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beba-780 · 2 days

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Everything will be fine

Summary: Kai takes care of Wyldfyre after escaping the Cloud Kingdom.

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- Lloyd, we can't abandon the monks and Euphrasia to their fate with Ras and those guys with scary wolf masks - Arin responded as he approached the helm of the Ship with Lloyd as they left the Cloud Kingdom.

- We need to create a new plan, Arin, clearly Ras has a new power, and that guy with smoke powers who used that strange Spinjitzu-type power is very strong. We need to create a new plan – Lloyd responded to his young apprentice while he tried to maintain his composure without having to remember his strange and terrifying visions of those guys with wolf masks.

He did not want to accept it, but seeing that his visions were true he bothered Lloyd too much, almost at the beginning of the fight he trembled with fear, but he had to forget his fears if he wanted to contribute well to the situation.

- AGH! HURTS! – Wyldfyre complained as he fell to the ground and held his leg in pain, it was obvious that that strange power that Ras's apprentice used seriously damaged his leg. Even some of the fabric of his pants was tattered and almost singed.

- Wyldfyre! – Kai was the first to arrive with Wyldfyre. He carefully managed to sit her up so he could better inspect her leg, and it was not a good view – Hey, calm down, calm down, let me check –

Kai revealed Wyldfyre's injured leg and as he feared, the wound was quite serious, red marks and burns were shown on almost his entire leg, that strange power that Ras' strange ally used managed to disintegrate almost all of Wyldfyre's boot.

- That... doesn't look good - Sora mentioned sheepishly as she looked at Wyldfyre's leg, even Riyu groaned in a worried manner.

-It's nothing... it doesn't look as bad as it seems... -Wylfyre tried to put on a tough face, she even tried to move his leg a little, but that was a serious mistake, moving his leg caused more pain.

Hearing that he kept making pitiful sounds, Kai quickly managed to find the first aid kit and took out bandages and medicines so he could stabilize Wyldfyre's leg a little while they arrived at the monastery. Since Zane was also unavailable at the moment, Kai, Nya, and Lloyd would be the only ones who could help Wyldfyre with his injury, at least with the little medical knowledge they had as Ninjas.

- Don't worry, everything will be fine... - Kai managed to calm her down a little by hugging her, which impressed Nya and Lloyd, since Kai has always been the first person to comfort them as a kind of father when one of them was hurt.

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After arriving at the monastery Kai tried to take Wyldfyre directly to the infirmary but she refused and demanded to be taken to Heatwave's stable, not wanting to hear any more of her tantrums, Kai listened to her and took her to Heatwave, Nya had to carry the necessary medical supplies to heal her while Lloyd took Zane to the monastery to receive the necessary repairs, even Sora offered to help Lloyd with Zane.

Right now Kai was bandaging Wyldfyre's injured leg, Heatwave was too worried to see the human girl she raised, as if she were her own child, being injured. But at least the dragon calmed down to let Kai finish properly bandaging Wyldfyre's leg.

- Ouch! – Wyldfyre complained after Kai tightened the bandage on her leg a little.

- I'm sorry - Kai quickly apologizes - But the bandage must be tightly wrapped around your leg, Wyldfyre -

Wyldfyre was lucky that his leg was not completely broken as many thought, but if he was seriously injured, as if that strange power of corrupted Spinjitzu had burned his skin almost completely to the bone, Zane may not be able to do a quick scan, but at least thanks to Nya he was able to find a good remedy to better treat Wyldfyre's wound. The bad thing was to see that even the poor wild girl was suffering from the pain, even though she tried to hide it, Kai knew that her injury would prevent her from walking for a long time.

At some point, Nya went up to the monastery to bring Wydlfyre something to eat so he could relax better. After all, she loved all kinds of food.

- Ugh! This sucks! I hate every time I get hurt but this is too much for me! - She complains as she now looked at her newly bandaged leg - That “smoke boy” is going to pay me! He will feel the heat of my flames! – His abrupt movement caused his leg to complain of pain and caused Wyldfyre to stop her speech while she tried to hold onto her injured leg.

- Calm down, Wyldfyre. I know how you feel, I also hate being hurt, but I promise you that this will happen soon - Kai approached Wyldfyre and helped her lie down comfortably next to Heatwave, who, by the way, had no intention of leaving her human girl.

- How do you know? – Wyldfyre confronts Kai, giving him an incredulous look – I bet you and the other ninjas weren't hurt as much as I am now, since you are all expert masters – Wyldfyre complains in an annoying way while crossing his arms.

- Of course we got hurt, Wyldfyre - Kai reprimands the girl, who only responded with a dissatisfied grunt towards the Red Ninja - Just because we are Ninjas, or teachers, doesn't mean that we are strong enough to avoid getting hurt in fight. Believe me, there were moments that I would have liked to avoid where my friends or my sister would have been seriously hurt, even I have been hurt, and I assure you that they were more serious injuries than the one you have now. There are worse things than having an injured leg –

Kai knew from his own experience what it was like to be seriously injured, how many times does he not remember the injuries he received after each battle, mission or unexpected adventure he has had to face after becoming a ninja, he even remembers the painful moments he suffered in his life long before he was a ninja. Wyldfyre may have grown up in the Wilderness, but she didn't have to face the dangers that Kai had to experience throughout his life.

He even remembers the times his friends got hurt after each confrontation. Kai always blamed himself when he saw you hurt, he told himself over and over again that he had to be more careful, faster, stronger to be able to save them and keep everyone safe. He even vividly remembered those moments when he would kill himself training to the point of exhaustion in order to perfect his fighting habits, and there were even times when his hands would bleed due to the pressure he put on himself.

Kai wants more than anything to find a way to prevent his friends from getting hurt, even he would give anything to forget those painful memories of seeing a member of his team seriously injured.

- Whatever - Wylfire murmurs, using a haughty and childish tone as he leans closer to Heatwave - I hate this - he moans as he tries to move his leg.

- You finished? – Nya suddenly responds as she arrives with a tray with some food and some tea.

Sighing, Kai turned to see his sister – Yes… luckily her leg is not broken, but if it took a while for her to heal –

- What's that? – Wyldfyre suddenly asks with interest when he sees the tray that Nya had.

- Just some food and tea, it won't heal it instantly, but it will take away some of the pain so you can be more comfortable - Nya mentions approaching Wyldfyre.

-I thought they had a magical tea that healed all wounds – Wyldfyre responded somewhat confused as she scratched her head.

-There are magical teas, but from our experience, it is better to use the normal ones and not the magical ones that make you experience crazy things – Kai exclaims when remembering his experiences with magical teas, even Nya had to agree.

Growling in frustration, Wyldfyre accepts the tray Nya brought and proceeds to reluctantly eat the appetizers first.

Kai motioned to her sister so she could leave him alone with Wyldfyre, Nya caught what her brother was trying to say and left Kai and Wyldfyre alone while she gave them her space.

- Hey - Kai began as he sat down next to him - Just because you're hurt doesn't mean we'll leave you out of our next missions, Wyldfyre. You have to rest and regain strength, and you will see that very soon you will return to action with us. Also...-stretching his arm towards the cup of tea served on the tray, Kai brought it to Wyldfyre - This is very effective for you - Kai smiled affectionately as he offered Wyldfyre to drink the tea.

With no other option, Wyldfyre accepted the cup of tea and drank some, it didn't have much flavor, but at least it left a relaxing feeling in his body.

- Everything will be fine, I promise you - using a confident tone and showing a look that made anyone around him feel safe, Wyldfyre could see confidence and security in Kai's eyes, perhaps he is the only person in the monastery who really I had more faith in her than anyone else.

Just seeing that comforting look from Kai made Wyldfyre completely lose all worry about her injury now.

From a distance, Nya saw the way Kai looked at Wyldfyre, it was like seeing a father and daughter, which reminded Nya of her childhood in her parents' blacksmith shop, Kai looked at her the same way and so did he did with Lloyd.

Nya knows that Kai has been the only person she has had in her life for as long as she can remember, and although she doesn't openly admit it, Kai was more like a father than a brother to Nya. Maybe it was because of the fact that they grew up together since their childhood, but Kai has been the only person who has raised her without anyone's help. Despite not knowing how to act like a real father, Nya already saw Kai as the only one father figure. He did the same with Lloyd, he still remembered those moments when Kai helped Lloyd with other activities that were not just training to be a ninja, he still remembers those moments when he saw Kai teach Lloyd to cook a little for him, when he He sometimes took him to Ninjago City Park, when he gave him candy, when he let him help him repair the ship, and when he took him to watch the sunsets over the roofs of some buildings.

Nya knew that Wyldfyre was very lucky to know Kai.

Seeing that Wyldfyre would be in good hands, she decided to go up to the monastery again to check on Lloyd and Zane.

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When Nya returned to the monastery through the elevator, she was able to find Lloyd in the living room. He looked exhausted, but that was understandable to Nya. Lloyd was sitting on the couch and had one of Master Wu's Spinjitzu scrolls with him.

- Hey - Nya called as she sat down next to her - How's Zane? –

- Good... - Lloyd answers, but his voice sounded exhausted - Sora helped me fix it and now she's just making some modifications to her program to make sure everything is okay -

- Well, one less problem to worry about – Nya mentions.

- Master Wu's scrolls show nothing about Shatterspin. Whatever that move was, there doesn't seem to be any record - frustrated, he throws the scroll onto the coffee table.

-Don't worry, we'll know something – despite trying to lighten the situation, Nya also seemed just as frustrated, but she didn't want to show it.

