that you hurt him too in some way. You shut him out when he wanted to fix things. You ignored him and refused to talk. In the end you did the same thing he did, you didn’t communicate with him how you felt. “It’s not that simple, Sar. He hurt me yeah but I also shut him out. I’m sure that had to hurt him too, I can’t expect him to wait around for me.” You are trying to be reasonable. This is her brother you are talking about, you don’t want to be the reason why they are not on good terms. Things just started to die down between them.

“But it is simple. He messed up by kissing another girl and all you did was get space from him. He decided to just give up without much of a fight.” Her words force you to think back to when he was crying. Pleading with you to give him a second chance, just to hear him out. “He did try. I just didn’t give him the chance and it’s okay. He’s hurt and he needs his space too. I can’t get upset with him for doing the same.” Deep down you know you have a point. He is hurt and needs time which is what you did. It just hurts that when you figured out how you felt it was too late.

“Why are you defending him so much? I get that you liked him but he hurt you.” You are quiet, looking at your bowl. “Do you still like him?” She asks, watching your reactions. When she doesn’t get an answer she realizes it was deeper than what she thought. “Oh.” You both sit there, the weight of your unspoken words heavy in the air. “We never said we were exclusive. It was never something we talked about so he really didn’t do anything wrong. I just can’t hate him.” 

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The thrap of the tennis ball takes you out of your daydream. Wheezie had dragged you out to the country club for a round of tennis, stating it would help you feel better. It was sweet of her for caring but the exercise was not welcomed. You would rather be enjoying the day reading then out on the court hitting a ball back and forth. “How many points is that?” She asks, a smile bright on her face. “6-2 I think.” You respond. You bounce the ball a few times before throwing it up and hitting it to her. 

The rest of the morning was uneventful after your talk with Sarah. She tried to talk to you more about how you should be upset but it got nowhere. Once Wheezie popped into the kitchen the conversation died and it was over with. You were relieved when Wheezie didn’t mention Rafe at all after. Even happier when all she wanted to do was go out. That soon faded when she said she wanted to play tennis. It was just an excuse to see the cute tennis instructor that just started there.

Everything was going well until you were both leaving. You were stepping off the court when a golf cart blew past you. “Watch it, asshole.” Wheezie yells causing the cart to stop. The boys inside it all turn around and low and behold there’s Rafe with some guy you’ve never seen. “Watch it, Wheeze. Next time you might get run over.” The boy next to him chuckles. “Yeah, stay out of the way.” Rafe shoots him a look and the boy quiets down. “Oh please like you are so scary. Stop driving like a maniac and be normal.”

Rafe looks at you, eyes lingering for a little longer than needed. You smile at him, opening your mouth to greet him. He turns away before the words could escape. The cart drives off again leaving the two of you alone. He was really taking this leaving you alone seriously. You had hoped that he would be able to talk to you or be civil at least. You miss his voice, his smile, you miss him. Standing there you both just watch them drive off, walking to the building to get changed into clothes. 

Wheezie wants to comment on how Rafe didn’t say anything to you. Noticing the look on your face as he ignored you. There’s a nagging in the back of her brain to ask you about last night. Her anxiety is getting the best of her, she’s scared that Rafe hates her. She has seen him get really angry and as much as she isn’t afraid of him, she still doesn’t like it. Wheezie doesn’t want to be the reason why her brother is angry at their father or at you.

“What should we watch tonight? I saw 10 Things I Hate about You the other day while scrolling and I’ve been wanting to watch it. What do you think?” You ask the younger girl as you walk the halls to the changing rooms. Wheezie clams up, her anxiety increases a bit more as she tries to think of an excuse. She needs this to go perfectly, nothing can get messed up. “Can we watch it as soon as we get home? My friends and I are having a Netflix watch party tonight.” 

