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mead-iocre · 3 months

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Our New Normal Pt. 2 | Leah Williamson x Reader

Our New Normal 2/4 (read pt 1 here)

“The next station is London Euston, where this train terminates. Please ensure you have all your belongs with you when you leave the train”

You pull out your AirPods from your ears and slot them back into it’s case. The train journey was pretty pleasant. Interestingly, the First Class cabin was quieter than usual, with less fellow travellers in this trip than usual.

You grab your hand mirror from your bag, checking your appearance and fidgeting around with your hair; making sure to retouch your lipstick and spritz a little perfume. You rarely wore makeup when it wasn’t necessary, but for some reason you wanted to make the extra effort to make yourself look slightly more put together when Leah picks you up tonight. Usually, the Arsenal defender only ever saw you in sweatpants and a hoodie, thick rim glasses instead of contact lenses, and with your hair tied up in a loose ponytail.

For the first time, in a very long time, you were nervous to see your best mate. That wasn't normal at all.

The first thing Leah spots is your familiar silver rimowa suitcase– in fact, it was hers first. When the wheels of your well-loved and well-traveled suitcase decided to break during one of your visits to London, Leah insisted that you take one of her many suitcases that she had stowed away. The blonde never ended up asking for it back so you’ve kept it ever since, and use it every time you take your little trips.

Leah’s eyes trail upwards until they meet yours. She cocks one eyebrow at the slight difference in your appearance. To her, you were always beautiful but there was something about you right then that seemed different– like you were currently going through a big lifestyle change and the subtle difference in your appearance reflected that. In her mind, the defender chalked it up to you preparing for your transfer to your new club. It wasn't something she liked to think about often as you still had not told her where you were moving to. She just hoped that wherever you moved to, it won't be too far from her.

Leah watched from the distance as your eyes scanned the busy station, trying to find her. She grinned as she sees you weave your fingers through your hair to push it back, a long-time habit of yours that Leah found very, very charming.

Eventually her time to admire you from afar gets cut short when your eyes finally meet hers. You both grin at each other from across the arrivals area of the station before simultaneously making your way towards each other, skilfully dodging other people along the way.

Leah is the one that closes the distance between the two of you, her arms wrapping themselves around your waist; meanwhile yours found purchase around her shoulders. For a moment, all you see is her strawberry blonde hair as she tucks her face into your neck.

“Hiya, beautiful” She mumbles against your neck. You can feel the light press of her lips as they move against your skin causing you to giggle slightly at the feeling.

You’ve missed her a lot. This was normal. It was normal to miss you friend this much.

“Hi, Lee” You say softly against her ear. This is what you’ve been craving for weeks now– Leah and her hugs. You will never get over how it feels like to be hugged and held by this woman. No matter how long you both were apart, there was nothing awkward about the first hug when you are both reunited. It’s instinctual, it’s comfort, and it’s home. You step closer to her, minimising whatever little space there was left between your bodies, and wrap your arms tighter around her neck.

Home.

“I’ve missed you, baby” A moment later Leah moves to break the hug, her arms gliding across your lower back, both palms pressing against you until they settle comfortably on your hips. She reaches up to cup one side of your face, tilting it to the side, before her lips land sweetly on your cheek. When she pulls away so you are both finally seeing eye to eye, there’s that familiar grin on her face. You couldn’t help but mirror it back with a big smile of your own.

“I missed you too” You mumble back, blushing slightly at the intensity of her stare.

You’ve nagged her in the past for staring, and all she did was quip back saying she’s “making sure all your cute freckles are still there”

“Right. Let’s get a move on then” Without even waiting for your reply, the defender has one hand over the handle of your suitcase and the other tugging you along behind her.

You both walk outside towards the parking lot, the chill of the London air feels all too familiar lately, until you stop by her car. The blonde unlocks her car, opens the passenger door, and ushers you inside before jogging to the boot of her car to stow away your luggage.

Leah turns on the ignition and then presses a button on the console of the car to turn the heater on. You can barely make out the details of the other cars outside in the parking lot due to the chill fogging up the windows, barely being able to make out passer-buyers exhaling fogs of cold air as they chat to one another. She glances over to you, noticing that you’ve got your arms crossed, hands tucked under the cuffs of your long wool jacket.

“Cold?” She reaches a hand over to gently push back the strands of hair that have fallen over your face. Her hand lingers by your cheek, a frown already forming on her face.

This is normal.

Leah knows you don’t like the cold. Unlike those who look forward to “sweater-weather” and pumpkin spice lattes, you hate the autumn and winter months. You much preferred the warmer months when you can sunbathe and wear tank tops all day. “Sorry baby, I should’ve warmed the car up for you earlier”

You smile at her. This is why it was inevitable that you grew feelings her. She’s the kind of person that would go above and beyond for others– and you were lucky enough to be the receiver of this kind of treatment often. Your close friends and teammates would tease you both, often jokingly complaining that Leah is spoils you too much and gives you the “princess treatment” even in simple chores, but you took it all to stride. It made you wonder if this dynamic was going to change once you became teammates for the same club.

“It’s fine, Lee. I’ll warm up in a bit”

Your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy the Arsenal defender because she immediately shrugs off her own black puffer and places it over your body. You were about to nag the blonde about how now she’ll be the one freezing her socks off, but she shut your protests up with a quick stern look in your direction. You figured there was no point arguing with her when you’ve got a surprise for her later on, so you reluctantly accepted her coat.

Speaking of surprises, you were starting to feel nervous. You have never hid anything from your best friend, especially not something as big as this, and you can’t help but overthink about what might happen after tonight. Part of you knows that Leah will most likely be ecstatic over your transfer, but a smaller, more pessimistic part of your brain was worried that Leah would hate being around you even more; or perhaps she might get sick of being around you constantly.

You were great teammates for England, but international camp never lasted long enough to really test how well you can communicate your feelings, and how you can deal with arguments. Sure, you’ve had a few disagreements here and there but you both always resolved it quickly due to the looming threat of having to say goodbye to one another once camp was over once again. You were worried that being together more often would strain your relationship considering you were both complete opposites when it came to how you expressed your feelings.

Leah was a very confrontational person and she does not hesitate to tell people exactly how she feels. On the pitch, she has no problem arguing with the ref whenever she disagreed with a call, and she was exactly the same off the pitch. You, on the other hand, preferred to bottle up your feelings until you eventually break. The few arguments you’ve had with Leah often resulted in you leaving the room to clear your head, and the blonde giving you the time and space to think things through.

Afterwards, when you did resolve everything, Leah often expressed how she wished you would stay and talk to her instead of running out. She said it nicely, comfortingly, but you knew a part of her was frustrated at the way you sometimes handled things. You never got a chance to resolve this issue or compromise because by then it would be time to say goodbye again– whether its because England camp has ended or you were due to separate and go back to your respective clubs. Being teammates for country and now club would mean that you both will have these issues more frequently, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

The sudden change in your behaviour did not go unnoticed by the Arsenal defender. Leah watches as you adjust her jacket around you, the oversized puffer jacket completely engulfing you with only the lower part of your legs and your head visible. She watches as you fidget and fuss over the jacket in your lap, a nervous habit that she is very familiar with. She can tell you probably had a lot going on and she figured it was partly due to the looming deadline of the transfer window. She knows you well enough to know that the only way you will open up is if you are given the time and space to do so. Leah isn’t usually a patient person, but for you she can be.

She watches you silently for another moment. She swears she felt her heart skip a beat when you try and cocoon yourself further into her jacket, your eyes closed, mouth curved up into a satisfied smile– probably happy with the warmth you were now swaddled in. You didn’t know it but if you wanted her to, Leah would’ve tried to somehow turn winter into summer if it meant seeing you this happy. For now she’s just glad that her puffer jacket can offer you some warmth in the meantime.

Soon enough, Leah was driving the both of you out of the station’s car park, the navigation flashing the directions to her flat. Usually, the blonde would be blasting music in the car, sharing all the new songs she added to her playlist recently, but she must’ve noticed how tired you are because instead of the normal r&b tunes filling the car, the blonde has turned down the volume until you can barely hear the instrumentals of the song currently playing.

“Just sleep, y/n” You force your eyes open at Leah’s words, trying to blink the sleep away. You had been trying to stay awake, feeling bad about not being a more entertaining passenger on the long drive back to her flat, but the equal amounts of stress and excitement over the last couple of weeks seem to be catching up to you now.

As your hand reaches up to try and rub the sleepiness away from your eyes, the defender’s hand reaches up to grab your wrist before you can do so. “Don’t rub your eyes, baby. Remember that tiktok video I sent you?”

The eye roll that follows cannot be helped. Leah had sent you a tiktok video a few days ago about the potential dangers that rubbing your eyes constantly can do– something about weakening or distorting your cornea– but that’s in extreme cases. Why that tiktok video was even on her 'for you page', you didn't want to know.

“One little eye rub won’t damage my eyes, Lee”

“And let’s keep it that way, yeah?” You catch her smirk illuminated by the streetlights, already anticipating whatever cocky, unhinged thing that will come out of her mouth next. “Or else you’d miss seeing my pretty face”

You scoff, clutching her jacket tighter around you. One advantage of Leah driving you around is that it gives you the opportunity to look at your best friend, the woman you were in love with, without care.

The defender was a great driver, both hands always clutching the wheel, and always focused on the road. That meant you can stare at her without having to gaze into those blue eyes. A familiar shade of forget-me-not blues, unusually soft in the morning light, but can also reflect the deepest depths of the ocean when her emotions get the best of her. They say the eyes are the windows into the soul, and this woman was proof of that. She wore her emotions in her pretty blues, and sometimes you swore she felt the same scary, overwhelming emotions you had begun to feel for her.

But that’s why sometimes you find it hard to stare into her eyes, fearing that that unnamed emotion in her eyes– the one that you so badly want to believe might be adoration, or care, or love– might be gone one day.

“Piss off, Lee” Damn her and her caring nature.

The blonde risks a quick glance at you causing your breath to catch in your throat. All of a sudden, you feel a lot less sleepy and more aware of your rapidly beating heart.

“Take a nap, baby. I’ll wake you up when we stop at the gas station” Leah turns her head back to the road for a second, surveying the road ahead of her, before those pretty blues find their way back to you.

“Give your eyes a break for a bit. Wouldn’t want you to get tired of looking at me”

You giggle at that. As if.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you, Leah” You cheesed out– partly jokingly, but mainly because it’s true. You hope your tone disguises that last bit though.

That being said, a short nap was beginning to sound very inviting. No sooner than later, you’ve allowed the familiar scent of her that lingers from her jacket, the music barely an audible hum, and the streetlights fading into a blur lull you to sleep.

Already halfway asleep, you miss the blonde’s quiet “same here, baby” whispered aloud for only her ears to hear.

——————————————

An hour or so passes and you were still fast asleep. Stopping in front of a red light, the defender takes the opportunity to spare a glance towards your sleeping form beside her. She can’t stop the corners of her lips from turning up at the sight of you, a mere puffy marshmallow lump in her passenger seat. Unable to help herself, she reaches over and lightly caresses your face with her thumb. My sleepy girl

Soon enough it was time for a petrol station stop. Leah pulls up to a petrol station with its bright lights flickering atop a weathered sign. The cold air was tinged with the faint scent of gasoline, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the attached convenience shop. The defender unbuckles her seatbelt before reaching over towards you. Her hand finds it way under her jacket– your blanket– before she finds your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze.

When you start to stir, Leah runs a hand through your hair in the attempts of taming the bird’s nest-like mess that sits on top of your head. When your eyes finally open, the first thing you see is Leah already grinning at you. You feel your breath catch, like it normally does whenever the pretty blonde is looking at you like that. You silently hope that the inside of the car is dark enough that she can’t see the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hiya. Had a good nap, yeah?” The grinning defender is still staring at you, so naturally you playfully push her face away with a palm to her cheek.

“Don’t need your ugly mug to be the first thing I see, Lee”

Leah laughs loudly at that. Head thrown back, mouth wide open in glee, blonde hair cascading down in loose waves that was probably the result of being put up in a Leah-style “bun” earlier that day.

“Oi! I’ve been so good to you the entire evening– even letting you sleep and snore in my car– and this is how you repay me?”

You let out an exaggerated gasp and look at her, unable to stop the grin that is already growing on your face. “I do not snore!”

“Like a new born piglet, baby”

Before you could retort, the blonde leans forward in her seat over the console and sneaks a quick kiss to your forehead. This was normal, Leah was usually so generous with her kisses for some reason, but that didn’t mean your heart didn’t flutter every time she laid one on you. “You’re cute, y/n”

You swear your heart skips a beat. Is that normal?

“I’ve got to get petrol. There’s a shop over there, so why don’t you grab a bite to eat while I do this?”

