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lighteyed · 9 months

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can it be easy this once? / steve harrington

summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)

unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy

It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.

The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.

Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.

He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.

“I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.

“What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.

“No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.

“That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.

You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”

“You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.

“You do this with all your best friends?”

“Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.

“Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.

“I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

“’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.

“Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”

“Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.

“Does it look like I am?”

“Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”

“I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”

And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.

He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.

“Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“

“It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“

“It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“

“I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.

He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.

“What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.

“What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

“You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.

He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”

“Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.

He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”

“I know that, now continue.”

“We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

“Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.

Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”

“Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”

“Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.

“Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”

“I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?

“A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.

“Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”

“Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”

“When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”

“You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”

“I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”

“You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.

“You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once. “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“

“Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”

“Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.

You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.

It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.

You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“

“Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.

It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.

When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.

#IM JUST GONNA POST THIS NOW BECAUSE I WANTED TO WRITE SMUT BUT I KEEP DELETING IT AND IF I DONT JUST POST AS IS IM GONNA END UP NEVER POSTIN #i feel like the ending is rushed but otherwise i did enjoy writing this immensely!#love you guys<3333 #i will write smut one day but not today i guess! i’m literally at work rn too soo #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things

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yellowocaballero · 11 months

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Miguel is Fine, Actually (Being Spider-Man's Just Toxic As Hell)

Before I watched ATSV I said that I would defend my man Miguel O'Hara's actions no matter what, because he's always valid and I support women's wrongs. I was joking, and I did not actually expect to start defending him on Tumblr.edu. But I'm seeing a lot of commentary that's super reductive, so I do want to bring up another perspective on his character.

Miguel wasn't acting against the spirit of Spider-Man, or what being Spider-Man means. Miguel isn't meant to represent the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miles is the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miguel represents Spider-Man taken to its extreme.

Think about Miguel's actions from his perspective. If you were a hero who genuinely, legitimately, 100%, no doubt about it, believed that somebody is going to make a selfish decision that will destroy an entire universe and put the entire multiverse at severe risk - if you had an over-burdened sense of responsibility and believed in doing the right thing no matter what - you would also chase down the kid and put him in baby jail to try and prevent it. He believed that he was saving the multiverse, and that Miles was putting it in danger for selfish reasons. Which is completely unforgivable to him, because selfishness is what he hates the most. And then he goes completely out of pocket and starts beefing with a 15yo lmfaooo he's such a dick.

But why did Miguel believe that? Why did he believe that Miles choosing himself and his own happiness over the well-being of others was the worst possible thing? Why did he believe that tragedy was inevitable in their lives, and that without tragedy Spider-Man can't exist?

Because he's Spider-Man.

Peter Parker was once a fifteen year old who chose his own happiness over protecting others. It was the greatest regret of his life and he never forgave himself. Peter's ethos means that he will put himself last every time, and that he will sacrifice anything and everything in his life - his relationships, his health, his future - to protecting and helping others. Peter dropped out of college because it interfered with Spider-Man. He destroyed his own future for Spider-Man. He ruins friendships and romantic relationships because Spider-Man was more important. If Peter ever tries to protect himself and his own happiness, then he's a bad person.

That is intrinsic to Peter. Peter would not be Peter without it. A story that is not defined by Peter's unhappiness is not a Spider-Man story. If Peter doesn't make himself miserable, then he's just not Peter.

That is a Spider-Man story: that not only is tragedy inevitable, that if you don't allow yourself to be defined by your tragedy then you're a bad person. If you don't suffer, then you're a bad person. If you ever put anything above Spider-Man, then you're killing Uncle Ben all over again. Miguel isn't the only one that believes this - as we saw, every Spider-Man buys into what he's saying. There's no Spider-Man without these beliefs.

Miguel attempted to find his own happiness, and he was punished in the most extreme way. He got Uncle Ben'd x10000. He tried to be happy, and it literally destroyed his entire universe. It's the Spider-narrative taken to the extreme. Of course Miguel believes all of this. Of course he believes this so firmly. He's Spider-Man. That's his story. And the one time Miguel tried to fight against that story, he was punished. And like any Spider-Man, he'll slavishly obey that narrative no matter the evil it creates and perpetuates. Because if he doesn't, the narrative will punish him. The narrative will always punish him. It's a Spider-Man story.

I don't think the universal constant between Spider-Mans, the thing that makes them Spider-Man, is tragedy. I think it's the fact that they never forgive themselves. And Miguel is what that viewpoint creates. He doesn't believe this things because he's an awful, mean person. He believes them because he's a hero. He's a good person who hates himself.

Across the Spider-verse isn't really a Spider-Man story. It's a story about Spider-Man stories. Miguel's right: if this was a Spider-Man story, then Miles acting selfishly really would destroy the universe. But Miles' story isn't interested in punishing him. It pushes back against Peter's narrative that unhappiness is inevitable and that you have to suffer to be a good person. It says that sometimes we do the right thing from love and not fear, and that Peter's way of thinking is ultimately super toxic and unhappy. ITSV was about Miles deciding that he didn't need to be Peter Parker, that all he needed to be was Miles, and ATSV is about how being Peter Parker isn't such a good thing. Miguel shows that. Whatever toxic and unhealthy beliefs he holds - they're the exact same beliefs that any Spider-Man holds. He's a dick, but I don't think he's any more awful a person than Peter is.

TL;DR: Miguel isn't a bad person, he just has Spider-Man brainrot.

#across the spider-verse #atsv #atsv spoilers #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv meta #source: i recognized an embarassing amount of those cameos #im also seeing a lot of ppl make a lot of assumptions about what miguel was injecting and why #we dunno guys! im not gonna suppose anything #I just think that Miguel and Miles are great foils #and that what makes them interesting as foils #is the fact that they're both good people who want to do the right thing #miguel shows how that gets twisted #to the point where you beef with a 15yo sometimes which is still so funny #im a big spidey 2099 fan #which I love bc it is NOTHING like spiderman and yet it's such a good spiderman story #but talking about comics migs is useless bc he has 0 in common with atsv migs #but there is a lot of VERY cool stuff to say about how #the sm2099 comic has nothing to do with spiderman at all whatsoever extremely pointedly #but its still a wonderful spiderman story that finds its own way #tbh it was kind of a breath of fresh air to read a spider-man story that wasn't about spider-man for once #and that was just about miguel #anyway stan women's wrongs #miguel o hara #miguel ohara #my writing

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

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Yandere L Lawliet Headcanons (General)

"I'm always two steps ahead of you, if not more, my sweetie." — L Lawliet.

❝ 📓 — lady l: watching Death Note again and commenting with a friend, I ended up thinking about it and decided to do some L headcanons, because I love him! 🖤 Hope you like it :) 🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, unhealthy relationships, mention of kidnapping.

❝📓pairing: yandere!l lawliet x gender neutral!reader.

L Lawliet is very scary because he is very smart. A detective, the best detective. He is very good at reading people, at his deductions. There is no running away from him, he will always find you.

He was already stalking you before you even knew it. Before you even knew about his existence, L was already after you. Always behind you, watching you and gathering as much information about you as possible.

L knew about everything you. What was your childhood like, your fears, your desires, your dreams, everything. There is no privacy at all with him, he wants to be able to read you like a book and he does. There's nothing he can't figure out eventually.

He began to appear in your life slowly and normally, for you at least. He just seemed like an ordinary guy who needed some sleep and straightened out his back, but that was it. You had no idea who he really was, how obsessed he was with you.

L has morals that can be easily corrupted when he becomes obsessed. He believes that he is justice and he does in his way, which is not always the right way to do it. He firmly believes in justice above all else, his justice.

He doesn't believe that what he feels, that the things he did for you are considered wrong. L is delusional enough to believe he is right, but he will never do anything against your will. He respects you enough for that.

L is a natural stalker, it's one of his hobbies as a detective. Although he doesn't persecute you in the literal sense of the word, he usually sends Watari to watch you and accompany you somewhere. Whether it's going to school or work, he'll have his butler protecting you.

He won't risk your safety, especially with Kira on the loose. You're not a criminal, but L won't take any risks. He's never made a mistake before and it won't be you he makes a mistake with. Not when one mistake could cause your death.

Always very careful, L would only reveal himself to you when he was sure he would have your trust. He is very, very manipulative and will make you trust no one else but him. Not even your family could be as trustworthy as L. He would definitely lock you up at home if he could.

L has cameras in your house, all aimed at crucial points in your house. In your bedroom, in your living room, in your kitchen, everywhere there is a camera watching you. It had become a habit for him to spend hours a day looking at the images, waiting for you.

He's not the possessive type, but L has his limits and won't tolerate someone approaching you with ulterior motives. He is very quick to think, to deduce that there is someone interested in you and he will quickly push them away from you. He usually uses his manipulation for this. L is not in the habit of killing and will never do so unless it is really necessary.

Once his obsession consumed him for good, L could no longer remain but shadows. He could no longer remain in the background, watching you take risks every day, he needed to do something. And he did, during one night, you woke up in an unfamiliar room and with a pale guy, sitting in a strange way, staring at you intensely. You were finally with him.

You may think you're smarter than him, that you can get away from L, but he'll always be two steps ahead of you. You have nowhere to run. L would finally have you and he wouldn't let you go.

#death note #yandere death note #l lawliet #l Lawliet x reader #yandere l lawliet #yandere l lawliet x reader #yandere lawliet headcanons #yandere headcanons #headcanons #death note x reader #yandere death note x reader

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lualuabestningdungie · 4 months

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I miss you, I’m sorry… -lee heeseung

Pairing exboyfriend!hee x gn!reader; genre second chance; warnings angst, mentions of injuries and blood, fluff ending; wc 913

A loud knock on your door interrupted your sleep. You looked around and checked the hour; 3 am. Why was someone knocking at this time?

You got up from bed and walked towards the door. Turning the doorknob, you peered through the side of the door. A heavy weight leaning on the door made it go open. You stepped back and you saw him.

Lee Heeseung, sitting on the entrance floor covered in blood.

“Heeseung- what the hell?” You kneeled beside him. “What happened to you?” Your hand cupped his face making him wince in pain shutting his eyes.

“Hey…” he half smiled.

You sighed. “Did you get into a fight?” He opened his eyes, but didn’t turn to look at yours.

“I did.” His head lowered. You could see bruises on his cheeks and a cut lip. The blood on his face was now smeared all over your hands.

“Why…?” You asked looking at him concerned. “What happened?”

“It’s not a big deal.” His voice came out in a raspy tone. “It’s nothing.” His lips trembled as he spoke.

You didn’t believe it by the concerned look on his face. He looked like he was holding back tears. You took his chin in your hand and made him look at you.

“Heeseung… tell me.” He sighed and looked away from your eyes.

