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inumaaaki · 1 year

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« i will continue to love you in every timeline. »

SUKUNA SAVING YOUR LIFE

synopsis: this is based on this random thought.

a/n: this was way harder than i thought it'd be. and it took so much longer than i planned. (i even worked on it during my lectures i just couldn't get it OUT OF MY MIND). anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!!

the curse had come out of nowhere.

you'd been celebrating your victory of successfully eliminating the threat of the grade one curse with your classmates, when all of a sudden, an overwhelming surge of energy knocked the four of you to the ground.

it didn't take long for you to find yourself trapped in the special curse's domain, unable to move due to the sheer pressure of its presence. and it took even less for the three of you to become on the verge of exhaustion, able to barely fight by just for your survival.

"(y/n)! fall back!" you can barely make out megumi's urgent voice before the attack is sent your way, hitting you square in the spine.

the breath is knocked out of your lungs, your mouth opening in a silent scream. unbearable heat and discomfort surges through your bones, incapacitating you.

your hands are trembling, your vision is blurry. around you, the whole world is muffled, like a pillow settling over your five senses. the world is tinted red, and oh? was that a pool of blood increasing in volume with each passing moment?

you struggle to stand up, using whatever strength in your hands to raise yourself up, to keep fighting. if you fall that means you had failed your friends. nobara was already lying unconscious, yuuji and megumi ganging up against the special grade curse.

with shaking legs, you struggle to stand, to balance yourself. but you finally raise your head, bringing your crossed fingers in front of your temple, gathering all your strength into this finally attack.

you accumulate enough cursed energy, feeling your whole body draining, until all at once you release it, and it unleashes stronger than any attack you had ever made.

you were sure, this would hurt the curse badly, enough to create an opening for your friends to finish it off. you and the boys watch it as it finally reaches the curse, the force wave washing over it, you can see yuuji gathering his black flash, ready to take it down—

the curse stands still as the attack washes over it, it sets aflame, and you hear its terrible pained screeches. relief washes over you, the ghost of a smile making its way into your face.

until the flames die out all at once, and the curse slowly, almost comically, turns around. it's previous mocking face was all but gone now. replaced by an ugly frown, it looks angry. and it was looking straight at you.

your eyes widen, hands shaking in disbelief. you can't control the exhaustion as the aftermath washes over you, can't control your trembling lips as you finally collapse.

and then the fear, because you know it's making its way towards you, you know megumi and yuuji won't have time to hold it back. and you really don't want to die, not this soon. you have to move out of its way, but you're on your knees, watching helplessly as it dashes towards you.

unbeknownst to you, at that same moment, excruciating pain surges through yuuji's head. his hands fly up to clutch at his temples as he doubles over.

"get yourself together, we have to help (y/n)!" megumi yells but he knows it's no use, the curse had already crossed half the distance, it was going to get her, and only yuuji's supernatural strength is on par with its own, but he was busy having a migraine—

"he wants to come out!" yuuji finally yells, and in the next instant the all-familiar black tattoos slowly appear on his skin.

he begins growing in size as sukuna takes over his body. megumi couldnt believe his eyes. he had to help (y/n), why the hell did sukuna make an appearance at a time like this? he grits his teeth, taking his defensive stance, but sukuna doesn’t even glance at him.

he dashes towards (y/n), and megumi would have never believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes, but he stands between (y/n) and the curse.

with one swish of his claws the special curse they had almost been killed by is split in half.

there's rage in sukuna's face, rage that freezes megumi on his spot. a manic glint in his eyes as he pounces on the curse and rips it to shreds, even when it is clearly dead.

and when he’s done with it, as he turns around and kneels before you, that rage is nowhere to be seen.

instead, you are sitting there on your knees as you watch it unfold, certain that once the king of curses turns around, you were the one about to be ripped into pieces.

instead he's kneeling in front of you, a conflicted, almost gentle look on his usually demonic features as his large hand reaches out to you, before he stops mid-way.

and you realize with a jolt, that the great curse before you is hesitating.

you feel your heart beating wildly against your chest. you are afraid, very much so. he was so big, so animalistic. with his outstretched claws, his four eyes and his sharp fangs when he opened his mouth only to close it again.

suddenly you feel the tears running down your cheeks, and his eyes soften at the sight.

he isn't hesitant anymore when his hands, with the sheer strength you knew he possessed, wipe away at your tears so gently, so softly, cradling your face as if you were made of glass.

and when he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, you refuse to believe this is reality.

when he pulls away, its yuuji facing you with an incredulous look on his face. and you realize with another jolt, that with his kiss, sukuna had healed all your wounds.

you're left speechless, staring into the eyes of your pink-haired friend as if he had suddenly grown another head. he looks back at you with the same look.

***

a week has passed.

you were growing impatient, but you were also scared.

impatient because yuuji was banned from seeing anyone after his latest 'slip-up'. scared because even though you wanted an explanation for what happened, you feared what it could mean.

however, you should've known better than to assume this presumed ban would last any longer. it took only for gojo-sensei to burst into your room for you to understand his intentions.

"wanna go see sukuna-kun?"

you flush at his insinuation. to be fair, you preferred these jabs to be directed in front of your face rather than behind it. it was what everyone was speaking about, anyways. how you had somehow seduced him.

jujutsu sorcerers were truly insane, in more ways than one.

but that was at the very back of your head. as you follow your very tall sensei through the hallways, you finally reach yuuji's room.

as soon as gojo slams open the door, yuuji jumps up from his bed.

"i swear i have him under control. he just went all crazy and started torturing me from the inside. he made a pact and he only wanted to save (y/n)—"

yuuji stops as soon as he spots you.

you pale. so, it really was true. he didn't, say, hold a grudge against that particular curse, or he didn't feel bloodthirsty all of a sudden. no, but of course not, he had healed you after.

he had wiped away your fearful tears.

"yuuji-kun!" gojo-sensei suddenly exclaims. "do whatever (y/n) tells you to do." and with that, he leaves the both of you together, closing the door behind him with a slam.

"are you okay?" yuuji is the first one to break the silence.

you shake your head, "i am fine," you say lowly, "are you?" you ask him sincerely. this was, after all, the first time you'd seen each other after that dreadful mission.

he flashes you a wary smile, his hand flying to rub the back of his head. “well… ” he starts. “it’s been, strange.”

“what do you mean?”

yuuji’s face is serious when he replies. “he’s been awfully quiet.”

you don’t know how to react to that information, but you can’t help but look away.

you’re now both sitting on yuuji’s bed, knees almost touching. instinctively, you grab his hand with yours and squeeze it.

“that’s a good thing, no?”

“well, yes.” he turns to fully face you. “but he’s never this quiet. he’s always spouting insults and threats, this silence is…unnerving.”

you hum. “i see.” you nod, thinking of the best course of action. “i need to speak to him.”

the words surprised you as much as it surprised him.

“uh-oh, no well in hell.”

“you heard what gojo-sensei said, do whatever i say.”

“i am sure he didn’t mean letting out the king of curses.”

“i am sure that’s exactly what he meant.” and you were very sure. knowing your sensei, he must have known that this is eventual what you would want to do. which is exactly why he uttered that last command to yuuji.

yuuji thrashes around, muttering about how irresponsible and stupid you were being, you didn't disagree, but you stood your ground. with your arms crossed over your chest, your deadpan face finaly drives yuuji to agree.

"fine!" he finally concedes. "but you get ten seconds with him."

you laugh humorlessly, "two minutes."

"you're mad," yuuji shook his head. "i'll give you one minute, but the second i sense malicious intent i am switching."

you nod. "fair enough."

and as yuuji steps back and closes his eyes, you start to panic. what exaclty were you going to do once you face him???

you had no time to think as yuuji starts growing in size, the black tattoos appearing slowly on his skin.

and when narrowed, red eyes glare back at you, you take a deep, shaken breath.

he does nothing but stare at you. you don't miss the way his eyes scan your body, or how his displeased frown only seems to grow by the second. his overwhelming presence takes over your senses. an aura of destruction and death fills the room, and it becomes harder to see anything past the fear clouding your thoughts.

"what do you want, brat?"

somehow, hearing those words helps to calm your nerves. even if they were spoken with such disdain and displeasure. it was the indication you needed to be certain he wasn't going to attack you.

but deep down, you knew all along that he wouldn't hurt you. not really, anyway.

despite every fiber in your being telling you to take a step back, you take one step forward with shaky legs.

he seems taken aback, and if you weren't hyper aware of every slight movement he made, you would've missed the slight inhale of breath when you took another step forward.

"you have some nerve, to stand unarmed before me." he says sowly. "if this were anyone else—"

he realizes his mistake and stops. his jaw is harshly set, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. if this were anyone else.

"i know you." you finally say the words that have been plaguing you all week.

sukuna freezes. three, simple words rendering him in a state of disarray he hadn't experienced in hundreds of years. it was all he could to maintain the scowl on his face, the leer as he looked at this woman to whom he had given out his heart so, so, many years before.

he barely remembered her, and it made him all the more pissed. why would such a puny, tiny, (beautiful) creature make him, this confused? this obsessive, this protective?

he hadn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since he first saw you through the eyes of yuuji. something in him stirred, something he had long lost. but of course, he ignored the jabs he could feel every time you got yourself hurt. he didn't care. he never did.

so why had he gone feral when you had laid there, on the brink of death? the thought of losing you, of your death. it was suffocating, unbearable, he couldn't allow it. he didn't allow it. did he?

and this was why you were here, standing so close to him. loooking at him with those big (e/c) eyes that searched his for answers. you look so soft, so weak compared to his strength; he knew he could kill you with one swipe of his claws. the thought, however, didn't entice him one bit.

and then you spoke those words. i know you. and it was as if you had read him perfectly, saw right through him. understood exactly what was going on here.

"you know me too." it wasn't a question.

your voice was so low, so shaky, but not uncertain. you suddenly wanted to touch his rough skin with your own, to close the distance and feel him. how was it, that one felt affection for a monster?

"you need to stay away from me," he says, and your eyes find his. they were pained, but stern.

"why?"

"because i am a curse." he steps closer, and you realize with a jolt how close he was to you, how, if anyone of you takes one step closer, your chests would collide. "isn't that common knowledge for you troublesome sorcerers?"

and then his hands hover again, just like they did back then when he saved you. and even if he does hesitate like last time, this time, he continues. until his finger is on your face.

gently, slowly. one finger, and then the rest follow as he cradles your cheek.

the breath has long been knocked out of you. he towers over you and you're frozen. how can a beast such as him gaze at you with such longing?

"why do i know you?" you whisper, and he gently shakes his head.

the movement is slow as his eyes roam your face, until they finally settle on your lips. he slowly brings his thumb to brush over your lips.

your heart almost burst through your chest. your lips slightly part.

you can't move, not under his gaze. not when he was this big, this magnificent.

all too soon, he pulls away.

"never seek me out again." he says. you panic, hands reaching out to stop him as he steps away.

but you were too late, yuuji's confused face staring back you.

***

you toss and turn in your bed that night.

a simple moment you'd spent with him, and it had completely taken over your thoughts.

despite your better judgment, for the nth time that day, your fingers ghost over your lips.

you could still feel his touch, hot and hiding a secret you wished to unfold.

who were you to him in your past life? you shudder at the possibilities, at the truth you saw in his rough, yet sincere gaze.

eyes softening at the reminder, you hug your pillow tighter to your chest, as you let out a defeated sighed.

until they suddenly harden upon the following events.

somehow, the higher ups had gotten wind of the situation. you were summoned immediately after departing from yuuji's room.

"this is an unprecedent case," they had said.

"you do understand the importance of this task, don't you, (l/n)?"

"make sure to earn the affection of the king of curses, that way, we might finally be able to control him."

what did they expect you to do? you were barely able to get a minute to speak with him, let alone earn his affection. whatever that meant.

amidst your jumbled thoughts, a yawn makes its way to your mouth. you feel the fatigue washing over you. tapping on your phone screen, it lights up. 2:47, it says. you really should sleep.

but just as soon as you start closing your eyes, your phone starts buzzing non-stop.

annoyed, but more so alarmed, you quickly reach out for your phone. it was yuuji who was blowing up your phone.

pink-haired dork:

(Y/N)!!

he's killing me

he wants to see you

he's demanding to see you

(y/n) i want to see you too, something has happened i need to tell u.

don't come to my room we're both being watched.

(y/n) are u here??? wake up!!!!

you sit up straight, staring at the screen apprehensively. your fingers begin tapping away.

what do u mean we're being watched?? wth

your phone buzzes instantly.

pink haired dork:

megumi told me. he and nobara overheard a conversation earlier. we didn't understand what it meant but i think sukuna does.

he's been pestering me for hours but he just told me it means you're in danger

your confusion increases as you begin to reply.

and you believe him?

pink-haired dork:

i can't risk not to. if this true, (y/n), then we need to get you out of here.

before you can reply, your phone buzzes again.

meet me by the fountain in 15

climb out of the window.

DON'T USE THE DOOR

THEY'RE WATCHING IT

it wasn't that you didn't believe him, this was a hundred percent a scenario you should have seen coming. the higher ups would take advantage of any situation if it meant gaining an advantage over a curse. what you were doubtful again, was the sukuna part.

you don't think too much as you sneak out, not wanting to make yuuji wait out in the cold. you wear a jacket and rush out into the chilly night, being extra careful not to make any sound.

you spot him pacing back and forth besides the fountain. once he hears you coming, he lifts his head. the next moment he was dragging you by the wrist to a more scheduled spot in the garden.

"yuuji what—"

he shushes you, until you reach the location hidden by overgrown trees and vines. "we can't risk anyone seeing us together," yuuji says. "we can't anyone see you near him."

"i got that, but why? what happened?"

"by the ocean's might she was reaped. the devil's claw invincible after an era of peace. the skies welcomed his calamity. against the cruel sorcerers he swore his wrath. the world shall never again know peace shall she be reborn.''

the words were suddenly spoken from yuuji's cheek.

yuuji only nods. as if you were supposed to understand what that meant.

"what does that even mean?" you cross your arms over your chest. and when yuuji only looks as confused as you, you frown.

"this is what megumi and nobara overheard, and sukuna is saying—"

"so you don't know what it mean?"

"no. but he does."

"so tell him to explain!!"

"he won't, unless i let him out."

"let him out then!" you finally retort. you see yuuji falter, you understand his hesitance. but if sukuna wanted to hurt you, he would have already, wouldn't he?

"okey, okey. just be careful alright?" he sends you a stern look. all you could so is nod as you prepare yourself for another showdown with the king of curses.

and once he stands before you in all his glory, you realize this is a bit easier than last time. after all, he was the one who wanted to see you.

"i thought you said, 'never seek me out again'" you make a terrible impression of his previous order.

a big mistake.

you blink and you're pushed on the ground, his hand wrapped around your throat. he was only lightly squeezing, but with his intimidating form leering over you, his fangs barred inches away from your face, you can't help the fear that crawls into your senses.

"know your place, brat." he whispers into your ear. goosebumps erupt against your skin. you can't believe how fast he was, you didn't even see him coming.

you glare at him, trying to wiggle out, but he overpowered you compeltely.

"let me go," you meekly say, looking up into his eyes.

he had already been staring at you intensely, no, not you. your lips. you suck in a shaky breath. in this compromising position, it wasn't difficult to assume what he was thinking about.

"what are you doing?" your voice, barely a whisper.

and then his eyes look up at you, focused on you. "if you'll allow me, i'll make you remember."

you don't know how to answer because you don't understand what he's saying. you also can't form words, they stay, stuck in your throat. and he can see you’re confused, so he decides to show you what he meant.

he leans his whole body in. his breath fans your face. his presence consumes you, he was everywhere. you couldn’t nt ignore it even if you wanted, how his lips were grazing yours, how you knew if you didnt stop this—

you turn your face away. "no!"

"you don't really have a choice, sweetheart."

and you really don't know what he's going to do to you. and you're really scared. and you're trapped, and helpless. and you're wondering why yuuji isn't switching back. you can only close your eyes and await what's to come.

you were expecting a lot of things, but sukuna gently kissing you wasn't one of them.

his rough lips move against yours. a small peck, at first, as if testing, and when you relax into his touch, (a rush of warmth curses through you, as if this is exactly where you need to be), he molds his lips on yours. his hands that had left your neck land softly on your cheeks, in your hair.

and when his gentle ministrations continue, you finally understand what he meant.

you think he had imbued some cursed energy into the kiss, because suddenly the memories come crashing on you.

you see yourself, but not quite you, loving him. not his human form, no. you had loved him as a curse. you see yourself living with him, chastising him against hurting humans. and he listens. for a decade you lived together.

until he had gotten you pregnant. and that's when the jujutsu sorceress of that era had come together. they had ignored your dallying with the curse because it had benefitted them. the biggest threat to them had been tamed by you, after all.

by when they heard news of your condition it was decided. you could not bring his child into the world. a hybrid, an abnormality. they couldn't risk this unpreceded situation from unfolding.

and so they drowned you when sukuna was away, with your unborn child. sukuna came back to find your body floating lifeless ashore. and the sorceress ambushed him then.

in his grief he was overpowered, and despite killing every last one of them, he was still sealed away.

when the vision stop and you're back to reality, you come face to face with a sukuna watching you intently, with concern flashing on his face.

tears were streaming down your face.

"the world shall never again know peace shall she be reborn.'' he whispers. "a mother's wrath born and unseen, awaiting endless moon cycles to be unleashed."

"that's the rest of the prophecy." he pulls away completely, leaving you lying there, consumed by an overwhelming feeling of grief. "they believe you will avenge what happened once i restore your memories, this is why they're discussing what to do with you."

sukuna might have pulled away, doing nothing but staring as your tears fell, but it was taking him everything not to wrap his arms around you, to comfort you and tell you he'll never let those bastards touch you. never again.

and then you sit up and look at him, with those big eyes he had once worshipped. you don't say anything, processing what he had just told you.

the elders want you dead because of a baseless 'prophecy'? how absurd. how utterly foolish.

but you can't help but be scared. they had killed you once. or, even if that wasn't really you, it certainly felt like it. you rub your shoulders, trembling and whimpering.

and then sukuna can't hold back anymore. he makes his way to you, and takes both your hands with his. he squeezes tightly, tighter than he intended.