You glance over at the convenience store, the promises of hot food and maybe something sweet to satisfy your cravings lately already luring you inside. You turn back to the blonde and nod, handing her back her black puffer jacket which you had essentially held hostage the entire drive. You unbuckle your seatbelt and quickly throw your hair into a loose ponytail, silently bracing yourself for the cold ahead.

Just as you were about to push the car door open, Leah pulls you back with a hand on your arm, and the next thing you know your vision is partially obstructed by a wool beanie placed on your head. “Stay warm, baby”

Before you could thank her, the blonde has already opened the door on her side of the car and has stood up to shrug her jacket on. She gives you a quick wink before she disappears from your view, making her way to the petrol machine.

You hastily make your way inside the store, grateful for the sudden warmth it provided against the harsh cold from outside. You scan the shop and make a beeline towards the hot food section, and pick up a sausage roll. You scan the rest of the options before picking up the potato wedges for a certain blonde in mind who happens to have the food palette of a 2 year old. You walk around the store for a few more moments, picking up a bottle of Sprite, Diet Coke, a pack of hand-warmers, and two packs of prawn cocktail crisps before heading to the counter to pay. You hear the sound of the automatic doors sliding opening, the wind outside shrilling loudly in your ears, before the doors slide closed again.

As you reach into your coat to pull out your card to pay, a familiar hand reaches around you and taps their phone against the card reader.

“Leah.” You mutter sternly, eyes narrowed at the blonde who now stood beside you.

“Perks of having Apple Pay, baby. You would know if you actually bothered to set it up” The defender grabs the bag with your food, throwing a quick ‘thank you’ to the nice man behind the till. She grabs one of your hands in hers and pulls you towards the doors.

“Brace yourself” Is the only warning you get before Leah pulls you through the doors and out into the cold once again. The cold is harsh against your cheeks, and you find yourself pressing yourself into the blonde’s side. She wraps an arm around you, steering you to her car. She quickly unlocks your car door first, and out of habit holds a hand out above your head so you don’t bump your head into the roof of the car.

You both settle inside her car and buckle your seatbelts. Leah shrugs her jacket off of her shoulders and places it over your lap. “Use that. You clearly need that more than I do, Rudolph”

She quickly glances over to you, chuckling at the unamused expression on your face as she backs the car out of the petrol station. This time, you were adamant that you will sit through the rest of drive to the blonde's flat, and you did. You and Leah took turns choosing the songs to play, both of you shouting the familiar lyrics from the top of your lungs.

From the corner of your eye, you see Leah take one of her hands off the wheel and flex it open and closed repeatedly. You reckon she must be feeling cold, especially considering you’ve got her puffer blanketing you in its warmth. “Cold, Lee?”

“Hmm? ’m fine, baby. The car will warm me up soon”

You were about to argue back when you remember that you had bought a pack of hand warmers earlier. Reaching into the plastic bag, you search through it and grab the pack, ripping it open and holding one out to your blonde driver. She glances at it briefly, before she shakes her head, both hands still on the wheel.

“I’m fine, Y/N. You need it more than I do.”

“I’ve got another one here. It comes in a pack of two” You reach back into the bag to show her the other hand warmer. She glances towards you briefly.

“I’ll put this one under my hoodie, and you can hold onto this one” Leah watches from the corner of her eye as you open your jacket and tuck one of the hand warmers, sandwiching it in between the layers of your undershirt and your hoodie. You settle more comfortably in your seat as you feel the growing warmth spreading from the heat pack.

“Here’s yours. Your hands are definitely cold”

“I don’t–“

“Don’t be so bloody stubborn, Leah.”

“Well don’t be so bloody annoying then, Y/N”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You wouldn’t be surprised if grey hairs started sprouting soon. Among all the people you could fall in love with, you somehow fell for the most stubborn woman on this planet– and you still have about an hour left of this drive.

But you know deep down there’s also no one else you’d rather be stuck anywhere with.

“Give me your hand, Leah” You stretch a hand towards her over the middle console, palm up. She glances at it briefly, one eyebrow raised, but didn’t question you.

The blonde took the hand nearest to you off the steering wheel and places her hand on top of yours. You gave it a squeeze, flinching slightly at the cold palm, and muttering “Your hands are fucking freezing, Lee”

You take the hand warmer that was supposed to be for her and place it between your interlocked hands. In front of a red light, the defender beside you turns to look at both of your hands, clasped tightly together in the center console of her car. When it came to physical affection, you rarely gave it away freely. Leah was the more affectionate one between the two of you, so seeing you initiate it was a surprise to her. She knows that the warmth that she feels wasn’t coming from just the hand warmers that both of you are sharing.

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet. Instead of the loud, boisterous music that was blasting from the car speakers earlier, the only sounds inside the car was coming from the gentle hum of the engine. You and Leah held hands for pretty much the rest of the drive, Leah only breaking your connection when she needed to turn the wheel.

“One second, baby” The blonde would say whenever she needed to make a sharp turn, her hand untangling from yours for a moment to grab the steering wheel firmly with both hands. Not a moment too soon, her hand would instinctively seek out yours from where it sits patiently waiting by the center console. Your fingers would intertwine with hers, and all was right in the world again.

The hand warmer, which now no longer emitted any heat, was promptly tossed aside earlier. You and Leah were palm to palm, the only source of warmth against the biting cold outside was the one exchanged between your hands. The rhythmic beat of the windshield wipers matched the soft patter of raindrops, as if the evening itself conspired to provide a soothing backdrop for the last leg of your drive.

——————————————

Soon enough the car was pulling up into the parking lot of Leah’s flat. The familiar building came into view, nestled in a quiet corner of town. The glow from the light inside some of the windows hint at the warmth within, promising respite from the biting cold of the outside. You couldn’t wait to be reunited with Leah’s warm and cosy guest bedroom, which had essentially become your home away from home during your frequent visits to London. After locking her car and making sure she didn't forget anything, Leah grabbed your gloved hand to guide you towards the entrance of her flat with one hand, whilst the other hand pulled your suitcase behind her.

The elevator ride up to her floor was quiet, but it was the comfortable silence kind. You both were stood side by side, one gloved hand interlocked with a bare one, the only noise in the elevator came from the subtle hum of the elevator tune. You knew that it was only a matter of time before you had to break the news of your transfer to the defender.

Part of you was relieved that you can finally put an end to this whole charade, but another part of you was worried that she might feel hurt over the fact that you kept such a big thing from her. Leah was someone that valued trust and communication, and while your feelings for her could warrant an exemption, keeping something like this was a big deal. You’ve had to lie to her a few times over the past few weeks, cancelling meet ups and declining calls, using football and a busy schedule as an excuse to escape her nagging questions over your transfer. You were worried that she might feel hurt that you were essentially lying to her.

Then there was also the bit about how this transfer might change your relationship with the blonde. Sure, she could be happy about your move to Arsenal and the fact that you were both teammates now, but what if in a few months she’ll eventually get tired of having you around constantly. Maybe she might get tired of you always being around her– not just during England camp but now at the same club. One perk about being in separate clubs was it allowed time apart and your feelings for Leah “cool down”– or at least you hoped it would. But then one meet up with her and your heart was rapidly beating against your chest again.

Part of you was also worried that the only reason why you and Leah stayed friends for this long was because being apart from each other and being at separate clubs gave you so much to talk about once you were together. You feared that the only reason why your friendship stood the test of time was because the time apart added to the excitement of being together again eventually. Conversations and face-time calls were endless and exciting because the two of you made sure to share all the mundane and the ordinary with each other because the other wasn’t there to experience it. Now that the both of you will be together more often, you were worried that that excitement and that spark will eventually fizzle out.

They always say “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and for a long time you were okay with it, but what happens now?

First of all, thank you for all the love and support for the first part of this fic. I hope you know I much I appreciated all the reblogs, likes and comments <333

Secondly, I know I said I would get the second part of this fic up last week but whilst I was doing my final reading before posting it, I ended up not like the direction the fic was going, so I redid the entire thing lol

I like this one a lot better and I hope you do too (also, note I added 1 more part to this so it is now a 4 part fic)

Hope you're looking forward to the next bit– I know I am!

The weather lately has been sunny and bright skies on my side of the world. Sending you a little slice of sunshine :)

-- kisses, butter.

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #Our New Normal fic

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teasteeper · 4 months

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18+ minors dni, f!reader, spitting, gagging, mentions of alcohol, pinv, oral (m receiving)

nerd loser bf!mingi things …

he wants a hot emo gf and when he gets one .. he’s in constant awe of how cool you are, cheeks a permanent glowy pink and cock at least half hard when he’s around you. his big hands are shaky and hesitant to touch you, finding it hard to not reach out and poke at the dimples at the bottom of your spine, the low waistband of your jeans putting the cute indents on perfect display. he’d reach around your hips while you ride him, feeling your dimples with his finger tips as his pretty lips fall open, eyes blown wide as you bounce on his cock

emo gf bonus: mingi goes insane for a belly button piercing. dazedly watches the pretty jewel jut out with each thrust of his cock into your tummy .. and despite you whining about it being unsanitary he wants to finish on it, pulling out and covering the cute charm and the rest of your tummy in his warm cum

his glasses fogging up as he fucks you, hunched over your smaller frame. he’s a loser but also kinda mean <3 ignoring your mewls as he pounds you, your nails scratching at his chest just making him go harder. you can barely see his eyes behind his foggy lenses, black hair falling over his face, teeth digging into his bottom lip with the effort. his usual shy demeanour is gone, and all you can do it stare up in awe when he gets like this, fingers bruising your hips, deep voice telling you to “open your mouth” before his lips are pursing to spit into it

he cares more about your style than his, so in love with how cool you always look that he sees you as his little model, buying the two of you matching earrings and asking to do your makeup because he wants to see you with even more black liner. he’s so gentle as his fingers smudge the pigment around your eyes, smudging your lipstick with the pad of his thumb to see how it looks. it turns into him gagging you with his long fingers, watching pretty tears well in your eyes before rolling down your cheeks. he holds your pretty face as he fucks it, deciding that your makeup looks best when your cheeks are wet with a mess of spit, tears, eyeliner and his cum <3

he’s like a big-eyed puppy following you around at parties, long fingers hooked into the back pocket of your jeans as you make rounds saying hi to all your friends. he’s so quiet as he towers over you, just nodding and smiling nicely when you introduce him. once you’re home it’s a different story, the sickly sweet taste of the mixed drink he sipped on on his tongue that pushes all wet and needy into your mouth, his jaw slack and eyes fluttering closed as he lets you pull his baggy sweater over his head. he looks so dumb and pretty when you pull away, hair sticking in different directions and glasses askew, behind his lenses his eyes are blown wide, cheeks flushed and lips swollen and red. a whine catches in his throat when you sink to your knees, his cock raging in his briefs, the head drooling just like he is. he’d be so cute and needy, all broken moans and curses as his hips buck sloppily into your mouth

“y’look even prettier with my cum on your face”

“is it bad i like seeing you cry? knowing it’s only me who can fuck you to tears”

being with you makes him such a perv, never not thinking about bending you over and using his big form to hold you down, filling you over and over until him cum is dripping down your thighs

#mingi #song mingi #ateez #atz #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi x you #ateez smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #atz hard hours #atz hard thoughts #mine

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heartpascal · 10 months

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or is it loneliness?

▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.

▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear

▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.

While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.

Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.

At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.

Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.

It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.

The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.

Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.

“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.

She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.

You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.

“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.

“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”

You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.

“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.

“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.

“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”

She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.

The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.

“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.

Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.

“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.

“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.

“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”

“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”

Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?

You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.

“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.

“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.

The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.

“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.

“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.

“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”

Who are you to deny her that?

Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.

Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?

You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.

But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.

You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.

Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.

You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.

If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.

“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”

You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”

That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.

She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.

“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.

Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.

“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.

There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.

The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.

Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.

You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.

Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.

She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.

You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.

“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”

“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.

“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”

Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.

You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.

“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.

“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.

You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”

You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.

It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.

She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.

The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.

Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.

Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.

It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.

Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.

The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.

Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.

It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.

That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.

Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.

He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.

“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”

“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.

You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.

A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.

“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”

Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?

Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”

With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.

Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.

“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”

“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.

Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”

He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.

Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.

“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”

“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”

You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.

Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.

“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.

You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.

While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?

Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.

The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.

Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.

Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.

But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.

The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.

Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.

When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.

Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.

Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.

That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.

Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.

You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.

“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.

You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.

All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.

Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.

Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.

Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.

Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”

He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.

The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.

You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.

The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.

You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.

“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.

Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?

“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.

Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.

Who do these people think they are?

You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.

The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.

“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.

“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.

“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”

“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”

Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?

Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.

You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.

You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.

After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.

“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.

“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”

You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.

You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.

“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.

“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”

You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.

“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?

“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”

For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?

“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.

Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”

“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.

There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.

You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.

All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.