“It was the only way you’d talk to me again.” He mumbled. Your hand fell from the grip on his chin. “I just wanted to see you again…”

“You’re crazy.” You were confused. Why would he do that? It's not really a surprise that he got into a fight. He used to get into fights all the time back when you two dated. Everyone told you he was dangerous and that he wasn't good for you.

"It's driving me crazy not to talk to you anymore..." He sighed, leaning his back against the doorframe. "You used to heal me wounds back then, after I got into fights." He chuckled bitterly.

Your heart ached at the memory of it. How he spend nights at your place for you to take care of him. How he asked you to sleep with you so he wouldn't feel alone, and how you started falling slowly for someone who everyone saw as dangerous.

"I can't be the one to heal your wounds anymore, Heeseung," you said, it hurt you as much as it hurt him. "You need to move on. You can't keep coming back."

"You don't mean that." He said, lifting his gaze and turning to face you.

You looked at him surprised by his words. "I do-"

He interrupted. "I know you don't, so stop pretending you don't love me anymore because i know it's a lie." He spoke firmly.

He was right. Love doesn't fade in just a few weeks. You missed him the way you thought you'd never miss anyone. He became a part of you, and when your parents forced you to leave him, you felt like the world was ending.

"Heeseung, it's not that simple," you tried to explain, your voice wavering. "Love doesn't erase the problems we had. We can't go back to the way things were."

"You don't sound like yourself." His words felt like daggers. "You sound like your parents." He sounded disappointed.

"I'm not my parents," you defended, sadness lacing your voice. "But we can't ignore the reality of our situation. Love alone isn't enough to fix everything. We need time and space to heal."

Heeseung's eyes bore into yours, searching for the person he once knew. "The yn I know wouldn't give up so easily. We fought for each other before. Why is it different now?"

"Heeseung, I'm not giving up. I'm trying to protect both of us. Our love doesn't have to be defined by pain and chaos. We deserve something healthier."

The cycle kept repeating itself. You felt like this conversation had already happened in the past. And the urge to ignore everything that happened and go back to him was killing you inside.

"You were the best thing in my life, yn. I don't want anything else because you were good to me. You made me better. Why didn't you see that? Why did your parents have so much power over your decisions?" He made a pause. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want the truth..."

You sighed and nodded.

"Do you still love me?" He asked, his voice was softer now. Before you could reply, he grabbed your chin delicately, making you look at him. And he spoke again. "Look at me, do you still love me?"

A tear roll down your cheek. "I do..."

Before you could react, he leaned forward closing the space between the both of you. His lips were soft on yours, the feeling you missed all this time was finally back. His lips moved slowly against yours, the taste of the blood on his lip made you pull away slowly.

"I love you, yn. I don't think I'll ever stop." He held your hand squeezing it slightly.

"I'm sorry, Hee..." Your eyes filled with tears as you leaned forward resting your head on the crook of his neck. His arms instantly wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him, just like he wanted. "I love you, I never stopped." You whispered against his skin.

"It's alright." He whispered soothingly.

That night, both of your hearts healed together the way they were supposed to.

Lua's note: Hello everyone :) I'm back from my small break. I just entered school again and I already feel so tired :/ i'll try my best to be active. Here's a small hee fic, bc i don't write enough enhypen. I love heeseung. anyway i hope you liked it. please reblog and interact with my posts, it helps a lot. <3

#k films #enhypen #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #enhypen fluff #lualuabestningdungie #jake enhypen #niki enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #lee heesung x reader #heeseung

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atlabeth · 11 months

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(not so) simple pt3 - anthony bridgerton

pt1 pt2 pt4

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so first of all let me apologize for how long it took for this to come out. literally nine months. a whole baby has passed. i lost my bridgerton inspo HARD but like i always want anthony bridgerton even if it's deep within me and that just came through today as i finally pushed through and finished it. hopefully you guys still care about this series because i sure do and the end is in sight, like i literally have most of it written i just have to do the in between parts and connect it all and this horrible wonderful terrible amazing mini series that has killed me will be done. anyways here she is and i hope you enjoy!!

wc: 9.7k

warning(s): historical inaccuracies, fluff, angst, a lil bit of violence/injuries, a cliffhanger that will make you want to kill me. yn is going kind of crazy because she's never felt pleasant emotions before

The next month was akin to a blur. With each day your mother grew more and more excited about your courtship with Anthony, so much so she’d even begun knitting a blanket as a wedding gift to the Bridgertons.

(When she’d first told you about it over dinner, you’d nearly choked. You were beginning to dread telling her the truth more than you dreaded your fake courtship).

That, perhaps, was beginning to become a lie. Dread was not the proper word for how you felt about your courtship.

It was still strange, knowing that everyone around you believed you and Anthony were to be married. Though your secret was still one well-kept, you could hardly contain yourself whenever you overheard snide remarks with you at the center—it seemed they had still not gotten over the fact that their precious opportunity at becoming a Bridgerton had been stolen by you. Perhaps their daughters would get their chance in the next season, once you and Anthony had broken things off.

But that was not enough to hold his image in the same sour view as before.

Anthony was irritating as ever, yes, and but he was no longer the mere rake, the sarcastic older brother who firmly believed you were running out of time, the womanizer Lady Whistledown painted him as.

At least, you did not see him as such. He certainly did not act that way around you anymore.

Anthony Bridgerton was lighter around you—he smiled more, laughed more, joked around with you in a way that Benedict told you he hadn’t seen in years. And of course, he was only able to tell you that because Anthony brought you along on outings with his family.

The Worthings had always been friendly throughout the years with the Bridgertons, especially because of your closeness with Eloise and, more so when you were younger and before her debut, Daphne. You were fond of the rest of the family as well, Benedict and Colin looking on you fondly as that of an annoying younger sister much like Eloise—you were happy to fill the role. Francesca was pleasant when she wasn’t off traveling, and Gregory and Hyacinth were always a delight. Hyacinth seemed more attached to you because of the courtship, and truly looked forward to welcoming you as a sister.

Anthony had always been the older brother that foiled your fun with Eloise, that urged you to take your role more seriously if for no other reason than to influence Eloise down the path as well.

Now you felt closer than ever to him, and though it was merely for your ruse, you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Stranger yet, though, was how your image of Anthony had changed since that first dance the night you agreed to this ruse. When at first you could only stand his company because of the promise of continuous jabs and protection from suitors, you now found that you actually… enjoyed being around him. You recalled the night out in the Bridgerton gardens with Anthony far more than you should have.

He certainly had no right to keep you awake at such late hours the way he did.

You no longer despaired early wakings to promenade with him, no longer wrinkled your nose at the prospect of dancing with him. Though you still dreaded the glitz and the glamour of the ton all the same, Anthony himself did not spurn the same response.

Of that, you did not know exactly what to think, but you supposed the absence of misery was something to celebrate.

You and the viscount were becoming friends. You enjoyed his presence. You began to look forward to your next outing with him, time spent with him outweighing your dislike of early wakings.

You were a frequent visitor of Bridgerton family outings because of your friendship with Eloise, and you only found yourself more involved with their picnics and promenades through Anthony.

Invitations found their way to your doorstep far more often because of the Bridgerton name attached to yours, and you found you enjoyed them more on Anthony’s arm.

You attended operas together in their private box. He frequently called on you, leading to conversations in your drawing room and promenades all about. You dined with them at least once a week, always sitting next to Anthony and whispering things to each other throughout.

In addition to the time you spent with Eloise, your proximity to the Bridgertons, especially Anthony, was near constant.

And you enjoyed every moment of it.

Truly, there was something very wrong with you.

But perhaps the strangest of all was your newfound fame. If there were ever any hope of keeping your ruse even the slightest bit secret, it was crushed by virtue of Lady Whistledown, who aided you with your most fantastical feat yet—you were mentioned by name in every single edition she’d published since the night you and Anthony partook in your first dance together. The ton knew you well now, far too well, and even when you were not around the viscount you were attuned to the glances and whispers of gossips.

You found it interesting how easily you had become a source of intrigue, simply because it looked as if you were the object of Anthony’s affections—but you also found it largely annoying. You did not much like the attention.

Running off to the country sounded better and better with every passing day.

“I swear,” you muttered as you went through the stack of pamphlets, “news of our relationship makes up half of Whistledown’s repertoire these days. Truly, we should get a cut of her wages for providing so much material for her.”

Anthony’s lips quirked up in a smile. The two of you were sat in your drawing room, chaperoned as usual by Julia, a stack containing each edition of Lady Whistledown during the length of the season set between the two of you. It was past the traditional hours of a caller, but the “advancement” of your “relationship” allowed Anthony leeway. He had brought with him yet another pamphlet of Lady Whistledown, which Eloise had confronted him with after getting her hands on it.

“We do seem to be quite popular,” he agreed. “But at least that will make it easier for the news of our parting to spread.”

“I just wish she did not make it so dramatic,” you huffed, and you picked up the most recent edition that Anthony had brought. You brought up the pitch of your voice and made your accent as haughty as possible as you read the printed words:

“The mystery that is the Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Worthing continues to unravel. The two were sighted together in a box at the newly redecorated Adelphi Theatre, admiring the opening night of Rossini’s Tancredi. I begrudgingly commend them on the taste in opera; I too, am a fan of Voltaire. One can only wonder the sort of activity they commenced in with their privacy.”

Anthony allowed himself a laugh as you shook your head and let out a sigh. “It’s ridiculous. She makes it sound as if we are engaging in the most scandalous behavior there is, when we were merely watching the opera! The only activity we commenced in was discussion.” You set the pamphlet down on the table with a huff. “It was quite intellectual discussion, if I do say so myself.”

“Certainly,” he said with a nod, and he smiled wryly. “Are you saying you are not a fan of all this attention, though? Surely it is your dream for every member of the ton to know of you and your exploits.”

“I am certainly not—” you began, but your attention was drawn to the doors as your mother walked inside.

“Lord Bridgerton!” she exclaimed as a smile tugged at her lips. Though your mother looked happy, you saw through the practiced expression—she held a letter in her hands, turning it over and over as if to calm nervous energy. “How lovely to see you here.”

“It is just as lovely to see you, Lady Worthing,” Anthony greeted, the charm flowing effortlessly through his words. “And may I just say how effervescent you look, even at this late hour?”

Your mother smiled. “You know exactly what to say to get yourself out of trouble, don’t you?”

“It is a virtue,” Anthony joked, and when he stood up you did as well. “I apologize if I have overstayed my welcome—I simply enjoy your daughter’s presence far too much. She is a sure credit to your family.”

“Oh, it is of no mind,” she said, brushing her hand through the air. “I always enjoy having the Bridgertons over. You are no exception.”