“That’s fine. We can get some dinner and then watch it. How does that sound?” You ask while getting your clothes from the locker you put it in. “That’s perfect.” Wheezie wasn’t lying it was perfect. She needed you to be happy and complacent for the time being. She knows that you might be a little angry with her by tomorrow so she wants to butter you up while she has the chance.

You both got changed and packed up the rest of your things. You are trying hard not to think about Rafe but are failing. Would he still want a second chance if you gave it to him? Yes is the first answer that pops into your brain. Then you think about how he’s ignoring you and that changes. He seems to have no problems pretending you don’t exist, maybe he doesn’t actually want you. Maybe the roses and letter was a ploy to get in your bed again. Yeah that was it.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you have Wheezie order some food. Getting into the car you drive to pick it up before going home. The house is quiet, no one seems to be home besides Sarah. “Hey guys.” Sarah shifts her eyes back to the book in her hands. “Hey! We are going to watch a movie. Want to join?” You ask as you make your way to the living room to settle down. “What movie?” “10 Things I Hate about You.” Wheezie answers. “You had me at Heath Ledger let’s go.” Sarah bolts up, the book forgotten as it flies in the air.

The three of you all get comfortable and queue the movie up. You all just sit in silence, eating and enjoying the movie. Once the food is finished , everyone relaxes back. Only really speaking to comment on the movie. “Uh, I wish he would sing for me.” Sarah dreams out loud. You chuckle at her, nudging her thigh with your foot. “Want me to tell John B to serenade you?” Wheezie laughs at your teasing. “Oh my god. I would pay to see that.” 

You honestly can’t help but see the irony of watching this movie. Boy pretends to be into the girl only for her to find out it was all a lie. She tries to hate him but can never seem to, only to find each other in the end. But this isn’t a movie. Clearly Rafe is content with having you out of his life. There won’t be some big confession that absolves him of all his mistakes. He’s too proud to let anyone see how he feels. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice of movie.

Some masochistic part of you wants to feel the pain of watching something that will never happen. To soak in that feeling just to spite yourself. If the girls weren’t here you would probably be crying right now. Mourning the what if’s that plague your mind. It isn’t fair to do this to yourself and you know that. You just can’t seem to help yourself from finding comfort in your own pain. So used to the feeling that anything else seems foreign. 

The rest of the movie plays out. Patrick and Kat just made up and are now kissing. Every muscle in your body feels heavy. The weight of the situation pulls you down further into the couch cushions. The credits start to roll and the girls are stretching. “Okay I’m going to my room now.” Wheezie gets up to leave. “Already? It’s still early.” Sarah questions. “Yeah I’m doing a watch party with some friends.” Wheezie shrugs trying to walk fast out the room. Sarah squints her eyes at her younger sister and watches as she leaves. 

“Doesn’t she usually stick to you like glue until she goes to bed?” Sarah asks you. She finds it weird that she randomly watches parties with friends. She looks at you when you don’t answer. You were still stuck in your head that it took you a while to process what happened and Sarah’s words. “Um yeah sometimes. It’s good that she’s hanging out with friends. I’m not always going to be her nanny.” That’s when it hit you, this job isn’t forever. There’s no reason for any of them to stay in contact with you after Wheezie gets old enough. The girls would most likely stay in touch you know that. But you won’t be forced around Rafe anymore, maybe that’s a good thing.

“What are you even talking about?” She laughs. “You will always be a part of this family. At least you will be with Wheeze and I. You can’t get rid of us that easily.” She smiles at you. It makes you feel better having that reassurance. Even in the end you will still have them. “I think I’m going to go to my room and read. If you want to hang out or need me just come in.” You tell her. There’s a book on your night stand that you want to finish.

You must have been reading for an hour or two when Sarah bursted into your bedroom. “Is Wheezie in here with you?” She asks. You look up from the book, your face scrunching in confusion. “No, why?” Her face seems worried which only intensifies when she realizes Wheezie isn’t here either. “She’s not in her room and I can’t find her around the house. I wanted my sweater back and she was just gone.” Worry starts to gnaw at you. She has to be here somewhere, she couldn’t have just disappeared.