- By the way - Lloyd responds when trying to change the subject - How is Wyldfyre? –

- Better - Nya smiles - A little irritated, but it's okay. However, her leg will take several days to heal and she needs plenty of rest. Plus, Kai is taking care of her -

Lloyd sighed and leaned back on the couch – Well, luckily it wasn't too serious. She's lucky Kai is looking out for her -

- It reminds me of those days when Kai took care of us both when we got hurt. Do you remember what she did to you the first time you were hurt? – Nya fondly remembers those memories from the past in which her adventures were still simple.

Lloyd snorted as he remembered those days, they were days when Lloyd sometimes found it easier to cope with things - Yes... I fell off the deck steps of the Ship after tripping on a loose board, I hit both knees and one bled more than the other, Kai picked me up and took me to my room where he healed me and gave me several of the cookies that Zane had made - with affection, Lloyd remembers those times when he was still a child and lived with the others on the Ship.

- Or the time broken my arm when I was trying to repair one of the Ship's engines, Kai was the first to help me and almost yelled at Zane to take care of me immediately. He stayed by my side the entire time. And in compensation for not leaving me alone he said that he would do whatever I wanted for a week – despite mentioning that moment, Nya seemed to have a satisfying smile on her face.

- If I remember - Lloyd laughs - You literally made him your personal assistant in your projects, you stole the best of his food, you forced him to watch those cheesy movies that you and Jay watched and you forced him to go shopping with you - Lloyd could clearly remember the frustration that the Red Ninja experienced that week.

- Well, he brought it on himself by getting on my nerves when he tried to play the role of “mother hen” with me – Nya excuses herself, although in a funny way.

- Do you think everything will be okay? – Lloyd suddenly asks, as if he expected Nya's response to take away some of the weight he now carried on his shoulders.

-Yes – Nya didn't think about it too much, she just said it with complete certainty that she had – Yes, everything will be fine. You will see -

- I hope so… -

That day, everyone was resting, so that the next day they would have a real plan.

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sporadicbeans82 · 24 days

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🌙☀️ alexia fic request

reader gets (lightly) injured at training and alexia takes care of her ;)

(P.S. I loved take care!!)

Headache & Heartache || Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting & injury

Word count: 2.5k words

A/N: Hola lovelies, I'm feeling a bit under the weather but decided to put this out. Hope you enjoy :)

The drill was like any other, with you playing the role of a striker. Cata Coll was in goal for the opposing team, and had been doing an excellent job of stopping the vast majority of your own shots, as well as Caroline Graham Hansen.

However, you had the feeling that that was soon to change. Your smaller team was down by a point, and you were determined to bring them level, especially with your girlfriend sat on the sideline

Your chance to score came just a moment later, as Ingrid dispossessed Lucy Bronze and ran forward to pass it on to Patri. As Patri turned with the ball, she spotted Caro with her hand raised and quickly kicked the ball.

As the football sailed over the heads of the other team, Caro quickly picked it up. She tried to stride inward from the sideline, towards the goal, but had a determined Swedish woman in Fridolina Rolfö in her way.

Caro darted to the side before kicking the ball over in your direction. The cross was hit well, and demanded you to try to run in and slide on the ground. You had one foot out to hit the football, and felt the ball connect with part of your boot.

You weren’t entirely aware of the fact that Cata had come out of her goal to try to collect the ball. As Cata stepped forward and you slid in, the two of you collided with a clashing of bodies. Your vision blackened briefly, and your limp body crumpled below Cata’s.

Several of your teammates winced in sympathy, while others darted towards you. The medical team, who had been working on Aitana’s quad on the sideline, also made their way over to the two of you.

You, on the other hand, simply laid on the ground. As you reawakened, you were aware of an intense pain radiating from what seemed to be your eye, but may have been just below it. Your memory was weak at best, and you were trying to connect the dots as to what had happened. You’re not sure what collided with your face, but the tangling of limbs atop of your own suggested that it could have been anything from Cata’s elbow to her fist to her nose.

You heard Cata groan as well, followed by a sharp huff of laughter from the other girl. Feeling a little bad, you gingerly moved the arm that wasn’t pinned down by half of the other girls’ body to pat at whatever you could reach. It was meant to be a motion of comfort, but could have also been a motion to grope the goalkeeper as you couldn’t actually see where she was– a fact which you were quite slow to realize.

Thankfully, you felt the top of her head beneath the palm of your hand and patted gently.

“Cata?” Your voice came out in a pained moan, and Cata simply made a noise in return. “Estás bien?”

“Sí, y tú?” Came Cata’s response, and you winced a little bit as she shifted on top of you. You were sure that you’d have several bruises to show for this collision within the hour.

“I feel like I ran into a brick wall!” You complained, attempting arduously to roll your eyes. The motion was too painful, however, and you briefly wondered about the damage that had been done.

“Por supuesto. I am super strong.” Cata said, and you felt her attempt to flex her arm.

A small part of you was growing nervous, especially as someone’s head was beginning to obstruct your vision. You were joking around in an attempt to calm your nerves down, but you really wanted your girlfriend at that moment. You knew that you’d sustained some sort of head injury, if the way your head smarted was anything to go by. The sun was a little brighter, suddenly, causing the piercing pain in your head to compound ever more.

Cata’s voice was almost too loud for you, and the world tilted and turned, which was part of the reason you didn’t dare move. You almost felt like you were going to vomit, and you didn’t like throwing up… at all.

Thankfully, you could hear the others’ coming towards you and Cata. The crunches of their footsteps against the grassy field gave you a sense of comfort, no matter how small.

Within another second, Alexia is leaned over you. Her lips were parted and she was panting, as if she’d run over to you. Her soft brown eyes were just a little bit worried, and a bit of her blonde hair had escaped her ponytail, trailing down her face. She had a little bit of a scowl on her face, one which you recognized as her Captain’s face.

You felt someone putting their hands on either side of your own face, the tips of their thumbs grazing against the space behind your jaw as their palms held your head in place. You couldn’t tell who it was, and when you tried to look, they restrained your movement with their hands. You felt the panic beginning to bubble again, and heard Ale speak up to distract you.

“Shhh, cariño. Do not move, it is okay.” Alexia’s accented voice spoke English in a calming manner, and you stopped trying to struggle against the hands which held you in place.

The face and presence of your girlfriend of a year was a welcomed one, further serving to calm you down. As she stooped down besides the Cata and yourself, she reached her hand out. It hovered over the skin beneath your eye, a sympathetic expression forming on your captains’ face as she made a small noise.

“Ouch. That does not look too good, guapa.” Alexia said, voice a little raspy from all the shouting she’d been doing throughout the training session. Her presence served to lighten you, and you were once again joking.

“My pretty face! Will it ever be the same, capitana?” You asked, and you saw the corners of Alexia’s lips turn upward. She could tell that you were trying to joke around and knew well enough that it was what you used to calm yourself down. She yearned to play into it, but her concern for you conquered all.

“You will always be gorgeous, mi amor.” Your captain reassured you, and you could tell that she was trying to find the proper words to calm you. You blushed a little bit at her words, suddenly yearning to kiss her, although the hands on both sides of your head would probably have disapproved of the action.

You were grateful as Ale’s hand moved from your face to grab gently at your hand. You squeezed her hand with your own, and felt her squeeze back.

She maintained physical contact even as the medical team arrived by your side, and even as Cata was moved from atop of you. Then, you were moving and sitting up with a groan.

Alexia had backed up to give the medical team the room that they needed to work on you, but her eyes watched you throughout the entire duration. Your intense collision with Cata had looked terrible, and Alexia couldn’t get the image of your bodies smacking against each other and the pained sound that had left your lips upon contact with the goalkeeper.

Her eyes scanned you constantly, looking to see if you had, in fact, been seriously hurt. As the medical team asked you about your pain and examined your head, she made sure to pay attention to what you were saying.

Were you in any pain? Yes.

Where was your pain? In your head, below your eye… a little bit of hesitation had you saying that the rest of your body felt like a big bruise.

Alexia had clocked that you had a concussion from a mile away– there was no way you didn’t, with the way Cata’s gloves had collided with your face. She noticed the way that you were squinting against the light, and the way that the skin below your left eye continued to swell and darken as the minutes ticked by.

Alexia noted down each reported pain and comment in her head, listing them down to pay attention to for later. She’d already decided that you would be coming home with her, wanting to have you close and to take care of you for the next few days.

Despite the year that the two of you had been together, the two of you still had separate homes as you were living with Claudia and, essentially, Patri as she was always around. The two refused to let you move, despite Alexia having asked you upwards of four times.

Each time you’d approached the topic with them, the two would guilt trip you into staying for another few weeks, claiming that they would miss you far too much… much to Alexia’s annoyance (and amusement).

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Two hours later found you hunkered down on Alexia’s couch, with your upper body laid back on your girlfriends’. The two of you were covered by a blanket, and Alexia had a small ice pack laid on your cheek, just below your eyes.

To minimize your discomfort, Alexia had set to using her large hands to massage at your head. Her fingers tangled in your hair, gentle in their ministrations against your sore skull. Her fingers were warm, and as they pushed against your skin you groaned in pleasure, causing Alexia’s smile to grow.

Your wonderful girlfriend had also made sure that her home was as dark as possible. She’d drawn the blinds on her windows and had made sure that all of the lights were off. As she’d sat back down on the couch where she’d left you, she’d been quick to pull your exhausted body against her own, which was how you’d found yourself here.

Your eyes had closed against their own volition, and one of Alexia’s arms gently circled around your body. She rested her hand against your stomach and began to stroke against the fabric of her own sweatshirt, which she’d changed you into after you’d been forced into a shower.