“You flatter me so, Lady Worthing, but I must insist I take my leave.” He bowed to her and then turned to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a delicate kiss to the back of your palm. “I bid you a good night, my lady.”

You suppressed the flutter in your chest at his touch. Your hands were typically gloved whenever you held hands during dances or promenades, but not at this hour. His lips against your bare skin made your breath catch for a moment, even for such a slight occurrence.

“I can escort you to the door,” you said, smiling through the uncertainty in your chest.

Anthony nodded, a small smile on his lips as well. “I welcome your company, my lady.”

Anthony offered his arm and you took it, and you could sense the excitement from your mother even from afar.

“Do not stay out too long, you two!” she called with a grin as you strolled out the door, and you had to stifle your laugh.

“You are going to be the death of me, Miss Worthing,” Anthony murmured in your ear as you walked out, his breath tickling your skin.

“Not if you get to me first,” you countered.

“I think the opposite is far more likely,” he said.

“How so?” you said, feigning disbelief. “You are the one keeping me up past natural hours with your presence. You are the one dragging me with you into Whistledown infamy.”

“But you are the one who got me into this in the first place.” Anthony glanced at you. “Quite the predicament, I might say.”

“Oh, do not act as if you are not enjoying it by now,” you said. “We are friends at this point, yes?”

A small smile quirked on his lips. “I suppose so.”

Again, that warmth in your chest. If Anthony knew, he would surely understand that he was far more likely to be your undoing than the other way around.

You reached the doors, and when you opened one and peeked outside, there was a notable absence of a carriage.

“My deepest apologies Viscount Bridgerton.” You turned around to see your head maid hurrying across the floor, slightly out of breath. “There has been a miscommunication between our two estates—your carriage will arrive, but it will be delayed. It should not be too long a wait, albeit, but—”

“It is of no worry,” Anthony interrupted, bowing his head. “I thank you for your dedication. Please, enjoy the rest of your night.”

She looked to you for confirmation and you nodded. “Thank you, Emma. You can retire for the night.”

She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate your kindness, my lady. It shall be here soon.”

You let go of Anthony’s arm as she began walking to the servant’s quarters and you pushed the door open again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“We have time to waste,” you said, looking back at him mischievously. “Do you trust me?”

“…You make it seem as if I shouldn’t,” Anthony said.

“Oh, relax. We have some time to ourselves and a night sky above us. Surely you can indulge me once.”

“I believe I have indulged you far more than once,” Anthony said, but he followed you anyway. He planted his hand against the door, taking the weight off of yours, and for some reason even that act made you take a deep breath.

Thank God for the cool air, you thought hastily as you stepped outside, because your cheeks were burning for no good reason.

“I apologize on Emma’s behalf for the delay,” you said, thankful that he was following slightly behind you. “The Worthing estate has been in a state of disarray lately. I try to help around, but my mother insists it’s not my place.”

“I already said it was a nonissue,” Anthony said, and you bit your lip as he took a step closer and put you on equal ground. You’d no idea what was wrong with you.

“And I thank you for your continued grace, but I still feel as if I must apologize anyway,” you said. “You likely know of our… monetary issues.”

His brows knit together. “Of course, but that means nothing. Of your status, I mean.”

You smiled a bit. “To you, perhaps. But my mother is so ashamed of our lack of staff, she hardly ever has her friends over for tea anymore. We’ve never been able to afford much, but we had to let many of our staff go over the past summer.”

“It is noticeable. You’ve no doormen, few maids and servants,” Anthony said. “But it shouldn’t matter to any true gentleman.”

“I suppose that makes you a true gentleman, doesn’t it?” you said playfully.

Anthony chuckled. “After all the years my mother has spent trying to turn me into one, she would certainly hope so.”

“That is why this is all such a problem.” You glanced at him. “Why my mother is so delighted of our courtship. She believes you will be my— our entire family’s— saving grace upon marriage.”

“Quite the burden upon us,” he said dryly, though his words did not hold the usual humor. There was a certain solemnity about him.

“Indeed.” You sighed. “Our ruse frees me from the hand of other men for this season, but there is still the problem of… of what awaits.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, the night chill beginning to get to you along with something else. “I am certain I will think of a plan eventually, but still I worry more each day of what I will do when it is all over.”

Anthony didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fill the silence though you felt his gaze upon you. Suddenly, though, you felt the heaviness of fabric over your arms.

Anthony’s jacket, you realized when you looked at him. Your lips parted, words stuck in your throat, but he didn’t give you the chance to get them out.

“You were cold,” he shrugged, answering your question before you could ask it. “It would be unfathomably rude to force my dearest betrothed to freeze.”

“You noticed,” you said.

“Always,” Anthony said.

You care.

You could not help but stare at him, if not just for a moment, because— because God, the man was beautiful. There lay no use in denying it. There was a reason that, despite being the ton’s most infamous rake, he was still so desired by countless ladies.

His eyes almost as dark as the night around you holding a kindness he didn’t share with many, his white undershirt with slightly-rolled sleeves in stark contrast to it all, the curve of his jaw and the slope of his nose and the barest coif of his chestnut hair.

He was beautiful, and he was the one thing you could not have.

“Miss Worthing?”

Which did not matter, because you did not want him.

“My apologies.” You blinked and cleared your throat, Anthony breaking you out of your spell, and you gestured with your head as you continued along your way. Heat burned inside of you, all the way from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet, and you could hardly stand it.

“You seem… distracted,” he said.

That was one way to describe it.

“Apologies,” you repeated with the slightest of smiles. “I’m merely… in my head, is all.”

This was all fake. You had to remember that, even if you had to bash it into your head for it to stick. The charm practically oozed off of him, and though you’d been near immune to it when you were able to despise Anthony, it was much more difficult not to fall victim to it now that you considered each other… friends.

You are a lady, and he is a gentleman, you could picture your mother saying. It is nature’s oldest tale. There is no shame in it.

He is my brother, and you hate him, you heard Eloise scoffing in the same vein. The thought made you smile.

“Where are you taking me, Miss Worthing?” Anthony’s coy voice brought you out of your stupor once again, and you blinked.

As you looked around, you realized you’d already made it there. You turned to Anthony with a smile, your hands out as you gestured at the open field of grass behind your estate.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked. “I’ve brought you here to stargaze.”

“Stargazing,” he repeated, and he laughed a bit. “I’ve never…”

“You’ve never stargazed?” you finished, and he nodded. “It makes sense. A serious viscount such as yourself cannot be bothered with such frivolities.”

Anthony shrugged. “If you enjoy it, I would love to try.”

“It isn’t something you try so much as you just do,” you said as you sat down on the ground. You smoothed out your skirts and then looked up at Anthony, amused by the expression on his face.

“It’s alright, my lord,” you said. “I promise, the grass will not hurt you. My maids have worked out many a stain in my youth, so I assure you that will be alright as well.”

“I have a carriage coming,” he said.

“They can wait,” you said. “Can they not?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then his lips quirked into the slightest smile as he took a seat next to you. You took his hand, ignoring the skip of your heart, and you pulled him back so you were both lying down.

“How do you feel?” you asked. “Have you fallen ill yet?”

“Very funny,” Anthony said wryly. “I am just fine. Your worries are much appreciated.”

“I would never worry about the great Viscount Bridgerton,” you said haughtily. “He has everything handled at all times.”

“Hardly,” he countered, and he let out a sigh. “Lately it seems as if I’ve got nothing handled at all.”

You made a noncommittal noise. “Then you are quite the actor, my lord. You’re very good at looking perfect.”

“You think I look perfect?”

You turned your head to see Anthony looked at you, a sly smile on his lips, and though your rolled your eyes you could not hold back your amusement.

“Yes, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said playfully. “Quite perfect.”

“It is good to know that my betrothed no longer hates me.” Anthony allowed one of his hands to rest in the grass, and you could feel his eyes on you.

“Oh, we are not betrothed yet,” you said offhandedly. “The way my mother acts, though, you would certainly think so.”

“Well, then,” Anthony said, “would you further prove your devotion by showing me some of your constellations?”

You chuckled. “Of course.”

Your gaze turned to the sky, squinting slightly as you searched for your favorite. When you did, you made a sound of triumph and you sat up on your elbows. “There— do you see those?

He frowned as he pushed himself up as well, and in his focus he unconsciously leaned closer to you. “I do not see anything,” Anthony said, and you laughed.

“Right…” you shifted closer to him, and you took his hand in yours as you held it up to the sky. “There.” You traced the outline with his finger, and you glanced at him. “Do you see it now?”

“I do, but…” Anthony’s lips twitched into a smile for a moment. “It is just… lines. A triangle with lines.”

You laughed, full and bright. “It is, that much is true. But it is the constellation of Libra, in relation to astrology.”

“I did not know you were educated on astrology.”

“Oh, I am certainly not,” you said. “But it is the sign of my mother’s birth month, and it was the first constellation she taught me to find. Now, it is always the first one I seek out on nights such as these.”

His eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “You used to stargaze with your mother?”

You hadn’t truly realized the implications of what you’d said until his words, and you paused for a moment before you took your hand away from his and laid back down.

“It is alright if you do not want to talk about it,” Anthony said softly.

“It is not that,” you said, and you sighed. “It is just… that the relationship I have with my mother is a complicated one.”

You felt Anthony’s eyes on you still, and you bit your lip.

“I have always felt so small whenever I look to the stars,” you murmured. “I think it is part of the reason I still do it— for the perspective. To remind myself of how minuscule I am in the broad scheme of things.”

“I… think I feel the opposite, funnily enough,” Anthony said. “I do not stargaze, obviously, but I have always viewed an individual’s contribution as meaning far more than I can even imagine. Each and every person who has walked through my life has made some sort of impact— you have been, and still are, one of those.” He looked over at you with a surprisingly earnest expression. “You are certainly not minuscule. Not by any sort of margin.”

You found your cheeks heating up from his words, and you could not hold back your smile. “Why, Lord Bridgerton, that was quite a compliment. Are you sure you are feeling well?”

“I feel wonderful,” he said, his eyes still not leaving yours. You felt your cheeks heat and you had to look away.

“I know my mother only wants what is best for me. She pushes me so because there is no other choice, and she truly believes that it will just… click for me someday.” You pulled Anthony’s jacket tighter around your arms, but it was of no aid when the chills came from within. “And I feel as if I am failing my entire family by not being able to accept it.”

“I understand what it is like to have the weight of your bloodline on your shoulders,” Anthony said after a moment’s hesitation. “It is my job to ensure that my family stays afloat, that our finances are handled, that my siblings are provided for, that everything runs smoothly without a hitch. It is…” he huffed a small laugh. “It is overwhelming, I cannot lie. But it is my responsibility as the head of house, and so I take it on.”