“Hold on. She has to be here somewhere. I’m just going to call her.” You place your book down and grab your phone. You dial her number and it rings. Sarah just stares waiting to see what happens. She didn’t answer. “Nothing.” You say. Sarah sighs not knowing what to do. “Let me track her phone.” Sarah gives you a bewildered look. “You track us?” She practically yells. “No. Your dad put it on Wheezie’s phone and I just have access to it. I never use it but this is kinda important.”

The app shows Wheezie at a house not too far from Tanny Hill. “She’s at a house. It’s close to here.” You get up putting your shoes on and grabbing your keys. “I think she’s at Trevor’s party. The one she was talking about yesterday.” Crap. Of course, that’s why she had a watch party. She just wanted me to leave her alone so she could sneak off. 

The car ride to the party was tense. You were so upset and worried. She went behind your back and put herself at risk to go to this party. No one knew where she was and something could have happened to her. Oh god what if something did happen? She is still young and people like to take advantage of that. This situation is setting panic alarms in your mind. You just hope Ward doesn’t find out because the Rafe situation can be forgiven. Letting his teen daughter go to a party and get drunk might be his last straw.

Loud music is blasting as you pull into the street. There are people everywhere and the feeling of dread increases. It’s going to take forever to find her here. Not only that, you know Rafe is around. There’s no way that he would miss the opportunity to sell and take drugs. Walking into the house was a hassle, people kept blocking the way. Drinks are being spilled on you, soaking your shoes in the process. This is the one thing you hate about parties, they are always a mess. People get too drunk and throw up everywhere. Others start fights or spend the night taking copious amounts of drugs. You don’t judge them, it's just not something you enjoy.

“We should split up. I’ll call you if I find her.” Sarah yells over the music. “Sounds good.” You head towards the stairs to check up stairs. The stairs are littered with cups making the floors sticky. Most of the doors are closed so you have to open each one. You found a couple in one room, the rest being empty or locked. Laughter fills your ears from the other end of the hall. Walking over you see a group of guys all sitting around.

Looking closer you can see that they are doing line and in the middle of all of them was Rafe. Barry was sitting next to him chatting up a customer trying to upsell. A girl enters your view and you watch as she walks over to Rafe. She leans down and whispers in her ear and rests her hand on his shoulder. You watch as he smiles up at her, shaking a little bag in her face. He turns to make a line for her on the table and he catches your eyes.

He freezes, the card in his hand stalling. He picks up his actions when the girl whispers to him again. She makes her way onto his lap and that’s when you look away. Heading back down the stairs, missing how he pushed her off his lap and shot up. How he looked for you but you were already gone.

You keep looking around the house. Stopping into every room to check them. The next thirty minutes were spent searching the house. You kept coming up short which was freaking you out even more.  You look at the app again and can see that she is still in the house. She’s here somewhere but you just can’t seem to figure out where. Your phone starts to ring in your pocket. “Hello?” You answer

“I found her. I’m bringing her to the car so we can leave.” Sarah tells you. Relief floods through your system. “Okay I’ll meet the two of you there.” She hangs up. Knowing that Wheezie is safe now you are ready to leave. You walk through the living room, eyes trained on the front door next to the kitchen. A body blocks you as you get right outside the living room. “Hey.” Some random guy says.

“Uh hey?” You say wearily. You are a little weirded out. You have never seen this guy before and he keeps blocking you as you try to get around him. “You’re that nanny for Rafe’s little sister right?” He asks. “Yeah.” He nods at you. His hands are in his pockets, he looks a little awkward like this. He takes a step closer to you, your body backing up closer to the wall. “Sorry for what he did to you. Think he’s kinda stupid for letting a girl like you go.” He says. 