You were surrounded by the scent and the comforting touch of your girlfriend, which was one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. Even as your head pain worsened, your girlfriend stayed by your side, and that was how you’d fallen asleep.

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You awoke some hours later, warm and comforted beneath the hands of your girlfriend. Alexia had allowed you to sleep on her, despite the fact that her legs had fallen asleep a little bit as you’d slept. She’d spent the time quietly scrolling through her phone and then reading a book, although her gaze would intermittently turn towards you.

She admired the way your pretty face had relaxed during your sleep, and the way your lips had opened slightly as puffs of air were inhaled and exhaled. As you awoke, you let out a little groan of pain, and Alexia quickly, and gently, hushed you.

One of her hands wandered from where it had rested around your waist to your head. She gently pushed a strand of hair from your face, her skin grazing your own ever so gently. Your eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes and squinted a little bit.

As you saw your girlfriend, however, your face molded into a smile.

“Hola, Ale.” You whispered, voice rough and raspy from sleep.

“Hola, mi amor.” Alexia responded, eyes kind and comforting as she met your eyes. She was so gentle as her hand continued to smooth back your hair, the other hand that was on your stomach gently brushing against your skin as your sweatshirt had wandered up as you’d slept. “How do you feel?”

“... My head hurts.” You responded, hesitating as you mentally tried to figure out what hurt. Everything hurt, and there was a constant burning ache in your head. It felt as though someone had taken hold of your brain and thrown it against a wall… twice, for good measure.

“Would you like some medication, mi vida?” The pet name caused you to smile a little bit as well. However, Alexia probably could have called you a dead, decaying rat and still would have managed to make you swoon.

“Por favor.” You responded, eyes fluttering closed. However, they jolted back open as Alexia gently moved out from beneath you and you groaned.

“Tengo que- I have to go get you some medicine, guapa. I will be back.” Alexia tried hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. She had to fight back the desire to snap a photo of the way you were curled up on your side, the sight entirely too adorable to not take a picture of.

Then, she was walking away to go find the medicine which the medics had recommended.

When she was back, she expected you to be asleep. She had thought that you were asleep, if the way your eyes were shut was anything to go by. However, as you heard her feet pad gently against the tiled floors, your eyes opened again, squinting up at your girlfriend.

“Ale!” You whisper-cried, a grin forming on your face. “You’re back!”

Alexia had to resist the urge to laugh once again. She had only been gone for a minute at the most, and yet it seemed like she’d been gone for months as you reached out a hand and caught onto her sweatshirt. You tugged Alexia towards you, and Alexia allowed you to.

In her hands were a few pills and a bottle of water. She handed you the pills, and as you plopped them into your mouth, she uncapped the bottle of water and handed that to you as well. When you were done, she took both items before stooping her head low to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.

She didn’t seem to be done, however, as she began to gently litter kisses against the rest of your face, paying extra attention to your cheeks.

“Ale! What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but giggle, the movements a little bit ticklish against your skin.

“Fixing you with love.” Alexia responded between gentle kisses. Finally, the girl pressed a feather-light kiss against the bruise beneath your eye. You smiled at her, and as your eyes met Alexia couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to you, this one against your lips.

“Te amo.” Alexia whispered as she broke the kiss, although her lips brushed against yours as she spoke.

“I love you.” You responded.

You spent the next few days in a haze of sleepiness and pain, but Alexia stayed by your side throughout the process. She delivered kisses when you needed them and cuddled you close into her side, making sure to help you with everything that you needed.

If you hadn’t already been in love, by the end of the week you were head over heels for Alexia all over again.

And when you returned back to practice, Alexia even turned a blind eye to you as you sought out revenge against Cata for her reckless little dive in goal by chucking a football at her back.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #harper writes

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fancyfeathers · 3 months

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Diluc’s darling doesn’t go out in public anymore. She used to be seen some nights at the Angel’s Share tavern when Diluc was bartending, sitting at the bar or a nearby table, looking pretty. Diluc would have her dressed in the finest clothes and looking perfect, but now she locks herself up in her and Diluc’s room at the winery. Her hair is tangled and is only washed when Diluc gets home and drags her to the bath to make sure she is taken care of, she only wears a nightgown, what’s the point of getting dressed up if she won’t go anywhere. Why is she like this?

A burn scar, going down her face and onto her neck…

It was from a number of months ago from when she argued with Diluc about letting her roam the winery grounds. It got so heated that Diluc lost his temper and stuck her across the face…

and his heart sank when he realized his vision was activated…

His darling’s screams was the only thing he could process, not the sizzling of flesh, or the smell of smoke. It was the worst when the maids dragged her off to run the burn under cold water and bandage it. He bartended that night, to give them both distance.

When he returned to the winery that night, he saw his darling asleep in their bed, but one half of her face was stained with tears, and the other was hidden away under white bandages. He both wanted to see the damage he caused and didn’t want to at the same time, the best he could do was ask Adaline about the damage. She told him that the scar would never go away and he felt sick at what he had done.

So now when the darling looks in the mirror she wears a constant reminder of her situation, pain. That pain will never go away no matter all the expensive gifts Diluc gets her that only collect dust, nor with the offers of taking her on walks or to the tavern while he works. She doesn’t want people to see her like his, in pain, suffering, a broken and burned shell of who she used to be.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere diluc ragnvindr #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc

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teatreeoilll · 4 months

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Hollow (Gojo Satoru X Reader) - [Part I (RED)]

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w/c - 1.3k content - fem!reader, not proofread (I'm sorry it's just soo late rn), child!reader (in this part), horrible parenting, mild swearing I guess?

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When you were four years old, Gojo Satoru, despite being only two years older, looked at you for the first time with nothing but disdain in his cold blue eyes.

As a result, enraged by this look, you furrowed your brows, pointed a finger straight at his face, and fearlessly labeled him, "Asshole."

"Where'd you learn that word?" Your mother shrieked behind you as she yanked on your ear, twisting it enough for a sharp pain to follow suit. "You will apologize to the heir of the Gojo clan." She demanded through gritted teeth. "Right now, you hear me, brat?"

So you did, with your mother pushing your head down in a deep bow before the uninterested boy, ignoring how your tears stained the walkway leading to the Gojo estate. "I'm sorry," you sniffled, managing to raise your gaze just enough to see his indifferent expression mocking your suffering, causing you to mutter asshole over and over again under your breath.

Only two years later, your mother's relentless determination secured an invitation back to the Gojo estate. You resisted, knuckles turning white from clinging to the car door while your mother's patience wore thin, "You'll go in and make friends with him, you ungrateful child!"

Everything inside the estate was too grand, too expensive, and about as warm and welcoming as the glass of a museum display.

You sat and watched your mother's behavior change acutely in the presence of the older Gojos, engaging them in polite conversation over the dinner table while the heir himself caught your gaze, holding a boiling teapot in his hand.

Mesmerized, you watched as he poured a searing stream of tea over the back of his palm, the liquid slipping off like water off a duck's back, leaving no trace of damage or wetness on his hand.

Seeing this as a challenge, you grabbed another teapot from the table, tilting it hastily over your palm. A cry of pain tore through your lips as you hurled the teapot away, watching the porcelain shatter beneath your feet as you clutched onto the freshly forming burn.

"I am so sorry!" Your mother's muffled apologies filled the room, the size of it giving them a cathedral-sized echo. "Apologize." She ordered from beneath your feet, picking up the porcelain pieces while you stared blankly at the tea dripping between the wooden boards, wondering where it was going.

Your mother loomed over you in the kitchen, wrapping a bandage over your burn, "Why was I cursed with such a useless child? When will you understand it's for your own good? If they don't increase the funds for our company.." A defeated laugh came out of her mouth when you whinced at the tightening gauze. "What am I even explaining to you?"

"I don't know, mama."

"Listen, do you like your dresses?" And you nod obediently, thinking of the floral patterns on the fabrics in your closet, "Your shoes? Your food? The friends at your pompous school?"

"Pom-pous?" You mumble, trying to interpret what the word could mean.

"Do you?"

"I do." You concur, still not quite following.

"Then you'll be nice to that boy, do you understand? Smile when you see him, laugh when he says something funny; hell, do whatever he tells you to."

You sit back at the dinner table, moving the chair so roughly towards Satoru that his eyes narrow at the scraping sound it makes. You sit on the chair obediently, informing him proudly, "Mama told me to do whatever you tell me to."

"Your mama said that because she wants something from my parents." He announces, watching his parents get swallowed back into spewing pleasantries.

"M-hmm," you nod resolutely, "She says she wants an increase of fun." Satoru blinks slowly at your words, and you place your hands on your knees, directing a blank stare at the wall at the far end of the room.

A few minutes pass before the heir finally interrogates, "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want me to do."

"Alright," He pulls you by the sleeve away from the table, getting his parents' attention by merely standing up and their approval by lightly nodding his head. You throw a look at your mother, to which she smiles, mouthing 'good girl' before returning to her discourse.

"Where are we going?" You inquire. He had long since stopped tugging at your sleeve, but you followed him out of the estate like a lost puppy regardless, beginning to feel restless at the unfamiliar streets growing dark around you.

"To do something I want to do."

"Takahiro's Con-ve-ni-ence?" you read aloud the letters printed on the shop window, sending a puzzled stare to the boy next to you.

"You like sweets?" Satoru asks, the light from the shop window brightening only half his face; the shadows formed on the other half making him look severe.

You shake your head, "I like salty."

"Then you haven't tried enough sweets." The boy looked almost offended at the shake of your head. The thought of your mother's resentful look had passed through your mind, making you shudder.