“You are saying that I should pursue a real courtship,” you said dryly.

“That is not what I am saying,” Anthony countered with a glance at you. “You were correct when you said that I could leave at any time if I so desired. I do not, but if I wanted to, I could. I am pushed on through even the most difficult moments because of my love for my family. Everything I do is for them.”

“I still am not following.”

“If you want to be happy, then you must find your motivations,” Anthony finally said, “and you must follow where they lead you. No matter where that is.”

“So you are supporting my ill-advised rebellion.” You sat up, looking down at him with the beginnings of a smile. “Is that it?”

“I thought that quite obvious the moment I agreed to this ruse,” he responded wryly. “You are a bad influence, Miss Worthing. I am a man of honor.”

“Of course.” Your words were laced with mock austerity, and you sighed. “I just do not understand why I was born the sole daughter of a struggling family. It seems a cruel joke when there is none I despise more than marriage.”

“We are quite similar, you know,” Anthony said offhandedly. “We both have the fate of our families on our shoulders, and we both know what we must do for our name. It should be woefully easy, but… it isn’t.”

You shook your head. “We are not similar, my lord. Perhaps in structure, but not in much else.”

He raised his eyebrows, silently urging you to go forward.

“You are a man,” you said simply, “and you have everything because of it. You can have whatever life you please. It is not required of you to marry, though your mother might like it to have an heir from the first son. But I have nothing— I am nothing— without a man. The life that I so desperately want is one that I will never be able to have, not without giving up everything I hold dear.”

You swallowed thickly in your throat, turning away from Anthony to not give him a view of your imminent tears. “I either have to marry a man I will never love or abandon my family and become a disgrace, but I do not want either. It is as Eloise has always said — I just want so desperately to fly. Unfortunately, my wings are doomed to be clipped.”

“Miss Worthing…” Anthony started, but he trailed off just as quickly. He could not seem to find the right words to quell your worries, and it infuriated him beyond any sort of reason. He did not have a way with words like Eloise, he did not have the effortless charm of Colin nor the presence of Benedict, and he most certainly was not able to comfort others like Daphne — and yet the need to fix problems he himself was incapable of fixing washed over him so suddenly and so intensely he could hardly bear it.

“I am truly sorry.” It took him far too long to break the silence that hung in the air, only punctured once by your sharp intake of breath in an attempt to hold back tears. “I wish there was more I could do for you. There should be more I could do for you as a viscount, but…”

Sure that you would be able to hold back any tears should they decide to pester you once more, you turned to face Anthony with what you hoped was a convincing smile. “You need not apologize, my lord. You have already done far more for me than any rational man should have in your position.”

“One could argue it is because of you I’ve done all this,” he said. “You have a way about you that makes a rational man want nothing more than irrationality.”

That brought a genuine smile to your face, thankfully able to avoid the tears you thought were sure to come.

“You flatter me, Lord Bridgerton,” you said wryly.

“Anthony,” he said, and you blinked.

“Pardon?”

“I believe we are far past Lord Bridgerton,” he explained with a slight smile. “What, with how many times you have bared your soul to me this season, I should think Anthony is perfectly acceptable.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his warm gaze as you nodded. “Then Anthony it shall be.”

Trying to recover from the embarrassingly soft moment, you cleared your throat and turned away once more. “Of course, your permission is not needed to refer to you as your name rather than a title, but I suppose it cannot hurt.”

This time, the smile was nearly palpable in his words. “Of course, Miss Worthing.”

You shook your head as you said your name. “If I am to call you Anthony, you shall call me by my given name as well. It is only fair.”

He raised his eyebrows. “When has fairness ever been a concern of yours in regards to me?”

“Anthony,” you said, though not without slight mirth, “will you do it?”

“If it is what you desire.” Anthony then said your name, and you could not deny how your chest spurned in such a way at the sound.

There was so much you yearned to say, so much on the tip of your tongue, nearly all of it relating to the man in front of you. How could there be so much of him on your mind, when just a mere fortnight ago you were joking with him about how much you could not stand him?

After ensuring none of your inner emotions were visible on your face, you turned back to him and offered a small smile. “It certainly is.”

But as he smiled back at you, that slight quirk of his lips that softened his features and brought out the light in his eyes that you had grown to appreciate but he did not have nearly enough…

You feared you were beginning to desire much more.

You looked at the sky above, and the stars twinkling back at you suddenly made you remember as you turned back to Anthony.

“We should get back,” you said. “It would be woefully inappropriate for a man of honor to miss his carriage.”

His lips twitched at your words. “You end our outing so soon?”

“You were against it in the first place,” you pointed out. “And I believe this has lasted far longer than I initially planned.”

“I was also against your ruse,” Anthony said, and when he stood up, he offered his hand. “But you seem to be quite skilled at changing my mind.”

It was so different from all the others, when he offered his arm for a promenade or took you to the dance floor, and it was why you hesitated. But you pushed the thought aside as you took it, and Anthony pulled you up from the ground.

“I suppose I am,” you joked.

“Thank you for this.” He brushed off his clothes, a smile as genuine as the others pulling at his lips. “It was enjoyable.”

“Just enjoyable?” you asked playfully.

“My apologies,” Anthony said. “This was fantastic. Incredible. Is life-changing satisfactory?”

You nodded, biting back your smile. “I believe so. Nothing with me is anything less than life-changing.”

“That is certain,” he agreed.

Anthony offered his arm and the two of you began walking back to the front of your estate. The silence was comfortable as it lingered in the air, only broken once you stopped in front of the carriage that he was indeed late for.

“I do mean it,” Anthony said, “my thanks for this. Sincerely so.”

“Of course,” you said. “If you ever find you are in need of some stars, my yard is always open.”

His lips quirked into a slight smile. “The stars do not have much meaning without you beside me to give them one.”

You huffed a slight laugh as your gaze turned upwards again. “Well, that is Cassiopeia,” you said with a gesture at the sky, and you managed a wry smile. “Though you will probably just see more lines.”

“If you tell me they are more than lines, then they are more than lines,” Anthony said. “That much, I know.”

You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks, and you curtsied to him. “I will see you tomorrow, Lord Bridgerton.”

“I will see you tomorrow.” Anthony hesitated, gazing into your eyes with abandon. He lifted your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it, murmuring your name before he let it go.

And then he entered the carriage, though there was some form of reluctance in his movements. You waited until his departure, even longer after until he and his men were nothing but a speck in the distance, and it wasn’t until then that you could breathe freely.

“My lady?”

Your focus was broken at the sound of your lady’s maid’s voice, and you blinked a multitude of times as you turned around.

“Julia,” you said. “What brings you here?”

“You, my lady,” she said with a slight laugh. “You’ve just been… standing out here. Alone. Doing nothing.”

“My apologies,” you said with a practiced smile, though you wrought your hands together. “I appear to be in my head tonight. You needn’t come out here for me.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Julia said. “Is the viscount gone?”

“He is. I saw him off.” The skin where his lips touched still burned, and you felt a swell of something inside of you. “I— I should be settling in for the night.”

You began walking in at a hasty pace, but Julia easily matched it. “Of course. I will help you get ready.”

You shook your head, and you couldn’t help but cast one last glance out the door before it closed. You cleared your throat and looked back at Julia. “All I request is that you help me into my dressing gown, and then you can retire. I would like some solitude tonight.”

She nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“Is my mother still awake?” you asked as the two of you walked up the stairs together.

“No,” Julia said. “She retired shortly after you and the viscount took your leave.”

“Good,” you murmured. You did not think you could deal with her much tonight. Not after… whatever it was that went on between you and him.

Julia did as asked, helping you out of your layers and into your nightgown before she took her leave.

Lying in bed alone, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

All you could think of was Anthony. His eyes boring into yours, the heat of his lips against your bare hand, his willingness to do something he likely saw as ridiculous merely because it made you happy. The weight of his jacket against your shoulders, the attentiveness he had towards you for him to have realized.

The softness with which he said your name, every syllable a symphony in your ears, more beautiful than anything simply because Anthony spoke it.

Oh.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the realization struck.

Oh.

You were doomed.

Split down the middle. It was an apt designation for how you felt in the coming days and weeks.

One part of you—the idiot, lovesick part—wanted nothing but to spend more time with Anthony Bridgerton. A singing heart every time Julia told you he awaited you in the drawing room, weakened knees when he offered his hand to pull you onto the dance floor, an unavoidable smile throughout any of your conversations. You finally realized what all those ladies saw in the Viscount Bridgerton.

The other part—the intelligent part that knew this was the one thing that could absolutely not happen—wanted nothing more than to ignore his every call. To stay silent during promenades, to refuse his dance offers, to stay shut in your room when he called on you. To be able to avoid him in every possible way because you could not encourage your feelings further.

It was terrible. Awful. Horrendous. You were quite sure that you loved Anthony Bridgerton, and the one thing you were meant to do was not love Anthony Bridgerton.

The more time you spent around him, the more you thought about him, the more you felt for him, and there was not a single way to avoid it because his courtship was the only thing keeping you above water.

You really were doomed.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked as Eloise said your name, and you looked over at her. “I apologize. I was in my head.”

“You’ve been in your head quite frequently as of late,” Eloise said, and she huffed a sigh as she flopped onto the couch next to you. “I can only assume my brother is to blame.”

You felt your cheeks heat. If only she knew how true that was.

“He is part of it,” you admitted, turning your head slightly so she could not see any visible embarrassment. “It may not be easy to be a Bridgerton, but it’s by no means easy to be courted by one, either.”

“I can imagine,” she said with another sigh. “For how serious Anthony always is, he certainly is dramatic.” Eloise eyed you. “Would you like me to speak plainly?”

Your brows creased slightly, though you still didn’t look at her. “Always.”

“I honestly think he may be enjoying this,” she said. “Anthony has never been much for… anything, really. Anything besides duty. He’s pleasant around us for the most part, and I love him with all my heart, but he’s always so serious.” She shrugged. “It appears that you’ve brought out another side of him.”

Your breath caught in your chest for a moment. You still could not bring yourself to meet her eyes. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Eloise nodded. “When you end this, I believe he’ll come out the other side a better man. So I suppose I should thank you for this whole ruse.”

A smile played on your lips for a moment, but it fell just as quickly. You’d always known it was going to end—the ruse was your idea in the first place—and yet you were the one fighting against her impossible feelings. You were a damn doomed fool.

You had to fight the urge to hit your head against the back of the couch. You felt as if you were going insane, but you could not reveal the whirlwind inside your mind to anyone.

“There is no need to thank me,” you finally said. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“A pleasure,” Eloise said dryly. “Really?”