As if his words would make you feel better about what happened. “Thanks. I have to go now.” You try to step around him again and his arm lands on the wall, blocking you. This is starting to get more uncomfortable by the minute. “Hey I’m just trying to talk to you. I think you’re really pretty. We can just have some fun.” He tries to ration with you. “I’m good, I really just want to go. I have to get back to Wheezie.” You try to push him off you but he just gets a little closer. 

His breath fans against your neck as you squirm away from him. One of his hands grabs your bicep, keeping you still. “Come one don’t be like that. I just want to get to know you. I think we could really like each other.” His body is now pressed up to you. You can feel how hard he is through his pants. It's disgusting. Your hand raises to his chest trying to push him off. It only makes it worse, in lips kissing your neck.

From the kitchen Rafe has been watching the whole interaction. Watching as he hit on you and how you stood there. He watches as his hands are touching you, his lips kissing the same skin his own lips touched. He was angry. Angry at himself for fucking this up, angry at his dad for being the reason he’s like this, mostly mad at you for moving on right in front of him. He was just filled with anger.

It didn’t help that he was so high and coked out that the feeling was ten fold. He had spent all day yesterday and today taking bump after bump. Smoking the day away and drinking. There’s so much in his system that he’s surprised he’s even standing. No matter how much he takes you are always still there. There in his home, at the country club and now here. He can handle seeing you, not really but he could manage. But he can’t stand there and watch as you are with someone else. His breaking point is when the guy kisses you.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. One moment he was just watching you, hating his life. Now he’s marching over to drag you out of here and yell at you. You can’t just rub it in his face how little he means to you. He was about to call you out when he heard you speak. “Get off of me.” It’s like a switch flipped. He is now paying attention to your body language. Rafe sees her hands trying to push his chest. How the guy keeps grabbing them to bring them down to his pants. “Just shut up and stay still.”

That was Rafe’s breaking point. He grabs the guy from the back of his shirt, throwing him to the ground. You watch in horror as the guy hits the floor in a hard thump. Rafe’s fist meets the guy's face in an instant. You stand there as his body holds the guy down and he keeps hitting him. Everyone is yelling in horror, telling Rafe to stop. “What is wrong with you? She told you to get off her.” Rafe yells. 

His voice snaps you out of it. The guy is trying to block Rafe’s hits but he can’t do much in his position. Rafe has him trapped on the floor. “Rafe stop, let him go.” You yell. You really don’t want to be the reason that he got into a fight. It’s bad enough that his dad yelled at him over you.

Topper and Kelce run over, dragging Rafe off of the poor guy. “Fucking touch her again and I swear I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate if I see you near her again.” Rafe screams as his friends drag him away. You look at the guy on the floor, he just lays there as people try to check on him. “God he’s such a psycho. Who just attacks a random guy.” Someone says as they pull out their phone to call the cops. “Maybe he shouldn’t be such a creep forcing himself onto people.” You say without thinking. Heads turn to look at you in confusion. Some people connect the dots as to what happened. “DId he try to..” You walk away before people can ask questions.

You find Rafe outside, pacing in circles as he yells at his friends. “Why would you pull me off? FUcking asshole deserved it. He’s lucking I didn’t fucking kill him.” The boys just look at him with worried looks. “You can’t just say you are going to kill people Rafe.” Topper tries to reason but it falls on deaf ears. “Nah I mean it. He was going to hurt her and I wanted to kill him. I would do it to anyone who even thinks about touching her.” The boys don’t know what to say. Rafe is like a ticking bomb when he’s like this.

“Rafe.” Your voice calms him, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” He rushes to you. Examining you to make sure that creep didn’t harm you in any way. “I’m fine. Thank you.” You don’t know what else to say. He helped you out back there and you are grateful. “I swear if he hurt you I’m going back in there and killing him. DOn’t care if they arrest me.” He’s being irrational. “Hey, just calm down. Everything is fine now. You made it okay.” He pauses, your words sinking in. He made it okay. 