"no one will hurt you again, or i'll kill them." he says, and watches as your eyes widen, as the tension in your shoulders dissipates, even if by just a little.

because you know. you can feel the truth in his world. he was't going to let anyone harm you ever again. and you weren't sure if that thought ought to comfort you or scare you to the bone.

a/n: i might do a part 2??? there’s just so much sexual tension between them that deserves to be….written about XD

taglist: (everyone who liked/reblogged the prompt) (the ones i could tag anyway) (faceless blogs ignored)

@multiple-fandom-here-wego @odwashere @nikster1111 @dellalyra @shigaraki-b @omgher @minjilovers @scarletbedlam @moonseye @honeyhoneyyyyyy @manjiros-wifey @zoeylunar @soheexxe @gimyeongbestboymain @incognitoowl @ipandora001 @eymahys @imvivian @1-800-mika @stareatch @odwashere @weirdnewbie @bulletinreporter @sukustar @17cherries @sofdah11 @kenmaslittlebrat @dabishotgf @xoiajules

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #jjk imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

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Yan!Parents Daemon/Rhaenyra Targaryen Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Are these headcanons good? I don't know, but I hope you like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes ;) 🩵🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and murder, unhealthy platonic relationships and messy writing.

❝🐉pairing: platonic yandere!daemyra x gender neutral!reader.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were looking forward to the arrival of their first child. Daemon already had two daughters and Rhaenyra her three precious boys, but they were very eager for the first fruit of their marriage to be born.

The day Rhaenyra gave birth to you was one of the happiest memories of her life. The pain of childbirth was excruciating, but when she could hold you in her arms, it was all worth it.

Daemon actually sobbed when he held you for the first time. You were so small, so innocent and so perfect. He swore to himself that he would do anything to be good to you. You would be loved and adored forever.

They are both extremely overprotective and possessive over you. You are their child, you belong to them, so you should not associate with anyone they do not approve of.

Any friends you may have will be investigated by Daemon and if he finds anything that displeases him, that friend will disappear from your life. He is not objective, if that person's great-grandfather was an bastard, for example, that means they will never be good to you. And you deserve only the best.

Rhaenyra not only agrees with this, but encourages her uncle-husband's actions. You are her baby, the most precious person in her life and she only wants the best for you. She will give you the best, she knows what is good for you. After all, mom always knows best, right?

Your older siblings would also have developed their own obsession with you, encouraged by their parents. It didn't take long for the Velaryon brothers and Daemon's daughters to become completely attached to you.

You were not only your parents' obsession, but also your siblings, meaning you can bet no harm would be done to you. You were spoiled and protected, the apple of everyone's eye in Dragonstone.

Whatever you want, you will have. Rhaenyra and Daemon are completely soft when it comes to disciplining you, just one puppy look and they will forget everything. You are their child, you could do no wrong in their eyes.

Everyone is instructed to spoil and protect you, the servants, the guards and your brothers will do so willingly too.

Daemon is very possessive, he feels entitled to you because you are his child. He will kill anyone who looks, says, or even breathes wrong at you. There's no way he's going to let anything happen to you.

Rhaenyra is more controlled, but she is still a dragon and you should never mess with a dragon's offspring. She loses all her senses, her reason when something happens to you. Even if it's a paper cut, she will go into a frenzy of rage.

Any love interests or suitors will also be dealt with quickly. They won't allow you to get married, no one will ever be good enough for you.

If something were to happen to you, gods be good, for the true fury of the Targaryens would be revealed. They will burn, kill and destroy everything in their path for you. All that matters is you, the war will be forgotten by you.

And when it was just ashes and the smell of blood and death was in the air, they would be satisfied. Daemon and Rhaenyra will go to extremes for you. You are their baby and no one, absolutely no one, can change that.

Daemon and Rhaenyra will not lose anyone else, not their child. And when the war for the Iron Throne begins, you would be locked in and protected the entire time. Your parents love you and would do anything, but they don't know boundaries or privacy. It doesn't matter, after all, they are your parents.

#hotd #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yan!mom Rhaenyra targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yan!dad daemon targaryen #headcanons #yandere headcanons #x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere daemyra #yan!parents daemyra

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withleeknow · 17 days

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wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Again, tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

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appleblueberry-pie · 1 month

Note

You asked Yan!Miguel requests and I shall deliver

Yan!Miguel with a spider!reader that wasn't bitten by a spider but rather was experimented on (Alchemax still doing shady stuff) and has the same superpowers as Miguel (only that their venom is deadly).

However even after surviving the tragic things their canon indicates, they're a ball of sunshine.

oh yeah. it's all coming together.

MINE, ALLLLL MINE.

Miguel was having mixed feelings. He was coming to a point where it was hard to focus on his important work. It was hard to ignore his anxiety stomachache. Hard to ignore the usual annoying people that just wouldn't leave him alone in his man cave. And it was especially hard to forget about you. It wasn't ever possible to not think about you, but he just couldn't push you to the back of his head for at least two minutes. It was hurting him. It was also hurting his technology he kept destroying(he crushed two keyboards and threw his printer).

Why can't he just figure you out? Since Jess found you in your universe and immediately gave you the green flag to help his team of spider-people, he's found out so many things about you. But every time he is given an answer about one thing, it just digs him into a deeper hole of realization that he really doesn't know you. For starters, there's no legal government information of you anywhere. He's been watching you through his monitor for at least 2 hours a day, and most of your day consists of you beating ass. Like you have no other thing to do in your life, not to mean it in an insulting way.

It's just weird, because almost all spider-people have lives outside of them being spiders. But the more he observes you, your superhero life just reminds him more and more of....himself. You didn't have the obvious genetically-enhanced spider build that usual spiders do. Which was taller and slimmer. You were for sure taller(he did his research, you sprouted by 6 inches in height), but you were more on the muscular, bigger side. And this way, you would benefit more for close combat to take down enemies, instead of almost entirely relying on your webs. Similar to how he was. Another example to further explain, is he was watching you on his monitor while you had a mission to bring another universe's Green Goblin back to their universe. He found that your webs were obviously bio-engineered. Either you made these yourself, or someone made them for you. So, you were physically more powerful than the usual spider, had bio-engineered webs, and the way you fought.....

You had chased down that Green Goblin like he killed your family. It's not an exaggeration. GG was fast, but you were faster. He took multiple jerks around corners and through narrow alleyways, flying to get away from you. But you caught him. Slammed his body into the brick wall, damaging it. He screamed bloody murder to get away from you, and you just kept hitting him. He watched as your fist collided with his face multiple times. And when you finished, he saw you basically unhinge your jaw to show your long, venom-dripping, white fangs. They showed beautifully through the video footage lighting. They had to hurt when they protruded, it had to. But you didn't seem to care about anything in that moment besides finishing off your prey. You sunk your fangs into his neck, piercing them into his flesh as deep as you could, your regular teeth almost breaking into his skin as well. GG's scream of excruciating pain faded into complete silence. Miguel watched the man go limp in you arms. Was he dead? You held him to your body as close as you could to hide your catch from anyone who could've found the both of you. It concerned him so much with how you went about finding him, he had to interrupt you by calling your watch. You seemed to snap out of whatever trance you were in and removed your teeth from the now limp villain.

"Hello?" Your sweet voice rang through his watch and he couldn't find the right words to tell you to just bring the poor guy back to base. When you did, three doctors had to help resuscitate Green Goblin. What the hell did you do? You were asked this multiple times and you just felt more and more guilty when people continued to say it to you. Miguel decided to step in and remove you from the emergency room and just told you to take a few days off. All he could say to you is you deserved it, so you took his word. He immediately turned his monitors back on when you went back home, because it wasn't the end of your continuous mysteries.

When you go home, you clean up and then disappear. This wasn't news to him. But it was confusing because the cameras couldn't catch where you possibly went, even at different angles. It was somewhere in your bathroom. You'd open the shower curtain, step into the shower, close it and then not come out for the next 5 minutes. You did this once every two weeks. Other times when you were gone for the day, he tried to find the secret room you obviously had and...nothing. He couldn't find a damn thing. The wall was solid, it didn't seem like it was hiding anything. He scanned it multiple times with different gizmos he had up his sleeve, but nothing. So, after installing a small robotic fly that he placed into your home, he got lucky and managed to slip into a room hidden behind your shower when you went in at the dead of night. The room was almost entirely dark and all you had in there was countless metal bottles of some sort of a glowing serum and you would inject it into your shoulder. Something very similar to what he does to himself. He was surprised to next week with this information. What made it worse was that right after you injected yourself, you found his fake fly. So now you know someone was watching you. He can only hope you don't find out it was him who implanted it.

But now he was sure. You were just like him. It made him as happy as it made him frustrated because you had him all figured out. You knew he used injections, that he wasn't a natural spider, you probably also knew he loved you to the moon and back. He had a soft spot for you, and it showed so much it was pathetic. You could walk into his cave and call out for him with your siren song, and he would immediately turn off everything and drift your way, sweet nicknames for you sliding off of his tongue like sugar. He only ever wanted to please you. And he felt like you knew this. But even with everything he just found out about you just today, he still seemed in the dark.

All he knew is that you were a happy-go-lucky sweet girl. He didn't know why you did the things you do. Why you inject yourself, and why you are so predatory and ruthless when you basically hunt villains down. So, he asks you.

"Miguel?" He swipes all of his holographic screens away and turns off the rest of his devices, making a 180 to fully face you as you hop onto his platform. The smell of Empanadas wafted up his nose as you give three separate containers to him. "The cafeteria guy said he had extras, so I brought as many as he would let me for you. I know you don't eat much since you're really busy." His heart swells with affection as he coos at your sincere kindness, opening one to take his first bite. "Ohhh, querida, you didn't have to."(My dear)

You watch him place the rest on his desk and he finishes chewing to talk to you. "Thank you......So.....I wanted you to see me so that I can talk to you about how you handle the anomalies in other universes, and maybe even the regular villains in your own universe." You nod understandingly and Miguel had to ignore his increasing heartbeat at your eyes staring up at him.

"I'll be honest with you, amor. When groups are out to capture an anomaly, I usually don't have to monitor them because I have other people to do that for me. But Jessica and I sent you off on your own, knowing how much we can depend on you to carefully capture the anomaly with no troubles, which I know you don't. But, still, I take precautions and monitor you every now and then to make sure if you're alright or if you need any support. But when I see you through the my screens....you are....particularly rough with them. And it's more rough than the usual spider would be." You seem to know what he was talking about and advert your gaze, messing with your suit. (Love.)

"Y/n, you almost killed Green Goblin the other day." You purse your lips and nod in agreement. "Yes, I....."

You hesitate to speak. You didn't want anyone to know about your past. Did he have to know? You guessed so, since you are a part of a really big multiverse-saving company. It was so hard to escape Alchemax when they fucking tortured you every single day for their own pleasures. That stupid serum you can't live without? You stole enough to live for the next 3 years. And that's all you really needed. You took an Alchemax worker's apartment that you found deep in their records, knowing that if you fake your emails and his work, you could live in secret. You didn't want to live on like this forever. You knew that after those three years ended, then they ended. And you would follow.

Your only hope for the rest of your life is to live in secret and to help people as much as you can before you died. The serum just makes you a little.....violent. Just the way that the scientists liked it so that you could run on it for longer than usual. So, here you are. But how are you supposed to explain that to your boss?

"......Y/n?" He softly calls your name, concern etching his face as he reaches out to touch your hand. He almost didn't want to, not knowing how you felt about it. But when his finger very lightly grazed your warm and soft palm, you blinked back to life, grabbing his hand back. A breath entered his lungs and he seemed to be reborn at your sudden advancement to his touch.

".....Yes. I do have something to tell you." His eyebrows scrunch as he nods and pulls up a random chair to sit and wait for you to talk. You told him everything. About how you are an experiment on legs, how you were from Alchemax, and that they were the people that really owned you. And you being a spider-person is just you doing as much as you can for the city you loved so dearly. How you only had three or less years to live with the serums you had hidden in your home. How you literally don't care if you die anytime before that, and you're doing your part in life that doesn't make you as useless as you thought you were.

Miguel watched you say all of this. He watched your face. He watched how you....really didn't care. You were so calm about all of these life threats that you continuously had hovering over your head. You live life every day as if it was your last. What if someone burned your house down? What if Alchemax found you?? What would happen to you then?

"I can help you. Lyla." He almost seemed to work on autopilot. "Bring me documents of the chemical makeup of my own serum for me. While you're at it, turn all of the equipment in Floor 4's laboratory on for me." All of his tech equipment were back on again as he pulled his own serum, meant for next week, out of his drawer. "Miguel...?" "Y/n, can you bring me one of your own serums? I'll be in the lab when you come back. Find me on the fourth floor. Lyla can show you the way."

"Miguel!" He pauses and looks down at you. You shake your head as a shaky smile is brought to your face. "I don't need you to do this for me. I'm fine with the way things are." Miguel scrunches his face and steps towards you. "Qué? Te estás escuchando a ti mismo? Y/n, I don't want you to die. Nobody wants you to die. Y-you need to be here, No entiendes? Do you want to be a spider for the rest of your life, violently killing people the way you were taught? You can be given a regular life. A new life, here with me! You deserve more than just....being a machine. Because you're more than just a weapon. You're human."(What? Are you hearing yourself?)(Don't you understand?)

Miguel went too far with his speech. He said too much. Every word that continued to spill out of his lips dug him into a farther hole. You were crying, but it still didn't help the fact that you now know that he probably is infatuated with you. He tries to save face by saying more, but instead, his hand reaches out to wipe the tears off of your face. It couldn't possibly be real, the way you leaned into his touch. Your wet face touched his palm and he stuttered endlessly. Fuck, he had to get out of here.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to say that to you. It was unprofessional." You shake your head and lift your face out of his hands, staring up at him with those glistening eyelashes, your beautiful shiny eyes looking up at him. "No.....I'm glad you told me that. I.....thank you." He looks away bashfully and takes a step back....another....and then another until he walks off out of the cave to go down to the laboratory.

What is he going to do about you? He loves you too much to let you continue doing this horrible job. It was killing you.

Something feels off about this, but I am going to post it anyways because it's been bothering me like a collar tight around my neck all day. Needed this badly.

#yandere #yandere x you #reader #yandere x reader #yandere character #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel 2099 #miguel fanfic #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader

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norrizzandpia · 9 months

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I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You (Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: With time apart, will Lando and Y/n set aside the mistakes they’ve made to make room for their love or will the fights take over and, in turn, their love become a story of the past?

Warnings: basically depression, getting evicted? Is that a trigger (lmk if i missed anything as always xx)

The months following Y/n walking out on Lando were pure hell for both parties involved. His performance in races plummeted as he stopped showing up for training sessions, meetings, and everything else in between. It didn’t matter how many pep talks each driver gave him with the end goal of at least getting him out of bed, he stopped being funny, charismatic, and optimistic Lando. The 23-year-old male became a shell of a human, completely swallowed whole by the void Y/n left in her wake. No one had seen him in that kind of pain ever. Most of the time, Lando would take a day to wallow, but he always ended up picking himself back up and trying again. But, with hours spent crying alone and days spent on autopilot, no one saw an end in sight.

Y/n, on the other hand, took the louder approach at trying to rid herself of the saddened feeling. Going to parties and drinking until she couldn’t walk straight became the norm for her. She was so afraid to be left alone to her thoughts, with her phone, with herself. She didn’t want to find out how excruciating the pain of losing Lando was once the alcohol stopped flowing and the music stopped playing.

However bittersweet, what it took to get her life to catch up with her was the day she held eviction papers in her hands. She had gotten home at 2 AM only to find a neon yellow sheet taped to her door. Honestly, she had been waiting for it to happen. With being unemployed and distracting herself from thoughts of Lando and everything they could have been, she stopped paying her bills. While dangerous, she couldn’t care what happened to herself. With news of Lando not doing well after they parted ways, she blamed herself for both of their pain. So, she clutched the bolded words in her small hands as tears welled in her eyes. Sobbing, she had called Daniel that night, pleading with him to come over and help claw her way out of the biggest hole she had ever dug for herself.

“Y/n?” Daniel’s groggy voice filtered through the speakers of the phone.

“Daniel.” Her choked sobs woke him up immediately, coincidentally jolting Heidi awake as he jumped out of bed to throw some clothes on, waving goodbye to his girlfriend and letting her know he would explain later.

By the time he was out of the door, her tears had quieted and she began filling him in on everything he had missed in the few months she had gone silent, “I’ve been evicted.”

His heart stopped, “What?”

Her tears returned, “Yep! I’m homeless now. I guess this is karma. I’ve ruined Lando’s life, I’ve ruined mine. I just ruin things. I hurt people and I destroy relationships and I stop everyone around me from being happy. God, I suck, don’t I? I mean, I had it all. I had Lando, he was telling me everything I wanted to hear. Jesus, he was begging me to stay and I still left! I can’t let myself be happy!”

Daniel’s heart broke for the girl on the other side of the phone as he sped to her house, “Y/n, none of that is true. You didn’t ruin anyone’s life. Your feelings were and are valid. You don’t destroy everything around you. You never have and you never will. Everyone loves you, Y/n. Don’t forget that.” He continued to reassure her as he drove to her. Listening to her cries of anguish only reaffirmed the fact that someone, anyone, had to force the couple to make amends.

—

“Lando? You in there?” Carlos asked through the door. A quiet murmur told the Spaniard his friend was, in fact, resting within his driver’s suite. Opening the door, he was met with Lando, sitting on the floor with the contents of his backpack spilled out in front of him.

Brows furrowed, Carlos crouched down to meet the London boy’s level, “What are you doing?”

Lando’s hands flew over the pile of contents, “I’m looking for a birthday card.”

Carlos shook his head, “A birthday card?”

Lando nodded frantically, seemingly in immense panic, “Yes! A birthday card! Y/n gave it to me last year and I never take it out of my backpack because I usually want to read it over again before a race! But, I can’t find it, Carlos! I can’t fucking find it anywhere!”

His breaths picked up as his voice broke. Carlos, gently, placed his hands over his friend’s swinging arms and held them tightly as to stop their flailing.

“Lando, you need to breathe.” Carlos said pointedly as he stared at the blue eyes across from him, filled with so much pain and regret.

Lando always tried to hide his tears from other people. Knowing that he was the happy and joyful one, it always felt wrong to show feelings of sadness in front of others. However, Y/n had shown him that showing that specific feeling was okay, that it allowed others to be able to connect with him on a deeper level. So, this time, he didn’t try to hide the tears that fought to fall from his face.