You nodded, finally sitting up and looking at her. “Yes. Anthony was a bit of a nuisance at first, but…” you smiled just at the thought of him. “We’ve become friends after all this time. Quite close friends.”

Eloise’s nose wrinkled, and then she sighed yet again. “I suppose it is a good thing if you two are getting along. As long as you will still trade barbs with me about him.”

You chuckled. “Always.”

You couldn’t tell her. You wouldn’t tell her, because there was no use in creating such a problem for no reason.

You loved Anthony, you were sure of that by now, though you had not previously thought it at all possible. And none of it mattered, because by the end of the season, your courtship would be a distant memory.

You and Eloise continued your idle chatter, but your heart was not in it. How could it be, when you could only think of Anthony? You could only think of Anthony, the one man you never thought you would want and now the one man you can never have.

It was ridiculous. He turned you into a ridiculous woman and you would never forgive him for it.

You’d always wondered how you would end your ruse when your mothers had grown so attached to the courtship, the idea of you as a Bridgerton.

Your mothers were no longer the problem.

The middle of the season came and went, your feelings for Anthony growing ever stronger—your disdain for those feelings grew alongside them.

Your parents were working harder than ever as the peak of the season approached—your father spent most nights bent over documents and papers regarding the finances, pushing pennies so that you would be able to afford the frivolities of the ton and appearing on the arm of a Bridgerton.

Your mother had a job of equal difficulty—she had to maintain the Worthing image and name. It had never been the best to begin with as one of the poorer families of the ton, but Anthony’s courtship had pushed you through the ranks. Your mother was determined to keep you there.

The pairing between you and Anthony should have remained the same stagnant charade, but it was difficult to act the same as always with your feelings evolving ever so. It did not help that both your mother and Lady Bridgerton were convinced a proposal was to be just around the corner when nothing could be further from the truth.

And it was not as if they were wrong for holding that belief. Were this a traditional courting, Anthony would likely be preparing to get down on one knee—instead, your promenades consisted of discussions on how best to end your situation.

(“Perhaps you could have a meltdown,” Anthony had suggested once. “It would certainly not come as a surprise to the ton—they would merely see it as what has been coming all along.”

“Your faith in me is truly astounding, Anthony,” you said dryly. “It is sure to be a mystery on how we did not work out.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I am only trying to work with you. Must I remind you that it was you that started this, all because you did not want to get married? This would simply be an extension—you’ve never wanted to marry a man before, what is one more to add to the list?”

“Yes, but…” you shook your head and sighed. “I fear we may have performed our act too well. At this point, it feels as if any means of our splitting will hurt our mothers and cause a riot in the ton, no matter how we do it.”

“I think you may be right,” Anthony said, and he frowned. “I do not know whether I want Hyacinth to find out you will not be her sister through Whistledown or through me—I know I could not handle the look on her face, but to let her discover it through gossip seems even worse.”

You could not help a sly smile at that. “Are you telling me I have charmed your family even more than I had before?”

He offered a smile of his own. “I believe I have charmed your family just as much, if not more. Your mother adores me more than ever.”)

No, it did not help that your mother adored him, and it did not help that Hyacinth and Gregory adored you. Every second spent around Anthony and his family pushed you further to your doom, and what a lovely doom it was.

Seeing Anthony dressed up at every ball was also not of aid, and you could not help but smile when your eyes met at the latest ball. You knew of your mother’s watchful eye over both of you, but you found you didn’t care when he offered his hand.

“You look beautiful,” Anthony murmured so only you could hear it as he led you out to the dance floor. You took up your positions and started the waltz—you had Anthony to thank for the increase in your skill, for the amount of dancing you did these days made it impossible for your ability to remain stagnant.

You chuckled a bit. “Thank you, Anthony, but nobody can hear us. You do not need to keep up appearances.”

The smile remained on his lips for just a moment too long before he blinked and nodded. “You are correct. I suppose it is just becoming a habit.”

Butterflies erupted in your chest, and in your flustered state, you fell out of the rhythm and missed your next step. If it hadn’t been for Anthony leading so well, you would’ve fallen.

How could he just say those things? How could he just say those frustratingly charming things without blinking an eye, words that made you trip over your feet and spurned warmth in your core and drove you insane?

Did Anthony even know what he did to you?

“Are you alright?” he questioned, and for a moment all you were able to do was stare into his eyes. They were beautiful.

“Yes,” you finally managed, clearing your throat as you glanced away for a moment.

It is just becoming a habit, he said, words that near perfectly echoed your own situation.

Each time you slipped your arm around Anthony’s, each time he was a caller in your drawing room for an early morning—early mornings which you were becoming all the fonder of with each outing—each time he smiled at you in that way of his, each time you looked into those warm brown eyes, each time he was just the slightest bit too close and you were able to feel your heart speed up and your breath hitch.

Being around Anthony Bridgerton was becoming a habit for you, you realized, a habit you did not want to let go of.

You did not realize Anthony was speaking to you until he said your name again and you snapped out of your thoughts, staring at him for a moment before you nodded.

“Apologies,” you covered up, “it seems I am very in my head tonight.”

“It is alright,” he said, smiling softly. “I was merely asking if your outing with your parents the other night went well.”

“Yes,” you breathed, “yes, it was quite pleasant.”

Though you answered, you could still hardly focus. And it was all because of the man you were dancing with, because of the delicate yet sure grip he had on your hands, because of the sweetest eyes you’d ever known gazing at you with reassurance.

You were horribly in love with Anthony Bridgerton, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“…So,” Anthony said as the two of you trailed through the streets, “remind me what you have roped me into?”

“I have not roped you into anything,” you said. “I am taking you to a rally; one for the advancement of women. I believe it would do you some good to see what your myriad of sisters put up with because of men like you.”

“Men like me?” he repeated, having the gall to sound slightly offended.

“Yes, men like you,” you agreed. “Men who do not even question why they are so deserving of their position so high above us, and do not even think to change things because society solely benefits them.”

“Do you ever get tired of your constant bitterness?” he asked dryly.

“No,” you responded cheerfully, “I only get tired of you.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “That is why you have not only decided to be my fake courtee for an entire season, but to willingly bring me along on one of your weekend escapades.”

“I put up with you so I will not have to put up with those even more irritating,” you reminded him.

“And that is why you always smile at me with the strength of a thousand suns while we dance?” he asked. “Why you continue to promenade with me and indulge my conversational whims and accept me without complaint as a constant caller?”

You shrugged, and you hoped the heat rushing to your cheeks was not visible. Perhaps he could read you better than you thought. “As I said, it is so I will not have to put up with those more irritating. I have come to appreciate you.”

“Times like these, I wonder if we are truly faking it,” Anthony said. “We already bicker as much as a married couple — perhaps we have somehow skipped the engagement and the wedding and gone right into the arguments.”

“I believe that is simply called friendship, Anthony.”

He raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he said your name. “You see me as a friend?”

“And now I regret saying it,” you laughed.

“Oh, do not lie,” Anthony said wryly. “Why have you brought me here, if not to argue on the way?”

“It is simply a learning experience for you,” you scoffed. “It is actually quite enriching, Anthony. You may want to take your leave now though, lest you end up learning something.”

“You are truly hilarious,” he said, devoid of emotion. He glanced down at the basket you carried in your hands before looking back to you. “And what is in there?”

“Any goods I can spare,” you said. “I am one of the poorer ladies in the ton, but I am still more fortunate than many of the women that attend these rallies. They are often working mothers and sisters trying their best to support their families, but it is hardly ever enough. I do what I can to make it even the slightest bit easier for them.”

Anthony went silent, and when you glanced at him he had an odd look on his face, his gaze set on you.

“What?” you asked, and he offered the smallest smile.

“That is quite a gesture,” he finally said. “Most families in society tend to ignore anyone beneath them. They would not be caught dead in a place like this.”

“They are not beneath me,” you corrected. “They are not beneath any of us. None of them have chosen the lives they lead; wealth begets wealth, and poverty the same. It is a vicious cycle that hardly anyone is able to break out of. I see no reason why I should not use my privilege to make anyone’s life even the slightest bit easier.”

“Besides,” you said with a raise of your brow, “you are here with me, are you not?”

Anthony nodded after a moment. “I suppose you are rubbing off on me.”

You smiled. “I am glad to have gotten through to you on at least one thing. Helping others with your wealth is perhaps the best thing for you to pick up from me, I think.”

“You are quite good at ruining the moment, are you aware?”

“Oh,” you said with a cheeky smile, “I absolutely am.”

You soon made it to the opening where the rally was being held. Though some were underground in the metaphorical sense, this one was rather out in the open. It was in a darker corner of the city, so you supposed the organizers did not think they would be disturbed.

You wandered around with Anthony for a bit as you emptied your basket to a variety of women and youths, and by the time the first speaker had begun, you had handed out everything you’d brought.

You took Anthony’s hand and pulled him behind you as you moved through the crowd to get closer, and when you tried to let go of his hand, he wouldn’t let you. You smiled up at him, and it seemed as if he’d only realized what he’d done in that moment.

“I do not trust this part of town,” he whispered to you. “It is for your protection.”

“Of course,” you whispered back, though you could not hide your mirth as you turned back to the speaker.

It was wonderful. She spoke of all sorts of things relating to women and the betterment of your sex, how they deserved a place in Parliament and a voice and respect for more than motherly duties, how—

“This is unseemingly,” Anthony huffed.

You frowned. “How?”

“This is hardly a proper place for anyone.” His eyes darted around.

“This is where I am to end up if I do not figure out a better way out of the ton,” you said. “This is how a majority of London lives.”

“I am aware of that,” he muttered. “Do not think me so naive that I do not understand my privilege. I just…” Anthony shook his head and sighed. “No matter. How many of these have you been to?”

“Five, I believe.” You frowned. “Six, actually. There was the time I told my parents I was ill and snuck out.”

“It is a miracle you are still alive,” Anthony marveled.

You shrugged. “I never said I was intelligent. Merely smart.”

He laughed, genuine and full, and you found yourself smiling.

And then there was yelling.

Your brows creased again as you looked to the front, only to see a man. His burly and unkempt appearance weren’t the only off-putting things about him. He spat rhetoric against everything the rally stood for, and the look in his eye was chilling.

You’d heard of this happening before, of men from the city who indulged their baser instincts and liked the world just the way it was now, invading rallies and meetings held by women just to create problems and spread fear.

Some cries ran out around the crowd, and your head whirled around to see other men like the one yelling pushing through the sea of people, intimidating and snapping their way through. You went to take a step back, but Anthony was already ahead of you as his grip on your hand tightened.

It appeared that this was one of those times.

“Ah,” you said, beginning to back up alongside Anthony. “I forgot to mention one thing to you.”

