#and ill always wave when i see you in the hall

[elisysd]

12. Don't give me up, cause what about, what about angels

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: What About Angels - Birdy

Charles saw you tensing after your mother’s cold greeting. He hated how you flinched as she was reminding you that being late was disrespectful towards your dad’s special day, that being away from home and in a big city had made you lose sight of the values they had taught you. But he hated even more how you simply smiled and apologized. He needed all his self control to not take your side, he knew how anxious this whole situation was making you feel, he didn’t want to make it worse by saying something he knew wouldn’t be well received.

The first thing he noticed in the house’s hall was the amount of family pictures, but instead of four people on them were only three. He recognised your mom, assumed the man beside her was your dad and when he thought he would notice you, it was instead your little brother. He couldn't be wrong, he looked exactly like you. The pictures were cut in a certain way that didn’t take him a long time to understand that you had been cut out of them. He felt a wave of rage hitting him. Why make you come here if your parents had gone to such an extent as to erase every trace of your existence? It was a twisted joke.

“You don’t even call anymore, Y/N. I knew it would happen, I’ve always said that being in a world full of sparks and empty promises would change you. You’re too gullible. You don’t even have time for your own family anymore. Not that you ever had.”

“You’ve never tried to ask questions about my job…” you mumbled as Charles put a comforting hand on your hip.

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you do, you’re the talk of the town. The small town girl made it to the TV. There is no reason to be proud, playing a pretty face on tv… that is not what I raised you to be. And now you’re associating yourself with fair-weather friends…” she said, darting judgmental eyes on Charles. “I know exactly who you are.”

He didn’t have the time to reply as your dad entered the room and sat on the chair without a word. You sat too, Charles close to you as your mom joined your dad’s side. 

“How nice it is to finally see you alive.” he said, making you gulp.

“I’m Charles, your daughter’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” he introduced himself in a desperate attempt to drive the conversation away from you and the relieved sigh you let out made him think that you appreciated it. 

Lunch was awkward, punctuated with snarky comments here and there that you tried your best to ignore. Charles was trying to do the same but it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his calm. But it was when cake was brought that resentment and unspoken words finally came out in the open. You had taken your phone out of your pocket, wanting to show your parents all the beautiful landscapes you had the chance to witness. 

“Aren’t you ashamed?” your mom muttered.

“Why?” you turned your head to look at her in disbelief.

“Ashamed of following the sport that killed your brother. Ashamed of being with the man responsible for his death.” she sternly said.

You felt like a million daggers stabbing your heart all at once. You took a deep breath, putting your hand on his thigh, squeezing it lightly to indicate to him  not to react. It was something you had to do alone.

“F1 and Charles didn’t kill Luc, it was his leukemia, not anything else.” you replied, feeling a lump in your throat.

“If you had not introduced your brother to that stupid sport, he wouldn’t have been a fan and his illness wouldn't have turned that bad so quickly. He wasn’t talking about anything else than that sport and you. Until his very last breath. His last words were about Formula 1. It took my baby away from me and this is your fault. Both of you.” she finished, turning to Charles this time.

“If I can add something… I know I have no right to comment on this situation but even if I understand your pain, Y/N is not the one to blame. She…” Charles started, quickly shutted up by your dad.

“You’re right, you have no right to say a  thing. You don’t know what it is like to lose a son.”

“Maybe I don’t, yeah. But I know exactly what it feels like to lose a parent. I understand your pain. Truly. But with all due respect, you’ve already lost a son, you should be more careful to not lose a daughter by pushing her away and making her feel like a stranger in her own family.”

“We’ve already lost her the minute she decided to not show up at the funeral.” your mom spitted, making you close your eyes, trying to not cry. You wouldn’t give that pleasure to your parents.

“I think it’s best if we leave. It was a bad idea to come here, anyway.” you ended up saying, standing up, Charles following you. “You shouldn’t have invited me in the first place, if it was to treat me that way.”

You took Charles’ hand in yours and dragged him out of what had been once your safe place. Without a word you made your way to his car and rushed inside and it was only when the door was closed and that he had taken place behind the wheel that you broke down. He didn’t hesitate to pull you on his lap and let you cry on his shoulder, holding you tight.