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midnghtprentiss · 6 months

Text

how you get the girl - aaron hotchner

5 times Hotch accepted help from your son to get to you. 3k.

pairing: bau!femreader x aaron hotchner

warnings: canon type of violence

authors note: this is my first hotch work and i'm obsessed with this idea i had. i love him so much!!!!

One

When you started working at the BAU no one knew about your life. No one in the team had a clue about your son, until Penelope brought it up at the bar. Everyone was shocked by this information, especially when you said that your son was already a teenager.

It was funny to see the entire team's reaction when you dropped this information without warning. Penelope and Emily were excited to meet Taylor. It's not like you didn't want them to know of his existence, but to be on the safe side it was better if few people knew. He, on the other hand, was very proud of you. Taylor told everyone that his mother worked for the FBI and that you were the best mother and agent in the world.

The day the whole team met him, Rossi decided to throw a pool party at his house. You weren't sure if he would want to go and he didn't hesitate to accept your invitation and finally meet your coworkers.

Aaron had developed a great affection for you, perhaps due to the fact that the two of you were single parents or perhaps it was the way that, even unconsciously, you made him nervous. He admired the whole team, it was obvious, but you were different. You understood what it was like to not sleep through the nights, you understood what the heartbreak of having to leave your child while you were away for an indefinite amount of time was. You knew and he was grateful for that.

You didn't need to be a profiler to know he had a crush on you. And only you didn't see that.

When Hotch's eyes met your figure accompanied by a boy a little bigger than you, everything made sense. You two were very similar: the eyes, the hair and the smile.

“Hey guys. This is Taylor, Taylor, this is my team." The boy smiled a little shyly, waving to everyone in the room. He was surprised by Penelope who pulled him into a hug.

Taking Taylor to dinners ended up becoming a habit, while Aaron took Jack and JJ took Henry. It was fun for them and he enjoyed spending more time around you. On the other hand, he had noticed how Aaron wasn't discreet at all when he looked at you. The teenager tried to remain neutral in this situation, but he wanted his mother to be happy and he liked Hotch.

"You know you're not subtle at all? For someone who profiles, you're pretty bad at hiding some things." Taylor muttered looking at Aaron who shook his head laughing.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Taylor."

"You look at my mother as if she is your salvation." The boy smiled looking at the man. "She likes when people compliment her. Start there, compliment her clothes, her hair, even her work."

“Why are you doing this?" Hotch asked, confused.

"For someone who is very good at their job, you need to try harder." The teenager joked and Aaron smiled. “And honestly, I like you better than the jerks she dated before. Make it work.”

It took Hotch a couple of weeks to finally put his plan to work. He knew you were going to stay late to finish some paperwork so you can take the weekend off. He watched your movements from his office, the way you were focusing on your files, the lenses were changed from your actual glasses (in his opinion you looked so much better in them) and the coffee mug was replaced by a water bottle. Aaron made his way to your table. You noticed him right away. It was impossible not noticing Hotch, especially when he was around you.

“Hi Hotch. What do you need?” You asked him watching his face.

“Oh, nothing special.” He tried to keep serious. “You did a great job today.”

His heart almost skipped a beat.

“Thanks. I guess that's the job right?” You play with him and sights softly.

Before he went back to his office he looked at you for a few seconds, making you confused.

“By the way, I think you look beautiful with these glasses.” Your heart was racing with his complement and you couldn't help but smile.

“Thanks, Hotch.” You winked at him and watched him go away.

Aaron starts to complement you every time he can. He sees you wearing a new dress? He'll tell you how pretty you look. Your hair looks different? Washes you in good comments. It was natural and felt right at the same time. Aaron Hotchner was messing with your head and you were enjoying it a lot.

Two

The second encounter between Taylor and Aaron was at your house. At this point the whole team and Taylor's friends were invested in your son hints to Aaron to get to you. Even Penelope was keeping it cool and that was hard for her.

“Remember the small things she talks about.” Taylor said quickly before you come back with the files Aaron was there to pick it up.

It was easy for him to remember the things you talked about. More precisely because he only pays attention to you wherever you speak near him. Your birthday was coming up and he could count the times he overheard you telling Emily and Derek about a book that it was impossible to find. It was the last book to complete your collection.

Aaron Hotchner could do many things. He knows a guy who owns a bookstore and in one call he bought you the book. He planned to surprise you on your birthday next weekend. He even tried to wrap in some beautiful paper but he gave up and put it in a fancy bag with a note Jack made himself.

On your birthday he was trying to play cool and don't ruin any chances he may have to see you smile. Everyone was chatting in the backyard where you organized a dinner to celebrate the day. He was speechless when he saw you all dressed up and happy to see everyone. You couldn't lie but your heart was beating very fast when you saw that man standing there with a bright smile all relaxed.

“Happy birthday!” Jack speaks for the first time in what seems like forever while the two of you hold a gaze for a little longer.

“Thank you Jackers! Thanks for coming guys, I appreciated it.” You welcome them.

Everyone sneaks closer to where you were just to see your reaction with the gift.

“I brought you a present. I know you said that it wasn't necessary but I wanted to.” Aaron gives you the fancy bag and you quickly inspect it.

When you took the book out of the bag your eyes widened and your smile became so much brighter. You look at him surprised and all the words vanish from your mouth.

“Aaron I can't believe it!” You laugh and give him a tight hug. “How did you find it?”

“I won’t tell you my secret but I heard you telling the team about this.” He swears the smell of your perfume almost breaks him.

“Thank you so much.” You leaned to give him a kiss on the cheek and both of your faces went red.

The whole team was cheering in silence. Everyone wanted you two to get together for a million reasons in particular because you two were meant to be. This day was the day you start falling hard for Aaron Hotchner and there's no turning back now.

Three

Aaron got Taylor's note in the back of his suit pocket. You needed to take him to the office for a doctor's appointment after work and it was easier to take him with you than letting him stay home. This time Derek helped him deliver the small piece of paper.

“Ask about her weekend plans. Invited her to do something.”

He laughs at the note and starts to consider doing something. Jack was spending the weekend at Jessica's and he was available.

Hotch waited till the end of the day to finally say something to you, but you were gone. He tried to hide his frustration and failed hard. Rossi laughs at his reaction and Emily joked about how he looked like a puppy.

Aaron collected all of his courage and sent you a text about your weekend plans. When you saw the message your heart missed a beat. Was he insinuating you should do something on the weekend? Is he interested in you?

‘Nothing really important. Got something in mind?’ You replied to him feeling like a teenager again. It took him a couple of minutes to answer. ‘We should grab a drink saturday. Like a date. What do you think?’ Your heart was so fast and you were blushing a lot. ‘Sure. Pick me up at seven.’ Aaron couldn't hide his smile and his excitement about the weekend.

Saturday night you were trying not to let your feelings show up to Taylor, who was more than happy to see you finally excited about seeing someone. You didn't know that he knew about what was going on but you can tell he seemed pretty fine compared to the other times you went on a date.

“Will you and your friends call me if something happened, honey?” You asked your son that was sitting at the edge of your bed watching you get ready.

“Yes mom. Don't worry about it. Have some fun, too.” He answered quickly and you turned to him. “Who are you going out with?"

“Does it matter?" You asked him with a smile and he nodded.

The bell made your heart race. Aaron wasn't the type of man to horn when he arrived, he was a true gentleman. He knocks on your door and waits for you to open the door. When you did, his mind went crazy. You were wearing a green strapless dress that complimented your whole body and thank God you brought that dress, because right now this image will stay with Aaron for the rest of his life.

“Hey.” You said to him with a nervous smile.

“Hi. You look amazing.” He murmured and you could see the smirk on his lips.

Four

Aaron remembered when Taylor told that you loved to laugh. And the highest point of his night was meep you laughing. He chose a restaurant Dave suggested and for the faces you were making, you love it. Hotch was a true gentleman, he didn't make you feel uncomfortable any moment. Always making sure you had a drink in hand, that your food was properly served.

This side of Aaron was a welcome surprise for you. The jokes he kept talking, the stories of his college years and early academy were taking your breath away. You never saw him smiling this much before and honestly, if you could, you would love to live in this moment forever. The atmosphere between you was contagious and happy.

‘’And now apparently I can’t walk around my own house when his friends are there. I need to keep a straight face and not lose my posture.’’ You wipe the tears of your eyes and smile. ‘’I don’t think you will pass through this but if you do, good luck.’’

‘’Actually, the other day one of the moms from soccer practice gave me her number while her husband was there. I was so afraid of having to fight right there.’’ You burst out laughing imagining the moment. ‘’I never grab Jack so fast in my life, I swear to God.’’

‘’I would pay a lot of money just to see that. The poor kid confused and you running with him.’’ He shook his head while you watched him.

Seeing you smile and laugh was invigorating for him. Making you laugh was a different level for him. It was the way your eyes close and your shoulders shake while you try not to laugh loudly and disturb the other tables. It’s how your cheeks turn pink when you laugh too much. Aaron’s heart can not handle the image that’s right in front of him. He can’t handle how nice, real and lovable you are. He can’t deal with the fact that at this moment no one else exists. He was falling in love. Hard.

‘’Why are you looking at me like that?’’ You asked, raising your eyebrows.

‘’Like what?’’ He was confused.

‘’I don’t know. You’re staring in a funny way.’’ You are a profiler, you know exactly what this look is.

‘’I think you’re beautiful.’’ His eyes lit up a little bit more as you stared back at him. ‘’Not a regular beauty. You take my breath away just for existing.’’

‘’Aaron.’’ You tried to stop him. ‘’Don’t say those things like it doesn’t mess with me. You know it does.’’

‘’I am serious. I could never lie about this.’’ He leaned close to you. ‘’Anywhere we are, I always want to keep looking at you. Every damn time.’’

‘’I don’t even know what to say.’’ You said softly, like a whisper.

‘’Don’t say anything. I just needed to say that. Get it out of my chest.’’ The atmosphere for some reason becomes lighter.

You two spent the rest of the night laughing and making jokes, somewhere in the middle of the night something changed inside of you. Maybe it’s the way he kept his hand on your back when you were leaving or how he walked you to the door just to make sure you’re safe. He’s a fucking gentleman and you were definitely screwed.

Five

You decided to avoid Hotch after your date. It was driving him crazy and it was depressing you a little. It’s not like you didn’t like the idea of him being in love with you, you enjoyed it a lot. But admit it you feel the same it was too real. And the last time that shit happened you end up with a son. You couldn’t handle the idea of breaking your heart again.

Aaron on the other hand was out of ideas on how he could make you his. The last thing Taylor told him when he dropped you off was ‘don’t hide your feelings for her, if you like her you should repeat it.’ He knew how much reassurance you need to keep seeing someone, because he was exactly like that. The way his throat closed when he saw you in the bullpen smiling and talking to everybody while he was being pathetic and not fighting for the woman he wanted.

You got a case involving some hostages in a bank near home, which means you were all in the field that morning. Derek and Emily were commanding the task force, Spencer and Penelope were working together to find out more about the suspects. JJ was dealing with the press and you, Hotch and Dave were trying to convince the suspect to surrender without hurting anybody.

The whole block was chaotic, everyone was tense. The bank was full of hostages including children. The odds weren’t good if he could escape there. The snipers were in position to shoot after somebody’s signal. Unfortunately the only request he made was you. He wanted to know the woman that was talking to him through the phone. He would let the woman and the children leave if you went over there.

‘’Absolutely not.’’ Aaron was pissed with this idea and how quickly you accepted it. ‘’You won’t go in there.’’

‘’Hotch if I go right now, we can save the children and the women.’’ He shook his head. ‘’We don’t have a lot of options here. Do you have a better idea?’’

‘’I can’t let you go in there.’’ He looked at you worried and at this point you wouldn’t change your mind.

‘’Hotch, I’ll be right there. The SWAT is ready to go after any signal. I’m carrying a gun and I’m wearing another vest under this shirt.’’ You took off your vest and put the gun in your ankle. ‘’I’ll be fine, Aaron.’’ You reassure him before walking to the bank.

That man felt this tense a couple of times in his life and he was this close to having a heart attack. The image of you walking in and putting some of the hostages out while the gun was pointing at you. There were two unsubs in the case. The woman was the head of the plan, she was the one who chose you to exchange the hostages.

‘’I did what you wanted. Let’s get over this.’’ You spoke firmly and she laughed.

‘’We need you to get us out of here.’’ You nod and come closer to her. ‘’I want a passport to somewhere hot, a car and I want the police out of here.’’ She demands and you analyze her.

She was a typical narcissist. Her plan was to kill the partner, kill you and escape. You knew that she was going to kill you if you didn't attend to her wishes. So you pick up the phone on the counter and after one second Dave picks it up.

‘’She want a passport, a car and the police out.’’ Your voice was low and calm.

‘’She won’t get it.’’ You took a deep breath. ‘’We need to take you out of there.’’