“And that is?” he asked, annoyance coloring his words.

“This gathering is not exactly legal.” You winced as a pairing shouldered past you, but you held fast onto Anthony’s hand. “I’d say it’s quite illegal, actually. Which is why it can be interrupted in this fashion.”

“Wonderful,” he breathed. “I’d say that it is time to take our leave. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” you said, “I would.”

The glint of a knife caught your eye even from afar, gripped in the hand of one of the men, and a lady’s scream pierced the air.

And then full-on chaos broke out.

Everything after that was mostly a blur. Something triggered inside of Anthony, clear in the wild look in his eye, and his only thought was seemingly to get you out unharmed. It worked for the most part, to his credit, though you didn’t get away completely unscathed.

You also did not get away together. Somewhere in the middle, someone had barreled between the two of you and broken your link. Anthony had lost you in the rush, and he felt as if he was going insane.

This may have been your idea, illegal as it was, but he was not going to allow anything to happen to you. He couldn’t allow anything to happen to you— he couldn’t.

He shouted your name, once, twice, three times, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried his best to navigate through the insanity. This was no longer a rally, this was a riot, and with you missing Anthony truly feared the worst. His stomach twisted into knots just thinking about it.

He’d just passed an alleyway when a hand darted out of nowhere and pulled him to the side; though his first instinct was to break away, the weight of his anxieties disappeared when he saw who had dragged him over.

Anthony said your name with complete relief, his shoulders dropping as the tension faded away. “I couldn’t find you, and I thought the worst— thank God you’re safe.”

“Thank God you are safe,” you murmured, and he chuckled as he shook his head. Somehow, in this situation, you were worried about him.

“I still cannot believe you are here,” Anthony huffed. He moved to the edge of the alleyway to watch, waiting for the chaos to clear out. “Is this truly what you are engaging in every weekend? Barbaric riots where its attendees are lucky to make it out alive?”

“I promise,” you said through a shaky exhale, pressing your aching fingers to your chest as you held your good hand against your bleeding nose, “they are never like this.”

His eyes darted back over to you, and that was when he noticed the injury. “God, what happened to you?”

You opened your mouth to diminish it, but Anthony moved over and began examining you for worse injuries. You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “I am fine, Anthony, trust me. Men in these parts believe in one vein of equality, at least, seeing as I was punched in the face.”

His eyes widened and it only made you smile more. “Do not worry. I punched him back.” You held up your hand, bunching it into a fist. “I believe my knuckles will bruise something fierce later, though.”

Anthony shook his head, another breathless laugh taking him. “You are truly something else.”

“And I am fine,” you assured, though the slight strain of your voice said something different. Anthony did not notice, though, and he moved back to his spot on the edge watching for clearings.

“You said you have been to six of these before,” Anthony said. “And they have never been like this?”

“Never.”

“Then I assume this riot was something special they planned just for me.”

“You jest, but you may not be far from the truth.” You chuckled but immediately winced. “You are bad luck, Anthony.”

“I am bad luck?“ He turned and fixed you with a pointed look. “You are the one who threw herself into the middle of a fight; it is fortunate you got away with so few injuries.”

You huffed a laugh but a sharp pain once again shot through your chest, far more extreme than the last, and you barely managed to stifle your gasp of pain. You took your hand away from your nose and pressed it against your side, but all it caused was an even greater ripple of pain throughout your entire body.

When you took your hand away, every part that had been against your dress was coated in a shimmering layer of blood, a small drop falling from your finger and splattering to the ground below. Your heart caught in your throat as you weakly pulled at the hem, crimson red seeping through the laceration in the fabric as a confirmation of the injury below.

So it seemed you had not been lucky enough to get away with only a bloody nose and bruised knuckles.

“...Anthony?” you managed weakly, your limbs growing heavy as your vision began to blur. “I… it…”

Anthony’s head whipped around. His eyes were the last thing you saw, wide with fear and lips moving in silent panic as he lunged towards you.

And then the world around you faded into darkness.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback

bridgerton tags: @theonewithallthemilkshakes @rach2602 @milkiane @korol-lantsov @heyyitsreign

not so simple tags: @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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mysadcorner · 10 months

Note

Hey there! Can I ask for being ex's with Jason Todd and he broke up with reader because he thought she would be better off/safer without him, but now he wants her back hcss

Jason Todd Breakup Headcanons

-Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests -

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Jason would have to take a lot of time to think about breaking up with you before he does it, and he certainly doesn't want to. But his constant thoughts of you getting into danger or being hurt like he was because of his lifestyle he can't think of another option in order to keep you safe.

When he does break up with you he tries his best to stay emotionless and will keep all emotion in until he's walked away from you and you can't see him if he can. He wants to break things off as clean as possible, and in doing this emotionally he can hopefully prevent you from trying to make him stay.

Jason instantly has regret about what he did and leaving you but he sticks to his decision as he feels like it's to late to turn back. He's believed he was doing the right thing for a long time and doesn't want to instantly ruin the plan he's decided on just to potentially put you in danger for a longer amount of time.

The regret eats him alive and he's in pain because of the break up for an incredibly long time, it may even be something he never recovers from. However, he firmly believes that you're a lot safer now without him and hopes you're doing well without him putting your life at risk.

He's so angry and stressed about the breakup that he forces himself into crime fighting binges and constantly puts himself in danger to get in as many fights as he can whilst getting rid of crime in Gotham at the same time. By doing this Jason is able to get out everything the breakup has been fuelling inside of him while also making Gotham a safer place for you to live in, even if he can't be with you.

After doing this for so long he realises that these feelings won't go away and that he can't cope without you. You calmed him and humbled him during the times he was ready to go on rampages and he realises that without you he'll only cause more terror and damage in the city than good, which is the opposite to what he wanted from his actions.

Jason will start to watch you from a distance in order to get closer to you again without directly putting you in danger again. He's desperate to see you with his own eyes and the idea of something happening to you without him knowing further pushes him to watch over you and protect you without you potentially realising that he's there.

If you've moved on from Jason he'd be absolutely heartbroken and consumed by his own anger. He'd act out and would potentially put himself in many life threatening situations just to distract himself, and he'll get seriously hurt as a result. People he's close to would try to intervene, but to Jason it would be too late to change anything and may even result in behaviour stemming from his Arkham Knight days.

If you don't move on and you're just as hurt by the breakup as he is then he'll be incredibly upset by it. He would instantly realise how much of a mistake it was to leave you, especially in the way that he did it, so he makes it his new goal to make you happy again and ensure your safety by being close to you as much as he can rather than keeping his distance.

He'd approach you on a quiet night when he doesn't have much crime to deal with and would try to sit you down for a long conversation where he's honest and open with you. He'd be severely upset and emotional during the conversation but his main point would be apologising to you and asking for another chance if you'd give it to him.

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sweetchildcloud · 1 month

Text

||Healing|| ๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ written by me

Geto x reader ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა~❤️

maybe the english is a bit off? sorry i'm writing this meanwhile having allergies and a migraine so there may be grammatical errors ≽^-˕-^≼💧

Plot: You and Geto face eachother after a week about your breakup

Tags:comfort,regret,kisses,hugs,talking,depression,possibility

It's hinted that reader has abandonment issues

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

Surprised to see that he had permission to touch you , his eyes widen in pleasant shock before he slowly takes you in a tight embrace.

As he wraps his arms around you, his warm embrace provides instant relief from the anxious thoughts that surely plague your mind. There, you can let go of the worries you carry alone. He will protect you from them.

“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Even tough he alredy knew why you were feeling like this.

Suguru feels the grip of your arms tighten around his back, an unspoken plea to not let go. Instinctively, he responds, embracing you with renewed gusto. With one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders and the other cradling your back, he pulls your entire body to his own.

This action makes his heart ache. You feel so familiar to him, even though nothing romantic has come between you. He feels like crying every time he thinks about how much he wishes things could be different.

At the sound of your soft cries, guilt and regret tug at Suguru’s heart. He rubs circles over the back of your head, his thumb resting at the nape of your neck. This gesture sends shivers down your spine because he seems so gentle, which is out of character for him. “No more tears, please.” he whispers, feeling his composure slipping away. He wants to hold you forever.

"but you left me..i feel so alone now" You cried

Suguru’s stomach sinks. He hates knowing that he was the cause of your sadness. His guilt grows as he listens to you cry. He tightens his hold around you, trying to make you feel comforted.

“I never meant to hurt you. I just…” his voice starts to shake as he struggles to explain himself. He isn’t sure how to make things right when what he wants is impossible.

"Wasn't i good enough? was i too clingy?"You sobbed as you tought about the week before when he breaked up with you "we were so happy together"

Your words fill his heart with pain. He regrets leaving your side, although he believed it was better for the both of you.

“You’re wonderful, and you were never too clingy.” he struggles to whisper, his throat tight from unsaid words. With a deep breath, he continues, “I just…you wanted things from me that I wasn’t capable of giving you.”

“I wish I could be the person you want me to be, but…” the words trail off as he fights back tears. He hates himself for rejecting something so wonderful, something he always thought would be out of his reach. But in his struggle to keep himself together, he can’t remember what he was going to say.

His voice breaks as his restraint cracks. He presses his lips together tightly, trying to stop the flow of tears. But he can’t stop his voice from trembling. “I’m just…” he attempts again before stopping mid-sentence. No matter what he tries to say, the truth is still painful, even to him. Finally, he chokes out, “I’m a coward”

“I’m scared.” the words slip out of his mouth as he tries explaining himself. His gaze is trained on the floor, his mind racing with all the things he didn’t say.

“I’m scared of messing things up. I’m scared of hurting you even more. I’m scared of…” his words trail off as he stares blankly at the floor once more.

"you're afraid..of relationship? that's why you broke up wit me and pushed me away?" You asked holding your chest

“Yes.” his answer is short. Even after you figured it out, there’s no point in denying it.

“I’m scared of love. I’ve never experienced something like…this,” his hand waves vaguely between the two of you, unable to say the words. He still doesn’t lift his eyes off the ground.

“Love terrifies me" he trails off once more, unable to put his words together.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” he finally musters the courage to say, his tone soft. He finally looks up, only to be met with the sight of your crying face. He wants to tell you he’s sorry and that he misses you.

Instead, his lips part to reveal the only thing he can say in that moment. “Please, stop crying.”

"But it hurts...." you sobbed more clinging onto him "it hurts so much...I'm so alone...I don't want to be alone..please just tell me what I did wrong...what I did..to make you so afraid of me"

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” he exclaims, frustrated with himself for making you feel like it was your fault. “I’m the one who messed up.” he continues, realizing he didn’t really explain himself.