"I like sweet."

"Is it sweet or salty then?" The boy furrowed his brows, already halfway through the door into the shop, "Never mind, just wait here."

You watched him through the transparent windows, disappearing into an aisle and reappearing from the other end. Time stretched out excruciatingly as you watched the strokes of the light from the store trying to push away the darkness of the buildings on the other side of the road.

"Girl," a voice muttered, "girl, girl, girl, girl," you swore you saw a twitching figure in a building's window. You looked around, making sure you were, in fact, the only girl in the vicinity.

You pointed a tiny finger at yourself, gazing straight at the window, mouthing, 'Me?'

"Yes, child." The voice wobbled, "Child, child, child."

You cough, your throat sore from the frosty air you'd breathed in while walking, "Do you need help?"

"Yes. Help. Help, help." The voice rasped, louder now. You squinted at the window, the figure still at the same spot, strange hands caressing the cold, slippery glass.

"Where are you?" The inside of the building was pitch black. The light from the shop failed to reach the large doorway, but you told yourself that you should be fine as long as you feel its presence at your back. "If it's dark, you sing, yes? Keeps them away, the bastards." You remember your mother's words, humming a tune under your breath.

"Help. Help. Help, child." But the stairs seem dangerous, and your throat is too sore to keep humming; an eerie gust of wind from a crack in the wall makes you fumble back a few steps before you thump on your behind. The presence draws in, a nightmarish being that engulfs the room whole, a hint of light reflecting on its sharpened teeth.

Footsteps. A pull on the collar of your shirt. A burning sensation on your thigh from grazing the floor. A harsh breath and a word; "Red."

"Red," the boy repeated, "red!" louder now, taking a spot before you, one arm extended before him, "red!" the scream is a desperate plea, "crap, get up!" He turns swiftly, still shaking his arm as if trying to rid it of a bug, "D'you want to be dinner?"

You shake your head, feeling your knees give in, too weak and trembling to hold an entire body, no matter how small. The being still looms over, feeding on the powerlessness to approach.

Satoru grabs your arm, pulling on it harshly to get you on your feet, and runs. You pass the doorway, catching a glimpse of a plastic bag lying outside the building, pieces of candy sprawled on the concrete around it. Your shoe sinks on a chocolate bar, flattening it; you almost lose your balance, close to slipping on the wrapper if not the iron grip on your arm.

Finally settled on a bench beneath a street lamp at the edge of the Gojo estate, you find the strength to inquire, "Your magic spell didn't work?"

Taken aback, Gojo grumbled, "Yeah, but I'll make it work, next time."

"Next time?" you wonder aloud, "Do you see monsters often?"

"Let's get inside, your mother must be worried."

You only see Gojo Satoru again seven years later.

#Gojo Satoru X reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojo

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heartpascal · 10 months

Text

or is it loneliness?

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

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

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

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

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

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to deny her that?

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

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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

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

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

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

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

Who do these people think they are?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

igotanidea · 9 days

Text

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time.

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

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hayatheauthor · 1 year

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How To Accurately Describe Pain In Writing

Pain can be an interesting emotion to write about. It gives authors the liberty to merge their character’s emotions and surroundings to create beautiful metaphors and graphic descriptions that draw their readers in and convey their character’s struggles. However, if done wrongly reading your descriptions of pain can feel like a chore to your readers. Unsure how to accurately describe pain in your writing? Here are some tips to help you get started.

Use The Five Senses

As humans, we possess five senses that dictate our reactions to the world around us. When writing, it is important to use these five senses rather than just relying on what your character can see. Talk about the sound, the smell, the taste, and even the feeling.

If your character just got burnt, talk about the sound of sizzling flesh and the slight numbness they feel. Mention the terrible smell of burnt flesh, and make your character feel dizzy with fear as their eyes finally land on the horrific wound.

Internal bleeding makes people spit blood and taste iron and partially healed wounds feel itchy and irritant.

There is so much more to pain than what you see, and simply talking about your character’s wounds isn’t nearly enough to make your readers wince in second-hand pain. In fact, they are more likely to skim your passages in boredom.

Show your readers what your character is experiencing, and then go on to describe their reaction to this situation.

Build It Up, Then Break It Down

Pain doesn’t just suddenly come from nowhere. It starts with something small, blossoms, and then spreads. Your character won’t just suddenly get a third-degree burn the size of a baseball by leaning against a hot steel wall for the briefest of seconds. It starts with a light reddish-brown mark, then darkens, maybe even blisters.

You can’t go from 0 to 100 in one sentence. You need to build it up and show your readers how your character’s pain was found. Then, break it down.

Pain doesn’t come from nowhere, but it doesn’t suddenly disappear either. Show us how your character’s wound heals. Does the wound mark from where they hurt their knee turn into an ugly brown shade for a couple of weeks? Do their burns gradually fade from red to pink, or turn darker?

It’s important to show your readers the aftermath of your character’s pain. A character who just had a bullet pulled out of their shoulder with a hot knife can’t suddenly just jump up and start firing at the enemy with perfect aim.

You don’t need to overdo it and constantly mention their wounds during the healing stage, but something as simple as ‘her bandages uncomfortably scratched at her back every time she lifted her hand to eat’ or ‘his fingers subconsciously shifted to run over the remains of his burn mark even as his eyes remained trained on the blackboard’ will suffice.

How Does This Affect Your Character?

Physical pain aside, wounds can also have an effect on your character’s dynamics with others as well as your plot.

It’s important to take into account how they got this wound, how the other characters might react to it, and internalised conflict caused by it. Maybe your character injured their fingers during a game of volleyball and now they’re staring at their final exam paper with tears of frustration brimming their waterline because it hurts too much to write.

Maybe your protagonist suffered a small burn while sneaking out to go to their friend’s house and their parent or mentor saw it. Or maybe your protagonist won against the antagonist but suffered a grave injury to their legs and now cannot fight during the next confrontation, resulting in a chaotic outbreak at their headquarters.

Think about the internal as well as the external damage your character’s wounds can cause, and then use that as a plot device to further your book.

Do Your Research

It’s very important to accurately portray your character’s level of pain and consider whether or not they would realistically incur such injuries from such a wound. When writing about a character’s wound or pain consider doing some research about that type of wound.

Here are some things you need to check when researching the wound type:

How much blood would they loose with this type of wound?

What are the side effects?

Could this be fatal?

How long will it take to heal?

How long does it take for a wound to get to that extent? (for example, if you’re writing about a third-degree burn, research what it takes for a burn to be considered third-degree).

What are the major veins, arteries, and other important body parts in that part of the character’s body? For example, if your character is supposed to be injured on their arm but it’s not supposed to be serious, you need to consider whether the wound could realistically have ruptured their radial artery, resulting in death.

Will there be any scarring? What about any long-lasting wound marks?

You could also take a look at historical events similar to the one you’re writing. For example, if you’re writing about an assassination attempt consider researching the most historically renowned assassination techniques.

It’s also a good idea to ask your families and friends about their experiences with the type of wound you’re writing about (so long as it’s not a sensitive topic). Maybe you have a cousin who suffered a third-degree burn once or a classmate who has a scar from a graphic wound across their arm.

I hope this blog on how to accurately describe pain in writing will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday.

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author.

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aerynwrites · 6 months

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Losing You

Halsin x GN!Reader

A/N: based on these three requests! Halsin would definitely flip out if you were injured in battle - so here’s a little insight into that scenario. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: canon typical violence, blood, injuries, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

You knew the shadow cursed lands were going to be a completely new trial all together, but you weren’t prepared for this.

The first ambush by the shadow creatures when you first arrived hadn’t been something to cause you great worry. But after reaching last light and venturing out once more, another ambush had taken your group by surprise.

You’d all been doing fine, Gale and Halsin’s spells holding the most of them off and Shadowheart keeping you all safe and healed. You’d just managed to take out one of the shadows before a panicked call of your name reached your ears.

You turn just as a creature materializes in front of you, its clawed hand swiping upwards in a flash.

You don’t even register the pain at first, the creatures strength sending you flying through the air until you land harshly against the cold ground.

The wind is knocked from your lungs, and it’s then, as you struggle for breath that the pain washes over you in an agonizing wave.

You faintly register the way you cry out Halsin’s name on instinct, and you hear the way he calls for you in kind.

But the only thing you fully recognize is the pain. It’s all comsuming, starting in your abdomen and radiating outwards as you try in vain to sit up and turn yourself over to asses the damage.

Your futile efforts are stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder, slowly helping you to roll over.

“My heart…” Halsin’s voice is calm at first, but even in your dazed state you don’t miss the way his words pitch upwards as you finally settle into your back, the sudden movement making you gasp as another wave of pain shoots through you.

“Shadowheart!” Halsin calls for the cleric, and you can faintly hear Gale telling her to go while he deals with the few remaining enemies.

Halsin hands are on you now, flitting over your body worriedly as you finally manage to raise your head enough to try and take in the damage.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the damage done. Or rather what you can’t see. There’s so much blood. It runs in thick rivers from the deep wound in your stomach, and seeing the wound just makes the pain elevate.

Your can feel yourself start to hyperventilate, panic settling in full force as Halsin hovers over you, pulling out what little healing supplies he carries in his pack.

“Oh gods…” Shadowhearts gasp meets your ears as she finally appears your side. You watch through bleary eyes as she shakes her head. “We have to get them back to last light I…my magic is sapped - I - I don’t have enough power to heal something like this-“

“Then help me with whatever magic you do have,” Halsin barks, voice unusually panicked. “They won’t make it to last light like this I-“ he pauses, eyes flitting over your form. “We must stop the bleeding.”