“It’s okay, babe… you’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel bad, you have nothing to feel bad about. If you were believing your mom’s lies, I understand why you were so mean to me at the beginning now.”

“She is not entirely wrong, you know.” you sniffed in his neck. “At least about one thing, I should’ve been there for Luc’s funeral. But it was too hard for me. I didn’t want to face the fact that I would never see him again. I didn’t want to make the nightmare I was in real. because if I was going, it would happen exactly that. It would have made the pain real and permanent. I couldn’t.”

You put your forehead against his, trying to find a way to ground you. Charles drew small patterns on your hips, comforting you the best he could. 

“Let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he whispered against your ear.

You got out of the car and hand in hand you started to wander the streets of your childhood, telling him anecdotes and facts of any buildings and streets you were walking on and seeing.

“Tell me about Luc.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Whatever you want. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.”

“He was passionate. About many things. History and art mostly. He wanted to work in a museum. And passionate about F1 of course. He knew a lot of mechanical stuff, more than I did. He taught me as much as I did, I swear. Maybe more. I was spending my weekends at the hospital with him to watch the races. When he was hospitalized, it was what kept him going. It was our thing, you know. Wait, I think I have a picture to show you.”

She took a photo out of her wallet and gave it to him. If he didn’t know it was a hospital room, he would have had a hard time guessing it. Everywhere were Ferrari and monegasque flags as well as a lot of merch. He was recognising one of his caps on the bedside table. Posters of his podiums were hung on the walls, his Monza’s win right above Luc’s head. Small replicas of his trophies were there too as well as miniatures of his helmets.

“A real fan.” he smiled.

“The best.” you sighed. “ You don’t know how happy he was when you won in Monza. It brought so much joy in his life. Even if it wasn’t for long. It was a tough time, he had just started to get hospitalized, he was very sick and pale and the shell of what he once was. And suddenly, he was feeling a little more alive. Because of you. Then, time went by and I had to leave for New York. It was the toughest decision I had to make in my life. At some point I was ready to take a year off so I could be with him…” 

“What made you change your mind?”

“Him. With time my dream became his. He wouldn’t have forgiven me if I was giving it all up because he was sick. He was talking about how amazing it would be if I was interviewing you. I bet he is the happiest up there.” you smiled, looking up. “One of his dreams was to meet you.”

“Maybe it is not too late?” Charles hesitantly said and you looked at him curiously. “Is he buried here?”

You nodded and he felt you stiffened.

“I've never been on his grave.” you confessed after a moment of silence. “It’s too hard and too painful to go there alone.”

“Good thing you’re not alone anymore, then.”

As you were making your way to the graveyard, Charles had to hold you closer to his chest with each step you were taking. You sobs were getting louder and your legs were shakier. It was breaking his heart, trying to see how much you were trying to keep it together.

When you finally reached the grave, at the back end of the graveyard, you fell on your knees in front of the black grave. Luc hated black. A black and white picture of him was also in the middle of the gravestone. It made you shiver. It was well kept, your parents were coming often. The lump in your throat had not gone away in the slightest, it was even bigger now, making you choke up on your own saliva. Charles wanted to hold you, wanted to get you out of here. The emotional devastation you were in was making him want to join you on the ground and cry with you. But he also knew you needed it. It was the closure you needed to move forward. He took a few steps away, giving you privacy.

“I’m so sorry, Luc. So sorry. Sorry about how I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, sorry to have let you down, sorry to not have stepped up and measured up when I should have, sorry to not have been the sister you deserved. There is not a day that goes by when I don’t regret not being by your side. There are so many things that I should have done differently, so many things that I feel guilty about but none of them compare to how guilty I feel to not have said goodbye. I acted like a coward and I know how much you felt scared about dying. And how I promised you I would hold your hand until the end. I didn’t. I chickened out and I failed you. If I could go back in time, I would, just so I could look into your eyes one last time and hold your hand tight. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would trade anything for one last smile of yours. I hope you can forgive me, I sure can’t do that alone. But despite everything I’m happy and I’m not sure I should be. I fell in love and you would be ecstatic to know who I share my life with. He is supportive and kind and perfect for me. I wish we would have had enough time so you could have met him. But maybe after all, it’s you I should thank. Maybe it’s you who sent Charles on my way. Maybe it is your way of telling me that you are not mad at me. That you want me to be happy. If only you could give me a sign. I just want you to know that everything I do, I do it for you. Because I love you. Forever.”