He was the one who helped you, the one that saved you. He reaches out to you, caressing your check. Relishing the feeling of you leaning into his touch. “You should go home.” He whispers. Your eyes open and meet his. Their red and his pupils are dilated. “Come with me.” He looks at you, debating if it’s a good idea. “I can’t. I said I would leave you alone, so I can’t.” He takes his hand off your face, about to back away from you but you stopped him.

“I want you to come with me, please. You can’t drive like this.” He gave in, no fighting was needed. You want him and that’s all he needs to know. He steps closer, walking side by side to your car. He sees Wheezie and Sarah in it. “What are they doing here?” He asks you. “Wheeze snuck off to the party. We came to get her and when I was leaving well.” You look back at the house and at him. “Well you know.”

He nods at you, not saying another word as you get into the car and drive off. The car ride was filled with you and Sarah lecturing Wheezie on how dangerous this was. That if something happened to her and no one knew where she was it could end badly. Rafe tenses at this thought. He was so coked out he didn’t realize his own sister was at the party. You were right she could have been hurt. Look at what happened to you, the same could have happened to Wheezie.

He’s on autopilot as he walks into the house and up the stairs. Your conversation plays in the background in his mind. He enters his room shutting the door but not noticing how it doesn’t click shut until a moment later. “Are you okay?” Rafe turns to see you in front of the door. “Yeah, I just want to get to bed.” What he really wants is to take another line and sleep the thoughts away.

“I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me today.” You shift your eyes from him. “No problem. Didn’t want you to get hurt.” He sits on the edge of his bed, folding his hands and looking at them. “That’s all? I got the flowers you gave me.” you take a step closer, wanting to be near him. You want to fix this, tonight made you realize he does care.

“Oh yeah. You can just forget about them. Don’t know why I even got them in the first place.” Your smile fades, the small flame of hope flickers out. “So that note was for nothing?” He doesn’t say anything. Guess you finally got your answer, it's over. “Don’t know why I even tried talking to you. You don’t care.” You go to leave the room. “Don’t leave.” He calls out.

Your hand is still on the door knob, one twist and you’ll be free. “Why? There’s nothing to stay for.” You hear him grunt, the bed squeaking under him. “Do you think I want to be like this? I can’t stand myself. I’m a fuck up, everyone knows it. For fucks sake my own father hates me.” He gets up, adrenaline coursing through him. 

“I wish I could be normal. That I was enough of a man to be worthy of anything. I’m just a failure at everything so no point in pulling you down with me.” His eyes are collecting tears. His breath came in short bursts. “That’s the drugs talking. You are normal Rafe.” He scoffs at you. “No, the drugs just make it easier to swallow that pill.” He laughs out.

“I know what everyone says about me, I’m not stupid. Ever since my mom died I was some monster. No one wanted to be around me and I just kept acting up. I know I’m not worth anything, then there you were. My own personal sunshine. For a second I was able to forget who I was. I was someone else and didn't have to worry about the rumors that go around. Guess I forgot I don’t deserve good things.” 

He’s laughing but you can hear the hurt in his voice. Tears fill your eyes at the thought of him feeling so worthless. “You do deserve good things.” “Look at what that got us. I fucked it up and you don’t even want me around. I get it, don't get me wrong but it sucks. I didn’t think you meant anything, the little voice in my head saying I was a fool for wanting to be with you. I let it get to me and now whatever we were is gone.”

A tear falls down his cheek. “I lost the last good thing that ever happened to me. You know you’re the only person that cared about me. It’s funny not even my own family likes me but you did. You were a breath of fresh air, the sunny day after a storm. I finally had you and I couldn’t even keep that. So no, I don't deserve good things.” His voice raises. A hollow feeling in his chest, he wishes it was a blackhole ready to swallow him up.

“Is that why you call me Sunny?” The nickname starts to make sense to you now. “Yeah, you’re this bright light that took everything away.” He sits down on the bed again, looking at the sun necklace laying on his table. He picks it up, playing with the gem between his fingers. “My Sunny. So beautiful it hurts. I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up. Wish I was different, maybe then we would actually be together.”