“Halsin…” your voice is weak as you call out for you lover, but he is quick to respond, his gaze turning to you as he reaches to take your hand in his bloodied one.

His eyes look panicked as he gazes down at you and you can see the apology before he utters it.

“My heart, we…We must stop the bleeding before we can move you. This is going to hurt, I’m so sorry-“

You don’t even have time to question anything before you feel a firm pressure on your wound, the action sending fire through your very veins.

A scream tears from your throat, hands scrabbling for purchase against the assault. Your fingers finally find Halsin’s familiar form, pushing uselessly at his arms, tears now streaming down you cheeks.

You can register nothing but the pain, your mind clouded with it, your muscles locking down against the waves of it.

You feel the pressure shift, another wave of agony pulsing through you before Halsin face is hovering over your own, brows pulled together, eyes glistening with worry.

You reach up for him then, hands landing on his shoulders as your fingers dig into him, anything to try and relive the pain.

“It hurts,” you whimper, fear now creeping into your hazy mind.

He reaches a hand up, cupping your face, and you notice his hands are shaking as he wipes the tears from your cheek.

You can feel the way your lower lip wobbles as you speak again.

“Am I going to die?”

Halsin’s lips set in a firm line then, eyes full of determination. “No, you will not die this day, or you any day I am by your side.” He pauses for a moment, and you see the moment an idea comes over him.

His eyes slip closed before the familiar golden glow of magic envelops his hand as he reaches it up over you. “I will take your pain away, my love. Then I will be at your side when you wake.”

You don’t protest as his magic flows through you, pain ebbing away almost instantly as darkness clouds your mind.

The last thing you feel before unconsciousness consumes you is the gentle press of lips to your cheek.

———

You wake to weak candle light and, surprisingly, little pain.

The room you’re in is dimly lit by various candles littered around the space, and as it has been since you’ve arrive in these cursed lands, the sky outside remains dark.

You recognize the last light inn, even in your bleary eyed state. You take a deep breath and close your eyes again, trying to ground yourself.

The air is cool but not uncomfortable. Your fingers twitch against soft sheets atop an even softer bed. Though you suppose anything is softer than the bedroll you’ve been sleeping on in the last weeks.

It’s also quiet. Much quieter than your used to for the only safe haven in the shadow cursed lands. Which means it must be well into the evening, everyone having retired to bed.

You only open your eyes again when the gentle rustle of fabric meets your ears. You turn to the source of the sound, only to be met with the familiar sight of a certain Druid sitting by your bedside, his hand clasped loosely with yours as he leans back in his chair, eyes closed in what you assume to be the trance he falls into at night.

You squeeze his hand in yours instinctively, seeking out that familiar comfort as the memories from before come slowly back to you.

Halsin’s eyes open the moment your hand stirs against his own, hazel eyes widening as he takes you in. He lets out a small sigh, lips tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“You’re awake,” he says simply, scooting closer to your bedside.

You nod and move to sit up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the pain that shoots through your abdomen at the action.

Halsin is reaching out immediately, hand on your shoulder as he urges you to lay back down.

“Careful, my heart, your injuries are still fresh. You must not move too much until Shadowheart or I are able to heal you further,” he explains, voice gentle.

You give him a small nod as you rest back into the pillow, grimacing at the pain now blooming in your abdomen.

“Gods…” you whisper, “It landed a solid blow, didn’t it?”

Halsin’s lips fall into a frown, brows drawn tight. He says nothing at first, instead standing to turn to the table near the bed and grab a small cup.

You watch in silence as he mixes something into the cup before moving to the small fire in the hearth and the pot hanging over it. He dips a ladle into the pot before transferring the contents into the cup and stirring it before returning to your side.

The cup is steaming, and you catch the faint smell of medicinal herbs and something slightly sweet.

“Here,” he says softly, holding the cup out as he reaches for you with his other arm. “It should help with the pain. I will help you drink.”

Halsin slides one arm under your shoulders slowly, delicately lifting you up just enough so you can drink comfortably. The small movement bring no more pain, so once you’re sure you’re secure in Halsin’s hold, you reach up for the cup.

It’s warm in your hands, and it’s then that you realize just how cold you are. Even with the blankets draped over you, a persistent chill nips at your skin.

You blow on the still steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip, expecting it to be too hot and also not pleasant in taste.

You’re surprised on both accounts.

It’s the perfect temperature, not too hot at all and it actually tastes pleasently sweet. It tastes like…

“Is there honey in this?” You ask, eyes flicking to your lovers only to see his lips twitch upwards.

“There is,” he smiles now. “I know the taste can be unpleasant and you already know of my penchant for the particular treat…I thought a little something sweet couldn’t hurt.”

You smile at him in return, already feeling the affects of the drink. “Thank you.”

Halsin continues to support you as you finish off the concoction, and then he takes the cup from you before slowly helping you lay back down.

The blankets shifted with the small movements, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spin as the cool air kisses your exposed skin.

“Are you cold?” Halsin asks, concern lacing his words.

Nodding, you pull the blanket up to your shoulders again, silently taking note of the banded covering most of your torso.

“It is a little chilly in here,” you admit softly, trying to hide another shiver.

Halsin turns to look at the fire, the flames dwindling and embers glowing softly.

“I’ll stoke the fire,” he tells you, turning back to face you. “I need to change your bandages, so I’ll try to make it warmer.”

He squeezes your hand gently before turning to his new task with you watching on in silence. He pokes the burning logs already in the hearth before adding a few new ones. The flames lick eagerly at the new fuel, and you can feel the room rise in temperature just from that.

Once Halsin is satisfied he walks to a table across the room and washes his hands in a large bowl of water sitting atop it.

You watch silently as he goes through the motions, and despite your silent admiration of your lover, you can’t help but notice the stiff set of his shoulders, or the way his lips stay pressed in a thin line.

When he finally returns to your side, his hands are full of supplies. New bandages, a small bowl that once again smells of something medicinal, and several other items.

He sets them all down on the small side table next to your bed and gestures to the blanket covering you.

“May I?”

You nod, “Of course, Halsin.”

He nods and folds the blanket down to your waist neatly, finally giving you a clear view of what hid beneath.

Bandages span from just below your chest all the way below the waistband of your pants. You briefly realize these are not the pants you were wearing when you got injured - the leather armored pants being replaced with simple cotton ones. At least the fact that Halsin was probably the one to change you nullified any embarrassment you may have felt otherwise.

Neither of you speak as Halsin begins unwinding the old bandages, the white cloth getting more discolored the more he unwraps. When it’s finally fully removed, you’re able to see the full extent of the damage.

By all accounts you should probably be dead.

There’s four red, angry claw marks coming from your left hip all the way up and across your stomach to the right side of your ribs. The blood has been cleaned off, but a flash of the pools of crimson liquid pooling on the ground makes you tear your eyes away from the stitched up wounds.

“H-how…” you trail off, unable to voice the question.

How am I still alive?

Halsin is quiet at first, focusing instead on cleaning your wounds and gentle applying what you assume to be a healing poultice.

He lets out a quiet sigh as you flinch against his minstarations, even his earlier concoction not enough to numb the pain from direct touch.

“In truth…” he pauses. “I was afraid you were going to die on that shadow cursed battlefield.”

He doesn’t look at you as he continues his work, being even more gentle this time.

“I…I do not feel fear often. Having had centuries to master that specific part of myself, but…” his words die on his tongue, and you can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

“I have not cared so deeply for someone in many years, and the thought - the thought of losing you was more than enough to bring that unfamiliar fear to the forefront of my mind.”

His words settle into the quiet room, the fire crackling the only sound to penetrate the silence.

Finally, he speaks as he begins wrapping the new bandages around your middle, hands moving slowly as not to aggravate the wound.

“Shadowhearts magic was depleted, mine was about to be as well. We used what little magic we could conjure to stabilize you, and then Gale managed to open a portal here to the inn,” he focused on his work as he continues. “I was afraid you were going to die, my heart. And there was little I could do about it.”

He secures the final piece of cloth before his hands fall back to the bed, fingers digging into the sheets.

“I would not have survived that.”

You let out a shaky breath, reaching out to take his hand in your own, unfurling his fingers from the covers to lace them with your own.

“Hey…” you whisper, gaining his attention enough to tug him towards you. “I’m here. I am alive because of you. I’m okay.”

Halsin shakes his head, eyes falling closed, “But you could have-“

You shush him softly, tugging on his hand more intently.

“Lay with me?” You ask. “Please?”

Your lover hesitates, eyes opening to look down at your bandages before looking back up to your pleading eyes.

You pull him closer again, his thighs now pressed against the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine I just…” you trail off. “I want you close.”

Halsin sighs, but not in anger or disappointment. In fact he sounds…relieved. Like the fact that you are alive and no longer on deaths door has finally settled in.

He nods, helping you adjust to the other side of the bed before he slips in beside you, pulling the covers up around your waist once you’re both settled.

You want to roll over onto your side and curl into him, but you know you can’t. So you settled for the way Halsin lays on his side instead, his arm draped carefully over your hips, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the unmarred skin of your right side.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you whisper, one hand falling to cover Halsin’s.

You turn to look at him when he doesn’t respond. Leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He responds in kind, lips molding against yours before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“And I won’t let you,” he promises.

You smile as Halsin captures your lips again. The action is full of so much. So much love and care and affection.

And most importantly, promises to keep you safe.

A promise you know he’ll fulfill. As many times as it takes.

#Halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin

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xsdjkl · 7 months

Text

Let's talk about So Mi's sacrifices for the NUSA

Basically, I'm just unpacking girl's trauma, because I have nothing better to do (that's a lie, but hush). Also, I gathered some little details about her that I like.

Enjoy and suffer.

When So Mi was recruited to the FIA by Reed she lost her home and all her friends. She was blackmailed and only because she cared about them and wanted to protect them she agreeded to join. And as So Mi herself says, the girl she was died that day and someone new was born.

Over time she bonded with Reed who became her mentor and friend. He was the only person in FIA who she could trust.

She was already lonely and was seeking someone whom she could trust completely - and Reed was always there for her. He taught her his craft. He taught her about the greater values and honour. He taught her how to follow orders.

And when the orders came, she obeyed. Betraying the one who was so very dear to her. It wasn't easy or fair, but that's what he taught her. That's what he always wanted from her. We hear a lot in game that Reed died that day, but we must realise that with his death part of So Mi died as well.

The only thing left in her life was duty... And when the president Myers herself gave the order to go beyond the Blackwall, So Mi was in no position to refuse. They told her it was for the greater good of their country that needed an edge against their enemies... even if it meant breaking the international laws. Laws that So Mi knew all to well as a netrunner were created for a reason.

Once again, she had to pay the price for the 'greater good'. This time it cost her her body. We don't know the specifics as of why was she so heavily implanted (unless I missed something, then feel free to correct me). My suspicion is that the organic body simply couldn't withstand interacting with AIs in a degree that So Mi was doing it. The body may have also proven an obstacle in communicating with the Blackwall, so she had to be upgraded. Something about becoming partially a machine to communicate with another machine? I'm actually willing to believe it actually enhances her analysis capabilities (example - our girlie being able to do three things at once).

Losing her body and detachment from reality.

At this point in the world of cyberpunk someone can replace their entire body and still look human.Then why Songbird's upgrades left her looking like a machine? Her entire upper body was replaced with only front looking like her old self, while her back remained revealed. What was the reason for it? (besides that it looks hot af) To easily 'fix her' whenever Blackwall caused her more damage and pain? To allow her easier access to the Net? To make her feel more like a tool she was?

Also, we can see in So Mi's memories that this change happened in only one surgery. Every time person implants new tech it is a huge trauma for their body. Now, imagine how she felt waking up with her entire upper body gone and replaced? What once felt as a soft skin now being a metal piece and thought she can still touch, she can't really feel?

How wouldn't this cause her to feel detached from people and the reality around her? In the psychological report about her we can read that she indeed has these moments of escapism and her general mental health was decreasing over time.

Let's not forget that So Mi had no one at this point in her life. Without Reed there was no who could she confide in. No one who could protect her from damaging herself even more. When the difference between her and people around her grew larger with each new sacrifice, especially after the operation, she became isolated, trapped in the metal shell that was her new body.

Also, I think it's worth mentioning here the foreshadowing we see in game about her cyborg body. Thanks to @yuri-bullets for pointing this out.

Her jacket with rib cage on the back just screams it's message and here I am oblivious to it. Really nice touch👌

So Mi being uncomfortable with her body.

When V meets Songbird face to face for the first time, she is visibly embarrassed and I'd say even a bit uncomfortable. The image of herself that she showed V through Relic is nothing more but her wish to how she could look and be percieved. This version of So Mi probably never even existed, yet she still wants V to see her as this person.

Through the Relic So Mi is much more comfortable and chatty. She moves around more freely, speaks more calmly. And I do realise that whenever V meets So Mi in her physical form she's either a prisoner or in pain, so she doesn't really have an opportunity to show 'her real face'. Yet, there are moments when So Mi's personality slips through, confirming that this person is truly somewhere there, trapped inside the metal cage of her body.

And no, this is not up for the debate - So Mi is touch starved. She wants to touch V on multiple occasions. She craves the feeling of someone being by her side, she yearns for comfort of the flesh, because she was deprived of it for so very long.

Another thing I noticed is the change in So Mi's haircut. Maybe she's just truly getting older and her preferences change... or maybe she's trying to hide something?

This might sound a bit silly, but So Mi doesn't even have ears at this point. Her current hair is arranged in a way that it hides the sides of her head. But, notice how So Mi's Relic version tucks her hair behind her ear. Is this another 'normally insignificant' thing that she misses?

This makes me so, so sad and literally drives me insane.

The breaking point.

So Mi gave away everything in the name of duty and empty promises and she was still asked for more. Again, we don't know the specifics, but she was infected with something that originates from beyond the Blackwall. Both Johnny's engram and the AI result in the same thing - a person fading away. But, while the Relic is overwriting V's memories and replacing them with Johnny's, changing the very structure of who they are, AI that lives inside Songbird is stealing the memories away, feeding on them in order to evolve. Her own self is literally being ripped away.

The only thing So Mi had left was herself and they tried to take it away from her. The very essence of being a person. It was being stolen, piece by piece. Every memory, every sensation fading away to the point where she could not remember her old home's address or her mother's voice. She'd be left an empty void, searching aimlessly for any scrap that once used to be her. Even Johnny admits that the worst thing someone can do to another person is to change who they are. The terryfing concept of taking someone's self... ceasing to exist. A fate, some might argue, worse than death (and we see it a lot in game - Songbird, Johnny, V, Peralez, hell even Garry The Prophet talks about it!). I will probably make a seperate post about it in the future.

So Mi had to do something in order to survive. This act of self preservation born from pure desperation to remain oneself led to the events of Phantom Liberty. Please notice how despite the pain and anger that she must have felt for being treated like a tool through all her life she still didn't wish for other people to suffer. For Myers she was just another weapon, yet So Mi didn't want her dead or hurt. She didn't wish her wrong, but she had to resort to treason for her own sake. Songbird never wanted revange. She just wanted to survive and be free. She just wanted to live.

Final thoughts.

Honestly, considering how faithfully Songbird served the NUSA throughout all these years they should be building statues in her honour. Alas, history will probably never know her name and her sacrifice.

I can't get over the fact how So Mi is still a good person with good intentions. Her heart remained pure despite everything she suffered. She's tormented by guilt and regret, making the same mistakes over and over again, but she doesn't want to anymore.

I do not doubt she always wanted to help V. She wanted to be honest with them. Yet, the circumstances forced her to manipulate the truth and lie to them about the cure. I'm sure that if she wasn't at a verge of dying she'd do everything in her power to be fair and keep her word.

She was lucky though, for meeting a rare kind of person in Night City who could truly care and forgive.

Thank you for reading, hope at least some part of whatever it is I wrote makes sense. Ta-ta

and yes i will count how many times she smiles at v

#long post #song so mi #songbird #songbird cyberpunk #songv #v #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers #cyberpunk 2077

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7s3ven · 3 months

Note

okay I feel like you would be the perfect person to write this request! Obviously you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to :)it and idea for a Luke castellan x reader (and spoilers for the books/series if you haven’t read the books or know the plot!)

Is there anyway you’d be interesting in writing a Luke x reader where they’re a daughter of Poseidon fic where he betray the reader and like poisons them instead of percy but reader and Luke where in a relationship??? Idk mad woman by Taylor’s swift like opening lyrics give off that sort of vibe sorry if this makes no sense 😭

THE WAY I GASPED AND SHOUTED "THAT'S EVIL". Nahhh, poor Y/N. I feel so bad for the suffering I'm going to put her through...

( master list )

POISON AND TOXIN. luke (pjo)

IN WHICH... Luke commits the unthinkable and Y/N no longer wants any part in his life. Unfortunately for her, Luke isn’t ready to let her go.

"I'm takin' my time, takin' my time. 'Cause you took everything from me. Watchin' you climb, watchin' you climb over people like me."

Warnings : spoilers, details will differ (I haven’t read the books in ages), obsessive love, yandere! luke, kidnapping, angst, betrayal, toxic relationship, mentions of sex, manipulation, y/n + luke know they’re toxic but they can’t stay away from each other

—

The last few days without Percy had been uneventful to say the most. Y/N groaned as she slowly sat up, clutching her aching head. The pain was pounding against her skull, causing her to quietly scoff. She groggily reached for a bottle of pills beside her bed, taking one to relieve the pressure.

The harsh light from the sun seared into the room and she groaned, squinting her eyes to protect them.

“Another late night, Y/N?” Harmon, a boy from the Apollo cabin, called out as she exited her cabin to breathe in the morning air. He jogged over to a swaying Y/N.

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel right without Percy.” Y/N groaned, running a hand through her untidy hair. She probably looked like a mess right now but with all the thoughts rushing through her mind, she didn’t care.

It felt wrong without Percy. All those years alone had done some damage on her and it had been exciting to have someone new in her cabin, for a little while at least. While Percy occupied the bed in the corner of the dusty room, Y/N’s nightmares came to a temporary halt. She was happy for the time being, her dreams filled with pretty flowers and romantic settings instead of chilling monsters and bony hands threatening to drag her to the bottom of the ocean.

“How’s Luke?” Harmon questioned, causing Y/N to heave an annoyed sigh. She rolled her E/C sighed, scowling.

“As distant as ever.” She sneered. She lifted her head, making eye contact with the one person they were talking about. Y/N held strong eye contact with Luke before glancing back to Harmon, smiling at him. “Have you had breakfast yet?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know if there’s any food left?”

“There might be. You woke up pretty late.” Harmon grinned.

“I will see you later, then. I have to make myself look presentable and not like a raccoon that just crawled out of a garbage can.” Y/N laughed at her own joke as she waltzed back into her cabin, kicking the door closed. She hummed under her breath as she pulled the crop top she slept in off, replacing it with her bra and the bright orange shirt she hated so much.