Lando’s hands rubbed over his eyes as he quietly said, “It’s the last thing I have of her and it’s gone, just like she is. I can’t take this anymore. I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. The thought of never seeing her again…” Carlos squeezed his shoulders, “That couldn’t have been the end of us, right?”

Carlos shook his head, “I don’t think it is, Lando. I think you’ll find your way back to each other, whether that’s tomorrow or in 50 years.”

Lando sighed, “But, I can’t wait 50 years.”

“Then, you have to fight for her.”

—

“What happens if she walks out?” Lando asked Daniel as they made their way toward Daniel’s front door.

“Then, you follow her.” Daniel retorted as they came to a stop in front of the large slab of wood, “Listen, Lando, it’s going to be hard, but you just have to be persistent. That is until you’re sure she doesn’t want to hear from you. But, I don’t think that’s a possibility. Ever since she’s moved in with me, I’ve gotten to catch her scrolling through old photos of the two of you or text messages you used to share. Trust me, mate, she’s still head over heels for you.”

Lando blushed and nodded his head, “Thank you for everything. For helping me plan all of this and allowing me to talk to her. I know how much you want to protect her from our lives.”

Daniel sighed, “You’re right, I do. She’s like a little sister, you know? But, I do know that, without you, she’s miserable and that’s worse to watch than her going through paparazzi.”

Pushing the door open and taking a deep breath, Lando whispered a thank you to Daniel before making his way through the foyer.

“Daniel? Is that you? I’m finishing up dinner right now!” Her voice yelled throughout the house and when it met Lando’s ears, he was hit with a large feeling of comfort. After all these years, she had become his home, it wasn’t a physical place or written address, it was just her.

Stepping into the kitchen, Lando stood and observed her while she had her back to him. The way she moved about the space with a small sense of confidence. The level at which she was carrying herself didn’t match the amount of self-assurance she used to have, but he had also been informed by Daniel that her mental health had taken a hit after all this time apart, something that hurt him more than her walking out on him could ever have.

As she turned around and her eyes landed on the boy she had dreamt of for so long, she faltered.

“Wha-” Words were lost on her, “What are you doing here?”

Lando breathed deeply, “I know everything that happened between us before was messy and we thought that was it, but I refuse to let you go that easy.”

She shook her head, “I’m confused. What are you saying?”

He took a step toward her and, thankfully, this time, she didn’t take one back, “I’m saying that I love you. I always have. Since the moment we met in the McLaren building where you asked me where Zak’s office was, I’ve been in love with you. I’m so sorry for everything I said in that interview. I never wanted to tell you about my feelings that way because I’ve always known you deserve so much. If I could take it all back and redo that moment over again, I would. If I could do it again, I would’ve told you how in love with you I am when I realized it which was, like, 2 months in. I was stupid to think I could stop my feelings for you by dating around and seeing what other people were out there because, in the end, I won’t ever be able to help falling in love with you.”

At his words, she took a step closer, so did he, “Not being with you is like if someone took cheese off pizza.” The two chuckled, “See! It’s ridiculous! Absolutely, positively stupid because they go together, they always have. That’s how I am with you. Without you, I’m not the same person and, now that I know that, I’m going to keep fighting for you, for us, until it works out. I love who I am with you, so does everyone else. It’s always been written in the story of my life to be with you because it’s a necessity. You have always been written into the story of my life because I’ve never loved anyone as hard as I do you and I’m incredibly sure that will never change.”

Now, standing so close to each other, Y/n looked into the eyes of the man she had missed so much and found herself forgiving him for the mistakes he made. With glass eyes and a quivering lip, she pulled him into her arms, “Lando, I’ve missed you.”

His arms squeezed her waist as he nuzzled his head in her neck, “I’ve missed you too, my love. You’ll never understand how much.”

They stood like that for a few moments before Lando’s head tugged backward and he captured her eyes with his, “Wait, you never said it.”

Tilting her head, Y/n asked, “Said what?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, “You know!”

She was about to protest until she realized what she had failed to say back in the heat of the moment, so she smiled and kissed his lips lightly before pulling back, her breath fanning across his face as she said, “I love you too. Always have and always will.”

Finally, the words that brought the light back into Lando’s life.

So, take my hand.

Take my whole life too.

For I can’t help falling in love with you.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #lando norris #Spotify

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writing-in-glitter-pen · 5 months

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♡𖠣 patchwork♡𖠣 II childe x fem!reader II mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, cheery epilouge

Childe needs to see you before he meets his end; a precipice he is very near to by the time you find him miles from your home, crawling through the snow. To his confusion, you've taken him in and dedicated yourself to nursing him back to health. Little did you both know, your love for one another ran deep enough to heal all wounds.

content warnings: Childe is badly injured so there are descriptions of blood, broken ribs, aches and pains. Descriptions of applying medical stitches to close open wounds. Nothing too descriptive. I am not a doctor so do not try this at home. Mutually possessive themes. A suggestive comment in the epilouge. Let me know if I should add anything else!

Also, happy Thanksgiving everyone :) I am so grateful to each and every person who finds my work and enjoys it; these past six months of my blog being up and running has been so fulfilling and magical. I'm so lucky to have this community ♡ I'm sending all my love to you today ♡

“Blow.”

Childe puckered his split, dry lips and let out a weak breath---no power behind the gust at all. The hot steam that rose from the spoon you held to his lips mocked him; such a small opponent, unshaken and uncooled by his efforts.

You sighed; he wasn’t healing as fast as he should be...meaning, he most likely was ignoring your instructions and not adhering to his strict bed rest.

You were straddling him where he lied on the bed in your guest room, propped up by a mountain of pillows---including the ones from your own bed and the throw pillows from your couch; a desperate attempt to make him as comfortable as possible, which was a feat not easily achieved given his broken state. If you’d sat at his side, he wouldn’t be able to face you, since his cracked ribs made any movement excruciating. Even so, he refused to stay put, risking his health every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the shower or the bathroom. You told him you should be assisting him any time he had to exert himself, but he vehemently refused your help with his hygiene---it was simply humiliating that a grown man like him would need help washing himself, especially your help. “Save me my pride.”, he begged, the grim and embarrassed look on his face making you cave. You agreed to his demands as long as he’d let you walk him to and from the amenities, that way he wouldn't risk falling on his way and injuring himself further. But he’d still disobey and take himself there while you weren’t looking. You took to smelling his hair every time you came to check on him, smoothing it back and lifting your nose to his forehead to check if he showered without you getting him there safely. He always smelled clean, bringing that frustrated frown he loathed to be the cause of to your pretty face.

“You’ll kill yourself.”, you’d warn, “And I’ll have to bury you in the backyard.”.

He didn’t understand why you cared so much—why you, literally, dragged him back to your house after finding him beaten and bloody only a couple miles from your cabin, having crawled from a camp in a Snezhnayan forest he had been instructed to collect a debt from the residents of. They'd expected his visit and prepared an ambush of twenty. Normally, he could win a battle such as this with ease, but his exhuastion from the continuous missions he was assigned by the Fatui without breaks became too much for him. Thank Celestia you found him when you did, having fortunately been scavenging for snow berries in the very same forest.

He had been hauling himself in the direction of your cabin, trying to get as far as he could so that he might deliver you the letter he’d been saving in the breast pocket of his daily coat for years. One he’d carried with him always to ensure that, in the event he met his end, that his final confession would reach you.

A letter he’d been too cowardly to send to you in life—his one and only friend, the girl he grew up with in grade school, who he’d chosen to play make believe in the snow and ice-skate with, rather than hunting and roughhousing with the other boys in his class. It wasn’t that those boyish activities didn’t interest him, it was that his interest in you outweighed those hobbies by tons. You were everything, still were.

That’s why it was so mortifying that you had to nurse him back to health; shouldering the consequences of his deadly line of work.

Not only did he almost lose his life to his opponents, but for you to find him at his weakest made the shame burn all the worse.

You leaned over to where you brought the spoon a centimeter from his lips, nose nearly brushing his own as you gently blew on the sip of homemade chicken soup inside. He felt your warm breath on his lips, the feeling of you made his pale cheeks turn pink and weak heart sputter in his chest.

If his ribs weren't broken, if they were still in the healthy condition of a cage they once were, he might believe his chest housed a hummingbird; the pace of his heart mimicking the incessant beating of it's wings. The way just being close to you stirred and electrified him, you could bring him back to life with just a kiss.

Your eyes flicked back up to his, urging the spoon to his lips, indicating you wanted him to open them.

He did, his gaze not breaking from yours as he opened his mouth and let you feed him. It was such an intimate moment that you forgot to breathe, catching your breath as you watched him swallow the meal you'd prepared for him and him alone. Though you were both quiet, it felt like the room buzzed lowly around the both of you. He didn't know it, but the way he looked at you with such deep warmth made you shiver.

“You were up last night, weren’t you?”, you finally asked, already knowing the answer.

Indignity marred his face as he averted his eyes to the wooden floor of your house, but his break from your irritated gaze didn’t last long. You took his chin between your thumb and forefinger and redirected his attention back to your face.

“Tell me the truth.”

He had no choice now. You had him pinned.

“…Yes, I got up…sorry.”

Your disappointed face made him flinch—stinging more than your anger or scorn ever could.

You sighed, closing your eyes and moving your hand from his chin to cup his cheek, worried eyes boring into his and squeezing his heart.

“You’re delaying your healing process. Every time you get up without help—“

“I don’t need a walker like a decrepit, old man”, he spat, instant regret pailing him. He hated that he snapped at you, hated that he couldn't control himself. His embarrassment would overwhelm him---like it always did when you looked at him like a wounded animal. He turned his face away from you once again, but you pulled his attention right back.

“Stop it.”, your stern command sat like a rock in his stomach. Though, the heavy feeling dissipated when your gaze turned soft and fretting. “I’m sorry I’m playing 'demanding nurse', but I need you to work with me if you’re ever going to get better. I don’t want these wounds to be permanent; getting up without help will make your bones heal wrong, or open your stitches back up.".

He knew better than to take his eyes off of you at this point, but the guilt in his expression told you all you needed to know. His late night walk last night had come with consequences.

“You didn’t—"

Without warning, you threw the blankets off of him, only to find a bloody, crudely secured bandage over the deep laceration on his abdomen. He'd popped his stitches.

“Childe!”, your shriek made him wince. “Why didn’t you tell me!”.

“I’m sorry…”, he started, but you didn’t hear him. You were already running off to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.

He was getting really sick and tired of disappointing you. He'd been in this room for weeks, been your constant source of anxiety and labor for weeks, and he wasn't getting any better.

...but you were never frustrated. Sure, he'd annoy you with his pride, but no amount of effort put into caring for him would ever be a waste, not to you, at least. He'd pop his stitches or worsen a crack in his ribs with a fall or sharp movement, you'd scold him, but no matter how many times it happened, you'd always redo them, always hold ice packs or heating pads over his aches; carefully, gently.

He watched your beautiful, soft hands work while they drew the needle and thread through him---and he wouldn't flinch. It didn't even hurt. It couldn't, when it was a mesmerizing sight; the way you left what would be permanent scars along his body---covering the old ones left by his enemy. Scars that were not made to wound, but to heal. Any mark you left upon him was gratefully accepted, knowing that he'd now carry evidence of you and your care with him at all times, all the way up until his last day in this world.

Like clockwork, the process was quick and painless. The first time you'd sewn him up, you had no clue what you were doing; fumbling and sobbing as you desperately tried to save his life. Tears clouded your view and your shaking hands couldn't safely find purchase on his abdomen. But Childe steadied you, held you close and whispered reassurances and apologies to you while talking you through every step. Now, he was like your personal patchwork doll. You'd sewn him up every time he went and hurt himself again, each stitch made with love and care.

When you were done, you wiped the area with a warm, firewater-soaked cloth, then applied an antibacterial ointment. He'd tried to take it from you, insisting he could apply it himself, but you smacked his hands away.

"You're my patient. Just sit back and let me take care of you.", you said it like it was nothing; a plain fact, your job. But it wasn't your job. He couldn't see why you were so compelled to shoulder this work yourself when you could've had him carted off to a Fatui infirmary the day you found him.

"They won't take care of you like I will.", was all you would say.

You knew the Fatui infirmary would prioritize getting their war machine in working order as soon as possible, rather than giving him quality treatment and time to heal. You also knew that, since visitors were not allowed into the Fatui headquarters, he would be all alone. And you wouldn't have that. You'd gotten letters to your residence that the Fatui knew you had their harbinger and were coming to collect him, but you used every one of them as kindling for the hearth in Childe's room. Soldiers had shown up at your front door, demanding entry or that you send their harbinger out to them, but to their surprise, you fought them like a wildcat. It was incredible how fierce you'd gotten over the subject of Childe's care, not allowing anyone but yourself to touch him. Your shouting startled the agents and they backed off as you swung the wooden spoon you'd been holding at them, warning them to get lost.

"He'll be back when he's healed and not a moment sooner!", you'd hollered as they begrudgingly trudged away.

Childe's gaze on you was proud and soft at the memory; you were the only person that had ever fought for him---and fought Fatui agents two times your size with a wooden spoon, too.

At your request, he greedily accepted your touch, closing his eyes as he let himself be blissfully consumed by the feeling of your kind hand smoothing the ointment over his skin.

When you finished, you sat back and examined him for a while. You did this often---like you were saving the image of him somewhere deep within you, like you were scared to forget him, scared to lose him. Your gaze washed him in warmth, his chest aching from the well of love he harbored for you. It made his eyes glitter and his heart ask questions it was desperate to know the answers to.

"...why do you put yourself through this?", the question slipped from his mouth in a whisper before he had the chance to think it through. It had been eating away at him since the day you took him in.

You tilted your head, the curious pout on your lips making him gulp; you were so very cute.

"Through what?", you asked.

"This.", he clarified, lifting his arms as much as he could to gesture to the situation you'd both found yourselves in. "...you know you don't have to.".

"I want to.", you argued. "The Fatui wouldn'---"

He interrupted your statement, "wouldn't take care of me like you would, I know. But that doesn't answer my question.", he looked into your eyes with furrowed eyebrows and painful confusion in his expression. "I know I'm burdening you. So why would you put yourself through this?".

In all honesty, he was terrified of your answer. He feared that asking would make you come to your senses and finally send him away; though he knew you deserved to get his hopeless corpse out of your house.

What he didn't expect was the lips he was so enamored with curving into a smile.

"You said you were mine; so you're mine to take care of. No one else's."

Now this perplexed him. He'd been yours since the day he met you, when your pretty face and gentle demeanor tethered him hopelessly to you from your first shared smile. And that tether coiled itself tighter and tighter around him with every day you spent at each other's side, every time he observed your unending compassion---building huts for creatures of the forest before snow storms would hit, patiently helping him with the school subjects he struggled in, babysitting his siblings with him while his parents were away...but what was so confusing was, he'd never told you. He belonged to you in silence and silence alone, neglecting to inform you of the hold you had on the heart he'd willingly given to you long ago.

He was at a loss for words, your exclamation hitting the nail right on the head. He was yours, but how did you know?

His wide eyes and crimson cheeks only made you chuckle, pulling his letter out of the apron you wore---the letter he'd saved on his person at all times for you in the event of his death.

"Unless this isn't yours?", you asked, cheekily.

His face paled. You must've found it after you'd taken him back to your house to care for him. You'd washed his clothes, including his coat, and emptied the pockets before throwing them in the wash bin---finding his letter for you safely tucked in the pocket that rested above his heart.

You opened the letter and read aloud your favorite passage to him:

"When you find my body, I ask that you carve out my heart and take it with you; it belongs to you, just as my body, my mind and my soul, though I fear the whole of me is too heavy for you to carry. Carry this, so you may have me and not be crushed by my weight. So you may have proof that I, and everything I am, belongs to you."

The rosy, dreamy smile that bloomed on your lips as you cantored his confession to him like gospel brought his deepest wishes and desires to life; you accepted him and his love with your full heart. His voice escaped him as you made his dreams come true with just a smile. Your perfect, perfect smile.

"Childe...", you said with a sweetness in your voice that rivaled any dessert he'd ever tasted.

His name falling from your lips made his heart jump.

"...yes?"

"...I love you.", the phrase left your throat like a quiet, ardent cry. I love you. It came from a deep, ancient part of your heart; a space carved out long ago for the boy you spent your childhood with, a space whose walls strain against the fullness of it. You'd stuffed it full of so much care for him, it felt like it was just a pinprick from bursting.

Your words made his own heart whine and scrape at the confines of his chest like a puppy wanting out of its cage so that it may find its beloved owner.

"That's why I take care of you. I love you.". It wasn't an explaination, it was a promise. It was a confession that you were just as tethered to him as he was to you.

Without another word, you scooted closer and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, careful not to lean too much of your body weight on him, but enough to envelop him in your warmth. He felt your heart beating against his, a passionate duet between lovers that had gone too long unsung.

He couldn't hold you in return, his arms aching too much to lift, but he buried his nose in the crook between your shoulder and neck, breathing in your scent as deeply as he could, pressing kisses to the soft space. You loved him. You loved him. He'd believe he was dreaming if the soreness from his wounds wasn't all too real---proof that he was living and breathing in the reality that you wanted him. That you wanted him and he was yours without any hesitation. Now, he was itching to heal, prepared to follow any rules you put in place for him as long as it meant that at the end of the process he could hold you like he wanted to---tight and possessive and finally.

He hungrily kissed his way up the column of your neck, just like he'd done in every daydream he had a moment to indulge in and in the periods of wakefulness he spun in before he fell asleep every night. Every waking thought he could spare was spent in dedication to you you you. He made his way up your jaw, to the sensitive spot behind your ear that made you gasp and shiver; spending a long, devoted moment tending to it eagerly. Then he kissed back down your cheek until he hovered right in front of your lips---pausing there. He looked up into your eyes amorously, pleadingly, silently asking for your permission to press his lips to your own. As if he was unsure if he was worthy or not.

Your loving gaze was enough to give him his answer.