‘’Just get those things.’’ You hung up fast.

Aaron was about to go in there alone when he heard two shots. The camera inside stopped working and suddenly the silence was louder, it was excruciating having no idea of what was happening inside. He saw some of the hostages running outside as more gunshots were heard.

When you hung up the phone the woman decided it was time to kill the partner. She did fast. Two shots in his head and he’s gone. She tried to do the same with you, as you predicted, but you were faster than her. You took the gun out of her hand and threw it away. She becomes physical and punches you a few times in the face and stomach, pushes your hair as you get on your knees. She kicks you pretty hard and you could taste the blood of your nose and face. That's when you took the gun out of your ankle and shot her three times. Your air was missing, your body was hurting and the only thing you could think about was going home and resting with Taylor.

Hotch was the first one to run inside the bank with the SWAT team, when he found you alive and beaten up the relief was visible. You waved at him while he came closer, involving his arms around you. You weren’t expecting that.

‘’I told you I was going to be fine.’’ You closed your eyes and whispered, pulling him closer.

‘’I thought I lost you. When I heard the first gunshots I forgot for a second who I was.” He pulls you away and looks into your eyes. “I, I…” He couldn't say it.

“I am safe now, I swear. I just need to clean my face and try to look less bad for Taylor.” You laugh softly and he caresses your cheek.

“Let's get you cleaned up, alright.” You two walk out of the bank, his arms around your waist and your head on his shoulder.

No one dared to say anything. No one dared to point out that he was unprofessional doing that. You, on the other hand, knew what he wanted to say. The whole time he was standing next to the ambulance his eyes studied your face, sparkling and bright. You knew right there.

“Aaron?” He looked at you concerned. “I love you too.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner imagine

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mothyandthesquid · 3 months

Text

I think I may be experiencing near normal hearing for the first time in my life thanks to the NHS. These are seven generations and 16 years more up to date than the 1st gen digital aids I was using until two days ago, and they are also tuned to my current hearing loss rather than what I had 12 years ago. Since putting them in my ears I have had innumerable remarkable experiences entirely new to me and of such depth I have been brought to happy tears.

I have heard my children’s voices in all their beautiful nuances, I have discovered classical music, I have watched TV without needing subtitles, and realised that the uneven gaps between songs whilst streaming music is not a connectivity issue - there is actually sound there. I’ve been to a lecture and understood every word without effort, I’ve listened to birds, and I’ve also discovered people convey subtle emotion through voice that I was previously unable to detect.

I’ve also been asked to describe what it was like to my philosophy class and found myself lacking the words to explain to hearing people what it is like to enter their world as a novel experience. Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out analogies. So, imagine you have contact lenses that made your vision tetrachromic while you were wearing them or a drug that gave you a high heightening one of your senses to superhuman levels while it was in your system. Either of these would surely be a magical experience.

I am super excited about all the things I am now going to be able to hear in the future. I want to listen to all the things! That’s something I never thought I’d say. Unaided, people’s voices are partially audible for me and I must work hard to make up the difference. With my old aids, they became more comprehensible but also unpleasant and almost painful to listen to, so I hated wearing them. Now, they are the most interesting type of sound.

The underfunding of the NHS has, obviously, imposed years of unnecessary disability upon me through neglect and out-dated technology. Some say money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy hearing aids and similar cool things for disabled people. If you have one, use your vote wisely.

#mothyandthesquid #hearing aids #hard of hearing #deafness #deaf #nhs #disability #disabled

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blue-jisungs · 6 months

Text

best employee

a/n. not sure proofread sorry :(

word count. 1077

warnings. like one or two swear words

finally finishing your report, you clicked to save the file. while the empty, pixelated strip showed on the screen and filled gradually with green, you leaned back and shot your arms above your head, stretching. once saved, you closed the program and grabbed two empty mugs and the dirty plate you had on your desk.

entering the social room, you saw some of your coworkers. after quickly grabbing another (4th? 5th?) cup of coffee this day, you joined them.

all of them were from different departments except felix. gunil, the oldest one, scoffed.

“you look like death”

sending him a thunderous glare, you just took a sip of the warm beverage. it was disgusting, the company should really invest in getting a new coffee machine.

“i feel like death” you mumbled and lia shook her head.

“how about you just… don’t stay up all night to finish the project?” she hummed, pushing a plate with brownies (you assumed they were made by felix) towards you

“listen! i wouldn’t have to it our amazing boss didn’t give me so much work!” you whined, grabbing one.

“what? did mr kim give you extra work again?” felix asked, his australian accent coming through. you nodded with a pout, lia sending you an apologetic smile “i don’t think that’s normal”

“i know! ugh, last monday i was the last person to leave the office! even chan left earlier…” you grunted “also those are really good..?”

“i know, thanks” felix winked “but… did you do anything to upset mr kim? you’re the only one who gets extra paperwork”

“i don’t know…” you sighed and rolled your eyes “maybe if that dumb idiot–“

lia’s eyes went wide, gunil made a chopping (what is he doing?) gesture next to his throat

“–wasn’t so focused on checking out the new interns, then i wouldn’t have to do his work” you grunted

“speaking of interns, did you go through the ehs training with them as i asked you last week?”

“of course i did! as if we don’t have the people to do it and i, a poor–“ your voice died in your throat as you slowly turned around, just to meet mr kim’s ebony irises on you.

kim seungmin, your boss, was standing behind you. in a neat suit and black tie, holding a coffee cup with a puppy on it, he was laser focused on you. and you could swear there was a ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips.

“good. i still need a report of that with their signatures assigned. i suggest you get this done by today evening, l/n” he said, voice stern. then he looked at your co-workers, nodding slightly “enjoy your meals”

and off he went, back to his office.

“i hate that asshole” you mumbled, aggressively snatching another brownie

“to be honest… i think he hates you too” gunil said, earning a laugh from the rest.

you let out another deep sigh and for the 8th time this hour, fixed your position with a creak of the chair.

“for god’s sake y/n, stop moving so much”

you looked up at your boyfriend and put down the pen with a small thump.

“i wouldn’t of someone wouldn’t give me extra amount of unnecessary work” you hissed and kicked his leg.

seungmin looked at you lazily, eyes twinkling with mischief from above his glasses’ lenses.

“you do realise i wouldn’t do that if you didn’t gossip about me?” he tilted his head with a smile.

“gossip? what do you mean? what i do in my spare time is not your interest” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“it is, technically. as your boss…” he started but then his gaze fell back to his laptop “i assume you’re just jealous, baby”

“jealous?! of those interns?! pffff! i’m just tired of being mistreated!” you punctuated your words with a soft punch at the table.

“you do realise i can’t great you differently only because we’re dating? it would be unfair for others” seungmin fixed his glasses. you stood up and started pacing around the kitchen.

“yeah, well… i know. but i still don’t get why do you actually give me more work” you mumbled and looked at him.

boss kim was always neat, elegant, in a tie. his hair was styled and his composure always radiated some kind of coldness.

your boyfriend seungmin though looked like a fluffy stuffed toy. with an oversized shirt thrown in his body and messy hair, he looked adorable. glasses adorning his nose (since he wore lenses for work), a bare-faced cutie and nothing but relaxed and calmed composure.

“maybe this will teach you a lesson. besides, i literally help you. all the time” he turned around on the chair. something told you there’s at least one more reason.

“just admit it, you like to see me suffer” you stuck your tongue out and reached for a bag of his favourite snacks.

coming back to the table, you opened the snacks and put them in the middle of all your work clutter.

“i do” he chuckled and you just rolled your eyes “to be honest, i give you some extra work so my best employee doesn’t get snatched away”

“that’s… literally all the way around! if i’m your best employee, shouldn’t i get more projects where i can show my potential?” you teased, looking him in the eye. seungmin fixed his glasses with a swift move, tired expression on his face. yet, he was smiling and there was a boyish glint in his eye

“if you do show potential, you’ll get transferred. i make enough money to provide care for both of us and that way we can see each other at work everyday” he shrugged, leaving you speechless.

“yah, kim seungmin, you’re literally something else” you mumbled and shook your head “as long as you stop making me babysit those interns…”

“you were an intern once too, baby. and i was babysitting you then” he smiled upon the memory “and stop chatting with that felix guy so much, then i might stop”

“oh? are you jealous? mr big boss kim seungmin? jealous? i can’t believe my ears!” you gasped dramatically.

silence fell between you two, giving you a clear answer. seungmin came back to his work, the typing sounds filling the room. you swore you saw a hint of pink bloom on the top of his ears.

“i really do need that report though”

“oh fuck off”

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jiwuu ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @litepowee ,, @ocean-minho ,, @lessthanpast ,, @s-e-s-a-I-e-n-e

#skz #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids fluff #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin fluff #seungmin skz #seungmin drabble #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #skz scenarios #skz drabbles #skz soft hours #skz seungmin #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz imagines

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gh0stsp1d3r · 10 months

Note

Hello! Hope it's not too much to ask and you can ignore this <3 your mental health is more important <33 if it's okay can we get Miguel with a s/O who also has fangs but in their lower set of teeth and readers fangs only sting and cause Helusinations

Thank you!

Coffee

I was watching Human Resources season 2 while writing this tbh

Everyone in the spider society liked to call you both vampires. Miguel hated it, like hated it.

“Alright, calm down Count Dracula.” Peter B Parker had always joked with him. You snickered at it, while miguel just glared at him.

Miguel had always put you on missions with him, and this one was no different. He wanted to make sure you were okay at all times, even with your fangs.

“Stay close.” He mumbled, as he messed with his watch to track the anomaly. He rarely went out to get them himself, but apparently this one has slipped past the others.

It was yet another doctor octopus variant you guys were chasing. He was younger than the other ones you usually caught, but again very smart, and this one was faster than the others.

“Keep your eyes out, he should be around here.” Miguel looked around, and so did you.

“There.” You pointed, messing with the lenses on your eyes. He looked where you pointed, and looked at you. You looked at him back. He started to swing, and you followed after him.

You swung to the other side of the man, and you waited for his signal. “Go.” He mumbled, the earpiece in your ear barely picking it up.

Octavius looked at the both of you, using 2 of his tentacles to grab the both of you. You struggled in his tentacles, and Miguel just narrowed his eyes.

“Two spider people? You both aren’t my spider-man.” He said, narrowing his eyes at the both of you.

“You’re in the wrong universe, kid.” Miguel said.

He looked no older than 15, obviously a teenager.

“Wrong universe?” He questioned, looking at Miguel.

“Yeah, so if you just come with us-“

The kid laughed at that, and shoved Miguel onto the hard concrete floor.

He groaned as you just stared at Otto, trying to distract him as you saw Miguel trying to escape his grip.

“Look, we know it doesn’t make sense but-“

“You both are just gonna put me in a cell again.” He spat.

“We just want to help the multiverse, so just come with us-“ he tightened the grip on his tentacle, making it so it’s hard for you to breathe.

You struggled for breath, and tried to wiggle out his grasp but it was no use. Miguel hit his face with a web, distracting him for a moment and you fell to the floor. You gasped for breath, and sat up for a moment as you watched Miguel kick and punch him.

You quickly got back up on your feet, webbing his tentacles to where he couldn’t use them, and he broke free of them quickly. You quickly went behind him, and hopped onto his back, miguel knew what you were doing and tried to distract him as you sunk your teeth into his neck, focusing on your bottom set of teeth.

He trashed and tried to get you off, his attempts were futile as his body trashed, and his tentacles falling. He was now in a dream like state, and Miguel then grabbed him, and webbed him up.

You opened a portal and you guys walked through it, his eyes were off in another world as you lay him on a table to examine the tentacles.

“Seems like their surgically connected to him.. not a shocker, but I could deactivate them so he can’t use them.” You said, Lyla working next to you.

“Yeah. Good job today.” He said, nodding to you with his hands on his hips.

“Thanks. You too.” You have him a faint smile.

“Andddd… deactivated.” You said after a little bit of pushing buttons, Lyla helping you. Lyla smiled.

“Thanks Lyla.”

“Of course! Anything for my favorite vampire.” She teased. You rolled your eyes and laughed as she disappeared.

You walked around for a bit, chatting and talking with a few others before making your way back to Miguel after a few hours. It was dark out, around 10:30.

Luckily he was already on the floor, walking around and typing away on the computer, he took a sip of the coffee next to him, and moving to the other computer.

You walked up behind him, he didn’t even notice you until you wrapped your arms around him, which even then he just continued to work, only giving you a glance.

“Miguel, its 10:30.” You said, and stopped hugging him to try and talk to him.

“Someone’s gotta do it.” He mumbled, voice raspy.

“C’mon, let’s go home.” You said, tired and ready to go.

“You can go. I gotta finish this.”

“Miguel.. it’s too late. It will be here in the morning, right Lyla?”