She quietly yelped when her door creaked open, thinking it was someone else. She felt a little relieved when it was only Luke. He stood there in all his glory, arms folded over his chest and a look on his face that suggested he wasn't happy at all. "What was that?" He questioned, sitting down on Y/N's bed as she looked at him in confusion.

"Uh... what?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Luke scoffed at her perplexed face, not believing it for a second.

"You were flirting with that Apollo boy. You're my girlfriend, not his." Luke snapped, anger glazing over his usual kind eyes. Y/N was taken aback, staring at him with her red-tinted lips parted in surprise.

"I wasn't... what? Luke, I wasn't flirting with Harmon. He's my friend." Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slid on a pair of pants. She could feel Luke's gaze watching her every move and wandering over her waist.

What had become of Luke? She was at camp before he even arrived and she was the one to show him around, introducing the boy to the perilous life of a demigod. Ever since that damned quest, he had been acting different. More closed-off, more secretive with someone he once shared everything with, and he let his temper get the best of him; always shouting at people and letting his anger flare up like he was Clarisse.

Annabeth could sense the change too.

"What's with you, Luke? You used to be fine with me talking to Harmon." Y/N took a careful step towards her boyfriend, not wanting to upset him even more.

"That was before he started staring at you like you were the only girl he could ever date." Luke jeered as he deeply frowned. Y/N smoothened out her messy bedsheets before taking a seat next to him.

She stared at him, not really knowing what to reply with. Her breath shuddered as she shrugged. "I guess I could... talk to him less?" She muttered, causing Luke's face to light up. He instantly smiled, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace.

"I love you." He whispered, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N blinked a few times, thickly gulping.

"I... I love you too, Luke." His hands felt like blistering metal on her bare arms but she couldn't find the courage to pull away, in fear he'd hurt her or leave her. Luke had never hit her, thankfully, but his words sometimes pierced her soul and he left her crying under her sheets, wondering what she had done wrong.

"I'll see you after archery, alright?" Luke ended the hug.

Y/N stared at him in confusion. "But... I thought you were teaching the newbies archery and I'd be showing someone else around?" She spluttered.

"Nah. I changed your job. Newcomer's a boy and I don't want him to get any ideas." Luke grinned and Y/N couldn't say no to his charming face. He passionately kissed her, cupping her face in his large hands to pull her closer.

"I should get going, Luke." Y/N breathed but he tugged her back.

"You can afford to leave them for a few minutes." He whispered, dragging Y/N onto his lap. She couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing bright red despite his hands harshly digging into her skin and his grip being so tight that she couldn't squirm away, even if she wanted to. Luke had no interest in whatever the new kid was saying. He kept babbling on and eventually, Luke managed to tune out his voice. The pair ended up in the arena and the boy, whose name was Gil, nudged Luke.

"Who's that?" Gil questioned, pointing at Y/N. Luke clenched his jaw and harshly cleared his throat. He placed his hands on Gil's shoulders, squeezing him tighter than needed.

"Y/N L/N." He muttered. "Pretty little thing, ain't she? She's great with archery. May as well be Apollo's daughter with that skill." Gil didn't notice the dark look in Luke's eyes, too preoccupied with craning his neck to catch another longing glimpse of Y/N. Luke cleared his throat, "The tour's over. I trust you'll be able to find the Hermes cabin by yourself?"

Gil mindlessly nodded.

Luke walked over to Y/N, tapping her on the shoulder. He kissed her cheek, making sure Gil saw his not-so-subtle advances. "What was that for?" She asked as she turned to Luke. The young demigods groaned at the sight of a couple and Y/N quietly laughed, effortlessly shushing them.

"I think you've had enough practice for today. Come back tomorrow, same time." Y/N said to the children, ushering them away. Luke slung an arm around her shoulder as they walked side by side.

"You have to stop attracting attention from other guys." Luke uttered to break the peaceful silence.

"What?" Y/N lightly gasped, offended. She glowered at Luke, quietly scoffing. "Oh, so it's my fault now?"

Luke shrugged, pressing his lips into an annoyed thin line. "I'm just saying. You wear low-waisted pants and a shirt that's too small." Y/N should have punched him for that comment but she was sure that Luke could do a lot worse to her pretty face.

"My clothes are not an invitation." Y/N quickly snapped.

"When did you start disrespectfully talking back?"

"It's hardly disrespectful, Luke. I'm simply standing up for myself. I do not condone your jealous behavior and troublesome remarks." Y/N harshly poked his chest, almost angrily baring her teeth at him. "Talk to me when you regain your senses. It's not my damn fault that you feel so threatened by other boys that you start blaming me."

Luke ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched Y/N storm off. He bit the inside of his cheek before huffing in frustration. Y/N would forgive him for his harsh and cold words in no time, she always did. Especially when he'd sneak into her cabin at night with her permission and press her hips deep into her squeaky mattress.

Y/N went to lunch furious and still fuming. A part of her wanted to wear an over-sized shirt to please Luke while the other refused to back down. What gave him the right to dictate her life while he could do whatever he wanted simply because of his gender?

Y/N was even angrier to see Luke standing at the Aphrodite table, entertaining the giggling girls who he knew had a thing for him. She gripped her fork tightly and jumped when someone slid into the seat next to her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Y/N recognised him as the Gil boy, or whatever his name was. She raised her eyebrows as her lips curled into a slight sneer.

“Do I… know you?” She asked, “Only Poseidon kids are allowed to sit here and until my brother is back, nobody but me should be here.”

Gil quickly stood up, his knees hitting the table. “Sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll, uh, go back to the Hermes table. Sorry, again.” He ran off while Y/N sighed. She picked at her half-eaten food before deciding she was no longer hungry. It was a rash decision but as soon as she reached the wildly dancing fire, she threw her food and plate in. Her father wouldn’t be too pleased but he could live with it.

Luke’s sharp gaze followed Y/N as she left the cheerful atmosphere. He quietly chuckled and smirked. If there was one thing that he knew about Y/N, it was that she didn’t handle jealousy too well either.

He left the Aphrodite table without an excuse, not caring about the girls drunk with love. “Hey, Y/N, honey, did that Gil kid upset you? I understand that he’s a little annoying but I can talk to him if you want.” Luke clasped his hands around her wrist, forcing her to stop walking so quickly.

“It’s not his fault!” Y/N exclaimed, spinning around. Her eyes were red and the tears welling up in her eyes shone in the dim sun. “It’s yours, Luke! You treat me like I’m some… some girl who worships the ground you walk on! Well, I don’t! I have some self-respect left. And if you want to flirt with other girls then that’s fine by me. But make sure you break up with me first because I’m not putting up with any of your bullshit.”

Luke chuckled, “Harsh words, don’t you think?” He almost jumped when Y/N let out a scream.

“You never take me seriously! All you do is play around and then you get mad at me for factors I can’t control! Yet you always brush me off when I’m trying to resolve things. You isolate me from my friends so I’m easier to mess with! Well, are you done now? Have you had enough fun?!”

“I’m not manipulating you. You’re crazy to think that. I love you, Y/N.”

“No! That’s not true! That’s a lie!” Y/N pulled at the end of her hair, “You fell in love with the idea of me! You’re in love with your version of me that lives inside your head! And then you get mad at me because I make a mistake and your Y/N isn’t supposed to make mistakes!But I’m not like her, Luke! You have pushed me too far and when I finally break, suddenly I’m the crazy one?! You always call me crazy. So guess what, maybe I am insane!” Y/N heavily panted as tears spilled over her hot cheeks, cascading down and temporarily staining her shirt. She had always been a kind soul but there was one particular flaw Y/N hated; her habit of crying whenever she was mad.

“If you won’t end our relationship then I will. We’re over, Luke. I’ve had enough of your jealousy and if you can’t accept that I have guy friends then maybe you need to think twice before attacking me.” Y/N reached up, grasping the necklace she had made Luke that hung around his neck, and yanking it off.

Luke watched in despair as the colourful beads dropped one by one to the floor, rolling under the green blades of grass. “Are you crazy?” He muttered, looking up. “You can’t leave me… I’m all you have.” He clutched his shirt, balling up the fabric, and he took long strides towards Y/N. “I made you into who you are. I created you from nothing. Before me, you were only a girl half-decent at archery. Now, you’re a prodigy. You would’ve been lost without my guidance and you have the guts to break up with me?!”

Y/N didn’t flinch, even when Luke’s voice pierced her sensitive ears. “It’s like you said, Luke. I am crazy. Breakups happen so deal with it.” She threw the remaining beads and the leather string at him before walking away, most likely to stay in the cool comforts of her cabin until Annabeth and Percy returned.

Luke could barely contain his rage and he hurriedly kneeled down to collect the beads, or at least the ones he could find.

Each bead and charm seemed to bring back a different memory of them arguing or fighting over a pointless topic. Luke sighed as he leaned his head back, knowing he had made a mistake.

But if there was one thing Luke Castellan refused to do, it was give up. So he stared at Y/N all throughout dinner. And even when Y/N made it clear that the sight of him made her sick, he still knocked on her door at night.

“Y/N.” He called out, impatiently tapping his foot against the old wood. “I’m sorry. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m ready to talk everything out. I’m calm now.”

Those were the exact words he had uttered to Y/N last week, promising he would change but he never did. Y/N had learned her lesson from that, refusing to open the door and going as far as locking it.

“Y/N. You’re being unreasonable.” Luke grumbled as he desperately tried to open the door, barging into it with his shoulder. He heard Y/N laugh.