So he shut his eyes and leaned into you as you braced yourself on his shoulders, squeezing them as his cracked lips finally met your own. He ardently devoured you, his desperation overcoming his physical limitations---abandoning his need for physical comfort in lieu of his need to taste you, to lick up every sweet kiss you would give him. He leaned forward as you attempted to pull away, his lips unable to satiate their craving. You relented, laughing lightly as you gently pressed him back down onto the pillows to relieve the sharp pain in his abdomen he sacrificed for a moment more of your lips on his. You indulged him, smoothing your hands up his neck to cup his jaw and hold him as you gave him as much as he wanted---which would never be enough.

No matter how much affection you'd give him, it could never fill the well of longing he'd been digging for you since the day he met you.

He'd yearn for you every moment of every day of his life. In this moment, he made a law for himself to follow: After he heals, he'll take care of himself, treat his exhaustion and avoid lethal injuries, so that he may keep coming back to you with his love in tow---offerings of affection he'd lay at your feet and pray you'd accept. He'd keep his heart beating so it would stay warm for you; so that the day you'd pry it from his chest would remain eras away.

· · ♡ · ·

"Childe, I can hold the spoon.", you demanded, attempting to snatch the spoonful of soup from his hand as he chuckled and evaded your swipes.

Your grumpy, flushed face was too adorable for his heart to take, and the sound of your stuffy voice was too funny.

Oh, how the tables have turned since the day you'd taken him into your home. Once he'd started adhering to your treatment plan wholeheartedly, he healed in record time. Your harbinger had grown stronger and livlier than ever, a feat which he acreditted solely to your kisses and love.

"All I'm saying is, I didn't start healing until you started kissing me.", he had claimed, grinning broadly as he brought you into his arms after being able to stand on his own without pain for the first time since his injury.

He'd moved in not too long after he came back from his first mission since his hiatus, favoring your cozy cabin over any mansion his money could buy. He was grateful to be home with you...but you'd caught a bug while he was away. When you opened your front door with bleary, puffy eyes and the sniffles, he couldn't help but pinch your cheeks and laugh, drawing you in for a kiss. You'd argued and tried to push his face away, shouting that he'd get himself sick, but he only captured your wrists and held them against his chest as he pressed his lips to yours.

"No weak little bug can take down a warrior as strong as me.", he'd arrogantly claimed...

...you hated that he was right.

So he got to steal kisses from you scott free while he nursed you back to health, just as you'd done for him.

And he delivered such sweet payback, playing 'demanding nurse' just like you had.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Open up. Medicine's gotta go down the hatch."

"You're not sleeping alone tonight, love. Gotta keep you warm so your cold doesn't get worse!"

"Maybe you shouldn't shower alone...you might faint. Just let me come with you."

You started to pick up on the fact that maybe not all of his rules and regulations were made solely in your interest.

Now, you were fighting him over whether or not you could feed yourself.

"My arms aren't broken!", you bickered, sniffling and pouting like a stubborn child.

"Ah ah ah! But any physical exertion could delay your progress. You wanna get better, don't you?", he argued, grinning like a fox.

"...yes."

"Then lay back and let me handle you. I gotta take care of what's mine, right?".

You only quit your grumbling because he looked so proud of himself. So cheerful that he got to make you feel better and call you his, just like you'd done for him.

He planted a kiss to your hot forehead, tutting as he pulled away.

"Your fever hasn't gone down yet. Let me get you a cool compress."

With that, he trotted off to the kitchen. You couldn't help but smile at his antics, running about without a break and spending every moment of the day doting on you---all for a little case of the sniffles.

And how could he not? You were his one and only love, and like he said, like he'll repeat any time you need to hear it...

You are his. He is going to take care of you.

#genshin x reader #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin childe #genshin ajax #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia x reader #childe fluff #friends to lovers #childe genshin impact #ajax genshin impact #ajax tartaglia #tartaglia x you #genshin tartaglia

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nickfowlerrr · 8 months

Text

keeping secrets - chapter seven

series masterlist / chapter eight

playlist

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: short chapter. no explicit smut but it’s there a lil bit. +18 only, as always. a lot of this is from bucky’s pov. angst with a hint of fluff. mostly angst though. and this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for these two 🥲

words: 1.9k

notes: i’m belaboring it, i’m sorry lol but thank you for bearing with me through my bouts of writers block. i appreciate all of you who are following this series and reading and commenting and reblogging, you’re all wonderful and i love you. hopefully this will help kick me back into gear. please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading and reblogging. 🖤

It’s still dark outside when Bucky jerks awake again in a cold sweat.

His heart is racing and his breathing is heavy.

He takes a second to collect himself before he peeks up to the bed from where he lays on the ground. He runs a hand through his hair as he calms down at just the sight of you, still sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on the mattress you’d both fallen asleep on just a few hours ago.

He’d woken up earlier from another nightmare, not one of the usual ones, but the one that’s been recurring more and more frequently since the day he’d met you..

No matter how he tries to change the dream, it always ends the same.

Nothing but hurt, pain, and tears.

He tries so hard to change it, wants nothing more than to save you from the inevitable heartbreak that waits for you both, but it’s futile.

Pointless.

It’s his fate, and by some sick twist of it, you’ve unfortunately found yourself tied to him, which can only mean the same for you.

But the nightmare isn’t reality, he tells himself. It may be unchanging in the dream, but he can’t let that happen in his waking life.

He won’t.

He spent a good ten minutes just holding you in his arms, watching the rise and fall of your chest with each breath you took as your lashes fluttered in your sleep and you nuzzled into his embrace, before he gently moved you off of him. He wanted to commit the sight of you so at ease to his memory, taking in your every feature and letting himself indulge in the feeling of your softness pressed against him. In that moment, he told himself he could never have you so close to him again. The list of reasons why seemed never ending.

And though being with you earlier was incredible, words he couldn’t manage to find to describe the perfection that was you and the deep intimacy you shared - something he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before - something he’s sure he’ll never feel with anyone else, he knows he can’t do this. Not to you.

You deserve the world. A happy ending. And he wishes so badly that he could be the one to give it to you - no matter how selfish the desire is - but he can’t.

A happy ending has never been in the cards for him.

And he won’t keep that from you.

Still, that selfish itch is there, clawing at his chest and filling his head with impossible fantasies.

As he sits there, he wonders, though, just how long he’ll be able to keep away from you - even just physically. Your touch alone.. It’s indescribable.

He wishes he could let himself be next to you right now.

He counted himself lucky for not having woken you up after the first nightmare, but couldn’t risk it happening again. He had moved to the floor and listened to the steady sound of your heartbeat to ease him until he eventually fell asleep again.

Until now.

This nightmare, thankfully, wasn’t involving you.

It was the cold.

That chair.

Those words.

The excruciating, violent pain.

He’s glad he moved, there’s no way you wouldn’t have felt his twitching in his sleep if he was still next to you.

No way you would’ve had the dream to begin with if you were still next to her.

His brows furrow as he grows agitated at the thought. He gives it no further attention, though, as he sits up.

Maybe it’s early enough to excuse being awake, he thinks as he pulls himself off the floor.

He looks over at you once again and his heart clenches, wanting him to just crawl back into bed with you and sleep until you decide it’s time to get up.

But he can’t listen.

So he heads quietly out into the cold of the cabin and goes to find his phone.

—-

The bed is cold when you wake up. The cabin is quiet. Only one thought is on your mind as you come to consciousness.

Where is Bucky?

There’s a tight squeeze in your chest as you take in your loneliness. A surge of anxiety that grips you though you try not to give it attention. You sit up and look around the empty room.

You get up and peek out the door, down the hallway.

You head to the bathroom instead of seeking him out for now, quickly getting ready for the day.

As you come out, you hear the front door open and close.

When you walk into the living room, you find a sweaty Bucky pulling his shirt off.

“Hey,” you breathe, leaning against the hallway opening, arms crossed over your chest lightly.

His eyes shoot to you, and you watch as it takes him a second to respond.

“Hey,” he responds a little out of breath.

You give a half smile as you return his unwavering stare. Pushing off the wall, you saunter over to him. Bucky doesn’t stop you as you lean up to kiss him.

Somewhere in his mind, he is telling himself to stop. But the thoughts aren’t loud enough for him to listen.

He leans down and kisses you back, deeply as his hands find your bottom.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing as one kiss turns into two, turns into three, and before he knows it you’re breathing each other’s air as his tongue explores your mouth while you’re making out on the couch.

He knows he’s sweaty but you don’t seem to care in the slightest as you refuse to let up just the same as him.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when you finally pull away, breathing heavy as you catch your breath.

You look at him in a way that makes him feel seen. Truly seen. The warmth of your gaze - the love it radiates - it’s something he never wants to lose.

But his heart hurts at your next words - a sense of panic taking over him.

“We should talk,” you say softly, moving a strand of hair out of his face, your soft touch caressing his cheek as you admire him for a moment.

You should talk. He knows that. But he knows exactly what’s going to happen when you do.

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. He doesn’t want to lose you so soon after finally being with you. He doesn’t want to hurt you - though he knows no matter what, he will…

“Yeah,” he breathes before leaning back into you. His lips are on yours again, softer as he takes his time, leaning you to lay down on the couch as he holds himself above you.

It’s as much a distraction for himself as it is for you.

With Bucky above you, you let your hands find his hair as you kiss him back.

But it’s not just a kiss - it’s so much more.

Everytime you touch, it’s like a wordless confession of devotion.

Unlike anything you’d ever experienced. And it’s addictive.

You pull him closer, urging him down until he’s nearly right on top of you. A hand slips from his hair and softly trails along his neck, down his chest and stomach until you tug at the waistband of his shorts.

He exhales gruffly as his eyes shut - a second passes as you watch him, perplexed at the look that crosses his face. Briefly unsettling until he opens his eyes and looks at you. Mesmerizing as always, full of longing.

Your clothes are lost as you fumble with each other, touching and yearning; kisses broken off with gasps - each deep thrust of Bucky inside you working you closer and closer to the high that seems to never end as you beg him not to stop, as if he had any plans to.

He can’t get enough, and you’re both insatiable.

—-

You aren’t sure how much time has passed when you’re both laid out on the ground, panting and sweating as Bucky pulls you into him. You’re a dripping, overstimulated mess as you curl into him, feeling full and sated, yet wanting him ever closer.

The comfort he effortlessly exudes relaxes you further as your lashes flutter while you start to regulate your breaths.

“I’m a mess,” you mumble as you nuzzle into him. “You’ve ruined me.”

His fingers are lightly dancing along your soft skin, but his movements stop at your words. You look up to see his face as you let out a quiet titter. He looks guilty, like he’s agonizing over it. Your stomach twists as your arms hug him tighter instinctively.

“I was just kidding,” you murmur with a small smile. “We should shower, though. Did you hear from anyone? Are we cleared to go back today?”

His eyes are trained on you when you meet his gaze again before he blinks, securing you closer to him again. “Haven’t heard yet. Not sure that bodes well for us.”

“I don’t know… another day alone out here doesn’t sound too bad,” you say, lips ghosting his neck as you curl into his warmth.

“Yeah,” he breathes through a twinge in his chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He wants to stay here, just like this, forever. Just him and you. No need for things to end.

But he knows better. Or so he keeps telling himself.

The truth is, the moment you guys leave here, you’ll have to leave all of this with you.

He just got you close. He can’t force this ending so soon, he can’t.

It’s selfish and come tomorrow will probably be even more painful, but he needs you. For as long as he can have you, he will.

You pull away from him with a kiss to his cheek, “‘M gonna call Stark. Warm up the shower for me?”

“Yeah,” he answers in a trance as you let your hand slip across his stubbly jaw, watching you stand and saunter off to get your phone. “Anything,” he almost let slip before catching himself, “anything for you.” The sentiment may not pass his lips, but it echos deep in his chest nonetheless. A heavy, gripping truth he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

—-

You’re drying off, trying not to let how wobbly your legs are at the moment be too noticeable as Bucky gets dressed near the bed. You feel his eyes on you every five seconds, so you know he’ll notice the second you give yourself away.

Your phone dings on the side table, catching both of your attentions.

You open the screen to find a message from Stark. He had said he’d get back to you as soon as he knew if you were good to go or not.

Departure at 16:30 tomorrow night. Sorry, but try not to kill each other. We’ll see you back at the compound.

And job well done, by the way.

“16:30 tomorrow,” you say aloud, glancing to Bucky who is already looking at you. “Got a little over 24 hours to kill… what ever shall we do?”

#keeping secrets series #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #keeping secrets #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #dark!soulmate au #grey!bucky #bucky barnes x plus size!reader

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modanisgf · 30 days

Text

1. MAGNETIC (WRITTEN)

wc: 0.6k

warning(s): profanity, main character gets hurt

“bye dani!” y/n says as danielle drops her off at her house.

“bye!” dani waves, leaving as soon as the front door shut. making her way down the street, as she only lived a bit away from y/n.

danielle decided to check in with yunjin before she went home, knowing the girl was on the clock.

dani opened the door of the deli, pleased to see yunjin at the register.

“hi yunjin! how’s business?” she asks, yunjin sighing.

“it’s been good, but i would really love to go home.” yunjin says, danielle nodding.

“when are you off the clock?” dani asks.

“in about thirty minutes, why?” yunjin asks.

“you wanna go to the old subway station with me?” danielle says, grabbing chips and an orange drink.

“i’m so down.”

shortly after, the two girls found themselves standing before a wall spray paint cans beside them.

“damn, it’s been a while since i’ve been here. your arts getting crazy good dani.” yunjin says, making danielle smile.

“it’s a work in progress, i still wanna get into that art school when i graduate.” danielle says.

“you still going for music?” she asks yunjin.

“yeah, but my parents aren’t exactly on board with it. they think i’ll go bankrupt.” yunjin scoffs.

“i mean it’s your life, and i don’t think you will. you’re good at what you do.” danielle says.

“thanks.” yunjin says sheepishly.

“you’ll be alright, don’t worry.” danielle reassures.

“anyways, pick whatever u want from other there and get started.” danielle says, yunjin nodding.

the silence between the girls was comfortable, the only noise coming from the entrance being cars driving by on the roads.

“hey dani?” yunjin perks up, causing danielle to look at her.

“yeah?” dani asks.

“you ever gonna confess to y/n?”

“huh—“ danielle starts, getting cut off immediately by a spider climbing her arm. the spider bit her quickly and disappeared, causing the girl to grimace in pain.

“hello? danielle?” yunjin calls out to her, finally turning towards her as she runs over.

“holy shit are you okay?” yunjin asks.

“what the hell happened?” her eyes diverted down to dani’s wound, eyes widening at the sight.

“oh shit, we gotta get out of here.” yunjin says.

“wait but i still need to—“ danielle groans at the pain, she didn’t know what spider bit her but she really hoped it wasn’t a poisonous one. though with this pain, she wasn’t even sure.

yunjin had packed up all of danielle’s equipment quickly, making her way back over to the girl.

“can you walk?” she asks.

“i don’t think so.” danielle sighs.

“c’mon.” yunjin says, now carrying danielle on her shoulder. yunjin hoped y/n wouldn’t be miraculously outside once they walked down her and dani’s street, she would never see the light of day again.

finally, they arrived at danielle’s house. yunjin sighs in relief, “do you have your keys?” she asks.

“yeah.” dani says, handing her keys to yunjin.

the girl unlocks the door soon after, praying that danielle’s parents wouldn’t be waiting there for them, she wasn't ready for that to be their first conversation. noticing the empty living room, yunjin carried danielle to there, dropping her off on the couch.

“i’ll be right there, i’m gonna go find your first aid kit.” yunjin says, danielle only being able to nod in response.

the pain was so excruciating, danielle wished she was able to identify the type of spider that bit her. she was horrified it was going to be bad.

yunjin came back rather soon, the girl immediately tending to dani’s wound.

“okay, you should be good now.” yunjin starts, “just take it easy and rest.”

danielle nods before laying her head down on the couch, “see you tomorrow?”

“see you.” yunjin says before leaving the house.

dani stared up at the ceiling a bit before finally drifting off to sleep, the quietness soothing her.

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TAGS 🏷️ (OPEN): @jayjj7 @haerinsloverr @mxl633 @hrjunluvs @kissablening @mah4u @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @xen248

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tittyinfinity · 7 months

Text

Stop treating disabled people like we don't know what we're doing.

Stop treating disabled people like it's our fault we're disabled because you think we "haven't tried anything."

Believe disabled people when we tell you we've tried something and it didn't work.

Stop giving us unsolicited advice in the first place. It's rude as fuck to assume that we haven't tried the most basic solutions, like physical therapy and heating pads.

Stop assuming how we feel based off of how we look. We are not exaggerating our symptoms when we show them. We are not faking our symptoms when we mask them.

No one goes out of their way for years straight to see multiple doctors and somehow scam them into believing they have fake health issues so that we can "give up on life" and be constantly broke.

(I want to preface this next paragraph to say that I know that some statements aren't about disabled people and are said to help others – but the wording of certain things hurts disabled people whether you like it or not – because people don't believe us when we say we're disabled and they think we are helpless addicts)

Stop treating us like we're "victims" that "need help" if we don't want to give up our means to function. Someone taking pain medication daily or smoking weed daily so that they can function is not a sign that they need help getting off of the drugs. And drugs don't affect everyone the same way! Just because a drug fucks YOU up doesn't mean that we're constantly fucked up all the time.

There are some forms of pain and symptoms that can literally only be treated with drugs and you're gonna have to get over it.

Not being able to take a tolerance break isn't a sign that the medication is ruining our lives, either. Even if we are addicted to our medication. NOT BEING IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN IS ADDICTING AND QUITE FRANKLY, EVERYONE IS ADDICTED TO NOT BEING IN PAIN. THAT'S WHY YOU KEEP TYLENOL AND IBUPROFEN IN YOUR HOUSE. We just happen to have pain that can not be cured by regular means. It is safer to take a couple of pain pills a day than it is to be taking the max dose of tylenol and ibuprofen all day – which DOES NOT EVEN TOUCH OUR PAIN.

This is not to invalidate the fact that you can get addicted to drugs for any reason. But again, anything you say about addiction does affect disabled people. And yes, other disabled people can very much spread ableist ideas.

My final point (for now) –

Just fucking listen to us.

#.bdo #pls reblog this #disability #chronic pain #this is not to say the op of the addiction post is wrong #but the wording of it saying ''you need to seek out help'' if you cant take a tolerance break #IS EXACTLY WHAT DISABLED PEOPLE ON PAIN MEDICATION ARE TOLD CONSTANTLY #so please don't say that shit

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marvelwitchergilmore · 9 months

Text

Bloody Pardon 2

Summary: Anthony Lockwood x Fe!Reader -> Part 2 of Bloody Pardon. Aunt Violet and her friend June has come to visit and you're still married to Lockwood.