“Right! Go to sleep Miguel, you’ve been working here 24/7.” Her cheery voice appeared.

Miguel rolled his eyes and waved Lyla away. He stayed silent for a moment before looking down at the floor. He sighed and turned to you.

“Alright.” He said, you smiled slightly. He had left the cup of coffee for someone else to clean up. Soon after you both walked to the apartment.

Miguel’s nanotech quickly disappeared, he quickly changed as you struggled with your suit..

He smiled at you struggling to reach the zipper. You had this problem everytime. He shook his head and went behind you and unzipped it.

“I could’ve done that.”

“Mhm, sure.” He said, and laid down in the bed. When you were finished changing, he was fast asleep under the blankets.

You smiled at him, and got under them with him.

Tag list:

@rayis-psychotic @scaraza @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @1eonk @whosace16 @zebralover @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn @deputy-videogamer

@666kpopfan @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @notbluees @chaoticevilbakugo

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man #spider man 2099 #anyways can we talk about Human Resources season 2 #cause it’s pretty good so far #and like Pete and Rochelle omfg #I love pete #but that’s a conversation for another time

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kamotecue · 7 months

Text

the start of something new ❉ j. groenen

pairing: jackie groenen x reader

summary: a freshly graduated college student who majored in photography gets a job, that many football fans would want.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you sat in one of the conference’s seats, it was a meeting about the publishing days for the team’s social media page, mainly instagram. you’re the team’s newest photographer, not just that but you freshly graduated from ucla with a minor in economics, a major in photography.

your camera gear was set on the table, different camera lenses were sorted in the bag, the camera itself, an extra storage card, two black camera straps and the other essentials.

you had anxiously tapped on your thigh, as you payed attention to the conversation. it didn’t take long for the meeting to end, and when it did—you gently carried your stuff.

it was international camp, as the uefa nation’s league was coming to a close. you grabbed the tripod already setting it up, as the schedule was coming to a close.

and as expected, the players had arrived. some were in a group of trios, duos or individual. you were behind the camera, as a few players took note of the newest staff.

you had a shy interior as you hid behind the camera while your co-staff had done the talking. occasionally, asking things how is it like at their club, or their weekend has been.

it was literally break when you were at the pitch, a co-worker was helping you set up the cameras as you were humming to yourself, not noticing a player looking at you with adoration.

she noticed your shy interior, how you would avoid conversations or eye contact with people. it was cute to her, she wanted to get to know you better. but she didn’t know how to.

little did she know, that she had caught your eye as well. your little brother is quite a fan of the team, and you would always get mixed up by the players.

but jackie really stood out to you, maybe it was her smile. the out-going vibe that she gave. you grabbed your camera, ready to take pictures after the players started piling out of the building.

quickly snapping a few pictures, you made sure the angle and lightning was okay. the pictures turned out perfectly, you looked through the camera, noticing a certain dutchie looking at you with a soft smile.

you had taken a picture, as you found the smile a bit charming. the whole training, you focused on the playing style, you had played high school football but never continued at college.

“come on, jackie.” daniëlle teased, trying to nudge the midfielder a bit closer to your direction. you were busy humming to yourself.

the day had came to an end and you were busy sorting through the camera gear, putting the things away not noticing the two players behind you.

“she’s busy-“ jackie didn’t finish her sentence as she was pushed by the other midfielder. she was just behind you, admiring the way you were focused.

she cleared her throat, but you didn’t hear it. jackie looked at danielle who shrugged.

“tap her shoulder!” danielle cheered, as jackie scoffed at how happy she was. she took a deep breath before gently tapping your shoulder.

you glanced back at her before placing the camera down, her eyes were looking into yours as you reached into your bag, getting a case.

as you opened it, a pair of hearing airs were revealed. yes—you needed hearing aids. did you use them? you do, but earlier your ears were hurting, hence you had removed them for a while.

you quickly put them on, giving her a timid smile—as her eyes widened in realization.

“yes?” you asked, as she cleared her throat for second time.

“hi, i’m jackie.” she introduced herself, her hand was held out as she had a toothy grin. you chuckled at her behavior, before returning the handshake.

“i’m y/n l/n. i’m sorry if you called me earlier, i had my hearing aids off.” you explained, as she hummed. it was a cute thing, despite this being the first time interacting with you, she loved how you rambled. or how you’d over-explain things.

“it’s fine, i didn’t really know. so, how’s your first day?” she asked, as she stepped beside you. analyzing the gear.

“it’s fine, my brother is a huge football fan.” you commented, as she asked for permission to grab on of your cameras. you gave her a soft nod, as she grabbed your nikon d780.

she turned the camera on before looking through the viewfinder of the camera.

“is he, then? who’s his favorite player?” jackie asked, as she snapped a few photos of the pitch, she turned the camera to danielle and a few of her teammates who dramatically posed.

“he really loves viv.” you chuckled remembering on how he’d ramble about the star striker, feeling a bit disbelief on how she would’ve retired at age 18.

“i’d see why.” she hummed, pointing the camera at you, quickly snapping a few pictures catching you off guard.

“hey!” you said, covering your face with your hand as she chuckled at how cute you looked like. you were shy, but you always preferred to be behind the camera and not in front of it.

little did you know, you had gotten out of your comfort zone in the future. jackie is and will always be your favorite photographer, she’d snap photos of you.

#jackie groenen #jackie groenen imagine #jackie gornen x reader #nedwnt x reader #nedwnt #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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chrchofsuicidal · 4 months

Text

!!!: threesome, video taping, oral sex (male/fem receiving), fingering, praise/deg, creampie

the three of you wanted to do something different for once, trying to up your sex game as if it weren't kinky enough. with dave mustaine and james hetfield, how vanilla could it really be?

you were fully naked, laid across the blonde as dave watched james play with you. your ass was exposed to him, slapping at the skin, seeing it turn a bright red as you jumped and let out a whine from pain and pleasure.

"awe, you liked that?" james put on a fake sympathetic voice, "you like davey being all rough with you?" he chuckled when you nodded.

dave took the hint, him having the camera up to your face, making james hold it since he was closer.

the ginger spread your legs apart before shoving two of his calloused fingers inside your pretty pussy. you were already wet for the two of them, only turning him on more.

he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, wet, slick sounds coming from in between your legs.

"oh, there we go, baby.." dave hummed, grabbing you by your hair, forcing your head back roughly before picking up his speed.

"who's this perfect little pussy belong to? hm?" he growled, slapping your cunt in the middle of your response which only made you whine and bite your lip from anticipation.

"better answer that fuckin' question, darlin'. dave asked you a question, baby. speak up and use your big girl words for us," james spoke, grabbing your chin so you would look at him.

your eyes were all over the place, not knowing who or where to look at, so you just made eye contact with the camera lense.

"y- you two!"

your voice was soft, before dave started rubbing your throbbing clit slowly.

"that's the right answer, baby." his speed quickened again before he looked at james.

"suck jamie off while you relax on my tongue. how about that?" he stated, lifting your hips up so that your ass was in his face, lips attaching to your juicy cunt.

james couldn't pull down his jeans fast enough, him holding it for you as you kissed the tip making him shudder. he was already leaking, smothering your puffy lips with his precum before shoving it in.

you couldn't help but close your legs around dave's head and trap him there, trying to focus on both of the things happening.

"atta girl.. taking us so well, ain't ya? so pretty when your full." james huffed, tangling his hand in your hair, guiding your head up and down.

all you could do was lay there and look pretty, looking up at jame's, moaning around his cock making him moan. dave was slurping and groaning into your pussy like a starved man who couldn't get enough.

"your mouths so warm- feels so good. gonna cum-" james moaned out, pulling out before he pumped his hand up and down up to your face, aiming at your lips but of course it decided to paint your whole face.

he quickly wiped the fluid off of your face, sticking his fingers inside of your mouth to taste him.

"such a good girl for us, doll. did davey make the pretty girl cum yet?" he asked, the same voice from before coming to action.

you shook your head, pouting before dave lifted his head. lips, chin, and nose covered in your fluids.

"no?" james gave a fake pout, rubbing your cheek. "well cmere and we'll make sure you're doing it again and again, sweetheart."

your positions flipped, you on your back, while the other two were standing infront of you, pants down, ready to be inside of you.

two of them rubbed their lengths against your folds, using your slick as lube. soon enough, shoving the entirety or eachother inside of your pussy. your gummy walls sucking and tightening around them the moment they entered.

"fuck!"

the two of them hissed in unison, james throwing his head back as dave held one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist.

"taking us so well-" he huffed, leaning down to kiss and suck at your neck. "gonna make me cum too, princess."

the pace they had was slow and rough, tears pricking your eyes as they stretched you out to the max.

"pl- please! i wanna cum-"

you pleaded, holding the both of their forearms, nails digging into their skin.

"mm? don't gotta ask, sweetheart. go on-" james panted, close to his second high and so was dave. their tips twitching against eachother made them lose it, immediately spilling inside of you as you squirted and came along with them.

"oh! oh- ohhh" was all that came put of your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as your legs started shaking violently, the two pulling out to see their seed spill like a waterfall.

"fucking hell..." dave mumbled, zooming in on your flooded pussy.

you kept squirming trying to call down from your high as the camera stopped recording, the two grabbing either side of your cheek and showered your face with kisses.

james pet your hair and dave kissed down your body.

"didn't go to hard, right? felt good?" james asked and you nodded, you head still fuzzy from what just happened.

"let's go get cleaned up then, hun." dave picked you up bridal style, kissing your face all the way up the stairs to the bathroom as james followed from behind.

- - - - - - -

SORRY I GOT LAZY W THIS ONE IM SO TIRED.... also please send in reqs! id love to write whatever you have on your mind :3

#megadeth #metallica #dave mustaine #james hetfield #dave mustaine x reader #james hetfield x reader #smut #ns/fw #fanfic

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dimepdf · 1 year

Text

★ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. he had already made up his mind that you were going to be his the moment he had caught your attention in class, but who knew that Eren would be the one that ends up down bad for you instead .

─── ☆ notes. big needy tough boyfriend trope at your service while i try to get over this horrible writers block. let's all just start putting the blame on @shawtuzi @mollyville & @chrollohearttags the baddest bitches on here with Eren fics that got everyone in a chokehold and falling to own knee's for a FICTIONAL man,, y'all cmon on now .

─── ☆ length. 2.1k (17 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, nerd!reader, popular!eren, college au, black coded, soft dom, kinda possessive, fuckboy taming, praise kink, guided masterbation, edging, orgasm denial, cock warming, mommy kink, bratty Eren, yay whiny men!, not beta'd | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

The idea was unusual, yet it made so much sense: the girl who was the obedient teacher's pet that would fall victim to the charms of the popular kid who did nothing but slack off.

The moment Eren had sat next to you, the only student who was twenty minutes late for the first class of the semester. The professor hadn't even bothered to pay him any mind when Eren had given him that apologetic toothy grin, in his sweats and a muscle that clung onto him with his sweat from sprinting out of some random chick's dorm room.

How he had managed throughout the entire rest of the class without falling flat on the table and snoring was beyond him. Lulling off as the professor just talked on and on in the same flat tone, Eren thanked the gods that he was easily entertained watching you instead counting how many times you would bounce your leg up and down while you struggled to take your notes.

It was your thick-rimmed, clear-circle glasses that were the first to catch his attention. How your pretty brown eyes had hidden behind your prescription lenses, lashes fluttering with a confused crease in your brow. He would catch you reacting so adorably to whatever nonsense would come from the professor's mouth that you tried your oh-so-best to keep up with.

Eren was a bit annoyed that you never bothered to give him the time of day. Not even during the times when he would ask to borrow a pencil would you bother to mutter anything but a quick "no problem" before returning to your work and completely brushing him off. You seemed to be the only girl to not seem just a bit into him, and for Eren, that just wasn't going to work for him.

From that day forward, Eren had planned to taint your college experience with nothing but trouble—nothing really on the extreme side—but you just had to catch his attention, didn't you? so he made it his own personal vendetta to try to break you out of that shy shell you had locked yourself up in away from him.

And for so long everything was smooth sailing, with Eren and you even bonding on a first-name basis, but then it started to get more complicated. Once he had finally knocked you out of that shell, you were a completely different person and sure that was exactly what he had wanted but it was just a surprise to him seeing you be so comfortable with him.

What surprised him, even more, was the realization that had hit him like a truck: Eren was starting to fall for you. His little crush was only getting worse as you two continued to hang out outside of class and got closer, yet there was a slight thing that had bugged him, and that was that you had never returned any of his flirty comments and compliments that he would give you.

In short, Eren over time had gotten smitten with you.

You were just a very pretty girl, and Eren was a very attractive young man who had a track record with women to prove it. Which was why something was just bound to spark at some point along the span of your friendship.