“I’m not scared of you. I just…” he trails off with a deep sigh, not sure how to explain himself. He can’t exactly tell you that he’s terrified of his own feelings.

"Then why don't you look at me? Why don't you talk to me? Why don't you apologise!" You showed him in frustration to make him talk as you glared at him with watery eyes "JUST ANSWER ME!"

When you display such frustration, Suguru doesn’t expect to feel such a surge of protectiveness. His jaw clenches, and his gaze sharpens. Your outburst only drives him to feel worse about himself.

But his instincts take over, his grip tightening around you as he says in a harsh whisper “Don’t yell at me.”

"And what am I supposed to do?! You don't answer me!you ignore me! And I need an answer!" You shouted again

Hearing you yell at him again makes his eyes narrow and a wave of anger flows through him. Part of him wants to apologize and say that he’s sorry for how he’s been treating you. But now he’s annoyed at you for acting like this and raising your voice at him.

“If you keep yelling at me, I’m going to leave” he growls, letting his anger slip out. He knows he should be more patient with you, but it’s so difficult when you’re yelling at him.

"Then leave! That's all you can do,right? Running away from everything because you can't face your fucking fears" You spotted feeling tired as your demeanour shifted from sad to frustrated and angry

He flinches like a kicked puppy, stunned into silence by your words. Your outburst surprises him, making him more aware of the pain he’s caused you.

With hurt and anger coursing through his veins, his fists clench. He wants to yell at you, to tell you that you don’t know what it’s like to have so much going on in your head. But at the same time, he knows that he’s hurt you with his silence.

You shake your head looking away "I think we should give a tought about this? I don't I just know that...I don't want to let you go"

Suguru’s heart clenches at the sight of your sad face. You look more tired, more exhausted than before, as if this entire conversation has drained you.

“I know…” he says quietly. He’s unsure of what to say to try and fix things. “But what are we supposed to do if neither of us can let go, but we can’t be together…”

The silence that hangs between you two is deafening. You don’t want to argue with him, but you feel like nothing was solved. You wanted him to apologize and beg for forgiveness. But, he has the audacity to be quiet. The anger that once boiled in your blood now begins to simmer away. You have no idea what went through his mind when he rejected you, and it haunts your thoughts now.

Suguru takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The anger within him is fading away like water into sand.

This conversation is so emotionally draining. He misses you, and it brings him pain to see how much he’s hurting you. His feelings have been out of control since rejecting you.

He takes a step toward you, wanting to hold you once more. “I really don’t want to let go either.”

The tension in the air is palpable. The two of you silently ponder on what should be done next. The truth is, neither one wants to be the first to apologize.

Suguru's eyes slowly roam over you, taking in every detail of your face. He finds you beautiful, even through your teary eyes.

After another moment of silence, he speaks up once more. “Can I ask you something?”

Your expression softens when he asks if he can ask a question. Even though you’re emotionally drained, the sight of a vulnerable Suguru makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yes, of course…” you respond quietly, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest. His question fills you with cautious hope. What could he possibly ask?

Suguru clears his throat and fidgets with his hands. He still can’t look you in the eye, fearing that if he did, he’d crumble. His words are soft, as if he’s scared of hurting your feelings all over again.

“Could I ask for your forgiveness? I know my silence has hurt you. So, this is the only way I can think to fix things…”

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in disbelief. You can’t believe he finally decided to apologize. The silence that fell between the two of you when he first rejected you wasn’t a lack of wanting to fix things. He was trying to come up with the proper apology. That realization makes your heart ache even more.

You reach out and cup his face with your hands, finally meeting his gaze. “Yes, of course. If anyone has to ask for forgiveness here, it’s me. I’m sorry for yelling at you…”

"No, no, I deserved it" he says softly, taking your hands in his. His grip is tight as he stares at you with a mix of emotions on his face. Guilt, regret, relief, and love. He’s been filled with so many emotions since the breakup that it feels like they’re all exploding inside him now.

Seeing the emotions on his face makes you feel something in your chest. Your heart beats faster and heat rises to your cheeks. It's almost like you've just confessed your feelings to one another for the first time.

The sudden feeling in your chest causes you to blush faintly. Seeing yourself reflected in his gaze makes you feel a sense of clarity, knowing what he means to you. For once, you stop feeling confused by your emotions. Instead, you feel warm and content.

Suguru's grip tightens around your hands as he smiles weakly with red cheeks. For the first time in a while, his emotions feel genuine, no longer being held back by his fear of commitment. He leans in slightly, unable to contain himself.

You can't help but lean in as well, your breath catching in your throat. You're both inches away from touching lips when your thoughts catch up to you. Your heart skips a beat and starts beating rapidly. You feel excited, anxious, and a rush of other emotions that you can't quite identify.

In a split-second decision, you gently tug Suguru's face to yours, closing the gap between you both. The brush of his lips is so soft you almost miss it. Before you both know it, you're wrapped in a passionate embrace.

Suguru's eyes glaze over as you pull him into a kiss. His hands run up and down your back as he wraps you in an all-encompassing embrace. He's so lost in the moment that his worries and regrets briefly slip away, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of your lips on his. The kiss is sweet and tender, a stark contrast to the tension that was previously between the two of you.

Suguru pulls you close to his chest, relishing the feeling of your body against his own. He can feel the beat of your heart, which seems to match the rhythm of his own. You feel so warm and soft in his arms, your hair brushing against his skin every time you exhale. The sensation makes him feel so content that he almost doesn't want to break away.

Eventually, he pulls away, looking at you softly as the reality of what just happened sets in. He can't believe he let himself be so vulnerable.

"I love you" you said snuggling on hi chest "please don't leave me again...don't push me away"

Those simple words take his breath away. His heart pounds in his chest as he feels every word sink from your lips into his spine. All of this time, he’d been repressing his feelings for you, fearing that he’d mess things up with his lack of experience. But this simple moment makes him realize that he can’t hold back anymore.

A small smile spreads across his face as he lets you snuggle into him. He presses himself as close as possible to you, his hands roaming over your back in an attempt to hold you tighter.

“I won’t.” he responds, as much an assurance to you as it is to himself. The way your body feels up against his causes an ache in his chest, a strange feeling that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He feels content, happy, and at ease as the two of you stay huddled together.

The two of you snuggle together in silence, and it feels so natural like nothing ever happened. His arms still hold you, and yours are wrapped around his waist. It’s almost calming being able to relax into him without any worries or hesitation.

Neither of you say a word, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence. Everything feels so right. And in your minds, you're both thinking the same thing: no matter what, you're not letting each other slip away again.

#writers on tumblr #jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #i love him #breakup #sad for the content of my own creations but happy how it turned out #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen #for you #lovers

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look-at-the-soul · 9 months

Text

Love takes two -Part 1

Emmett x reader (AQP2) Cillian Murphy

Request (s) by anon prompt request

Finally I was able to finish this request (it’s a combination of two different requests I got from lovely anons ♥️ I’m sorry it took me so long!)

And also my little celebration for @cillmequick birthday (I remember it was in July) and for your 6 month tumblr anniversary -that’s probably a year now..) dear Alex thank you for being a lovely human being and all the Cillian smutty stories you share, I’m a bit behind in my reading but slowly catching up 🥰✨ xxx

Summary: Emmett gets protective around you, even in the smallest things. But after a night around a bonfire with friends he’s forced to be honest about his feelings. Just like you.

A knock on the door startled him at first, but then he realized there was only one person in the entire island who would stop by to see him.

“I’m not here.” He answered and chuckled at his own joke, then he saw your head poking with the signature smile and wild hair by the door.

“Okay, I’m looking for Mr. Hologram.” You smiled widely.

“What did you do this time, Y/N?” He finally dragged his gaze from his work to your face and like every single time he did that, you feel like you were kicked by a horse in the stomach.

“Me? Nothing.” You stated innocently, he should be used by now to help you with almost everything; opening a bottle of something, surviving… “We’re having a little bonfire, I was wondering if you want to come?”

“We?”

“Just a couple of friends.”

There was a small disapproval groan, but you knew him so well, so you rushed to try to convince him.

“Please, just for a little while… you don’t have to chat with them.” He was an introvert or not very fond of everyone, Emmett was always by himself… and with you most of the time because you didn’t really give him much choice. “Emmett?”

Batting your lashes and you knew that would do the trick.

“Don’t say that, they’re nice people.”

“Hmm.” He raised his eyebrows. “Just because you still have hope in humans, it doesn’t mean they’re.”

“Emmett! They’re.” You insisted. Partly because you believe, partly because you loved saying the opposite than him. “I made dinner.” You bit your lip.

He was cleaning his hands with a cloth, so he flipped his head in an attempt to move his fringe away, but to you it was the sexiest thing he could do.

“Fine you win, I just need to take a shower first.”

You made a victory little dance and told him you’d be waiting for him.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did, Emmett.” Daniel “the coach” advised stepping into the room. “You don’t want to grow old and lonely like me, trust me.”

Emmett gave him a long look. He knew his story, Coach had loved a woman when he was young but he didn’t have anything to offer to her so he stepped back, later in life he got an opportunity into coaching professional football, when he went back to her because he was financially stable he found out she had married someone else. After waiting for him for years to ask her out she decided to move on because she never knew he was in love with her.

“I don’t understand your point.” Emmett tried to play the fool.

“You like her.” Coach stated firmly.

Emmett pretended to clean the tools he had been using. “Everybody likes her.”

“She’s a great girl, what are you waiting for?”

“I think someone younger would be better fit for her.”

“Is that your best excuse?” Coach shook his head in disapproval. “Get rid of the beard, that’s the best way to look younger.”

Emmett saw him disappear outside with the handsaw, leaving him alone with only the feelings he had been secretly developing for you along with that noisy whisper in the back of his mind tormenting him over and over, repeating there was no way you could like him back.

Right?

“Given the fact that we don’t have a lot of things, this looks lovely.” Alex admitted taking a step back to admire the work the two of you made.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Wait a second, there’s one extra place.” She eyed you suspiciously.

“That’s for Emmett.”

“Why it doesn’t surprise me?” She sighed loudly.

Trying to distract yourself with the candles. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Alex crossed her arms, but decided to not press the topic anymore. If you didn’t feel like talking yet, she’d give you space.

For now.

You felt cornered, it was hard to keep something from her but luckily Emmett appeared in your eyesight and you waved at him, giving Alex a sign to keep it to herself. Shaking her head, she walked away to bring out the plates.

“You came!” The smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“Of course, you invited me.” He chuckled.

“Never seen this before.” You pointed it at his shirt, a deep emerald that lighted his eyes even more beautifully than they already were.