Disclaimer: Not proof read, fluff, angst, descriptions of panic attacks, talks of love, falling in love, pain of love.

“I beg your bloody pardon?”

You practically chased Lockwood down the stairs of the house.

In his hand, he was looking through more newspaper clippings George had found. You’d originally found him in the Library, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie thrown across the back of the sofa.

He’d been rambling things about the case and what he needed you to find out whilst George and Lucy headed out into town to collect extra equipment.

You’d asked what he would be doing. (collecting his aunt and her friend from the train station)

That was when he told you.

“You heard me.”

“Lockwood, I might be married to you but I am not your wife. I thought I had made that explicitly clear to you.”

“You have.” Lockwood agreed, leafing through the mail at the bottom of the stairs.

Sometimes you wondered whether he had any perception of anything else in his life.

“But, my Aunt is also bringing her best-friend who just happens to be…”

“A posh twat?”

You turned and found Lucy standing, eating a Digestive by the bottom of the stairs.

Lockwood gave her a short smile. “Highly opinionated, to put it nicely.”

“Still doesn’t mean we have to act like a married couple.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t, the night will only become more excruciating than it already will be. And I know for a fact nobody in this house wants that. Ever.”

“I thought she was coming down for the weekend?” Lucy asked.

You could kill Lockwood.

Maybe Kipps would still be your clean-up-crew.

An hour more of arguing and you finally gave in. You and Lockwood would act like the happy couple, Lucy and Kipps would join for the first evening meal and, since George would be visiting his parents for the weekend, that left a room open for his Aunt.

“If you’d like, I can sleep in the basement. Your Aunt’s friend can stay in my room.”

“Lucy!”

“Oh, sorry.”

You slammed your hand against your head before Lockwood thanked her and agreed with her.

“I do have one question though,” Lucy stated.

“Oh, you have one question.”

“If your aunt is staying and she thinks you're married…where will you two sleep?”

“In my room.”

Part of you felt Lockwood had answered way too quickly.

“And I suppose you feel safe sleeping next to me, inches from a pillow I could use to smother you in your sleep?”

Lockwood smiled and your stomach flipped - out of feeling or anger, you didn’t quite know.

“I trust you with my life, Darling.”

You narrowed your eyes and picked up the paper in front of you on the kitchen table. “Don’t push your luck, Sweetheart.”

After that, you moved out of the kitchen and went straight up to the attic before collapsing onto your bed and trying to drown both the light and your thoughts out with your pillow.

“It shouldn’t be that bad.”

Lucy must have followed you up.

“You’re not the one who’s married into the family involuntarily, might I add.”

Lucy laughed and made her way over to your bed before sitting down on the edge. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

Swiftly, she pulled at the pillow until you let go and she placed it beside you. From there, she pulled at your hands before you sat up.

“Hey, at least you get to embrace your feelings towards Lockwood.”

“If, what you mean by feelings, is the capability to brutally murder him every hour then, sure. I’ll help add to the marital murder rate in this country.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“No, I don’t.”

Lucy simply said your name and kept eye-contact.

Trust her to be the one to figure it out.

“I can’t like him, Lucy.”

“But you do.”

“But I do.”

“Why are you so fixed on not liking him?”

“Because in this world, liking someone puts everyone in danger. I don’t want to do that.”

“The only person you are putting in danger is yourself. You don’t think me and George don’t notice how you look at him or, better yet, how he looks at you?”

“He doesn’t look at me.”

“For the love of-” Lucy rolled her eyes and said your name again. “The pair of you are idiots.”

“Lucy, I trust your judgement of character but you’re all off for this one.”

“Bloody hell, alright. Fine. If I’m wrong-”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“But you are.”

“But I’m not.”

“What are you two arguing about?” George asked from the top of the stairs.

“She doesn’t believe Lockwood loves her.”

“Whoa, hey! No, I never said anything about love.”

“No, but your eyes do.”

“George.”

“Don’t look at me, I’m with Lucy on this one.”

“For the love of-”

“Tea’s ready!”

Despite your feelings of wanting to murder Lockwood, right now you could have kissed him.

A week later, George had left for his parents and whilst Lockwood cooked dinner back at Portland Row with the help of Kipps and Lucy, you were trying to clear your head from all the thoughts about what was or could possibly happen in the next couple of days.

You and Lucy had already spent all of the day before moving your stuff into Lockwood’s room to make it look more believable that you both were actually a married couple. Meanwhile, Lockwood and George covered the house in different photos of all of you from day’s out to “the wedding day.”.

And yet, despite all of this, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around it.

Yes, your feelings towards Anthony Lockwood had been, in the past, less than professional. But, you had gone to great lengths to hide those particular feelings. And, so far, you’d done a good job.

Except, for the following few days, you were going to have to spend most of your time acting on or, at least, around those feelings all the while sharing the same bed with him.

Still, you didn’t exactly know when you had begun to walk back home but both too slowly and too quickly, you found yourself entering your key into your front door as the snow outside just began to clump on the street and the steps.

Entering, you were hit with the hot air from the house along with a mixture of smells from Lockwood’s cooking.

It was rare he ever cooked since George was always the better one, but - after finding out when you were sick - Lockwood could have been a close rival if he wanted to be.

You could hear laughter flowing from the living room and kitchen before you heard someone speak.

“So, is this her?”

The voice wasn’t anything like you had been expecting but then a second voice came from the kitchen.

“Oh, my, Anthony. You didn’t tell me she was this beautiful.”

The second woman pushed past the first with a smile on her face and she came straight over to you and you couldn’t help but mirror her own smile, it was that infectious.

“Hello, my darling. I’m Violet, but please, call me Vi.”

“Okay.”

You were still spinning a little so it took you a moment before introducing yourself.

“Quick, let's get that coat off you.” Violet started to help you remove your coat before walking you towards the kitchen with her. “This is June.”

You shook her hand but, compared to Violet, June seemed…you couldn’t tell. Just…not as warming.

“Now, I want to get to know my new grand-niece. Tony tells me you're the best swordswoman he’s ever seen.”

The ‘getting to know you’ conversation was split between Violet asking her questions to which Lockwood would manage to answer most of them and June asking her but Violet completely ignoring her.

Until the BIG question.

“Why did you two get married?”

June was rather harsh in her asking but Violet just smiled joyfully and turned to you. “Oh, yes. Tony, I’m still upset about that. I, at least, deserved an invite to your wedding.”

As Lockwood began to reply, you shot out of your seat to help him save what he had been cooking in his pan as it started to boil over. Taking a tea towel, you wrapped it around the handle and turned down the heat at Lockwood reached above you for a lid, handed it to you and reached for the seasoning.

You replaced the pan onto the stove, holding onto the lid. Lockwood found certain seasonings before asking you if you’d seen the Rosemary.

“Top shelf.”

“Ah.”

The pair of you worked in sync until you placed the lid on top and turned to face him only to find the pair of you closer than you’d ever been when stood in the kitchen together.

“That’s why, June.”

You both turned and found the two older women watching you both like you were their favourite soap opera.

“Look at them, how they move together. You know, my Frank and I were like that when we were younger.”

As much as the following conversation had stemmed from the way Violet viewed yourself and Lockwood together, it gave you enough time to distract yourself from the fact that you and Lockwood were standing closer than you had agreed with before you walked back home.

Dinner passed by easier than you expected, but you still thanked the heavens for Lucy and Kipps who managed to distract Violet and June into either reminiscing about the past or thinking about the future of couples such as Lucy and Kipps.

Until June asked her questions again.

Lucy- well, Kipps was half way through talking about Lucy and their first date when June turned to you and Lockwood who were sitting shoulder to shoulder and asked; “How did you know you two were in love? After all, you both are a little younger than some to get married in this day and age. How did you know he was the one?”

You sat there, food half chewed and you shared a slightly panicked look with Lockwood who, despite all the questioning, somehow still managed to keep his cool.

“Erm, well…”

Think of something, think of something, think of something, think of something, think of something, think of something, think of some-

“It shouldn’t be that hard, dear. He is your husband after all.”

Husband.

That word echoed over and over in your head.

Lockwood is your husband. Shouldn’t you have a story?

“Oh, June. Leave her alone. She’s had a busy day, I’m sure she’ll tell us later.”

“No, Vi. We’ve come to see the newly wedded couple, haven’t we?”

It felt like the walls were closing in on you and the room was slowly starting to fall onto an axis. Slowly, the voices began to muffle and before you knew it, you pushed your chair back and excused yourself.

“I’ll be right back.”

In the distance, you could hear Lockwood apologising for you. Something about work and a brutal interrogation not that long ago.

Pulling yourself up the stairs with the bannister, you eventually made it into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

Usually, anytime you looked at Lockwood, you got nervous. But, like, happy-nervous, butterflies forming a tornado in your stomach nervous.

Only, with the questioning and feelings and the having to act like you loved Lockwood with all your heart whilst also making sure that the real feelings were kept at bay and the feelings of annoyance remained and the fake and real feelings didn’t get mixed up; that happy tornado now felt like a washing machine that had come off its hinges and was beating against your lungs.

It took a while before you realised Lockwood had been standing outside the bathroom door almost the entire time and had been calling your name.

Meanwhile, you had turned the tap on and off twice, splashed your face twice and by the time you felt ready to open the door and head back downstairs, Lockwood pulled you back.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. You don’t have to apologise.”

“Christ,” that feeling was coming back.

You pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to focus on your breathing.

Lockwood’s gaze scanned your face. You were growing paler by the second and your breathing was just like how it used to be when you had a horror movie night with Lucy and George and you knew something was coming - you just didn’t know what.

“Alright. You’re alright.” Lockwood’s hand came to your shoulders, looking around before finding his room and leading you inside.

From there, Lockwood sat you down on the bed before closing the door and coming back and kneeling in front of you.

“I don’t know if I can do this. I-I can’t lie to your family, Anthony. I can barely lie to myself.”

Lockwood continued to study you before bringing your hand to his chest.

“Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“My heartbeat. Can you feel it?”

Lockwood pressed your hand closer to his chest until he saw the small flicker of recognition in your eyes.

“Okay, I want you to count. I want you to count the beats until you can breathe again. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You were on track for a while until your mind started floating again.

“It’s just me and you. Nobody else. Just me and you, counting the beats.”

You nodded and started counting again.

You didn’t know how long had passed. No-one came to find either of you and Lockwood never made a move to get out or apologise to anyone for taking so long.

It was just you and him.

He didn’t care if it took all night to make sure you were okay. He would kneel on the floor with you and for you, holding your hand against his chest, counting his heartbeats until you finally were able to breathe.

“I don’t know if I- I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be…with you.”

Without being with you, you wanted to add.

“Then just be you.” Anthony told you. “Just be you. Lord knows Barnes already calls us an old married couple anyway.”

Lockwood’s statement made you smile, and only when you let out a soft, quiet laugh, did he fully smile, too.

“I’m sorry,” Lockwood apologised, gripping your hand in his a little tighter. “If I’d never picked up the case-”

“Then Faye would have never have gotten the answers about her brother and would still be spending every night wondering what happened to him,” you told Lockwood. “I know why you did it, Lockwood. I don’t blame you for doing what you did, even if you did sign real papers rather than fake ones.”

Lockwood nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“But…I guess we could skip over the newly wedded bliss and go straight to an old married couple?”

Lockwood looked up to you for a moment, both delighted and unsure on how to react.

“I mean, when have we ever done anything straight forward in this house?”

Lockwood smiled, and let out a small sigh of relief before lowering his head and bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your palm.

“Thank you.” Lockwood then held your hand in both of his. “For everything. And, if it helps, we’re only gonna be married for a few more days.”

“What?”

“I finally got a call back from the solicitor.” Lockwood told you. “He did say it’s the first case Miss Kirk has ever had where fake and real documents have been mistaken in a marriage contract, but she’s taken our case and she’s drawing up all what needs to be signed. Everything that we each own will remain with ourselves. It’ll be as if we were never married.”

It took you a moment before you realised what this meant.

No more husband or wife.

It’ll go back to the way that it was.

Just friends and coworkers.

Feelings could be hidden again and you would never have to talk about them, ever again.

“Well…good. Thank you, Lockwood.”

Lockwood nodded, slowly letting your hand go as he stood. “I-I should go and check on everyone. Make sure they haven’t killed Lucy and Kipps yet.”

“Yeah, you better. And, Tony?”

He looked back from the door.

“Thank you.”

Lockwood nodded with a smile in response before leaving the room and closing the door behind him and the moment he did, you felt your heart shatter.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood’s had done the same.

Downstairs, Lockwood told everyone you were okay and had just eaten something bad earlier that day. You had thought the walk would have cleared your head but it didn’t so you just needed a little time.

June’s reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Lockwood either.

She either didn’t like you and therefore didn’t care, or she didn’t believe a word he said.

Maybe both.

But when you came down ten minutes later, Violet hugged you and had you sit down.

She had noticed you hadn’t finished your tea since June’s grilling had sent your stomach beating against your lungs so, whilst Lucy, Kipps and Lockwood entertained June in the living room - helped with Violet’s excuse of wanting to get to know her grand-niece better - Violet made you a cup of tea and some dry toast.

“I always wanted another girl in the family. Ever since me, there hasn’t been another girl born. All boys.” Violet smiled, pushing the toaster down. “So when I heard Anthony had gotten married, I was over the moon. I would have liked an invite, but it was rather short notice.”

“You have no idea,” you laughed a little. “Listen, Mrs-”

“Please, call me Violet. Or, Vi.”

“Violet,” you smiled.

In all honesty, you were a nervous-wreck. You pressed your hands between your knees as you turned to look at her as she finished stirring the two teas she’d made.

“Oh, thank you.” She handed you your cup. “Violet.”

“Yes, my dear.”

“You have to know, I do love your nephew. We’re both young and it was quick but I do love him.”

Violet smiled. “I have no doubt about that, my dear. And, please, ignore June. She really is a nice woman. When I first met her, she didn’t believe that me and Frank were a couple and were rather two undercover agents.”

“Oh,” you laughed.

“Yes, oh.” Violet replied. “She’ll warm up to you eventually. Just give her time. And tea. She loves tea.”

“Noted.”

“But I would like to know something,” she added. “When did you know?”

“Know what?” you asked, a little weary.

“That you loved Anthony. People will dispute young and first love also being your forever and last love, but I don’t. I’d just like to know. It’s been so long since I've seen a love story play out and, just when did you know?”

You smiled, placing your hand over her’s as she held your other hand.

“I’ll tell you, but I have to warn you, it’s not exciting.”

“Any tale of love is exciting at my age, my dear.”

With a smile, you then told her the truth.

You told her about the day you knew you had fallen in love with Anthony Lockwood.

You’d known you liked him ever since you’d been arguing with him when fighting off level two spirits in a building just outside of Guildford.

You’d been annoyed at him for a couple of weeks since he’d been reckless too many times to count and it was only when you yelled at him, not noticing the spirit behind you and he pushed you onto the ground to save you, did you speak to him in a normal voice.

“Why are you so bothered about this?”

“Because if something happened to you, what do you think I’d-” you’d panicked for a moment but kept your cool. “We’d do? What do you think we’d do if something happened to you, Tony?”

It was a while before you told him you loved him (at least, that’s what you told Violet.)

But the day you fell in love with him, and you admitted it to yourself, was the day he had just come home.

He’d been out most of the day and Lucy and George had gone to pick up some take-out when you stood in the kitchen doorway and saw him hang up his coat, remove his tie and walk inside.

It was nothing spectacular. It was just a small “I love you” that you said in your head. In fact, it took you a moment or two before you even knew you’d said it in your head.

“And what about Tony? When did he-”

“When I saw her teach George how to dance in the living room one day,” Lockwood said from where he was leaning against the door frame. “Though I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Just as bad as your uncle.” Violet said. “You know, it took me hitting him over the head with the morning newspaper for him to tell me he loved me. A man of very few words, but also a man of great action.”

Lockwood smiled at you and you smiled back as he pulled out a chair and sat beside you with his arm across the back of yours.

Lockwood then sat there as Violet told both of you the story of her and Frank and how they met and fell in love and got married and despite how much they tried, they could never have children.

But it was okay.

“We spent all our free time helping out other families, helping lost children find their families when they’ve been separated by lost spirits.”

It wasn’t until June, however, came inside telling everyone she was going to bed that you had noticed you’d seemingly moulded yourself into Lockwood’s side as Violet had been telling her story.

All that came now was sleeping in the same bed as Lockwood.

Maybe you could build a pillow wall.

Tags: who asked for a part two

@locknco

@nothing0075

@wordsarelife

@cassiopeiia24

#lockwood and co #netflix #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood x fe!reader #anthony lockwood x fe!reader #love #fluff #angst #bloody pardon #lucy carlyle #george karim #quill kipps #lucy x kipps

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wlw-imagines · 1 year

Text

Go Home - Eloise Bridgerton/Reader (Bridgerton)

request: another eloise request…since you’re into writing angst how about lady Whistledown hinted at the reader’s sexuality so reader breaks up with Eloise for her safety?? (Adore your writing and Eloise is my fav!!!) - anon

a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. that's all i have to say.

also part one of 2, exciting times!!!

also warning i guess of like era homophobia :-( also pen is v clearly pro lgbt i strongly believe but here she is just trying to protect a friend, i am certain she loves the gays

ALSO kind of spoilers if u haven’t finished season 2 i think?

FEAT. ANTHONY AS BIG BRO

You shielded the bright sun from your eyes, looking up to see Penelope walking over and taking the empty seat next to Eloise, “The day I no longer have to endure the excruciating pain of finding a husband may be the happiest day of my life.” She slumped back into the chair, after completing a quick search to ensure her mother wasn’t watching her.

You grinned, gently resting your hand on the arm of the chair, subtly linking your pinkie with Eloise’s, “I take it the stroll wasn’t a successful one then Pen?” You asked, sipping from your glass of cold lemonade.

Pen hesitated, “Mother did very well in succeeding scaring off all potential suitors left in the ton, if that’s what you mean?” She smiled and shook her head, ridding herself of the thoughts from the walk, “What have the two of you been up to? I didn’t see either of you taking a walk?” She asked. You caught her gaze briefly flicking down to your hands and you cleared your throat, bringing your hand away from Eloise’s, and shifted in your seat.