He had mostly blamed it all on you for how long it took him to prove his worth, given your naturally skittish personality you thought he was just asking you out as a sick joke (like how the other boys used to do to you back in grade school). It only took some elbow grease to pick the bar up from the ground and a push and a shove to finally convince you that his feelings for you were truly genuine.

Eren had thought that it would be like all the relationships he had been in before at first—all the hookups he would promise a future of commitment with just for some pity pussy—but you were different, and that was another surprise.

You weren't like the other girls that he had collected on his Snapchat, whose messages were probably the size of a phone book from how much he would swipe through messages just to leave all the poor, heartbroken girl's messages to be left on read or delivered.

Imagine all of his old flings, surprise swiping through Eren’s feed seeing you, the first and only girl he had ever posted on his Instagram story all cuddled up into his torso with a movie playing on the screen.

None of them mattered in the end, since the start of your relationship, Eren’s attention has been switched entirely to being your loyal boyfriend. You don't know what you did or how you managed to tame him, but apparently, it was all entirely enough for him to be wrapped around your finger, totally obsessed with you to the point of brain rot.

You were the prettiest girl in the world, that was what Eren had concluded by having you as his lock screen and wallpaper and changing his phone password to your birthday. Every time he would post online, it always had something to do with you.

Sure, he might have been a bit biased and probably most likely obsessive, but there was just something about your relationship that made him feel like his emotions were something out of one of those cheesy rom-coms you would make him watch with you.

You were the first to make him feel so flustered, pining over every little thing that would just be so natural to you. Eren would love how he would notice every little detail about you, from how you would chew on the back of your pencils when you were stressed, the way you push his face away every time you get too flustered while making out, to how you would smile every time he said your nickname.

Which was why it was no surprise that Eren had refused to keep his hands off of you behind closed doors. Needy not being enough to describe how the boy would cling onto you like a magnet in private.

Rather it was just innocently laying down next to you just to end up cuddling or makeout sessions that would turn into something more just because he couldn't help but not keep his hands to himself.

Eren wouldn't always be the one to forward things, his touch seemingly unlocking some sort of sexual awakening inside of you as his hands would linger against your body.

You craved to have him touch you, but that didn't mean that Eren would give it up so easily. He took enjoyment in seeing you squirm a little bit. “ah ah, go slower.”

His voice guided your fingers, with the brush of his breath against your ear as you laid with your back against his chest. With your thighs spread over his legs, the view was perfect for him like that. His chest pressed against your back as he loomed over your shoulder, watching as you used your fingers to toy with the bundle of nerves that was between your thighs.

Eren had practically known every muscle and curve of your body, knew every flinch and twitch and what they meant like the back of his hand. “don’t let it go yet,” he softly ordered, taunting you as he pushed a few strands of your braids behind your shoulder.

The feeling of his cold fingers against your warm skin sent a shiver up your spine. “listen to yourself baby, you sound so pretty playing with your pussy like that.” With each coo that parted from his lips more vulgar than the last, you were too far gone to react with anything but small whines.

Listening to him praise you over the sound of your own wet squelching pleasure that coated your fingers and the small sounds that came from your throat.

You had learned over time that Eren was huge on teasing, both in general and mostly in the bedroom, where he would pout and whine just for you to never seem to be affected by his charm.

Your ability to keep a straight face in public as he would spew about some of the lewdest things that he wishes to do to you in public is so good that some of your friends were convinced that you were the first woman to not be affected by the Yeager charm.

Unbeknownst to them, that mask would fall and the roles would switch the second you two got behind closed doors, not to help yourselves but to be caught in Eren's web of lust.

“no, Eren, I can't please.” Any other time you would have been so embarrassed at how pathetic your voice sounded, embarrassed for the way that you were begging out his name. But you had been edging yourself for a while now, and the overstimulation of rubbing your clit was starting to make your body tremble all for his sick pleasure. “please…I need to, so bad Eren.”

“hm, I don't wanna let you though.” Your boyfriend was evil, that is what you were convinced of. Eren gets off on watching you come undone over and over with his every command, getting off on watching the knot in your stomach undo.

Your orgasm would hit just as hard as the last, continuing to egg on the next to build up like a shaken bottle of pop ready to explode with just the twist of the cap.

You listened since you could process anything but being obedient. Your hand shook as you halted with a drawn-out exhale, parting your lips, and hearing him chuckle at your sexual frustration. the feeling of his cock throbbing in his basketball shorts as the outline of his erection pressed against your spread thigh, “can you sit on it while you touch yourself, baby?”

You wanted to glare up at him, anything to let him know that you thought he was an asshole, knowing that begging you in the tone of voice would just make all your senses go haywire as your brain had already been turned to putty his words alone making you melt into him even more.

Yet there he sat tucking his chin into the crook of your neck, placing wet against your skin and nipping at your ear. “please mommy, I just wanna feel you make a mess on it. I promise I won't do anything else.”

Eren knew that if he begged he could have gotten anything that he truly wanted, that was just how the world would warp in his hands being the spoiled brat that he was.

Sure, it wasn't as easy with you, you would actually make him work for something, but even still, it would take some pouting and a few whiny pleas for you to allow him to fall to his knees and give you the best head you would ever receive anywhere that he wanted to have you spread out.

Which was how you ended up in his dorm now, coaxed over after class with a promise that you would help him study for a test, only for you to end up on his bare lap. Your cunt took him inside just perfectly as he stretched your lips apart. You both watched as you lowered yourself onto his dick.

Folding the bottom of your shirt up to expose your lower torso, Eren's hand reached over your thigh to have his pointer and middle finger spreading you apart lewdly. “fuck, you feel so good.” Eren made sure that you both could see that you two had slotted together like two matching puzzle pieces.

His other hand grasped at your breast through your shirt, pinching at your nipples, as you took your own form of pleasure by grinding your hips against his lap. Your movement came to a stiff stop as his hands flinched to still your hips. “touch yourself first.” Despite the order holding authority, a moan was drawn out from his lips as you clenched around him.

You weren't one to disobey. Making work of your finger as you followed his orders, once more spreading your legs further apart, your stomach knotting aided by the feeling of being impaled by Eren’s dick. “I know momma, I know.” He was entranced watching your fingers probe and curl at your poor stimulated clit, how your face scrunched each winch making your cunt strangle his length pulsing and twitching around him as you whined for him. “you just wanna cum so bad.”

Eren had thought you looked so pretty, obsessed with the noises that you would make as that knot finally came undone. No matter how many times he would make you cum, it would always feel like the first time for him. Eren wanted nothing more than to watch you play with yourself for hours, which meant you’d whine out his name.

All because he was smitten with you.

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#eren yeager #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren yaeger smut #aot smut

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mickedy · 2 months

Note

out of curiosity, can i ask what your beef is with the power of two? my only experience with it is back when i played the demo for it years ago + watched all the cutscenes,, so i have. pretty much no context,, dkdnkdnd

Epic Mickey 1 was produced by a very small team on a super tight budget. Despite the development process being heavily curated by Disney, Epic Mickey was the closest thing to an indie title video game that the company ever put out. It was a game that was simply made for the love of the craft.

Epic Mickey 2 was developed by a much, much larger team, having a bunch of new writers (when previously Warren Spector was the only writer!) and as a result of that, it went through a crazy and unstable development process. Everyone was pulling and pushing the game in different directions-- new characters, new game mechanics, cutscenes, musical numbers?? The tone of the game was completely overhauled, which wouldn't be a bad thing in theory if it wasn't so drastically different from what Warren Spector wanted out of EM2...

Apparently, all of these changes were made to make the game more marketable... easier to digest, easier to sell to younger audiences, easier to expand upon and make spinoffs and DLCs and whatnot. The marketing for EM2 was CRAZY. They were selling the game as the next Super Mario Bros or Sonic the Hedgehog, really honing in on the idea of making Epic Mickey this huge kickass series. Mickey and Oswald were gonna be the next Mario and Luigi, kicking ass and saving the world on a regular basis.

Which is, obviously, very detatched from what Epic Mickey was about. The first game was a poignant narrative about consumerism, told through the lenses of cartoon characters that were left behind by the boom of media capitalism. On a meta level, it was about reboot culture. It was a critique of the Disney media landscape.

The second game is about...

...The second game is about nothing at all, really. A sequel for the sake of making a sequel. Plot points from the first game were either retconned, misinterpreted, or completely forgotten about. Out of the alleged 700 people that worked on EM2, I don't think any of them played all the way through the first game.

The first game's villain-- The Blot-- was alluded to in the final cutscene of Epic Mickey, and was mentioned maybe a single time in the second one. It seems like Mickey and Oswald's dynamic was completely forgotten, and all of their snarky chemistry was sort of erased. Gremlin Prescott was turned into one of the main villains?? Gremlin Prescott... like, the guy from Ostown that you can convince to destroy your phone and has no other significance to the plot of the first game. Ortensia was rewritten from arguably the Most Significant character to the lore of the first game-- the catalyst for everything that happened, the former queen of the Wasteland that haunts and shapes the narrative... to... uh, Oswald's Wife. She has no other character traits.

Nobody in this game has any real personality or character. All of the nuance of the first game was sanded down to make a more digestible story. The dark, gritty atmosphere was brightened, the areas were made cuter and more colorful, the gross Boschian enemies were made into cutesy bug eyed little things... all with the intention of making a more marketable game.

Which wouldn't be as infuriating if this wasn't a sequel of literally any other game. EM2 is an alright game on its own, but its a really disrespectful second installment of the game that was written with the main intention of criticizing the Disney media landscape.

#epic mickey #i really dont think this was a game that needed a second game. much less a third one. a remake was the only thing i ever really wanted

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woneuntonzz · 3 months

Text

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𝐓𝐞𝐤 𝐈𝐭

band leader!wonbin x song writer!reader

warning/s: cussing

genre: songfic

word count: 6.7k words!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you just can't call a spade a spade. ⭑♪⊹ ࣪ ˖ —the debt unpaid; inspired by Cafuné's Tek It. ✩🎧ᝰ.ᐟ

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The bundles of pillows of gas, outlined with the color of the sky, had been your favorite subject in photography. It fascinated you how everything else seemed to remain in their respective placements —the sun, the stars, and the moon— everything, but the clouds.

Though you could never say that you favored it more than the moon.

It somehow made you feel puerile, how something so trivial as moon photographs saturating your gallery made you feel sick to the stomach. You swore that you felt icky having mostly those photographs filling your precious display.

But why then? —why are your eyes so drawn to its shine?

Maybe it is for the sole reason of the void that it fills, even more so when there are none of its little friends —the stars— to accompany it. You hated that, though you admit that the moon is humbler than the spiteful sun. At least the moon allows for you to admire it from afar and closer whilst the sun denies you from it as if it's too glorious for the eyes of man.

You didn't love the moon, but you were true to its beauty and it's granted privilege for it. People loved the moon and you just questioned it. Overlooking its scientific significance, you just thought it put the clouds to shame. A moment would come where the clouds would conceal the moon, but despite its efforts, the moon will always outshine them, even more so with its light outlining the clouds and not the color of the sky that surrounds it. The moon is selfishly beautiful —well to be fair, if you hadn't grown, you would've never realized that the clouds were never meant to be focal.

The art of photo journaling has been your passion for as long as you can remember. From a very young memory, you were a self-proclaimed photographer who held back a sour face whenever you were asked to snap pictures for your aunts who needed a picture next to every foreign sight and object they saw.

You wished you could just take the photos with your own eyes for even with the newest DSLR —at that time— you would never be able to capture the feeling of which the true vision draws from.

Even then you were satisfied with your work, having experienced competing in national journalism competitions from middle school till your senior year in highschool, performing exceptionally well in some seasons and satisfactory in some, overall you were content with what you have and have not achieved.

You never aimed for your name to be displayed all over your school's walls or for it to be countlessly mentioned by any of your teacher's before actually doing their job. You just wanted to bring your visions to life.

These visions would soon take a full swing to a different direction at the very last day of vacation before starting college.

The sky had just turned pink. You felt so lucky, so intrigued with the seamless transition that had just occurred, seamless but conspicuous.

With your camera in hand, you captured the pink clouds and the birds that flew along with them, the scenery of the park was just pure pleasure for your eyes.

You shifted from place to place to take picture after picture of all you found worth your camera's SD card.

You were taking a picture of the clouds that formed a subtle shape of two hearts. It wasn't your first encounter with such enigmatic forms, but this one would stick out like a sore thumb in your gallery.

Because right below it was an unsuspecting boy —well, he appeared unsuspecting at the very least. You took a picture where he looked up at the heart-shaped clouds, only the back of his head would be visible. The next picture was of him looking right into the lenses.

Startled, you'd move the camera away from your face and avert your attention from the boy.

The once muted ambience of your surroundings would suddenly make sounds that seemed louder than they're supposed to be.