Your breath hitches, was this just the drugs? He did say that it just made it easier to handle how he feels. “I don’t want you to be different.” You stroll over to him, stepping between his legs. You grab his head in your hands so he can look you in the face. “I just wanted you to be you. I like who Rafe Cameron is. Why would I want you to be anyone different?” His eyes are shiny, glossed over with the tears that keep falling. 

“It doesn’t matter now right? It’s too late.” His hand wraps around your wrist. “We can talk about this tomorrow. You should get some sleep, we’ll talk when you have a clearer mind.” You go to leave the room but he stops you. “Stay. Don’t leave me.” His eyes are pleading with you. “Okay.”

You take off your shoes as he gets up. He hands you a change of clothes and he strips from his, laying in his bed waiting for you. You don’t know whether to change here or go into his bathroom. His eyes are are staring at you and you decide fuck it. He divulged how he felt, you can give in for at least this. You change into the shirt he gave you, leaving the pants to the side and get into bed. His fist still holds the necklace, you take his hand. The piece of jewelry moving to you.

You look at it, mixed emotions fill you. The happiness when you first got it, how you thought it was a step further in the relationship. The sadness of when you found him at the bonfire. The confusion you feel at this moment. You forgive him. You want to get past this and it seems like he does too. There’s still this fear in the back of your mind.

He traces your facial features with a light touch, scooting closer to your body. You are both on your sides facing each other. His eyes are drooping, sleep knocking on his door. Slowly fading his consciousness as he fights it off to have one more minute with you. “I think I’ll always be in love with you.” His words are softly whispered between you two.

Your mind short circuits. He said he was in love with you. There’s no way he actually said that. His hand lays motionless on your side, the sandman claiming him as his next victim. You look at him and then the necklace once again. Shifting slightly as to not wake him, you put the necklace back on. You move closer to him, touching his jaw. Letting sleep take you with it.  “I’ll always be in love with you too.”

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Sorry but i will NEVER belive that in the secret mated au Spider gets kidnapped by the RDA.

For me when Lo'ak calls Jake telling him what and who they found Neteyam doesn't wait a single moment.

Lo'ak: "Me, Spider, K-"

Neteyam: "Lo'ak i swear that if Spider gets hurt in any single and possible way, if only an hair is being pull out of him. I will beat the crap out of you"

(I like to think Neteyam is protective of Spider, I will die on this road)

So then Neteyam says to his parents he knows a shortcut, and they practically have to beg him to go slower because their ikrans are almost giving in from fatigue.

Neteyam growls at them, and then say a low apology remebering that those are his parents.

They arrive, he jumps off his ikran, and he founds the others in no time, his parents behind him.

Then bla bla bla fight and bla bla bla

Neteyam during the fight grabs Spider and Tuk and he runs with them were they put the ikrans.

"Tuk you ok?" He asks first and Tuk who is shaken nods and she hugs him tightly.

"Spider are you ok?" Neteyam asks and Spider nods before hugging him tightly too.

"I was so scared i thought- i don't even wanna thought what i thought" Neteyam says

"Is alright dude, I'm okay" Spider reasume him.

"Oh mate, my dear mate" Neteyam says

That how the family finds out, them returning to the others and hearing Neteyam say 'mate' to Spider.

OR

Neteyam getting kidnapped with Spider because there is no way he leaves his mate behind.

I'm so sorry, I have many things to say about this.

FIRST OF ALL, killing myself at Spider calling Neteyam "dude" only for Neteyam to respond with "my dear mate." Like, the audacity. Neteyam's not even worried anymore he's simply like, doubling down on nicknames to combat DUDE. His family find out because he was pissed about being called dude. Now I simply have to headcanon that Spider is calling Neteyam the most platonic, dudebro names possible while Neteyam tries to call him sappier and grosser pet names.

Spider: Hey man, what's up?

Neteyam: Seriously? Hey gorgeous, how are you, BELOVED?