You felt Charles’ arms around your shoulders as he crouched down beside you.

“Hey, Luc. I know we don’t know each other but your sister talks about you so much that I feel like I already know you. I would have loved to meet you, I know how big of a fan you are of F1. I would have loved to show you around the paddock, maybe I would have let you sit in my car. Anything to make you and your sister smile. You are brave and strong and I have nothing but pure admiration for you. I wish I could have met you. Don’t worry about your sister, I take good care of her and I don’t want to let go of her. I’m here for her for as long as she lets me but I hope it is a forever kind of thing.” he whispered as you looked at him with big and glossy eyes.

He helped you stand up, asked if you were alright and if you wanted to leave. He didn’t mind staying but he wanted to make sure you were alright, the day had been emotionally draining enough. When you nodded, he took you in his arms, engulfing you in his jacket so you weren’t cold and kissed the top of your head as you headed out.

“I’m so proud of you. So proud.” he said as you finally reached his car.

“Thank you. For being there. I don’t think I would have been able to do it alone.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You would have done it at some point.”

“Did you mean it? What you said up there… About us being forever.” you shyly asked.

“I’m sorry it was not the best time to say it. But to answer you, I do. I’m not kidding, Y/N, I swear I can’t explain it. I don’t know how either but I just know. You’re the love of my life.”

Author's note: In laws meeting incoming... how do you think it will turn out? .

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[hillerska-official]

Thank you all for watching with me 💕

[theysherobinbuckley]

a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

[r3ynah]

THE FAMILY OF BEAUTIES

The girls the boys they all like Carmen.

(In this scenario Carmen is the fentons).

I just want to headcanon, that the Fenton's have a ethereal type of beauty, not sexy or hot. Ethereal, like if you didn't know that they're a family of Mad scientist, a obsessive therapist and a dead boy. they could've passed as deity's.

And the amity park's citizens can and will totally agree, they might've disagree and fight for a lot of things but the only thing they can agree on was the Fenton's was down to earth beautiful.

Like Jack Fenton for example, He has built that can seemingly bench you without any hesitation, but a himbo at heart, the greys of his hair compliments way it mixes with the black hair of his, if Jack isn't in his ghost hunting suit, he is pretty decent when it comes to his fashion sense, When Jazz first brought along her friends, the first thing they asked was if Jack was single, which caused Jazz to smack their heads individually with a newspaper.

And don't get me started with Madeline Fenton, because I cannot stop when it comes to her, My girl with her short straight Reddish-brown hair, looks like a masculine but also feminine beauty, Can and will bench you, if you have any ill intent towards her family, she came from a long line of riches if I say so myself. Tall as fuck, about 6'7 while Jack is 7'0. very elegant when it comes to fighting, that it looks like she's just dancing, Was titled as a Milf by Danny's classmate which made the boy groan in annoyance, Sam and Tucker calls out to Maddie and says "Mother is Mothering", just to get something out of Danny who looks at them with disgust knowing full well what they were trying to do. While Maddie is just happy for the kids to see her as a mother figure.

Now Jazz, My love, my girl. Her long Red hair that came down to her hips, and her blue eyes, made all the girls and boys in her college swoon, with her 6'4 figure she strutted down the halls with confidence, beauty and brains everyone would oh so called it, and her knowledge in martial arts didn't lessen her attractiveness, The humans and ghosts can agree with that delightfully.

And now her dearest sibling Danny, Danny is a nonbinary fuck that can gender envy anyone he meets, that's why he got bullied in the first place, he was too fucking beautiful and handsome at the same time, all the boys and girls of his school have atleast had a crush on him, He was the only cute boy there, what could they do? He stared at them with his icey colored eyes that made their legs tremble from the pressure, and that black hair that always seemed messy but in a good way. It didn't help when he got that lichtenberg scar, that ran up his neck and the side of his face. you should've seen him in P.E cause my guy got everyone staring at him.