You wanted to look back, to look at him again.

His smile, his eyes, it all aligned with the hue of the sky and the sweet, sweet pattern in the clouds. This was the sublime portraiture that led you to where you are now.

You weren't a stranger to Wonbin's appeal. He had quite a line of girls and boys who were smitten over him —and for that, you didn't even think of staring at him for too long, fearing that you might find yourself daydreaming, hoping. You thought you had zero chances with him, because it's him.

He's undeniably handsome, unreal even. He got decent marks and left a good impression on his teachers when it came to oral performance. He was in a school band that mostly performed worship songs during their youth, but would eventually resort to the more popular chart songs, censoring any words when necessary.

Many were fond of him and just as much were jealous.

“Good-looking, talented, and smart? there must be a jerk in him.” —you've heard from one of the many low-lives in your class that sat at the back.

Maybe it was true. It was quite an impossibility for him to just be that good.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“What do you think of me?”

“Perfect.” you spoke, nearly spewing it as a question.

“I'm not.” you laughed at him for wearing such a bashful smile as he replied. “I really am not.”

After that day at the park where you had accidentally snapped a picture of him in the most beautiful scene you have ever captured, you were captured by his allure.

The way his hair danced with the wind and the leaves of the maple trees, the sight was all too heavenly. You were overwhelmed with the feelings that rushed through your veins, you felt like you needed to let it all out, one way or another.

When you got home, you sat on your bed with your laptop sitting on top of your thighs. You stared at the loading status of your exporting photos that you captured earlier that day and a few days prior.

Seeing his photo was all it took for you to start jotting down words, expressing how spellbound you are towards his presence.

You hummed the melody you heard earlier at the park as he looked at you. It was like the breeze was singing for the two of you, and the sounds of the leaves that fell together in a beat that followed your heart's.

You were certain it was only you who's melting over such a small matter.

Regardless, you wrote something, a poem. But you like to refer to it as your first song, and it follows the tune of the air that whispered to you.

“I like you, Wonbin.”

It was scary. To remain standing there for what felt like a day, you thought you'd go home with red eyes and bottled tears.

His hand slowly reaching up to hold yours gave you the thrills.

“I like you too, Y/n.”

It was unbelievable, even for your friends. It's Park Wonbin, the Park Wonbin that could never spare people a minute of his time for insignificant matters, being too absorbed with music and the idea of creating a masterpiece of his own. He liked you?

“You… like me?” you pointed your shaky finger on yourself.

He gently rubbed at the skin on your hands. “No doubts, beautiful.”

You would subconsciously scoff at people who called you pretty because people would often use it to ask for favors. You wondered, was this him asking for a favor? a favor to use you? to only want you when he needed you?

You wrote about these thoughts later that night, and that would be your second song you called 'Blissful but Bittersweet'.

These feelings would be subsided on your very first date. He took you to the studio where he and his band practiced and recorded studio versions of their covers that they'd upload anywhere they could.

You two were the only ones in the studio at that time.

For a while, you were both hesitating on looking into each other's eyes, or starting a conversation. When his eyes caught the lights of the studio and glimmered like fairy light, you couldn't look away. You had the tendency to stare and hold at the things that seemed too good to be true.

Just being there with him was all too good to be true.

He stared back at you, his eyes explored your features, breaking you out of your trance. And there he asked you what you thought of him.

The way he responded to your answer made you think that he knew, he knew the effect he had on everyone else. But you hoped that he saw you differently, different from everyone else that blushed and gushed over him.

“I think your photographs are as beautiful as you.” he spoke as he set up the amplifier for his guitar. “It's your trademark I think.”

You were flushed, but even more confused. “What do you mean?”

“I would know when a photo was taken by you.” His voice was like a bass line to a soul song.

It was true. He'd been noticing you for a while. He was amazed with how great your works in photojournalism were, he admired your passion for photography, turning even the most tragic elements into such beautiful imagery.

Those things however, weren't the only basis for his fascination.

He saw how diligent you were, how you seemed so happy and content with your school life. If it seemed as if he paid no care for the people who whispered for days and days with no end because his eyes would be darted towards god-knows-what, his ears were open for them.

The things he's heard being said about you were endless and repetitive praise, and some backhanded 'worries' they had for you.

“I don't think Y/n actually has a life outside of the competitions”

“I know right, it's kind of sad. Must be boring, and her friends are no different. Might as well just be government officials.”

“She should let loose a little, maybe then someone would show interest in her.” — and quiet laughter.

He couldn't suppress a scoff, and later a rumor would spark that Park Wonbin had a crush on campus journalist Y/n.

You never knew about it since you were out of the country for nationals, and when he told you, you had raised eyebrows.

It was only now that he could admire the elegance of your features. Your eyes and their unique shape, the soft curve of your cheeks and its tint, and your velvet lips.

He had never seen you under a different light before, what he was seeing now went beyond what he could imagine.

You would write again after that date, and this time you had an actual melody to follow, it was of his guitar's. He played a 'scrap piece' —as he would call it— and asked you if it sounded alright.

He felt all warm and fuzzy inside when you enthusiastically answered. “I loved it!”

Your full voice made his heart bounce in and out of his chest. He thought, if only, if only he could incorporate your sugared voice into his music.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Are these yours?” you rushed over to Wonbin to recover your personal journal.

When you'd get it from him, it was turned to a page where you had written about your shared first kiss.

“Uh, yeah.” you gulped when you heard his chuckle.

“You're a wonderful writer too?” you looked up, expecting to see him standing and towering over your very existence.

But he was just as flushed as you were. “They're songs.”

The luminosity of his eyes lit up the room.

“Can you sing them for me?”

He listened to the melodies you have grasped out of pure memory, memories you've had with him.

It wouldn't take a while for him to figure out the meaning of the songs, and somehow, he was surprised to hear,

“They're all about you.”

The feelings that Wonbin had put you through —without his perception— were feelings you have never felt before in your life. Having control over these foreign feelings, somehow, meant taking on new mediums of expression for you.

You would continue to write songs about your moments with him, all the little and more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were both in your sophomore year in the same music and arts university. Your courses had apparent distinctions, but you two would share the same few classes together.

“I feel like I should be taking Composition instead of Media Arts.” you mumbled at the top of his head.

The lecture hall was empty, you two took your time before leaving like everybody else.

He had himself in between your arms and wrapped yours around him, like how dubiety wrapped around your brain and made it ache for that cause.

“If you feel like it's the right thing, you definitely should, right? if Composition would help you to a point in your life where you're sound and happy, go for it.” he says, looking up at you with glistening eyes.

Wonbin was always the one to be in your arms and would often bury his face in the crook of your neck, taking in the whole of your warmth. You felt like his sanctuary, and likewise, he was yours.

Taking you to the studio became a routine for him, as a means of spending time with you. He would practice while you watched as his fingers moved rhythmically in a pace faster than your heartbeat.

And it was with you that he'd first share his own solos and ask for your honest opinions. You were in awe every time. You had nothing but compliments to throw at him whenever he asked,

“Was it good?”

“It's incredible, Bin.”

While he practiced, you wrote.

It was a whole other experience to have him play for you as you observed and take in all of him, taking note of his delicate handling of his guitar, the sweat that would gradually build up and stick to his hair, and how he'd close his eyes, fully immersed in the music.

Music resonates well with the two of you, it's like your own language, the one you shared and cherished by heart, the foundation of your relationship.

“Let me see.” he'd say as he rests his chin atop of your head from behind you.

You'd raise your journal to his sight, and you could feel his smile as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You make me feel so loved.” he whispers as he places a soft kiss on your jaw before once again burying his face in your neck.

You'd always run your fingers through his hair, telling him that he makes you feel the same way, always.

You loved Wonbin for everything he was —a musician, your best friend, your boyfriend.

And for a long time, he'd been the Park Wonbin who owned a band, and owned your heart.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Going forward, you would change courses from Media Arts to Composition. You were back to square one.

This is where your heart had led you to, where he had given you his full support and encouragement.

Your schedules would crash because of the drastic shift, but still, you found ways to meet as much as you could. There were times where seeing each other wouldn't be possible, so you'd resort to calls instead. You two would talk to each other until you could hear his soft snores.

And when he'd wake up in the morning, he would apologize to you for falling asleep on you and you would always make sure to tell him that it's okay.

He would later take you to the studio again, but this time, there were others; his bandmates.

It was your first time hanging around them, but you thought they were nice. The teasing was something you were never going to get used to, but Wonbin was relieved to have you by his side.

He kept you close to him as he practiced, he took more breaks than retakes. He kept making mistakes at different points of their practice and would call for a break everytime —and each time, he went and sat next to you, laying his head on your shoulder as you delved your fingers in his hair.

“Hey, Bin, you should really focus on your practice. This is for the finals —and I know you're tired, but your bandmates are tired too.” you whispered ever so softly into his ear.

It soothed him, and so he took a deep breath. “I will, starting this very minute.” He sits up and looks at you. He cups your face with his hands and leaves a kiss on your lips and on your forehead. “I just missed you so, so much.”

He goes back to practice, and he listens to you. He fixed himself up and focused. By the end of it they were able to finish practicing three songs.

He took you home to your dorm room, and asked if he could stay. Of course you could not reject him. You two would be all up on each other, all night.

Unfortunately for him, the next day won't be as pleasant as expected.

“Our bassist left.” He got up from your bed and stood near the edge, looking and scrolling on his phone. “That motherfucker.”

Your eyes widened. It wasn't that you've never heard him curse, it's his tone. It was frightening. You knew it wasn't for you —and hoped it would never be— but it made you think of the worse, what could be, and what would be.

“Where are we gonna find a fucking bassist? the competition is in three days.” he threw his head back as he ran his hand through his hair, clasping onto its ends out of disappointment and frustration. “That fucking asshole.” he muttured under his breath.

He turned to look at you, and he wished he shouldn't have.

You had the face of an angel, and that angel, now, appears to be bewildered, petrified even.

He sighed, bringing his eyes to the side. He stood there for a couple more seconds before he got his stuff, getting ready to leave.

“I'll go. I'm sorry Y/n, but I won't be around until I find a bassist that's competent.” he bluntly says before leaving, not shutting the door behind him —for he was afraid that if he did, he'd do it too hard and make you feel bad for it.

You would go on for days without contact. You tried messaging him, but he left you on read. He would reply 16 hours later with: sorry y/n, we're really struggling here.

You stared at his message for hours. You didn't want to respond, so as to not further disturb him. After a few more hours, you'd receive a call from him.

“Bin?” you softly called for him as soon as you picked up.

“We found a bassist. We're practicing real hard since we really need to get it together. We're finished now, but we'll be back in the studio in a few hours. The bassist —she's great.” you nodded to yourself as you listened to him.

You didn't want to be that type of girlfriend, but you badly wanted to ask who this 'she' is. “Oh, who is she?”

“A freshman —so, how have you been?” Wonbin seemed to be speaking a little faster than normal.

You started to wonder whether he even truly wanted to talk to you in the first place. It took you a while to reply to him, you were once again stuck with such overwhelming feelings, having the need to jot them all down.

“Y/n?”

“Bin—”

“You must be tired. Let's talk tomorrow, yeah? I'll call you when I wake up. Rest, beautiful.”

Your eyes paced around everywhere. “I'm sorry Bin.”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, it's me who should be sorry.” he remained quiet for a while and you could slightly hear his breathing.

“Goodnight Bin. Please sleep well.” the hand that held his phone trembled slightly at the dim symphony of your voice.

“Goodnight Y/n.” he weakly replied before letting you go and ending the call.

On your bed, you lie on your back, eyes wandering the ceiling as if there were more to the tiny cracks and the dormant light bulb. Unable to bring yourself to a slumber, you got up and went to your desk.

You laid out your journal, opening to a fresh page. You let the tip of your pen hover over it for a few minutes, before you let it all go.

We started off in such a nice place,

We were talking the same language.

A teardrop would make its way onto the paper, causing the ink of your pen to smudge.

You weren't meant to finish this song just yet.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was finally the day of the competition you've long awaited. You hurried to the front seats, excited to see him perform, to hear his fervent voice, excited to just be able to see him again.

When there were others performing onstage, you tried peeping at the back, or somewhere behind the stage where you'd spot him. You were never able to, not until they were up next.

He saw you and waved. You waved back, hesitant as their new bassist appeared beside him.

They looked… perfect.

You zoned out. Your head would start blocking off the music, and all you could hear was your weak heart. You felt conflicted, the first time it palpated like this, it was for good reason, but now, it seems to be the opposite.

When it was their turn to perform, you watched as they exchanged looks. Their charisma shook your core, and suddenly, you hated yourself for not knowing how to play bass.

You watched, and Wonbin would lay his eyes on you as he sang —but it within a span of a few seconds he fixed his gaze on the bassist, as they once again gave each other looks that made you sink into your seat.