“That’s ironic considering you’re trying to break my door down.” She spoke over the hooting owls and buzzing cicadas. “You always promise you’ll change but you never do. Don’t you think it’s time to stop making empty promises?”

Luke could hear her voice waver and he felt a small pang of guilt, knowing he was the reason behind her agonising sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, not only to Y/N but to everybody he was about to hurt, even to his father who was the most wretched man in this world. He repeated his sentence, leaning his head against the door. It suddenly swung open and Luke almost crashed into Y/N whom was still gripping the door knob.

She quietly sighed, her gaze immediately spotting his mournful eyes and his lips pulled into a guiltily frown. Y/N hesitated before stepping aside.

“This is your last chance, Luke.” She mumbled but he knew she was lying. She loved him far too much to devoid herself of his charming face.

Luke smiled as he brushed past Y/N. She could never resist him, after all. In a way, Luke pitied her for being so forgiving and sick with love because she and Percy were in the most danger out of everybody, even if they couldn’t see it yet.

The day Percy returned was the day Luke decided to be a hopeless romantic. He took an unsuspecting Y/N into the woods, twirling her around a few times because she always liked dancing.

While Y/N was distracted by the babbling brook and dipping her hand in the cool water, Luke clasped his hands behind his back. He was thinking of what to do next, let Y/N to fend for herself or he could struggle to protect her.

But sacrificing so much for a mere girl seemed pointless, even if Luke was developing strong feelings for Y/N. He quickly clicked his fingers, catching Y/N’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder, her joyful smiling fading as she laid eyes on the huge pit scorpion.

She scrambled back while Luke watched her pathetic attempt at escaping.

“I wouldn’t.” He uttered, “Pit scorpions can jump fifteen feet and slice right through your clothes. You’ll be dead in sixty seconds. But, of course, you already knew that because you love reading about these creatures. That’s why you look so frightened.”

Y/N looked at Luke, searching for any kindness in his eyes to offer her mercy. There was none. His eyes were like a void, empty and dark and lacking any human emotions.

He looked nothing like her Luke who she had met on his first day of camp, scared, annoyed, and baffled at what had become of his dead friend Thalia.

“It’s a shame I have to end our relationship here. I was starting to enjoy your presence, but giving up all my hard work for you is hardly beneficial.”

“What?” Y/N spluttered, trying to kick the scorpion away. She only made it angrier and it clapped his claws at her, ignoring Luke altogether. The scorpion’s tail was raised in hostility and Y/N held back a loud shudder of fear, knowing Luke was thriving off her terror. “Luke… what are you talking about?”

He laughed as if she were an idiot. She felt like one for trusting him despite how much he hurt her. “You don’t get it, do you? I want revenge. On my father and on the gods who have forsaken their children! They don’t give a shit about us. They never did. To them, we’re just some nitwits who are stupid enough to suck up to them. I was the one who stole the bolt, Y/N. Not Hades. And I was the one who sent that hellhound after Percy.”

“Luke, I trusted you.” Y/N thickly gulped.

“A fatal mistake.”

“No. That’s our parents you’re talking about, Luke. And you wouldn’t try and kill Percy… would you? Not my brother. You know how much he means to me.” Y/N’s eyesight turned glassy as she furrowed her eyebrows.

It all made sense now. His sour mood and his bitter attitude. All those nights she spent crying over his glass sharp words. Y/N felt foolish for not noticing what he was doing, but she was far too preoccupied with saving her relationship with Luke at the time.

“What did you think I’d say to that? Join you?” Y/N huffed.

Luke’s eyes flickered to the large bug that was only getting more furious as the seconds ticked by. “Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?” He simply questioned.

Y/N’s hardened gaze bored into his soul as she answered. “They strike to kill… and you know I will too.”

Yes, Luke knew that. Y/N was an exceptional fighter with strategic moves rivalling Annabeth’s. Every carefully planned attack she dealt was like instant death. Luke knew if she had a weapon then she wouldn’t hesitate to land a blow. But he also knew she cared for him far too much to stab his chest. If he had a better weapon, would he do the same? Or spare her?

“It’s a shame you won’t join me… I know you won’t. You and your brother are too alike.” Luke let out a low hum, “I guess we’ve both changed. You used to be hungry for power. I remember you would train until the sunset with your bow and arrow, always wanting to be the best. You’d skip meals, even if you were starving, and I’d have to beg and cry for you to eat. Maybe if my father didn’t give me that quest then we would’ve been fine.”

Luke stared at Y/N for a moment before a grin broke across his face. He stepped over the furious scorpion, pressing a strong kiss to Y/N’s lips. It felt on acid on her skin, itchy and burning and painful.

“A part of me hopes you’ll survive this.” He whispered, “So you can live to see another day. I’ll create the perfect world for you… you’ll see. You’ll love me again even if I have to force the words down your throat.”

Something slipped into her pocket but Y/N’s mind was on the pit scorpion. She flinched as the it climbed up her shoe, snapping its pinchers again.

“Luke.” She breathed as he began to walk away. “Luke. Don’t leave me here! Luke!” She screeched. She would have continued screaming, even if her voice gave up and her vocal cords tore, if it meant she could spend one more day with the warm and loving Luke that she once knew.

The scorpion drove its tail into her leg and she shrieked in pain. She kicked the creature off and desperately searched around for a weapon. She found a small dagger in her pocket, realising that’s what Luke must’ve given to her.

Y/N sliced the scorpion, panting as the world become a confused hazed. She stabbed the creature over and over again until it was nothing but a gruesome corpse of a once terrifying bug.

Y/N limped towards the water but she stumbled, falling to her knees. The toxin was spreading through her blood quickly. She desperately reached out a hand for the creek water, knowing it could possibly heal her. Making it in time to camp would be impossible with her blurring eyesight and inability to walk properly. She’d have to drag her stung leg behind her.

Y/N clawed her way towards the water before her body gave in to the poison. Her limbs grew numb and they refused to move.

Y/N heard the loud noise of bushes rustling and Percy burst into the clearing, Annabeth and a few Apollo kids following close behind.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice deafened by the ringing in her ears. She felt dizzy and the world spun in slow-motion as the Apollo healers turned Y/N on her back. Percy kneeled beside her, holding her hand tightly.

“She’s been stung. We don’t have much time. Feed her the nectar.”

Black dots swarmed around in her vision. She could see Annabeth yelling at her but she heard no voices as she let her head loll to the side and she finally succumbed to sleep, not knowing if she would wake up again.

Y/N stirred as the harsh light peeked through the thin curtains of the infirmary. She lightly groaned, shifting around to get more comfortable. Her senses were slowly coming back and she could finally hear again.

“Y/N?” Percy was at her side in an instant. She smiled up at him.

“He really stole the bolt… didn’t he?” She whispered. Percy slowly nodded.

“Yeah…”

Luke’s betrayal would be hard to endure for both the Poseidon siblings and Annabeth. He was beloved by most of the camp and he threw it all away for one pitiful shot at glory.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you loved him.” Percy’s grip on her hand tightened.

A small laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips. “I guess I did… but he didn’t love me back. Or maybe he did and I simply wasn’t enough…”

Luke’s love had ever been pure or innocent. There was always a catch to it. He was obsessive with her, constantly ensuring that no other guys talked to Y/N. At least, not the ones that posed a threat.

A part of Y/N would always miss Luke but she could feel relief wash over her body because she no longer had to endure his lashing-out anger and sadness anymore.

She had escaped his cruel clutches and until they met again, most likely on a battlefield with their swords pressed up against each other’s throats, she could live in peace.

However, happiness never lasted long for demigods. “Get some rest.” Percy uttered as he stepped out of the infirmity. It was late at night and the last Apollo kid had just finished her daily rounds at checking the patients.

Y/N quietly sighed as she leaned her head back, her eyelids fluttering closed. The floorboards creaked but she paid it no mind. All the cabins squeaked, even the Aphrodite one.

Y/N felt drowsy under the influence of the medicine she had been given and she fell asleep in no time. Her long awaited rest didn’t last for long, though, when she awoke with a loud gasp.

She was outside. In a shallow river. Her clothes stuck to her body and she spat out a mouthful of water. Y/N shivered, rubbing her arms as a sorry attempt to generate warmth.

From the shore, she heard a familiar laugh. It pierced her soul and Y/N stiffened, her breath trembling. Luke sat not even a meter away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He saw her petrified face and it fuelled a sadistic need inside of him.

“I changed my mind, sweetheart.” Those words from him felt like poison to Y/N. “I got permission to keep you around as long as you don’t get into trouble.”

Luke inched forward and Y/N tilted away, trying to scramble rearward. Her back hit a large rock and she quivered, realising she was trapped between a boulder and Luke. Her former lover was approaching her quickly and she didn’t have time to react before he was kneeled in front of her, not caring how his clothes got soaked.

He gently grasped Y/N’s chin, an action that contrasted his aggressive approach back at camp. He tilted her head up so that she was forced to stare at him and sent her another sickeningly sweet smile.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” He whispered in her ear. His hands felt gross on her skin but her body refused to move. She knew she wouldn’t get far with her injured leg and weakened body. “Because I missed you terribly.”

His lips captured Y/N’s in a long kiss and for millisecond, she forgot all his wrongdoings. She almost melted before she came back to her senses.

As Luke pulled away, Y/N sank further into the river like it would save her from whatever callous and vicious act Luke was going to perform.

Her whole body shook, and not just from the cold, as she found herself cornered in Luke’s suffocating embrace once again after fighting so long to get out.

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