And the Fenton family has fashion sense, if they really put their mind and soul into it, everytime they dressed up for a family reunion or just an outing it was a very sweet treat for everyone's eyes. like how it is right now.

The Amity parkers waved goodbye at the Fenton's as they went on and attended a gala they were invited to, it was supposedly because of the sudden rise and popularity of their works and how's it been helping the environment.

One citizen sighed as he looked at the car that family was driving as it slowly became smaller and smaller.

"You think they can handle Gotham, heard nasty thing bout that place." She questioned

"Girl, Gotham should be the one readying to handle them, that family may be beautiful, but their crazy." Her friend's answered

"well that does give them a more attractive look isn't it?"

"I hate how you're right."

__

The Gala the Fenton's went to certainly had an awkward atmosphere when they went inside, all the guest kept staring at them that it was starting to get creepy, did they overdress or underdressed, come on just walk towards start to talk or criticize them, because it's starting to get embarrassing for the family.

Gotham wasn't fucking prepared to meet the Fentons like as in, They had been awestrucked when the family walked in. A very tall man seemingly in his 40's with his hair gelled back, and a suit that fitted him too perfectly, gosh dang, even the homophobic guests couldn't help but stare, And then there was his Wife her straight her was curled and brushed out leaving a wavy effect that compliments her face shape, and that dress she was wearing was utterly gorgeous, fancy but also simple and mature, the heels certainly helped her height more and made her look more intimidating, The ladies blushed when she looks at them and smiles.

And don't get them started with the couples children, who looked adorable and elegant at the same time, The older sister had a aura that says: 'Im in your presence bow down' (And they would've if it was in a more private area due to the paparazzi's out the window). She wore a spaghetti strapped dress that had a slit on either side and was , making it more comfortable to move in for the girl, partnered by a white shawl made of silk, she had heels that also complimented he already tall stature, her hair was tied in a neat bun, with a few strands free to not make her face feel bare. And lastly the youngest everyone assumed, wearing a suit, double-breasted suit that was elegant and sophisticated it matched the way his hair is messed up for him to still look young, he was also wearing a black shawl that had specks of white making it look like stars. The family had a colour scheme of green, that made all gothamites present swoon, Including a certain family of bats.

(I might make a fanart of this later.)

[callme-darling]

work tensions

or; you’re a prosecutor working a trial vincent is defending and your colleagues get the feeling there’s some underlying tension between the way you’re at each others throats

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, like genuinely filthy shit, fem reader, hate sex (kinda), sex in the workplace (so like semi-public ig), vincent and y/n are rivals/enemies, this actually somewhat has a plot lmao, hellllaaaaa tension, so much teasing, degradation (he say slut once), cocky vincent, begging if you squint, throat holding/light choking, fingering, no protection, p-in-v, not proofread, friendly ending (bc i’m a big softie)

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY LADIES!!!! hope you enjoy🤍🤍

you were amongst the youngest of the attorneys in the city courthouse. you were fortunate in the opportunities afforded to you, but you also worked your ass off to get where you were today. which is why you, for the life of yourself, can’t understand what the hell you did to earn the contempt of vincent renzi.

from the first time you both stood in the same courtroom, it seemed like his eyes were always set in a hard glare when they saw you. so whose to blame you for reciprocating the hostility? your colleagues usually give you well-intentioned advice to at least talk to him, something you haven’t even done outside of casework. who knows, they’d shrug, maybe it’s just ill-concealed intrigue.

you were young, but you weren’t naive enough to think the esteemed defense attorney didn’t absolutely hate your guts.

some of your colleagues, however, seemed hellbent on taking matters into their own hands after a minor scuffle that left the judge’s office suspended in a tense battle of wills. the case wasn’t even that serious—just a petty case of ‘he-said, she-said’ neighbor dispute. but the simple judge’s meeting quickly fell apart to a dispute that devolved to obviously personal jabs.

when the judge finally had enough, she dismissed both you and vincent from the room with the stern instruction to “talk out whatever issues you two obviously have, and get your shit together”.

you’re on vincent’s heels as he speeds out of the room. as soon as you hear the door click shut behind you, you’re glancing up and down the hallway. vincent runs a hand through his hair, annoyance etched across his features.