After their performance, you would find yourself clapping, standing up like everyone else, the only difference being that you were crying. Wonbin saw, but he couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or something else.

They would be announced champions by the end of the day, and you couldn't be more proud. Wonbin would find you in the crowd, smiling as he slightly waved the trophy in his hand. You smiled back, just happy with what he's achieved. But you couldn't help but notice that something in the air was changing.

Later that night, Wonbin took you with him to their celebratory dinner. He held your hand tight, caressing your skin with his thumb as you both entered the restaurant.

His bandmates were already seated nicely and the only seats left were ones next to their drummer, and the other, next to the bassist. When they saw you, their bassist would move next to the drummer, and Wonbin would sit across from her, with you next to him.

You were happy that they were all happy, and while eating, you would get over your thoughts from earlier.

Your smile would slowly dissipate into the unmindful air feeling Wonbin's grasp becoming looser and looser as time flew by.

You looked over to him, and you saw the sweetest and most seraphic smile you've ever seen him wear. It was just a shame that it was not because of you.

You grew insecure in your seat, the space you occupied shrinked by the second as you watched how differently their eyes reacted to one another —how different it was compared to how he looked at you.

“Bin, I need to go home.” you touched his shoulder to get his attention.

He quickly turned his head to look at you. “Oh, I'll take you home—”

“No.” You spoke a little louder than intended. “Sorry, no need. I'll get going now, I have things to finish.”

You stood up, expecting him to grab your hand to stop you as you walked away towards the exit. But he didn't.

Were you asking for too much now? or are you just not enough anymore?

You took slow and miniscule steps, waiting for a taxi to pass by. Once it did, you got in, feeling so dejected that your voice cracked when you gave the taxi driver the address to your dorms.

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe you're just not used to him being as smiley and as lively as he was around other girls that weren't you. It had been like that since the beginning of your relationship, and yet you felt as if you had no right to doubt him.

By the end of the day, you'd be back at your desk, tear-filled, feebly writing down,

You can't stand the thought,

Of a real beating heart you'd be holding...

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Y/n! we got a record deal!”

The thrill, the excitement, it all rushed through Wonbin, in his blood. He had called you early in the morning after receiving a call from a recording label.

“That's great, Bin.” Wonbin's smile would die out with the tone of your voice.

“Hey, are you okay?” he suddenly thought about the previous night with you, two nights ago.

“Yeah. I've just been really busy. Congrats Bin!” he bit his bottom lip, staring into nothing feeling your frailty.

“I'm coming to visit you.” he says nonchalantly.

“You don't have to Bin, I'm really b—”

“I can help—”

“Wonbin.” —silence.

You never called him 'Wonbin' throughout the entirety of your relationship, even when the two of you would argue. It left a stinging pain in his heart. “Y/n.”

“I'm sorry Bin. I know you have your own stuff going on so would you please jus—”

“Was this about the other night?” despite your efforts to respond, not a single word came out of you. “Look, I don't even know why you left, why don't you communicate things with me anymore?”

Fear. You feared this tone of his that you never thought he'd take out on you. You feared the eyes you could not see, glaring at your phantom in his studio. You feared his heart, his heart that would no longer yearn for you even if you called for him. You feared losing him.

“Y/n, speak to me. Please.” urgency was apparent in his voice, but you could also hear his disappointment.

“How? Tell me how, Wonbin.” you would break as his name fell off your lips, your tears falling down to your blanket that reeks of his scent. “I don't fucking know how, okay?”

From this moment on, you were able to see just how flawed your relationship truly is. Behind all the affections, you two were just too different. Sometimes, different can be good —there's a thing they call 'opposites attract'— but sometimes, people don't need different.

It was not that the two of you stray far from each other's passions, heck, it was your passion that brought the two of you together. But rather, it was your values that contrasted with each other.

He thought you were just as infatuated as he was, all the while you were thinking that you were all he needed.

Yes, he was the most comfortable with you, but his happiness was not you. He felt relieved by your touch, your voice —but he would never admit that that is all it was for him, a sense of relief and nothing more.

He was thankful for everything you've given him, all the comfort, the nagging for him to take care of himself, the photos you've taken of him and hung on your little cork board, and the songs. He was genuinely touched and couldn't believe that you could get any more incredible than you already were.

Unfortunately, you thought more of him, memorizing every bit of him, his physique and his very psyche.

You two would resolve your argument, temporarily.

He would begin to visit you again regularly, and take you to their studio, a new one, one that would be in a bigger building. And just like that building, everything was different.

Your whole life, you've learned to fight change, to adapt with ease, but this was one you did not want to adapt into. It was one you wanted to escape.

You missed the way his fingers would play with the shorter strands if your hair that rested at the sides of your head as he rests himself on you. You missed the warmth in his voice, and now it was all fading into nothing. That fire in your hearts that you lit up for each other, it was slowly dying out.

It was painful to be aware when you were still so in love, when you still saw the same Wonbin that one fateful day at the park.

You knew that he knew. During his visits to your dorm room, he'd often doze off, and would lazily leave sloppy kisses to your lips, that would slowly become light pecks on your cheek, and soon nothing.

When he took you to his studio, he would be practicing, and she'd be there too. You would be in your own little corner, writing your songs.

“Hi Y/n, what are you up to in there?” she would ask, peeking at your journal.

“Oh, I'm writing songs.” she was a nice person, but she was also the reason for the falling out of your relationship, it was crystal-clear.

“You should seriously consider showing some to the producers around here. I feel like they'd love your work.” as nice as she sounded, you felt sick in the stomach, just like how those stupid moon photographs made you feel.

She and Wonbin, they were both like the moon, just letting others take in all of their physiognomy, all of their beauty. They remain unmoved, as if they're the pillar to everybody's constancy.

They fit each other. —you thought to yourself as you kept writing.

I never could rely on you,

And a few times your face came into view,

Into view.

I'm not into you,

Into you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It's been a good while since you've cut ties with him. You found it amusing how surprised he was with how you responded to his notion.

“I don't think we should continue being together, Y/n.” he blinked a few times, not having the heart to look into your eyes like he used to anymore.

“Yeah, I know.” you were so blunt with everything that he couldn't believe that it was really you who was speaking to him. “I'll bring you the stuff you left at my dorm. I'll just leave it here.”

You were in their studio, where he had asked you to meet him.

“I could just get it myself—”

“I'll spare you the trouble Wonbin.” you were so cold, it sent shivers down his spine. You were no longer the intelligent and timid girl he knew. “It's great to know you've been feeling the same way all along, if not, I would've felt bad for ever doubting you.”

A single tear would escape his eye, and he'd wipe it away before you could see it.

“Thank you for…” you fished for his gaze, and you would catch it like never before. “...everything.”

You went out of their studio and started making your way out of the building with your journal in hand.

The journal. It was full of him. From polaroids and sketches, to the lyrics that brought you to where you are.

You were glad he finally came to his senses, that he was the one to break it up. If he never did, it would've taken you ages to blurt it out, or maybe you never would've done it.

As your feet followed the same path you took going in, you could feel the hot tears flowing continuously. The last you would see as you stepped out of the building was her. Worry was written all over her face as she called for you once, twice. You looked back at her for an agonizing and very few seconds before completely turning your back from her.

That day was excruciating for you. You could only imagine, he already had her to comfort him, and you? you were still in the same spot, pouring all of your feelings out into a song.

After a few lengthy months of practicing with your guitar, you were able to make a full song.

You recorded it within the confines of your dorm room. You were again satisfied with your work. It was a simple, homey video. Your voice was as soft as the clouds, and your presence was like that of the sun, bright, shining against the woe of your heart.

You posted the video to YouTube, even providing them with the lyrics you've put your whole heart into in the description box.

At first, you didn't really think you'd get as much as fifty views, three likes and maybe one petty dislike. Either way, you didn't really care. It was the least of your worries at the time.

You were planning to move back to Media Arts, in spite of him. You moved courses because of him, and now you are moving back another step for it.

Though, your plans would be halted when you were approached by a deceptive man —what made him deceptive? you may ask, well, you would've never thought that this man worked for the same recording label that your ex was in.

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Okay, miss. I'm Jung-Sung-Chan. I've been in the xxxx label for two years now. So, I saw your song—”

“And what about it?” your voice was stern, and it seemed as though it was atypical for him as it did not match your appearance at all.

“So, there's this band, don't know if you've heard of them—”

“Is it 'Everiizing'?” he was flabbergasted with how you just kept cutting him off when he was supposedly the one to be intimidating you.

“Uh, yeah.”

He would go on to explain how the band had been struggling to come up their next hit single and they needed it by the end of the month. You told him off by saying that you'd think about it, and think about it, you did.

It was quite funny, Wonbin would be the one singing since he was the vocal of the band, and he would be singing a song that you wrote and composed about him and the fallout of your relationship.

But you also thought, maybe this was a start for your own career. Maybe after this, you'd be a well known song writer, credited in every hit song in the charts.

You would call Sungchan back and tell him you've made up your mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So I started to think 'bout the plans I made,

The debt unpaid.

And you just can't call a spade a spade.

Wonbin read through the lyrics of their supposed upcoming single. He couldn't help but feel… familiar. The style of writing, the choice of words, he feels like he'd seen it all before, and he'd felt it all once upon a time.

“The writer is Y/s/n Y/n.” Wonbin's breath hitched, very subtly that he was the only one that heard. “I saw her on YouTube —that's where we discovered that song. She agreed to sell it to us.”

“The song is on YouTube?” Wonbin asked as he grabbed his phone from the table in front of him.

“Yeah, that's what I said.”

He searched for your name, and there it was. He hurriedly tapped on your video, and watched, and listened.

You never changed in his eyes. You were still as mesmerizing as you were when he could still have you in his embrace, or when you'd massage his hair.

“So what do you think?” he ignored Sungchan and kept his eyes and ears on his phone, following every note and every strum.

“Wonbin?” —for a minute, he thought it was you who called for his name, but then he looked up.

“Paige.” he responds to their bassist.

“I listened to Y/n's song. It's really a masterpiece, I say we try recording it now.” Paige, with pure excitement, would cling onto Wonbin, and he would look at her the way you would want him to look at you.

Sungchan knew, because you had told him everything. It was weird to tell a stranger about these things, but if he was buying your song, he should at least know the story behind it, right?

That day, Wonbin would record his vocals for the song, and Sungchan would be there to monitor. Wonbin seemed so emotional. He must've realized what the lyrics truly meant, and it punched him right in his guts.

This is all she's been feeling huh —he uttered in his mind as he fought back his sorrow.

Sungchan had spared you the details of everything that went down in the recording, and soon they would release their own version of the song, and it would be theirs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“...we have 'Everiizing', to perform their new hit single, 'Tek It'!”

You were once again, at the same seat you'd always be when he performed, but this time, you were happy. It was your creation being recognized and loved by many. Its story will remain in your memories forever, but it will never cause resentment.

You couldn't help but smile and just enjoy the music. They were the same —if not better than before. Wonbin and Paige were truly a different story. They seem to be doing great. You had no idea if they actually got together, but you didn't care.

There was a lingering feeling for sure, but it would fall weak knowing that you have a line of opportunities ahead of you, and so did Wonbin and his band.

After their performance he would go on to acknowledge your presence, giving you credit for writing and composing such a beautiful song, though of course, he would never say you were his ex and you wrote it about him.

You two would meet again backstage, for the first time in almost a year.

“Y/n.” you smiled, not for the same reason as you would with him, it was because he failed to have the same effect on you as he did before, and it brought your mind to peace.

“Wonbin.” he would smile back, but it was quite not like himself.

He was a lot more tentative. “I'm guessing you've been well.”

You nod at him and say, “I could say the same about you.”

“So, will you continue to work under xxxx?” he asked hesitantly.

“You know I would never do that even if things ended a little better.” he would drop his smile as he listened to you speak. “I'm moving to Sungchan's label. He's starting one of his own. Might consider being an artist myself, but for now I'll finish my studies.”

Wonbin was once again fascinated with your strong will, it was something he thought he could learn from you, but as soon as forever was promised, it would disintegrate right before your eyes.

The promises of making songs together, singing them together, performing them with your souls intertwined. They were nothing but long gone.

Wonbin is the moon, and you're the sun. The two are never meant to meet, or to even be close to each other. Being opposites was never a problem, it was because you two had different understandings of what it meant for you to flourish and shine, what your purpose is in this world and how you would salvage it —it is the sad tale of the serene but incredibly fallible moon, and the ravishing sun, that's just as tainted.

And there would be no more eclipses to follow.

I never thought we'd see it through.

So long nice to know you, I'll be moving on.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

happy hearts day <333

#riize #riize au #riize fanfic #briize #riize x reader #wonbin #riize wonbin #park wonbin #Spotify #songfic

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