“Oh, gosh no, I’ve been spending a blissful afternoon sitting right here with Eloise. We’ve been setting the world to rights, haven’t we?” You looked at her to see her already gazing at you, her eyes soft as she nodded.

“We have.” She smiled a secret smile, immediately making you think of your murmured conversations just 10 minutes ago. You did your best to stop the blush from settling on your cheeks, although (judging by Penelope’s thoughtful expression) you don’t think you had done a good enough job.

You cleared your throat again, shaking off the feeling of unease, and shrugged, “No better way to spend my day than with the Bridgerton clan.”

“Maybe if you like the company of them so much then you should set your sights upon marrying one.” Pen mused, raising a challenging eyebrow at you. Surely you weren’t imagining this - had Eloise told her something?

But Eloise was still blissfully in her own world, her soft gaze still tracking your movements and her chin in the palm of her hand. “I am telling you right now Y/N, you are not to marry one of my brothers!” She grinned and you playfully roller your eyes at her.

“Well, I can think of only one Bridgerton I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life with and I will never say who.” You told her, once more forgetting who’s company you were in until Pen let out a terse reply.

“I see.” She sent you a thin-lipped smile.

You smiled back at her, a proper smile in the hopes of mending any bridges that have seemed to break in recent days. Pen hasn’t been happy around you for a while. Eloise doesn’t think she knows, and even if she did, would be supportive of the two of you, but you can’t put your finger on what’s happening.

You went to stand up, “I should go, my Papa will be expecting me.”

“No, don’t go.” Eloise jumped up to join you, “Do you want company?”

You squeezed her hand and let her go before turning so Pen would not see the two of you holding hands, “No, El, you stay here with Pen and enjoy the sunshine. I don’t see why we should both have to miss out on all the fun.”

“I am sure we are capable of making our own fun.” She attempted an almost-wshiper but failed to hit the mark. You just hoped that Pen, or anyone else, had heard the not-so-subtle remark.

You winced as Pen spoke up, “As long as you can escape the watchful eye of the ton.” You sent her another placating smile and nodded.

“Right, yes, quite.” You took a deep breath, gathering your skirts.

“Whistledown is always watching.” Pen shrugged, a cautious eye flickering between you and Eloise.

“She is utterly wonderful thanks to her wide expanse of knowledge but alas, I doubt I am interesting enough to feature in her paper.” You nod towards her.

She shrugged, “You never know.”

“Well, I’ll frame it on the wall if I do get a feature and I will sign everyone’s copies.” You grin, trying desperately to win Pen over to your side again.

Eloise wrapped her hand around your arm and smiled, “I’ll be first in line.”

“Of course.” You smiled, sending her a look of gratitude, hoping it conveyed everything you wanted it to, and more, “I should go.”

“Okay, okay, yes. Go home and be safe.” She stops herself just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, her eyes slightly wide with alarm at her own almost mistake, “I will see you soon.” She quickly rearranged the panicked-look into a smile, waving you off.

“And I will look forward to that moment.” You nodded, before waving to Penelope too, “Bye, Pen!” And leaving the pair to their own devices.

Pen watched as you left, looking across the Eloise and watching how her gaze followed you until you were out of sight, “Since when have you become so close to Y/N?”

“Oh, not that long, not really.” Eloise quickly looked away from the space that Y/N had last occupied, and smiled at her friend.

“And so damning of Lady Whistledown? I thought you were still excited and trying to find out who she was?”

Eloise nodded, “I am! Not that I’ve got any further than last we spoke. I don’t know... it’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it?” She smiled, in her own little world, as she slumped back in her chair. Relaxing in the sunshine and watching the people of the ‘Ton pass by.

“I suppose.” Pen eventually shrugged. She wtached El in silence for a few moments and then leaned forward, a worried frown on her face, “Is there anything you want to tell me? As your friend. You can tell me anything. Anything at all.” She put her hand on Eloise’s.

“What’s with all the questions!” Eloise laughed, taking a sip of lemonade.

Pen let out the breath she was holding and sat back in her chair, “Sorry, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” She glance to El, once more, “And I’m worried about you.”

Eloise shook her head, “There is nothing to be worried about. I promise you. I have never been better. Honestly.”

What Penelope wanted to say was that she had become increasingly aware of Y/N’s intentions. What if Eloise got too attached? What if the ‘Ton caught wind of Y/N’s attachment to Eloise and the Bridgerton’s got dragged down into the dangerous rumours too? Eloise would never survive the accusations.

Perhaps Penelope had to take things into her own hands, before the two did something particularly dangerous, like fall in love.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

“Y/N?” Eloise’s voice echoed through the hall. You slowly lifted your gaze from the window, dragging it to the door, “Y/N?” She called again and your heart broke. Since reading the Whistledown this morning, you knew this moment would have to happen. You were hoping you could have put it off for longer. “Toby let me in.” Her frustrated tone pierced through the door. You could hear your butler do his best to convince her to leave but- “Did you... have you seen-?” She asked, bursting through the door. Toby stood in the doorway, looking apologetic but you just brushed him away. He sent you one last worried look and bowed, closing the door for your privacy,

You nodded, “It came through this morning.” You croaked, blinking slowly. You didn’t know that life could stop so suddenly. You could hardly believe your eyes when Toby had insisted you get up immediately and had carefully passed you the small piece of paper.

He had held you for most of the morning as you wept.

Eloise stopped in front of you, not entirely sure of what to do with herself. She crouched in front of you, hand on your knees, “Are you okay, my love?” When you didn’t answer, she gently reached her hand up to your cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and abruptly stood up. “I- I’m okay.” You had to get away from her. She shouldn’t even be here. You were angry with her. Or were you? You couldn’t tell. You were so confused and tired and sad. But you knew that her being here was a stupid mistake. What would people say once they knew she was in your company, alone.

“As soon as I saw it, I had to come over.” She rushed out, her eyes watery and her hand still grasping a crumpled up version of the gossip. You turned away.

“Eloise.” You forced out her name. How could even her name be ruined for you? How dare they take that from you?

You flinched as her hand rested at the bottom of your back, “I needed to see you and make sure you were okay.”

“Eloise.” You shook her head and tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You wanted, just for one moment, to be selfish. You loved her. You will always love her. How could you leave her? But you couldn’t be selfish. You loved her too much for that.

“Mother doesn’t know I’m here though, because-” She hesitated and forced her fingers to ungrip the gossip. She looked up at you as fresh tears formed but she quickly rubbed away the tears and threw the paper into the fire. You pretended not to see it, “well, that doesn’t matter.” She clenched her hands into fists so you wouldn’t see them shake, but you did. Was it fear? Anger? You closed your eyes.

“Eloise, I can’t see you anymore.” You managed to whisper out. The fire crackled and had swallowed your words.

She stepped closer, “Pardon?” She looked so worried, she was worried about you. You strugled to breath.

You turned away again but spoke louder so you wouldn’t have to say it again, “We can’t be together like this anymore. I’m not... I don’t want this anymore.” You shook your head, looking out of the window, trying to imagine you weren’t here, you weren’t doing this, you were happy.

“Want what?” Her voice was quiet now, and she hadn’t followed you this time.

“Eloise, listen!” You turned sharply, “You have to understand.”

“Understand?” Her breathing had sped up and she shook her head, “Well... understand what?” You couldn’t tell if she truly didn’t understand or was being willfully ignorant. She was a clever girl, your Eloise. You shook your head. Not your Eloise. Just Eloise.

“I no longer wish to see you, Miss Bridgerton.” You tried to hold your head high and keep your voice even.

She frowned and squinted at you, “And what, may I ask, do you mean by that?”

“I am sure I can only say this once.” Your voice shook again. So much for keeping the voice even, “Please, we can’t be together. I do not want to see you... ever again.” You gazed at the fire, refusing to make eye contact.

Eloise hummed, “You mean you do not want to be seen with me.” She said softly, correcting you.

“No, I-”

She interruped, “It’s two very different things.” she stepped between you and the fire, cutting your gaze off. Your eyes landed on her hands again. She was wearing your ring. You heart fell that bit further.

“El-”

Now she was desperate. Her hands started moving as she spoke, “Of course, we’re never going to want to be seen together but we can still-”

“Eloise! Stop.” You felt like a petulant child, who wasn’t getting their own way. “Stop it! I have simply...” You gritted your teeth, “I’ve moved on.”

Her face fell. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t- you didn’t want to do this anymore. She took a breath, and in a very small voice, asked, “You have... moved on?”

You averted your gaze to the garden again. This time insisten that you would see this through. This was what you had to do. “This was nothing but a brief dalliance. I am sorry if I ever hinted otherwise.” You looked at the trees in the garden, the one you were so fond of when you were little. You would spend hours climbing, falling, painting, climbing again. You kept focused on that, on happier times.

“Dalliance?” You could hear the anger coming through now, “I’m not dim. I read the entirety of the latest Whistledown. I saw everything...” She faltered for words. “What was published means nothing to me, Y/N. My love,” You winced again, “I know you. The gossip changes nothing. I don’t care if I am seen with you, I-”

You shook your head, you needed another route. She knew you too well, "The gossip in the Whisledown is a separate matter, it is not... it has nothing to do with this, Eloise.”

“You’re being quite serious.” She stopped in her tracks.

Your gaze switched to the swing your brother had built for you when you were young, you distracted your mind with memories of those days. Days before Eloise. You survived then. You could survive now. The days after Eloise. Was that how your life would be mapped out? “Yes.”

“You cannot do this. I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t... allow it?” You turned around to face her.

“This is not you. Not the Y/N I know.” She was moving again, right in front of you with her hands cradling your cheeks and her forehead on yours. You did all you could not to cry, “I know you Y/N. I have got to know you in so many ways. I love you.” A tear escaped and she sniffled, angry once more with herself for letting her tears fall.

“What else do you want from me? Eloise? What more can I say?” You whispered, you didn’t have the energy. You felt like you could hardly stand.

“I want you- Darling, I want you to be honest with me. Tell me what is going on inside that head of yours. You cannot push me away.” She had broken now, tears were stubbornly spilling from her eyes.

“I’ve only ever been honest with you, Eloise.” You spoke softly. And that was the truth. Until today.

“And do I not get a say in the matter?” She asked, voice breaking.

You closed your eyes. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“It cannot be changed? That I am nothing to you?” She whispered.

“No.” You shut your eyes even more. But instead of blocking things out, it only brought images. Like a book opening before your eyes, full of memories, full of Eloise. You groaned in frustration and pulled away.

“We could... you could come visit me, in the country. We could be together there, without worry. If it’s the ‘Ton that worries you.” She hiccupped and pulled you in again, she wiped your face, wiping away tears you hadn’t even realised were there, “We could leave tomorrow.” She intertwined your fingers, pulling you closer to her.

“You need to go.” You whispered.

She kissed your brow, “We could leave now.” She moved her hands, still intertwined with yours, to your cheeks and kept her lips to your cheek.

“Go home, Eloise. Please.” She shook her head, pressing a kiss to both eyes, and to your nose three times.

“I love you.” She trembled, “Tell me. Look me in the eye, Y/N, and tell me you do not have love for me. That you do not love me - as I love you.” She forced you to sit and knelt in front of you, as she had when she first arrived.

“Just-”

Her hands squeezed yours, “Say it.” She challenged. A new steel in her voice.

“El-”

She squeezed your hands harder, “Do not ignore my request.”

“You need to-”

“Y/N.” She let go. You moved from the chair and to the floor, sitting in front of her.

You put your hand to her cheek now, and said as softly as you could, “Go home, El. I will not say it again.”

“Then do not say it again, and I will stay.” She looked at the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.

“I-” Her eyes snapped to yours, and you looked down, “do not love you.”

She leant forwards, “I asked you to look me in the eye and-”

“Eloise, I-” You dragged your eyes to hers. You couldn’t do this. How could you0 “I do not love you.” You said.

You watched a shift of emotions in her eyes, and there was a long period of silence. Eventually, she leaned back, stood up and took a deep breath, “Y/N,” You prepared yourself for the worst, to hear her say something awful. As you have said hurtful things to her. For her to leave, which is what you supposeduly wanted. You couldn’t watch her go, “I just do not believe you.”

You pushed yourself up off the floor, “I have done everything you have asked of me!” You shouted.

“It is truly what you want?” She asked back, her voice rising to match yours.

Before all hell could break lose, Toby knocked on the door. You turned away, back to looking out the garden.

“Miss Y/L/N? Lord Bridgerton is here.” He said, and you sighed, body tensing up.

Eloise spoke softly once more, “He- my brother?” She asked, in disbelief.

“Send him in.” You tried to sound commanding, but all that came out was a weak request and a tremble in your voice.

“Miss Y/L/N,” You turned and he briefly bowed to you, “Eloise, we’ve been looking all over for you. It is late. You should come home.” He said, curtly.

Eloise gathered her emotions together, “Brother, I am perfectly capable of visiting my friends, thank you very much. We are simply... discussing the latest gossip.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at you, but she nodded to her brother, “You may leave, I will follow shortly.”

He glanced at you, before striding over to his sister and grabbing her arm. He whispered, angry, but you could still hear, “You will do well to remember what Mother said.” He gritted his teeth, “This is inappropriate. You are being childish.”

“I did not feel in need of your accompaniment, brother, so I do not understand why you are even here.” Her voice was angry once more.

“You know perfectly well why I am here.” The tone perfectly matched Eloise’s.

“Oh? Well, please, elaborate.”

“Eloise, I am your brother. You will do as I say.”

You were suddenly immeasurably tired. Both you and Mr Bridgerton wanted the same thing. You put your trust in him that he would get his way quicker than you would.

“The two of you may remain here and squabble all you like. I will depart to bed.” You said, hardly glancing at either of them as you passed.

Eloise went to move towards you, “Y/N-”

Anthony bowed his head as you passed, “Miss Y/L/N-”

Just before leaving you turned and looked Eloise in the eye, “Go home, Miss Bridgerton, and be safe. Do not think of me. That is all I can ask of you.” You sent her a pleading look with your eyes, praying she listened. “Lord Bridgerton.” You bowed your head to him and closed the door behind you.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a soft knock on your door. You chose not to respond.

The knock sounded out again, a few minutes later, “Miss Y/N?”

You groaned and tore the soft blankets from over your head. “What is it Toby?” You called out, gaze settling on thpacked bags at the end of your bed.

“Lord Bridgerton has requested your presence.” He called out, voice as soft as his knock. You winced at the title.

You sighed, rolling over, “Send him away, please.”

Toby hesitated, “I told him as such myself. I’m afraid he has insisted on waiting in the library.” He finally admitted.

“Well then, you can tell him that he can do what he likes but I will not be seeing him.” You gritted your teeth and covered your head with the blankets once more.

“Y/N, I do not think he will go without a fight.” Your butler’s voice was muffled through the sheets covering your head.

You screwed up your eyes in frustration and shouted out, “I will not see him, Toby.” Then took a deep breath and unclenched, already feeling sorry for your reaction to the man who was more like your father than the biologoical one you had, “I’m sorry, I- please, I cannot.”

“I will try again.” He promised.

“Thank you.” You whispered after he had gone. You pulled yourself into a tight ball and wept again.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

You had waited all day, knowing that you had a visitor yet hoping that he would, essentially, fuck off.

Toby had been coming in at intermittent priods to give you updates but they were pretty much all, ‘Lord Bridgerton still waits in the library’ and you telling him to tell him to ‘fuck off but please phrase it a more palatable way’. Unfortunately, the Bridgerton hadn’t seemed to get the hint.

You sighed and sat up in bed. You could wait him out but a bit part of you fully believed that he would say all night and then, when you tried to leave for Frankfurt the next morning, he would follow you all he way their until he had got what he came for. He was like his sister in that way.

You gritted your teeth. How many time would you have to tell a member of this family to just leave you alone. You’re just trying to keep them safe, don’t they get it?

Finally, after meditating on it a while, you got up. Your lady’s maid had put out a dress, just in case you had wanted to talk with him, but you wanted this over and done with. If he insisted on talking to you, then let’s make this as difficult for him as possible.

You’d speak to him in your sleeping garments. On your terms.

You stomped down the stairs, going back to stomp on a stair again if you felt it hadn’t been loud and angry enough the first time.

Toby couldn’t help but smile as he saw you, well- heard you first, and he bowed his head as he opened the door.

“You have a great deal of patience, Lord Bridgerton.” You glared at him, sitting in your chair, your favourite spot in the library. He practically jumped out of his skin, dropping the piece of literature he had been entertaining himself with as he waited. “Did I say you could read my books?”

He looked you up and down and averted his gaze, looking slightly stricken. He snapped the book shut and put it down on the table.

Anthony stood up and bowed his head, “I, uh, wanted to speak with you.”

“I do not wish to do so with you. You may leave now.” You all but snarled, showing him the way to the door.

He paused and frowned, “I will wait here until you agree to talk.”

“Then you will be waiting a long time.” You shrugged, turning around to walk back to the door.

“I can stay here all night.” He called after you.

“And I will be gone in the morning.” You spoke, hand on the door knob, willing yourself to leave, now. You weren’t even meant to warn him that you were leaving.

He faltered for a moment, “Gone?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more with yourself than him, and turned back towards him, stepping away from the door, “Tomorrow I leave for the continent. My brother will be waiting for me in Frankfurt.” You spoke evenly for the first time in days, “My father organised it all.” The spite returned back to your voice. You hated the man, but you accepted that the change of scenery would do you good.

“And Eloise...?” Anthony blinked a few times, lost for words.

You shook your head, “Doesn’t know.”

He frowned, “Perhaps she should.”

You already felt the familiar prickle of tears at the back of your eyes and bit your tongue to keep them at bay.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, quietly, resigned.

He sat, slowly, as if to not scare you off, “I- I just have some questions.”

“I am not interested in answering them.” You said and yet you found yourself sitting in the open seat opposite him, your father’s chair.

“Eloise-” You audibly winced at the name and Anthony quickly took note, trying to move on, to keep you talking. “You and her.”

“I am sure you have seen the papers. I could not continue a,” You hesitated as yet another li escaped your lips. It seemed all you could do now. “friendship with your sister after what has been spoken of me.”