Spider: I'm doing great, thanks, my guy.

Neteyam: Great to hear, sweetness.

Spider: How about you...

Neteyam: Don't say it.

Spider: ...bro.

Neteyam: OH GOD.

Secondly, I still am of the hardcore nocorro mindset where Spider is Neteyam's place to be vulnerable and voice all of his fears and inadequacies. I don't vibe super hard with the idea of any of Spider's relationships being the na'vi character protecting him all the time, I don't think he would accept that. He can handle himself and he would hate being babied. Plus, the Sully's especially are so important to him because they treat him like an equal. So I guess I'm fighting you on this road?

That being said, I do find the idea of Neteyam hiding the fact that he's trying to protect Spider from him, so he's just secretly threatening Lo'ak all the time, whispered fights behind Spider's back or as soon as he leaves, like "that is my mate now not just your dumbass idiot best friend, stop trying to get him killed along with you." And Lo'ak's just threatening to tell Spider about it all the time.

Neteyam: don't bring Spider to that.

Lo'ak: oOH, I'M TELLING HIM YOU SAID THAT.

Neteym: WAIT-

Finally, I can see Spider getting kidnapped while they are secretly mated, just because Neteyam trusts his parents. The drama would be this might be the incident to break that unfailing trust. They are kids, and despite growing up in a battle, their parents are legends. I think it would be a big deal for Neteyam to have them not bring his mate back, even unintentionally. They're supposed to be the perfect people he's living up to, what the fuck is he doing if they can fail? Mental crisis.

Also Tuk on the back of the ikran as Spider and Neteyam reunite:

[elasticitymudflap]

you think your boy Simon is gonna come back for season 2 or is he all arced out?

LISTEN *GRIPS U* SORRY IM ALL CAPS IM JUST BEING VERY NORMAL RN

SEASON 1 WAS BASICALLY ABOUT GETTING HIM TO THE POINT WHERE HE WAS SIMPLY NO LONGER LOOKING FOR AN EXCUSE TO THROW HIS LIFE AWAY, AND RECOGNIZING/NOT ROMANTICIZING THE CONCEPT OF SACRIFICE IN HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH BETTY BECAUSE OF HOW DISPROPORTIONALLY SHE SACRIFICED HERSELF FOR HIM IN WAYS HE WASN'T COGNIZANT OF.

IMHO:

SEASON 1 BARELY TOUCHED UPON ADDRESSING OR WORKING THROUGH HIS ICE KING TRAUMA. THIS IS MY FIRST MAIN THING I NEED THEM TO TOUCH UPON.

IT CONCERNS ME THAT SIMON DIDN'T EVEN COMPLETELY CONNECT THE DOTS IN THAT ALL THE CRAP WORLDS THEY WENT TO WERE HINGING ON WHO HE IS AND THE IMPACT HIS LOVE AND SACRIFICE (OR THE LACK THEREOF) HAD ON THE WORLD (DID SORT OF FOR A MOMENT IN THE STAR BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH IMO)

HE'S OBVIOUSLY STILL PROCESSING HIS YEARS TAKING CARE OF MARCY IN THE APOCALYPSE???? THERE WAS NO FOLLOW-UP WITH HER PHONECALL EVEN IN THE FINAL MONTAGE???? WHAT HAPPENED IN OOO WHEN HE DISAPPEARED??? THESE TWO NEED TO FUCKING TALK FOR REAL

WHAT DOES SIMON'S LIFE LOOK LIKE WHEN HE'S NO LONGER AN EXHIBIT?? HOW THE HELL DID HE BECOME/CONSENT TO BECOMING AN EXHIBIT IN THE FIRST PLACE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK?? HOW DID HIS LIFE CHANGE SO DRASTICALLY (OR DID IT NOT) FROM OBSIDIAN??