“what the hell is your problem?”

you gawk at him, “MY problem?!” you chuckle at his audacity. “you’re the one who started all this-“ you wave your hands in the space between you two like some enigmatic boundary separated you.

his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, and a roll of his eyes had you seeing red. before you had a chance to properly rip his throat out, an older man poked his head out from another room, face stern as he recommended you find somewhere else to continue whatever dispute you deigned important enough to have a tempermental yelling match in the middle of the office.

with a noise that could only be chalked up at pure irritation, vincent began strutting down the hall. you were quick behind him, wordlessly keeping in step with his long strides. you weren’t done with your conversation, and you’ll be damned if you let him walk away now.

you were in an unfamiliar, and rather desolate, wing of the building when he spun around to face you, his face inches from yours as he ducked down slightly to glare into your eyes. “quit following me like a damn dog!”

your eyes widened before a hard scowl settled on your face. “not until you tell me what your problem with me is.” you fume, “ever since i got here, you have had some personal vendetta against me. you’re going to tell me why.”

his jaw clenched as his eyes scanned your face. “your feelings are hurt because i don’t like you, is that what this is?”

you roll your eyes. “that’s bullshit and we both know it. the truth. now.”

“i need a reason to dislike you?”

“you can make one up for all i care, but i’m tired of your attitude fucking with my job.”

he chuckles dryly, “oh, i see. that’s what this is about.”

your brows scrunch together. at your look of confusion, he takes a step closer, breath fanning your face as he whispers through tight lips, “it’s my attitude fucking with your job, hm? that’s what drives me so fucking crazy- you’re so blind.” he rubs a hand over his mouth, taking a breath before his eyes are hard set on you again. “don’t think i don’t see it—the way you’ve charmed our colleagues, how you bat your pretty little eyes at the judges to get your way-“

you cut him off, disbelief dripping from your words. “excuse me?”

he scoffs, “oh don’t be coy.”

“you know what, vincent,” you clench your fists, nails biting into your palms as they shook, “you can fuck right off.”

you go to turn and walk away, but a thought of venom penetrates your mind and you whip right back around, nearly nose-to-nose as you whisper low, “just say you’re threatened by me next time.”

you watch as something akin to rage flash across vincent’s face. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his eyes bore into yours with a silent threat that chills your spine. his tone is low, dangerous. the rasp makes the hair along your arms stand on end. “i suggest you choose your next words wisely, y/n.”

maybe it was your stubbornness, or a fleeting air of confidence, but you hold his stare, your own voice quieter but just as menacing. “vincent renzi is threatened by the fresh-faced competition and can’t stand the thought that i may be the better attorney.” were you being childish in taunting him? yes, probably. but the months of tension were reaching critical mass, and whatever thoughts crossed your mind were being said.

what had just slipped through your lips, though, was definitely the wrong thing to have said.

a hand harshly grips your bicep as he drags you to the nearest room. he flicks on one set of lights and slams the door shut. he’s fuming, you note. however, you don’t fully register just how angry he is.

he’s silent for a pregnant moment, the air suffocating as he watches you with an analytical glare, his body seemed almost animalistic in how he stalked towards with with silent strides. you feel a new form of anxiety quicken your breathing.

he’s close now, so close you can smell his day-old cologne like it were freshly applied. his voice is quiet, but it makes you jolt under his intense gaze. “you want to know why i hate you so much?”

you feel as though you’re trapped in a stupor, your mind dizzy with this newfound suspense. you give him a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain firm in this intensity.

you swear you feel his lips just barely ghost over your cheek as he speaks, nearly growling in your ear. “i hate you because you’re so infuriating.” he pauses. “the way you walk around the courtroom like it’s yours to own, how you always make the most nit-picky points. and what pisses me off the most, is how i’m so attracted to you because of it.”

you were holding your breath. you felt your mind reeling as silence settled over the room. only the sound of your own breathing and the blood rushing through your veins reached your ears as you held vincent’s gaze.

his ferocity seemed to have diminished a fraction, but his jaw remained clenched. words escaped your brain as you tried to wrack together some coherent response, anything to quell the heat burning you from the inside out.

when no such words came, you decided ‘to hell with it’.

your eyes flicked to vincent’s lips, rubbed a pretty red from his hands and teeth. then you looked back into his eyes. an exchange that required no voice.