He nodded, a look of deep thought crossed his face and he turned his gaze directly to you, a soft gaze, almost a gaze of brotherly love. Your chest ached again, “You saw a lot of one another.”

You hesitated, waiting for the trick. But sighed and nodded, “We did.” Giving him no more information.

He shook his head, “Don’t make me say it.”

“We were friends.” You gritted out.

“You know that’s not what I’m asking, Miss Y/L/N.” He sat his weight forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he look at you with his brow wrinkled.

“Then what are you asking, Lord Bridgerton?” You asked, terse once more.

“Were you...?” He dropped off, hoping that you’d understand what he was trying to get across without actually having to speak the words.

You lifted your chin stubbornly, “No.”

He shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands, “I shouldn’t have asked for I already know the answer to that. I should have recognised the looks you gave one another. From the very beginning...” He sat back in the chair again. You looked at him, really looked at him. He was tired, lost, confused. He was in pain. “She’s not been the same since your last... conversation.”

Not in the same kind of pain you were in. You gritted your teeth again as your heart dropped, “That’s not a question.”

“No,” He was watching you, just as you were him. You felt vulnerable and wished you had just left the room when you had the chance. Now, the mention of her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. He was your last connection to her, “I thought you should know, is all.”

“Anthony-” You pondered how to phrase it, how to say it, what tone to take. “I have done what I needed to in order to protect Elo- to protect your sister. Now you are duty bound in continuing to protect her.” You gaze intensified, “As her brother-”

“As her brother! I would do anything for my family- for my sister.” He interjected, a split second of anger at the suggestion that he is not doing all he should.

“Then get her a best kind of husband. One that will respect her wishes and treat her kindly.” You pleaded. You knew that’s not what she wanted. How could you disrehard her wishes so?

“What if that's not what she wants?” Your gaze flickered up to his. He knows. He cna protect her. “Not what would make her happy?” The same flare of anger that had just struck Anthony moments ago now struck you hot.

You stood up over him, “Do you think I am happy?” You bit out, digging your fingernails into your palms. Don’t you dare cry, Y/N, you thought to yourself. “Look at me! Do you think it filled my heart with joy to have to lie to her? To look her in the eyes and deny all feelings of my love for her?” Your voice wobbled and your pressed your palms even tighter, “Do you think I enjoy hearing of her misery?” Your voice broke and you took a deep breath, carefully unfurling your fingers to see little indentations in your palms.

Anthony was gazing at the floor, chin in hand, deep in thought, seemingly unaffected by your outburst, “You did what you had to.” He summarised for you.

“Yes.” You whirled around again, “Yes! To prevent scandal to your family name, I did what I had to!” You poked your finger into his shoulder, “I have not slept for feeling so wretched. I didn’t know it was possible to feel even more so.” You crumpled on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest, and letting the tears o, “Yet here I am.” You wept.

He stood and, slowly and quietly, came to sit next to you. Anthony brought his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“Anthony, you know she doesn’t have to marry a man. But you know as well as I do of the connotations that will bring. If that is what she wishes, and I believe it is- I know it is, then you need to prepare for that.” You mumbled into his shoulder, your tears making his shirt wet through, “Don’t force her to marry. Even if you think it’ll make things easier.” You begged. This was, surely, the last thing you could do for her. The only thing you could do to bring her joy.

His adam’s apple bobbed and he turned his head slightly to you, “And would you marry a man?”

“Never.” You gazed into the distance, thinking of your ow family, of your father, “But I will no longer have the gossips of the ‘Ton to answer to.” You shrugged, helpless and tired, but defiant.

“And what will you do?” He asked, softly.

“All that is left to do is to leave come morning.” You responded, “My bags are packed. There is nothing left here.”

“Nothing?” He moved sharply, almost so fast that you keeled over right into the space he had just occupied. You steadied yourself as he sat himself in front of you, passion burning in his eyes. He was challenging you.

“Perhaps I mean that there is too much for me here.” You met his gaze again and he nodded.

“Perhaps.”

The two of you sat in silence for a short period of time, perhaps a few minutes. Eventually, you wiped at your cheeks and stood up, holding out your hand. “I thank you for your visit, Lord Bridgerton.” He took your hand, standing up.

“I fear nothing good came of it.” He looked more troubled than he had when he had first arrived but he squeezed your hands in thanks.

“Hmm.” You nodded in agreement, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help her. I don’t even have the answers myself.” You admitted.

“And what if I want to talk again?” He asked, plainly.

You faltered. You were going away, cutting off all conncections to this place. You frowned and shook your head, “I’m leaving-”

“But can I write?” He perservered. The ache in his eyes made you falter, and you gave in too easily. Maybe you were becoming too soft.

“You can.” You answered, before your tongue could stop and your brain could cut in.

He quirked up an eyebrow and there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes, “Will you answer?”

“Maybe not. I don’t think I’ll ever have the answers you’re looking for.” You admitted, “You’re a good brother.”

“And you’re brother... is he good?” He asked, still with a tight hold of your hands, torn between letting you go and begging you to stay.

“He will look after me.” You nodded.

“I am sorry, for what it is worth. I’m sorry that you can’t be happy here, with Eloise.” He said her name with such force and certainty. Perhaps you couldn’t just shut her away in a memory box in your brain. She was always stubborn like that. “You have all the qualities I would wish for in a gentleman.” His lips quirked up in a small smile.

You think that, for the first time in a days, you may have just smiled too. A sad kind of smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Good night, Anthony.” You pulled your hands from his grip. “I will esnrue to send you Toby with my future address.” He nodded and bowed one last time.

“Safe travels,” Anthony walked himself to the door, opening it. You didn’t follow. He looked back one last time, “and thank you.” He smiled again, closing the door behind him.

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abimess · 2 years

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Consequences

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Some mistakes have irredeemable consequences. Wanda will learn about it the hard way. [Requested]

Word count: 1.250 || Pronouns: not used

Warnings: cheating, angst

A/N: So... I listened to Midnights... That's all I'm going to say. Enjoy the pain!

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Halloween Special | Masterlist | Be notified of my stories

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

It’s funny how some habits grow out to have completely different meanings than they had before. It’s bittersweet.

One of Wanda’s favorite activities of all time was spending time with you, just the two of you in silence. Hearing your heartbeat as she laid on your chest; hearing the rustle of the leaves outside as the both of you read a book - by yourselves, but still together.

The two of you appreciated the silence, that was one of the many things you found out you had in common in the early stages of your relationship. The lack of words that said way more than enough.

But now it was all different. Your silence doesn't have the same meaning it once did. In fact, Wanda finds herself thinking quite often, it doesn’t have any meaning at all. And the worst part was that there was no one to blame but herself.

It’s a windy day today. And neither you nor Wanda were able to postpone the promise you’d made to Billy and Tommy of taking them to the city park so they could play on the fallen leaves.

So here you are, sitting on a park bench, watching as your sons play with some other kids from the neighborhood, laughing and running around as you and the redhead stay there, in silence. An excruciating silence.

A few minutes before, a kind woman offered to take a picture of the four of you, after she saw you were taking pictures of the twins making angels on the sea of leaves on the floor. Wanda’s heart stopped when you agreed, thanking the stranger with the kind smile you last offered your wife a long time ago.

The four of you got together in front of a big tree, your hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder as Wanda did the same with Billy. Following her instincts, she slipped her free arm around your middle. It took her just a second to realize what she’s done, and she was about to pull away if you hadn’t slipped your own over her shoulders.

Wanda wanted to cry right there, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. But she took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to push her tears away as she forced a smile at your phone that the unknown woman held in front of her face, hiding half of the smile she was giving at the cute family on the screen. Looks really can be deceiving.

When the stranger announced the picture was taken, you pulled away faster than you’d ever done before, rubbing your nose in the way you always did when you were uncomfortable. You thanked the woman before taking your phone back, checking the picture just enough not to be rude at her kind offer. Wanda ruffled the boys' hair before thanking her as well, and as soon as the woman was gone, the perfect family facade fell apart, the two of you back on the bench, in silence.

There, the redhead thinks about making some conversation - meaningless topics she’s become accustomed to choosing to fill the void whenever it was only the two of you. It hurts, it always does. But, still, it hurt less than talking about nothing at all.

However, the moment she looks at you, she loses her nerve. Even if you weren’t looking at her, she could see the pain behind your eyes. The eyes she loves so deeply; that she could never wish to be gone from her life.

And, in moments like that one, Wanda hated how well she knew you; how she was able to read you like the back of her hand.

Because, right now, she knows exactly what’s going through your mind. That night, a few weeks ago, when you found out about her affair with one of her coworkers in the worst possible way.

She didn’t mean it, nothing of it. She was dissatisfied with her job and with not being able to achieve her professional dreams. None of that was an excuse, of course, and she hadn't been able to convince you of it in the long fight you had about her cheating. You and she knew about the redhead's self-destructive behavior of sabotaging herself whenever a small detail of her life went wrong. But that was too much to forgive.

At first, Wanda thought there was nothing worse than making you cry like that - loud sobs of pain and anger, mingled in accusations and hurtful words. But she was proved wrong the moment your tears subsided, your jaw clenched tightly. The moment you said it was over, but that you wouldn't file for divorce yet because the boys were too young and they didn't deserve it. It broke her, but there was nothing she could do about it since she broke you first.

So here you are. An unhappy marriage with two six-year-olds to take care of and for whom you have to pretend that everything was fine.

Later that night - long after the four of you went back home and not many minutes after you put the boys to sleep -, Wanda was taking the dinner dishes out of the dishwasher and putting them back in their respective drawers and cabinets. Her heart tightened a little when she heard your footsteps approaching.

“Wanda?” Your voice took her by surprise, her eyes wide as she turned to look at you. “Yes?” The redhead’s voice was a mere whisper, looking at you intently as your gaze rested on the floor for a moment in which you gathered the strength to look at her before you did so.

“There’s going to be a parent-teacher conference on Tuesday morning at the boys’ school. But I’ll be working, can you go?” Your voice is almost robotic, devoid of feelings, wanting to end that conversation as quickly as possible, and Wanda's shoulders drop slightly, nodding slowly. “Sure.” A humorless chuckle escaped her lips before she found herself saying, “for a moment I thought you wanted to talk about us.”

Your response is a loud gulp that the redhead can see in your throat the moment before you avert your gaze from hers. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, Wanda spins on her heels, hiding her tears as she busies herself tidying the glasses more than it would be necessary.

A loud gasp of surprise makes its way past her lips a few moments later, when she feels your hand resting on her shoulder. The redhead dares not move, certain that the slightest movement would make you pull away. But out of the corner of her eye, Wanda can see that your arm is outstretched, putting as much distance between the two of you as you can as you touch her. She doesn't know how to feel about the whole thing.

“Goodnight.” You say it the next moment, a whisper so low that it is almost drowned out by the low rumble of the refrigerator's motor. The redhead, too astonished to be able to say anything, remains silent, and you take your hand off her shoulder, and make your way with quick steps out of the kitchen, towards the guest room that was slowly becoming your bedroom.

Even though the touch lasted only a few seconds, Wanda could still feel it burning her skin under her pajama top. And, laying her face on her own shoulder, your wife finally allows the tears to fall, wishing there was a less painful punishment for all of her mistakes.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fanfiction

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 1 year

Text

I'm so close to killing the owner of Tumblr. I made a long ass post and I saved it and it didn't go through and I'm trying to contain my anger

Anyways the ask was about Michael having big older sibling reader (they were quiet, calm and kind) and then they died in any way I think is fit and reader was Michael's only hope and happiness and then years later Michael gets taken by the entity and finds reader like the spirit or something.

I think this is very interesting why not.

Dbd! Michael x older sibling! Reader.

Everyone knew who Michael Myers was obviously. But they never exactly knew who his oldest sibling was.

News spread that The Shape had killed everyone in his family except for one of his siblings. Some believed that they got burned to death by Michael although there wasn't any use or evidence of smoke or soot. Some believed they got buried underground but no signs of pre buried dirt or body in the ground. And the most popular belief was they were alive and working with michael as an accomplice.

But you and Michael know better than anyone that none of those are true. You don't help him. In fact he hates it when you try to. Changing your last name was the best thing you've done after that incident years ago.

You work to support both you and Michael. Especially Michael since he suddenly forgets the meaning of self care when you're not around you're the reason why he's always in great shape.

You don't mind your brother's unusual hobby. Maybe you were becoming like him too or maybe you know he couldn't control it and you had no problem with that. But either one doesn't change sibling love Michael has for you, it is as big as the huge pile of bodies he killed in the past. (it's alot)

Both of you weren't that different. You both were quiet and calm. But he definitely wasn't kind at all.

It isn't hard to read Michael when you've basically been looking and reading him when he was born. And he hates it but you know he actually really doesn't. But all of those weren't that important compared to as of right now.

Michael stood near at the crashed blaring alarming car with a body too shaped like yours, drowned in blood. Although a big fire was next to it with his trusty knife clutched in his hand so tightly it looked like it was going to shatter to pieces. He was overwhelmed with emotions. He composed himself and just went to take a closer look, he couldn't just assume it was you in the car crash who coincidentally crashed in front of him. Even though the car also looked identical to yours..

He's just going to check because his curiosity is scratching at his head like untrimmed cat's nails. And when his violent brain realises its not you he'll go back home and watch you as you cook for each other's food as usual.

....

This isn't right.

Why does this person look like you?

He was frozen in place for the first time in his life he felt as if he couldn't do anything. You were always helping and aiding him no? You were the opposite of him, he just destroyed and killed. What was he going to do now? Healing wasn't his kind of thing oh fuck what is he going to do?

Soon the sound of siren and people shouting caught his attention. He was confused and anxious and did the only thing he knew what to do when he did. Kill.

The police and firemen stopped in their tracks slowly realising who they were seeing. They immediately got ready to attack the man. Damn Michael... Must've killed the poor person there.

But they only had a few seconds to comprehend wha was happening. One of them were.. On the ground? And an excruciating pain as more bodies make awful squelching noises as ones body feels more and more heavier.

Michael he... Must get home now. You must be waiting for him as the food is getting cold.

Weird. He was already home. That was quick. But where are you? You're supposed to be sitting in a chair as the dim light above you revealing what you have cooked and telling him "oh Michael you're back, I was waiting for you for so long. Your food is getting cold..!" where the fuck were you?

He stood still for a few more minutes he wasn't even sure if he was thinking.

And then the TV next to him turned on. The words coming out of the reporters words made him want to strangle her to death right then and there.

"as of right now multiple police officers are gathering here as it was claimed that The Boogie man had taken the life of Y/N L/N who was driving an....."

L/n... That was the fake name you legally used. it had to be a coincidence. But why was he feeling so... Sad? Sad? He was feeling sad? Instead of anger or bloodlust he was feeling sad?

Michael didn't like this feeling at all. You were always there to tell him what to do other than kill when he was feeling all kinds of emotions but you weren't here to tell him what to do now. So he had no choice but to kill. It wasn't even Halloween yet but damn the feeling was strong..

No one had known why but September 19 1979 was when Michael Myers had unpredictably struck and became one of the biggest killing spree by Michael yet.

It was later revealed that the person who died in the car crash was surprisingly related to Michael Myers. This new information had now led people to believe that Michael's sibling was indeed an accomplice for him but he no longer found them useful and therefore murdered them and went mad.

Michael wanted to display every single one of these air headed piece of shit's guts in their family's homes. But he was too busy dealing with the new unsettling emptiness inside the home you both lived in. He may go kill again. And again. And again. Just so he doesn't have to hear the annoying agitating skin crawling quietness that made the blood flowing through his ears audible.

It had been a few years. Maybe 3 or 6 he doesn't know. But one thing Michael does know is that he's now a complete mess. It was pretty obvious, his mask dirtied and scratched. His clothes were messy and untidy, his knife was rusty and had dried blood on it.

Now it was October 19. 19th being the day you died and his birth day and month. His Halloween was ruined when he was younger and now you died on his goddamn birth day. God how more unlucky can he be.

Now he was chasing after laurie yet again. But then his vision turned black and it felt as if he dropped to the ground but was somehow laying on his back.

And he opened his eyes and saw peculiar people...

It was a few minutes of a man with a ghost like mask talking his ass off to Michael who wasn't even listening and thinking about how he was so close to getting laurie (I know that ghostface didn't exist before Michael but I don't play dbd and I don't know much about it. </3)

Untill he said something along the lines of- "oh and there's this creepy, quiet but cute ghost named Y/n L/n."

Michael's neck snapped to look at what he thinks is called ghostface, Michael asked himself if he heard that right.

This caught the attention of ghostface as well as the others.

"oh, someone caught your eye I see? I mean I guess it makes sense. They're creepy and quiet like you." ghostface teased.

Michael stood up next to ghostface. Indicating that he wants to know where this person is, now.

"woah, calm down dude! You just heard of them. To be honest I didn't think you were gonna be like this, I thought you wouldn't c-"

Ghostface word's were cut short by The Shape strangling him. Ghostface was struggling to talk, panic visible in his body language. This alerted most of the killers.

"okay, I'll tell you!" and with that Michael had dropped the poor man. And had silently forced ghostface to lead the way.

"that bitch crazy..." Freddy the burnt man whispered to Frank the one with a neck tattoo and a smiley face drawn on his mask who only nodded hoping the blue suited man didn't hear them.

20 minutes later deep into the woods, ghostface has thought of talking to Michael more about the person who seemed to have completely captivated Michael.

"so about the person..." he starts and the man next to him doesn't react. Ghostface takes it as a sign to keep talking about them.

"they don't really talk much but they're kind and all that, but every October 19 and 31st they get all sad and moody and goes somewhere secluded. They once said something about their brother."

And with that Michael starts power walking to the direction they were heading and ghostface yells at him to calm down.

Michael didn't even need to hear your voice or see your face to confirm it was really you on the river nearby.

Here's a lovely clift hanger since I think my vocabulary is slipping off and I have to gain my rich words again. And I think this was going too long omg.

#og michael myers #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers #slasher x reader #dead by daylight #dbd killer #dbd michael myers #siblings #dead by daylight michael myers

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honeysuckleharringtons · 4 months

Text

Part Five: "Seasonal Specials" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Christmas Eve has rolled around, and unfortunately for a very pregnant Reader, she is stuck at home with a migraine. Luckily for her, her younger brother doesn't make for too bad of company. — (Now) A slow shift at Brew and Me turns out to be a good night for advice and a call from everyone's favorite nursing student.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 1,900

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, discussions of homophobia, discussions of abuse and allusions to physical abuse, discussions of slut-shaming, Reader is lowkey bad at advice when it comes to these topics LMAO, explicit language, food consumption (Reader drinks hot chocolate), not really a warning but Will is gay and autistic in this series, as always lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this should've been posted way earlier, i am so sorry it wasn't. hope you guys enjoy though!