THE MORAL OF "MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE GONE ON THAT TRIP TO AUSTRALIA INSTEAD / WHO KNOWS WHAT LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE" IS SO BAD FOR HIM TO END CONCLUSIVELY ON AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE SEEN BECAUSE THE WORLD STILL FUCKING ENDED??? MAYBE HE FOUND THE CROWN, MAYBE HE DIDN'T, BUT EITHER WAY FROM WHAT WE SAW IN THE ALT WORLDS IT WAS ALL GOING TO END IN TRAGEDY AND MAYBE THIS IS THE ONLY WORLD WHERE WE GET A BITTERSWEET END INSTEAD OF A HELL WORLD THANKS TO THEIR DESICIONS??? IDK!!!!!! I'D LIKE TO EXPLORE THAT CONCEPT I THINK

THE UNIVERSE IS OUT OF HIS NOODLE, BUT DOES SIMON'S HEAD-PORTAL STILL WORK?? CAN HE CONNECT TO FIONNA WORLD IF HE'S IN HIGHLY CHARGED MAGICAL ENVIRONMENTS??? ACTUALLY, WHAT THE HELL ARE THE LONG TERM EFFECTS OF A HUMAN HAVING A UNIVERSE IN HIS DANG HEAD

HE'S CONNECTING WITH ASTRID NOW AND SEEMS TO BE ON MUCH BETTER TERMS, IS SHE GOING TO INSPIRE HIM TO START WRITING FIONNA AND CAKE STORIES AGAIN TO COPE IN A HEALTHY WAY WITH HIS PAST THIS TIME??

SIMON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH ICE THING???

SIMON'S HUMAN PAST IN GENERAL: WHY IS THIS DUDE THE WAY HE IS??? WHY DID HE BELIEVE THE THINGS HE DID, STUDY THEM, MAKE THEM THE THINGS HE HINGED HIS LIFE AND CAREER ON???

ON THAT NOTE: FLASHBACKS. MOTHER FUCKING FLASHBACKS. MORE OF HIS ADVENTURES WITH BETTY. WE ACTUALLY SEE SO LITTLE OF WHAT THEY WERE LIKE TOGETHER WHEN ACTUALLY HAPPY, HUMAN, AND IN A RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER, IN THEIR ELEMENT, AND NOT STRICKEN WITH LIFE-OR-DEATH DESICION MAKING EXCEPT FOR HIS DUMB ASS GETTING BRAINED BY A CHERRY JAR

HIS YEARNING TO FIND BETTY AND APOLOGIZE TO HER WAS "TECHNICALLY" HANDLED IN THE SHOW, BUT YOU CAN NOT TELL ME THIS DUDE DOESN'T HAVE LASTING ISSUES AND TRAUMA AROUND THAT. ABOUT THE FIRST TIME HE PUT ON THE CROWN AND BETTY DISAPPEARING FOREVER. ABOUT THE GUILT AND FEAR ABOUT HER BEING DEAD DURING THE WAR. ABOUT LIVING NINE FUCKING HUMAN LIFETIMES IN A HAZE WHERE ALL HE KNEW WAS HE HURT THE PERSON HE LOVED MOST AND HE JUST NEEDED TO FIND HER. IT BECAME AN INTEGRAL PART OF ICE KING'S CHARACTER, HIS MOST DEFINING TRAIT STRIPPED TO THE STUDS. HE HELD ONTO THAT LAST PIECE OF SIMON PETRIKOV SOME HOW UNTIL SO MUCH TIME HAD PASSED HIS ONLY HOPE TO EVER FIND HER AGAIN WAS TO USE TIME TRAVEL. I'D LIKE SOME MORE OF THAT, IF YOU PLEASE.

HOW IS HE ACTUALLY COPING POST-SEASON 1? WHAT ARE HIS THOUGHTS ON ALL THE WORLDS THEY VISITED, THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HIM, THE IMPLICATIONS, HIS INTERPRETATIONS? HE MAY BE IN THERAPY BUT HE'S STILL DRINKING.

ANYWAY