‘do it then,’ you silently dared. do it.

and so, he did.

his palm was warm on your cheek, fingers wrapping around the back of your head as he crashed his lips to yours. the force of the kiss had you stumbling back before vincent’s other hand caught your hip.

impatient. that was the best word to describe the way vincent kissed you. you tasted his lips on yours, body humming as you become acutely aware just who you’re kissing. and the mere thought has your thighs clenching together.

there was no room to speak with the way his mouth trailed down your chin, dipping into the curve of your neck. a shudder rushes through your muscles when you feel his teeth nip at the skin of your throat, eliciting a soft gasp to fall from your kiss-swollen lips.

you can feel the faint press of a grin to your collarbone. he coaxed your legs to walk back a few steps, securing your body between the table and his own.

his breath was warm as he spoke against your shoulder, “tell me to stop.” the featherlight touch of his fingers sent jolts of electricity through you as they skimmed down your arms and over your waist. “tell me you don’t want this, and i’ll let you walk out that door.”

your lungs burned when you finally released your breath. you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, and the deep octave of his voice was doing little to soothe it. you were surprised by your own voice’s clarity, “shut up and kiss me again.”

you felt his body melt deeper into yours as your palms pulled him in by the side of his neck. you allowed yourself to be more eager, greedier, as your tongue teased his bottom lip.

he pressed his hips firmly against yours, his rasping moan nearly making you whimper in response. he was breathless when he pulled away. the pad of his thumb stroked your bottom lip, his own shining with a mixture of yours and his spit.

“i’m going to ruin you..” he murmured, leaning down again, his lips brushing over yours as his thumb holds your chin in place.

you prop your hand on the table behind you, not trusting your legs to hold you for much longer. your voice is meeker this time as you whisper against his touch, “you can try.”

vincent kisses you with an assured hunger. his touch dominating as he grips your hips, the fabric of your skirt gradually bunching in his hold. you can sense the apprehension in him, his internal battle of morals. your hand cradles the back of his head, nails stroking his scalp as you use your other to guide his hand under your blouse. blue eyes meet yours as you chide, “you don’t have to play nice with me, vincent.” the lull of his name from your lips paired with the way you brought his palm to grope at your chest, he needed no more convincing.

“such a little fuckin’ minx.” he muttered under his breath. your skirt was bunched up to your waist, your panties shoved down your legs. he had your back flat on the tabletop, hips slotted between your thighs as his eyes raked over you.

you could feel yourself slowly dripping onto the table below you, cheeks flushed with both lust and embarrassment.

vincent smirked. seeing you laid out like this, on display for him has his dick twitching in his pants. he appraised your needy pussy, a tentative two fingers teasing your folds as your thighs trembled. he watched how you grew shy, hand hovering over your mouth as you whine at the fleeting touch.

finally, you feel the pair of fingers slide into your soaking cunt. a whimper escapes you when he’s knuckle-deep in your clenching heat, the palm of his hand grazing your clit.

his gaze is attentive as he makes note of every little reaction you have to each stroke of his fingers. he bites his lip as he witnesses your eyes softly roll back when his fingers find the spot that has your chest heaving and hips shuddering. he leans down so his ear is next to your mouth, intent on hearing every single needy little whine he lures from you. he presses his lips to yours when he feels you creep up to your climax. “are you going to come on my hand?” his eyes find yours, half-lidded and glassy, and the sight alone makes him groan as his cock aches.