He blushed slightly and a nervous laugh escaped his lips, he chose it because it was the only decent and dressy shirt he had for an occasion like that, the rest were dirty or stained.

“Hey! Can I’ve some help?” Alex asked from the house. “Don’t stay there!” She called over the two of you again.

“Better go, before the creatures hear her.” Emmett swore he said it to himself but you were close enough to listen. It was hard to hold your laugh, after the invasion you barely laughed afraid you wouldn’t be able to control the volume and attract them, but not this time.

“What’s so funny?” Alex demanded to know, looking between the two of you.

“Emmett just told me a joke.” You lied wiping the tears away.

As Emmett emerged with his arms full of boxes with drinks, you decided to busy yourself by offering him some help. Oblivious that Alex was keeping an eye on the two of you.

People started to show up, someone brought his guitar, while another person was offering everybody homemade sweets. Dinner was amazing and having the chance to celebrate with the most important people was something you felt extremely grateful for, even if your birthday had already passed. Between laughs and an endless chat, you were now enjoying a piece of a homemade cake, it was like tasting a piece of heaven in your mouth.

The group had been sharing memories before the invasion, it was great to hear he most memorable birthday celebration from each other.

“Bet you’re eager to share yours.” You teased Emmett who was sitting on your left.

“Absolutely.” He replied raising his eyebrows. “Thrilled actually.”

That was one of the things you liked about him the most, he was always able to catch your hint of sarcasm and replied back the same, it was like your little private joke.

“Oh damn it!” Alex mumbled. “Y/N, can you pass me the fork? It’s next to your feet.” She pointed out from her seat on the picnic bench in front of you.

As you were still laughing from what Emmett said, you started to bend down to pick it up, her eyes on you as you moved. But to her surprise, Emmett’s hand was moving at speed to cover the corner of the table, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly at him.

For him it was the most natural thing to do, but to her, it was all she needed to confirm the thoughts that had been running in her mind.

She thanked you after taking her fork. “Should we go and play some music?”

As the group moved towards the bonfire, you looked at Emmett.

“You should join them.” He encouraged, stealing glances at the group.

“Can’t leave you alone to clean up, can I?”

“Y/N it’s fine, really.”

Biting your lip you stared at him. Feeling like sometimes he was pushing you away.

“The night is young, go.” He repeated just as Alex was coming to get you.

“Come on let’s dance!”

You nodded and followed her, feeling a bit off about Emmett. Perhaps you were too pushy with him, trying to be friendly or make him feel part of the group. But as the cheering started for your arrival, it lifted you up and you decided to have a good time, kicking the sand, clapping and doing your best effort to sing along.

Emmett’s eyes landed on you from afar, you were dancing and singing with the small group.

Your cheerful spirit attracted lots of attention, it was inevitable, your carefree attitude, signature happy character and that smile that seemed to be tattooed on your face made you be surrounded by people all the time.

It was one of the things he admired about you the most, despite everything, the things you’ve been through after the invasion, losing your loved ones, that didn’t turn you into a resentful person. All the opposite, it made your heart kinder, softer.

Constantly he asked himself why you cared so much about people who probably wasn’t even worth it. But deep down he knew… because you still believed in good people, you still trusted them.

Wild hair bouncing in different direction made him go back to reality, your cheerful sweet voice made him snap out as you shouted his name while waving at him.

“What are you doing all by yourself?” You asked sitting next to him over the old tree trunk. “You should come.”

“Trying to avoid your disastrous performance.” Emmett teased, ending his words with a chuckle.

“Ugh that rum gets into my brain faster,” you groaned.

“If that’s your excuse…”

“So what’s yours? To be on your own when it’s a beautiful night like this one.”

Sometimes he still wonder how a chatterer like you could’ve made your way through his skin to take a place within his broken heart and leave a permanent mark. Over the weeks since the two of you met, it was as if you opened up his dark and lonely heart, took a chair and declared you would stay there until you made him smile and help him enjoy life again.

“How is it possible that you’re always happy and enthusiastic in a shitty world like this?” Emmett asked after a few moments.

And regretted it immediately, realizing how bitter he sounded.

“Sorry about that, it didn’t come out right.” Worry danced through his eyes, you noticed right before he looked down.

“So what am I supposed to do? Cross my arms and put on an angry face to push everyone away?”

“I don’t have an angry face.” He tried to defend himself.

“Absolutely not, you’re the most friendly human being around,” you nodded making a funny face. “It seems that you already forgot how we met.”

Flashback

Focusing on his surroundings, he was now used to the loud thoughts in the back of his mind, talking to himself most of the time for survival purposes.

He was walking midway across the bridge when he heard a small noise behind his back. He was quick to take his weapon from his shoulder and turn around pointing it in every direction in an attempt to protect himself.

But his heartbeat stopped as he saw the female figure before him.

“You shouldn’t sneak around like that, you know?” He whispered.

“Are you always that friendly?” You asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“Fabulous, me neither… let’s be not-friends.” You extended your hand at him. “Y/N.”

Emmett placed his weapon back on his shoulder, and fixed his eyes on you with a defeated sigh.

“Emmett. What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, just needed some air and a suntan.” You shuddered. “I’m looking for food.”

He wanted to laugh, for the first time in months, he felt something. And in that very moment he realized that you were one of the very few people around worth saving.

“Do you trust a stranger like that all the time? This is a dangerous place right now.”

“Again with the pessimism, Em?” You shuddered. “You don’t look like the kind of people who goes around with bad intentions. I saw you back there, when you had the chance to steal, you didn’t.”

His chest raised from the long breath he took. One more look at you and another one towards the long road ahead.

“Come on, I know a place safe.” He covered his nose and mouth with the old piece of shirt.

End of flashback

“I knew you were a good person right away.” You mumbled letting your eyes swim in the depth of his eyes. “And look at you, that day you found the best damn thing that’s happened to you after the invasion.”

That made him chuckle, just like every single thing you did and said.

“There’s no point to fight that.”

Your heart was doing a strange thing; drumming like it was in a rush to come out of your chest and skipping beats from time to time, specially when his clear eyes were looking intensely at you.

“I’ve something for you.” He announced looking at the ground one of his hands started fishing inside the shirt pocket. “Happy birthday, Y/N I made you this.”

As you were about to ask how could he remember it was your birthday, he showed you a small square of fabric covering a pendant in the form of a flower made of wood. “Emmett it’s beautiful!”

It was something delicate and simple, but to you it meant everything that he made it from scratch.

Without even thinking about it, you threw yourself into his arms. This was the first and only gift you’ve received, as his hands came to rest to your back and his masculine scent intoxicated your senses, you suddenly realized of your impulsive actions and how much he protected his personal space. So you broke the embrace.

“Sorry, I got over excited… thank you so much!”

His eyes were fixed on you as you put it on.

“It’s just something small.” He tried to explain.

“You’re really talented.”

Clicking his tongue he felt the urge to hide his hands.

“Emmett you need to learn to accept compliments, look at the table,” you pointed at the object next to you, “this is a gift, you create beautiful pieces.”

“Well thank you.”

You loved the shy look he gave you.

Nervously you placed your hair behind your ears. “No, thank you.”

“Y/N…”

Staring at his profile, you noticed the freckles kissing his face, neck and the part of his chest that was visible, the moonlight spread shadows beautifully in certain parts of his features, and you couldn’t help but wonder how would his beard feel against your skin.

There was no use in trying to deny it any longer, you had to be honest with yourself… you were in love with this man, and maybe as an introvert he needed a little push. Perhaps if you open up to him, he would do the same.

“Yes?”

Taking a deep breath, you decided you’d take the lead, after the invasion changed everything you decided you wouldn’t miss the chance. What if taking the risk was worth it?

He gave you one more look and you waited patiently.

As Emmett felt you turning your body towards him and the peonies scent of your skin hit him, he looked at your beautiful and delicate features in the dim light.

You were young, beautiful and funny, a walking sunshine. How could he even think of standing a chance to be with a goddess like you?

Fixing his eyes on his hands, he stood up.

“Nothing I just hope you have a blast, goodnight.”

And he left without another word or even a look. Confusion took over you, in equal amount as disappointment. You regretted deeply everything in that very moment. How did you come to think he’d look at you differently? To him you were nothing but a friend, someone who was always joking.

“You’re supposed to be having fun.” Your friend stated, taking the seat next to you.

“I am, Alex.”

“Really? Then you need to say it to your face.” And she pulled you up, towards the bonfire.

****

“You are what?” Alex asked with a shocked expression as she was watching you getting ready.

“Going out with Mark.” You repeated putting on the sandals.

“I didn’t know you guys were seeing each other.” She was majorly confused.

Turning your head to her, you nodded. “He asked me after the bonfire.”

“And… you like him?”

Sighing you paced the room. “Alex what’s with all the questionnaire? I thought you wanted me to have someone.”

Leaning back, she started playing with her sandal, balancing it in her toe. “I thought you liked Emmett.”

From side to side, you saw her sandal move like a pendulum. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you wanna play like that? Fine… stealing glances at him all the time, joining him for his daily walks when he clearly wants to be alone, going to his place with the most ridiculous excuses just to be close, him acting all protective around you…”

“We’re… friends.” You stammered looking away, feeling caught by your best friend. “Can you stop that please?” You were altered.

“Jesus.” She noticed you were in a mood. “He’s grumpy and bearish. You’ve nothing in common how can you say he’s your friend?” She needed to push your buttons.

“That’s a wrong impression most of the people here have.” You defended him. “He’s kind and funny.”

“And?”

You wanted to say that he was smart and well educated and a great cook, but that would only make her suspicious grow.

“I’ve known you since we were in the wombs of our mothers, Y/N. You can’t lie to me.”

There was a long silence, and it was endless.

“I’m in love with him, okay? I don’t know how, but it happened. I love spending time with him, he makes me feel safe, like I can be myself. He makes me love the person I am when we’re together… but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me back, to him I’m just his friend.”

Pouring your soul and feelings to your best friend didn’t change anything, but it made you feel lighter, just as Alex was about to say that she knew there was something between the two of you by Emmett’s protectiveness, Mark arrived.

“I better go.”

“If you’ve feelings for Emmett, this date is useless you know that, right?” She had never seeing you like this before.

“Everything is useless to be honest, but it’s either this date or yelling so a creature would come at me.”

“As dramatic as always.”She rolled her eyes right before watching you and Mark disappear.

It had only been ten minutes when there was a knock, Alex thought you forgot something so she opened the door to scold you, but instead she found the last person she had in mind.

“Emmett?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N here?”

For an instant, Alex felt sorry for him. “She’s out tonight… Mark asked her on a date.”

His jaw clenched, hands curled in tight fits just as an avalanche of emotions flashed in his blue eyes.

***

Part 2