Originally Written: 12/21/2023 through 12/25/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, December of 1987 ]

Christmas Eve. It was Christmas Eve and you were stuck at home with an excruciating headache.

You supposed it wasn't all bad. After all, staying at home was preferable over the rare occasion that you did leave the house, when everyone would stare you down like some caged animal at the zoo. Unfortunately, the same could be said for your family—no, not your immediate family, who'd helped you more than ever since you'd entered your third and final trimester—whose reactions had ranged from disgusted to sympathetic.

When you'd gone to the family's end-of-summer family reunion, you'd tried your best to hide the tiny bump you were sporting at the time. However, your aunt Judy had taken notice of your particularly round belly, and immediately figured out that it wasn't from one too many hot dogs at the cookout. Ever since then, you'd heard every comment in the book, everything from "whore throwing her life away" to "so sad she thought that was her only option."

So, instead of listening to the endless insults from your distant relatives, you'd prayed for some way out of the gathering. Unfortunately for you, God had a sense of humor, hence the excruciating headache.

The sound of the microwave beeping in the next room over set you off all over again, the noise like a hammer to the head. "Will, can't you tell that thing to shut up?" you groaned, covering your face with the compress he'd made you.

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to help," he joked. You couldn't tell if you wanted to laugh or kill him for his sense of humor. "Here's your hot chocolate."

You sat up ever-so-slightly, taking a small drink of the deep brown liquid. Almost instantly, the warmth of it made you feel a little better. "Thank you." You reached a hand over, ruffling his already messy hair. "By the way, you didn't have to stay home with me."

"And listen to Uncle Howie tell me how we're both going to hell? I'd rather have that headache of yours."

A snicker escaped your lips, knowing exactly what he meant. "Okay, maybe Uncle Howie is a bit too opinionated on the sex lives of sixteen and eighteen year olds, but you don't have to listen to him. I mean, you're missing out on Grandma's fruitcake, which is your favorite part of the holidays."

"After last year, listening to half our cousins tell me I'm fruitier than the cake, I don't think I'll ever eat it again." Will pulled his knees up to his chest, his face overtaken by an expression that looked a lot like longing. "Besides, it's not really worth it to me."

You set your mug aside before placing a hand on his knee. "What do you mean?"

"The way the family talks about you… I thought I was the black sheep of the family. You might as well be a purple sheep."

Your pregnancy hormones must've taken over, because instead of a normal reaction, you found yourself beginning to cry from his words. No, not because of pain from his statement, but rather comfort in knowing that he'd rather miss out on the finer things of life if it meant sticking up for you.

Will, and his lack of social cue skills, stared at you for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, he landed on, "Sorry if I made you more upset. I didn't-"

A small huff of amusement left your mouth as you shook your head. "No, Will," you smiled, reaching up to wipe away your excess tears, "I'm just… I'm really happy to have you."

He flashed you a closed-lip smile, one that felt so genuine and unapologetically Will. "I know you'd do the same for me."

[ Now, December of 1991 ]

"I would, kiddo. I really would."

Aster Bay was a different kind of beautiful at the holidays. Sure, the small college town was normally beautiful, but upon seeing the small-town glow overtake the place, you were sure you hadn't seen anything like it.

Apartments and beach-side condos decked out in Christmas lights, a tree as high as the clouds in the town square, students dressed in Christmas and Hanukkah sweaters, their dogs in matching attire. The town felt like your own personal snow globe, tiny flakes flooding the ground beneath your feet with every step.

The magic of the holidays of course carried over into your favorite little coffee shop, decorations of red and green covering the walls and counters while the smell of peppermint wafted through the air. Unfortunately for you and Max, the one thing your little coffee shop was lacking this Christmas Eve was customers.

Neither of you were really sure why the store was open. Nearly everyone had gone home for the holidays—students, patrons, and other baristas alike—and the store was dead quiet, aside from the soft sound of Sinead O'Conner playing on the overhead speaker. Silent Night is accurate, you thought to yourself.

"So, where's your lover boy at this Christmas Eve?" Max joked, breaking the long-winded silence.

You sighed, secretly longing for the nurse she spoke of. "Apparently they gave him a week off from the hospital so he went home to see his folks." A small wave of loneliness had come over you when Steve had told you about his departure a few days prior, when he stopped by to grab a latte for the road.

"That's nice. At least he's hopefully having a good time, not working on the holidays like some of us," she said lightheartedly. Though, you could've sworn you heard a hint of sadness in her tone.

"Hey, how come you aren't at home with your folks?" The question had been a simple one, but when Max looked up at you, you could tell her answer was about to be anything but simple.

Her arms folded tightly in front of her chest as she looked at you, a sigh falling between her plump lips. "It's… complicated."

You placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "I know we're only coworkers and we aren't really supposed to bring our personal lives to work with us, but you know you can talk to me, right? I'm your friend, plus I'm a mother so I have problem solving skills now."

She huffed in amusement at your last remark. "It's just… I can't really say a lot but my life in California, it's not as good as my life here. And as much as I love my mom, there's just… well, it's just better for me to stay here even as much as I miss her. Besides, it's not like I make enough to fly home and Neil certainly isn't going to pay for my flight."

You could tell from the clear distaste in the way she said Neil that she didn't like to say his name anymore than she had to. Unfortunately, you knew all too well what that was like, and there was a certain name that left a bad taste in your own mouth the same way Neil did for Max.

"I can't give you much advice because my dad was the one that left, but I promise, it does get better," you empathized. "You made the right decision by staying here. I'm proud of you, Max."

She began to fiddle with the sleeve of her flannel, her eyes darting away. "I hate being here though. I can't help my mom from here. There's no telling what he does to her when me and Billy are away."

You knew exactly what she meant by that too. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but that'll change too. Eventually he'll get tired of you and your mom fighting back and he'll leave. That's what my dad did anyway."

"The thing is," she paused, licking her lips, "I'm not sure my mom wants to fight back. It's like she wants to deal with Neil's bullshit. I mean, she divorced my dad over not making enough money and then she married Neil, who is still scraping at the bottom of the barrel to keep the lights on every month. Not to mention, she dated like ten guys in between and broke up with them for way less, but she'll always find a way to justify his actions."

You shrugged your shoulders. "My mom put up with it for seventeen years before she started to truly fight back." A small wave of silence came over the room before you continued, "I'm sorry I don't have much advice. I guess my situation was just a little different than most survivors'. One thing I can tell you though is that I'm proud of you for making the best decision for yourself. I know it's hard to put yourself first sometimes."

Max gave you a crooked smile, finally looking up at you again. "As much as it sucks that we've both been through a bad thing, I'm glad I have you to talk to about it."

"Of course, love. You're like a little sister to me."

Cutting your conversation short, the phone began to ring, the sound grating on your nerves. You loved your job, but it was Christmas Eve, damn it. In all honesty, you really just wanted to be at home, drinking hot chocolate with your girl in your lap and a movie playing on television.

Still, you picked up the phone, answering with the signature, "Happy holidays from Brew and Me. What can we do for you?"

"Can you tell me your seasonal specials?" said a familiar voice, his smirk audible in his tone.

"Steve! You're supposed to be on vacation," you scolded, though internally you were extremely happy to hear his voice. What is wrong with me? you pondered silently.

"I am, but I couldn't resist calling and ordering something."

Your brows furrowed at his statement. "How does that work?"

"Order anything you'd like and I'll pay you back when I get back to town. Think of it as a Christmas present, or whatever you celebrate."

"That feels like cheating, Harrington." Your eyes narrowed, despite his inability to see it.

"You don't have to tell me what it is, just how much I'll owe you," he replied. You could hear a fireplace crackling quietly in the background, and you could easily imagine him curled up in front of it, his skin covered with a thick Christmas sweater, glasses perched on his nose as he read a novel. "Same for Max or whoever else is working. Treat yourselves, courtesy of me."

"Well, thank you, Steve. We appreciate it," your lips curved upward into a smile as you spoke. "I hope you're enjoying your time off."

"I am. I'm sorry you have to work on Christmas Eve." You could almost hear the frown on his lips as he sympathized with you.

"It's not all bad. After all, I'm getting to hear from you."

"Careful, Byers, or I'll start to think you like me back," he smirked. Butterflies went off in your belly, your cheeks warm and surely rosy.

You were sure full sentences had escaped you, considering Steve had the ability to take your breath away and make you blush like no one else could. So, you stuck with what you knew you could say without stumbling over your words. "Happy holidays, Doc."

"It's a very happy holiday when I get to talk to you, Y/N."

So tumblr hates me...

I went over 24 hours thinking this chapter posted, only to find out tumblr ate it somewhere between my drafts, my queue, and my posts 🤦🏻‍♀️ this app loves to embarrass me

Anyway, I hope this was worth the extra long wait. It sucks that I'm posting it after the initial Christmas magic is over but I hope you guys liked it regardless! I will see you back here on Sunday for chapter six, which will be posted on time, fingers crossed!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic

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jotarothekidsmissyou · 2 years

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⁷/²⁹/²² ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ɴᴇᴠ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ~! ɪᴛꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀꜱ. ɪ’ᴍ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴏɴ,ꜱᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴍʏ ɪɴʙᴏx (ᴊᴋ..ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ ಥ‿ಥ).

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴇx, ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ

The final straw to any marriage is signing off your signature on divorce papers. The act alone is excruciating. Where did all that love go? The importance of wedlock is sharing life that long commitment together. Wanting to awake up next to that specific person everyday; no matter if it rained or snowed. But how come that wasn’t you? Why couldn’t you and your ex husband be able to celebrate your 50th year anniversary. Showcasing to the world that love still exists…

The day in which the divorce papers arrived was too cruel. It hurt knowing the fact he kept is word and filed for divorce. But it was for the best..Jotaro was barely home; he’s duty has a tentative husband and father fell by the waistside. The two of you tried to work things out but happiness never seemed like an option. He said it was a better and safer option if you guys got a divorce..you never knew what he meant by that..

You still kept your last name, Kujo, for Jolyne’s sake. It was set as a reminder that even though the two of you weren’t married anymore, you both remained as parents to your daughter. It was the least you could do. Regardless with all the pain, you were still in loved with him. You cared about his well-being, even though the two of you parted ways. Sometimes you stayed awake wondering if he ate or had proper rest. Just because the two of you legally were divorced didn’t mean those feelings have to dissipate. He made sure you and Jolyne lived comfortably in Florida, anything you guys needed he was able to provide. No different from when you were married to him.

Once a month he came to visit for a week. Jolyne treated his return like a celebratory occasion. Finally being able to see him instead of hearing his voice over the phone. Just like you, she missed him fondly but made peace with her parents being separated. The two of you got along effectively despite everything, saying it was best to have a mutual companionship rather than being spiteful. All for Jolyne’s best interest..right?

It was around 12 PM and you were finishing with the final details around the house. This week was one of those weeks Jotaro came to visit, and fortunately for Jolyne, she only had a half a day at school. Which was the cherry on top to a fulfilling day. Her parents “together”, good food and souvenirs all awaited her once she came home. The middle schooler had a pep in her step as she walked to the bus stop. You couldn’t help but to smile warmly at your daughter, relishing in the fact that she was happy. If she was happy you were happy, that’s all that matters, right?

Jotaro was supposed to arrive by 3pm, but by the doorbell ringing and no packages being delivered today, you knew it was him. You felt unprepared, you haven’t started making dinner, nor were you properly dressed to be in the presence of your ex. For a split second you paused like a deer in headlights questioning yourself, “Should I go answer the door?” For the second time the doorbell rang, and you immediately ran into the opposite direction where the door was. He wasn’t supposed to be here this early, nevertheless, you had to look your best. In the back of your head you felt stupid for doing this, what you already had on was appropriate. But something about being alone with your former lover frightens you. Majority of the time it was you, Jolyne and Jotaro whenever he visited, there weren’t many moments the two of you were alone. And if they did occur, the two of you would engage in small talk.

Similar to horror movies the door creaked open revealing a tall figure. At your eye level you stared at Jotaro’s chest, causing you to blush terribly once you met his gaze.

“H-Hey,” You muttered. You think after all these years of knowing Jotaro you’d get used to speaking to him. But alas here you were, stuttering like a fool at his beauty.

“Hey..may I come in? I brought gifts,” In his right hand he held up two gift bags, ones in which Jolyne anticipated for. You moved to the side in a scurry inviting him into your home. As you turned your back to him you mentally gathered yourself, not wanting to make things more awkward.

“Sorry I haven’t started making dinner. Is there anything I could get you?” You asked, setting your eyes on the kitchen to avoid his gaze.

“I’m fine and besides I came a little early than expected,”

“Yeah,”

And there it was, that awkward silence. Was it going to continuously be like this until Jolyne came home?? You couldn’t bear a second longer of this. This whole ordeal wanted you to scratch out your eyeballs. You were alone with your ex whom you still had feelings for. Thus making your emotions run high.

“You know..one of these gifts are actually for you,” He said pointing at one of the gifts, breaking the silence. For the first time since he’s been in the house you had the courage to look at him. Your heart pumped hard in your chest, as you felt it in your ears. Those eyes of his were the perfect mixture of blue and green causing you to look deeper. You were like a sailor lost in sea, dehydrated, thirsting for water. How your quivering lips begged for a droplet of non salted water in the scorching heat. You felt as though you’re going to collapse, due to you neglecting your body‘s needs. That’s what it’s like whenever you looked over at him..

“Thanks I’ll open it soon,” It was one thing looking at him but it was a whole different story when you were standing next to him. You tried to not sound ungrateful, but considering how fast your heart was beating, you kept your distance. He wasn’t yours anymore..so why were feeling like this?

“Come here Y/n,” He called out to you desperately. Pretending you didn’t hear him you grabbed a knife and started cutting up vegetables. Each slice you cut it made a loud noise against the cutting board, drowning it any background noise.

“Please,” Jotaro called out once more. Repeatedly shaking your head no you bit your lower lip. All these emotions you kept sealed away were starting to unravel. You hated it. You hated how he arrived early to see you, you hated how he brought you something, you hated how he acted as though you two never gotten a divorce! But what upset you the most was..you were still madly in love with him.

Your vision stared to blur because of the tears your eyes were gathering up. Mentally you cursed at yourself for not distracting yourself fully as you felt the knife being no longer in your grasp.

Jotaro placed his hand abdomen rubbing little circles to soothe you. Back when you two were married he would caress you like this to ease your stress. A gentle moment you both shared.

“I still love you,” You whispered with tears staining you cheeks.

“I still love you too,” He instantly replied kissing down your neck. “Let me make it up to you,”

Once the lock to your bedroom door was heard, you both clung on to each other. Holding the back of your head Jotaro smashed his lips hungrily to yours. Intertwining your tongue with his, neither of you fought for dominance. But rather, to savor each other with the little time you had. Out of breath, a thick string of saliva connected the both of you. As it resembled the bond forever linking the two of you as one.

“Do you think we have enough time?” Jotaro painted, hinting at Jolyne’s early arrival.

“Yeah, we just have to make it quick,”

From the pocket of his pants he pulled out a condom. Thinking it was best to avoid little slip ups that could possibly put you both in an unexplainable predicament. However, you on the other hand thought otherwise. If you were going to have sex with him, and possibly for the last time, it had to be all or nothing.

“Im on the pill and besides I haven’t been with anyone but you,” You stated, implying for him to fuck you raw. His face softened and threw the rubber elsewhere.

“I haven’t either,” Jotaro aligned his pink tip at your entrance, opening your legs as far as they could possibly stretch. With one last kiss Jotaro entered inside you, stretching your aching walls to capacity. Your face twisted in a combination of pain and pleasure. Definitely this wasn’t your first time but it has been a while since you’ve taken his cock entirely. It burned, but it felt too good to tell him to pull out. Getting used to the feeling both of you stayed in that position, moaning in each other’s mouth, finally being reunited. Knowing your habit of squirming he pinned your hands above your head. You felt small underneath his massive body as he can do whatever he pleases with you. However, that wasn’t the mood he was trying to set. Jotaro wanted to make love to you, an apology for all the times he’s disappointed you.

Jotaro moved in and out, setting a slow pace. A couple of thrust in, and your thighs were already shaky, you felt every inch of him. Your cunt tightly swallowed him whole as he penetrated you balls deep. Your nipples harden against his grinding body, sending you into pure ecstasy. Jotaro didn’t change his pace, he just kept things nice and slow, while leaving love marks.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, sucking your upper neck. “You hate me don’t you?”

“I do,” You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist. The new position pushed him even deeper causing him to let go of your small wrist.

“Shit,” He hissed.

Now that he had all his strength and wasn’t multitasking, Jotaro could begin to really fuck how he wanted. The skin of slapping echoed in the room as he had you in a new position. You sat up between his legs enduring all the times he thrust his hips to yours. You bounced up and down his length whimpering at the praise he was murmuring.

“Be a good girl and look at me with those pretty eyes,” He suggested tracing his finger over your stomach bulge.

“I’m so close~” You whined.

“Me too,” Holding onto your hips, Jotaro quickened his pace. For the life of you, you held on, begging for him to cum inside you. And so he did. The orgasm hit you like a train. It was so intense. Jotaro cum filled you up even more causing some to drip down your thigh. After calming down from his high, Jotaro ran a bath, which he typically does whenever he’s intimate with you. You leaned back against his chest and enjoyed his company along with the warm water. Neither of you asked what this was, it was all too complicated.

“I’m so exhausted--“ Jotaro sighed before his eyes damn near popped out their sockets.

“IMM HOMEEEE!” Blurted out Jolyne’s as she busted through the front door.

“I’ll order a pizza,”

“And I’ll go greet her,”

#jotaro kujo #jjba #jotaro x reader #jotaro x reader smut #jjba x reader #jojo bizarre adventure #jotaro imagine #jotaro x y/n #jotarosmut #jjbathirst #jjba x y/n #jjba x reader smut #jojonotsfw #jojobizarreadventuresmut #minors dni

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