“is this all it takes to have you all pretty and compliant?” the teasing lilt in his voice only makes your cunt flutter around his fingers. “not so smart now when i have two fingers in this little pussy of yours, hm?”

you swear you felt like you were going to pass out. the combination of his fingers and palm against your pussy, his degrading mocking, and taunting eyes has you keening under him in a newfound desperation as you teetered precariously on the edge. so, so close to being rendered incoherent with only two fingers.

his touch leaves you.

you whine loudly, pouting as you attempt to catch your stolen breath. you move to sit up, but a large firm hand across your collarbones keeps you sprawled on the table. you squirm under his hold. “vincent.. why?” under any other circumstances, the needy pitch of your voice would’ve made you cringe, but your depravity gave you little to care about aside from satisfying your incessant lust right now.

his voice was sickeningly taunting as he cooed down at you, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. “come on, you have to work for it.”

you could feel that familiar animosity sit on your tongue, but you hold it. though, based on the sly smile looking down at you, you got the sense he could feel it too.

“how ‘bout this..” he sighs instead. his eyes trailed over your face, blue irises harboring a certain warmth that had anticipation swirling in your stomach. “if you say a simple, little sentence, i’ll give you what you want.”

you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over what was no doubt a trap. “what would you have me say?”

the way his smile widened had your pussy clenching around nothing, the cold air making you shiver. “i want you to say: ‘only vincent renzi can make my pussy this wet’.

“oh fuck y-“

his hand catches your jaw before you could finish your crude remark. his fingers lightly dig into your cheeks as he comes nose-to-nose with you. his voice is dangerously low but a softness keeps to the edges. “would you rather me leave you here, like this? your pussy is practically weeping.” as if to reinforce his words, a hand lightly slaps against your folds. the wet sound had your face turning a new shade of red, lips pouting as his other hand still holds your face close to his.

you don’t say anything, internally battling with yourself. the tip of vincent’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes following the minute movement with bated breaths. then his soft voice buzzes in your ear. “c’mon.. just say how i make you drip like a needy slut. let me hear that pretty voice of yours, the one you like to use so much.”

you felt a whine croak in your throat as the hand between your thighs gave your clit another tap. “i’ll give you three seconds.” his low tone warned.

“three..”

you felt your breath stutter, eyes searching his. there’s no way he’s serious.

“two..”

he wouldn’t actually leave you like this, would he?”

“on-“

“okay.” you cut him off, words rushed as you grip the wrist of the hand holding your face.

he peers down at you expectantly. the corner of his lips upturned slightly, and you hated how attractive it was.

“only vincent can make me this wet..” he’s never seen you so timid and meek than in that moment, something that only added to the building heat of the room.

“now, was that so hard?” he quirked a brow, fingers playing with your aching cunt as he notes the way your slick soaks his palm. “you’ve done your part, so be a good girl and take what i give you, yeah?”

you nod dumbly as his hand drops from your jaw. your body felt like it was buzzing, heart hammering in your chest as you watched him fumble with his pants, pulling his leather belt off with one hand.

he plants a searing kiss to your lips, a trained dominance permeating his movements. you moan against him, hips twitching as his pants brush against your bare core. a hand slides between your bodies to free his leaking cock from his slacks. you swallow any sounds he makes as his hand strokes his dick a few times. “you got to stay quiet. think you can handle that?”

you ignore the obvious taunt, hand on the back of his neck as you pull at the ends of his hair. “just fuck me already, vince.”

he chuckles dryly, but you sense the anticipation crawling under his skin. next time, you’ll be the one making him beg.

a drawn out gasp fills the room as you feel him slowly begin to sink into your tight heat. fuck, you felt dizzy as your cunt pulsed, sucking him in deeper.

you both moan in with quiet sighs when he bottoms out. he starts slow, but eventually finds a rhythm that has you whining with each thrust, your whimpers gradually growing in volume as his thumb toyed with your sore clit. he curses under his breath, a large hand gripping the sides of your throat.

his voice was labored but firm, “you want the entire firm to hear how you sound with my dick in you? be quiet.” he warns again.

you try, you really do. your hand is over your mouth, eyes watering with unshed tears as his pace quickens. your other hand flies to his shoulder, nails biting into his shirt in a silent plea. his voice floats back to you. “but staying quiet was never your strong suit, was it?”

“fuck, oh shit-“ you whimper, eyes screwing shut when you feel the start of your orgasm wrack through you. “vincent, please, oh-“ your eyes fluttered as his grip around your neck tightened a fraction.

“i told you, you would eventually start begging.”

you can barely hear him over the erratic pulsing in your ears. your entire body tenses, cunt clenching around his dick like a vice. he hisses above you, teeth gritted as he watches you come undone.

he pulls out of you, stroking himself a few more times before he’s coming on your pussy and thighs.

you lay on the table, breathing hard as you come down from the orgasmic high. you stare at vincent who’s already watching you, breaths sharing a calming rhythm. when you feel more like yourself, you start to sit up. he hands you a box of tissues, eyes daring to glance at the mess he made on you.

you attempt to straighten your blouse, the collar of which looks as though it had gone through a windstorm. your eyes scan the floor for your panties.

vincent’s palm offers the small ball of satin into your fingers. your gaze catches his as he suppresses a grin. “wouldn’t want to be caught without these, would you?”

you glare at him, though it’s void of the usual hostility. you finish straightening your clothes, blouse retucked into your smoothed-out skirt. you turn back to vincent who’s been put back together for a couple minutes already, leaning against the wall idly.

your mind screamed at you to fill the silence, to say something to settle the oncoming disquiet.

to your surprise, it was vincent who broke the silence first. “who would have thought that this is something you’re into?” his eyes appraised you again. there was no adversity in his jest, only a gentle prodding.

“you can’t say that like you didn’t just fuck me the same.”

he nods, toothy grin starting to crack through his lips. you can see the way his fingers twitch, itching to hold a cigarette between them.

“want a smoke?” you offer, testing the waters.

his eyes catch yours, and he holds your gaze for a moment. then the first genuine, true smile you’ve seen from him is directed at you.

“i’d like that, yes.”

[daisydaisybilly]

How about a request where Anthony is head over heels for the reader because of her motherly nature. First, he sees how she would play with Daphne’s son, and he just feels how great it’s like to be taken care of (like the reader would take care of him when he’s sick and help him with all the family duties) since all this time he took care of his siblings. The Bridgertons (and Simon) sees how in love Anthony is with the reader and they help with the proposal plan.

falling for ya | a.b

pairing: anthony bridgerton x gn!reader

warnings: none just fluff

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this has took me an embarrassing amount of time to get to but here it is! Anthony being an idiot in love

The season was over and you had been invited to the Bridgerton country home, Aubrey Hall. At this time in the year it was just the family and close friends. Eloise had invited her close friend, Penelope Featherington. Your invite had come from Benedict, you had met him at the Royal Academy of Art and became fast friends.

Of course you knew that his and your own families wished for an offer, your own mama was sure you’d come home with such news but it wouldn’t happen. He was a friend and nothing more. Besides, you were in love with his older brother.

Over the course of your friendship, you had also grown closer to the other Brigerton siblings, and their own children.

Small giggled laugher followed you, as you ran across the lawn, you turned seeing two small Bassett children running after you on small chubby legs, both holding small play swords. “You’ll never catch me” You declared, waving your own sword in the air.

The laughing increased, as they hit back.

You gave a cry of dismay and carried on running, over by the house, under the refreshment tent, the older siblings sat, the children were off begging Violet for something sweet.

“They’re quite good with them, don't you think?” Daphne asked the others, Simon gave an agreeable nod. Benedict and Colin were too busy in an argument over something unimportant, Eloise and Penelope were discussing the latest Lady Whistledown. 

Anthony though was watching with alarming personal interest, he had never seen you in this light before, you were Benedict’s art friend. Always off with him painting or looking at paintings or discussing paintings. 

Then he saw himself as a young boy, playing with his siblings when he carried the weight of everything on him. He had never blamed them for that, he loved his family with all his heart. But he couldn’t deny how he’d like to be taken care of for once. 

For the first time, he longed to fall ill, nothing series of course, just a head cold or something like that. Where you would sit by his bedside, reading to him and holding a cold cloth to his head. Maybe you’d sit by his bed and draw. 

Just this morning, very early in the morning, he had left the house to have a walk through the gardens and had found you sitting on the wet grass, in your dressing gown and slippers. Coloured pencil spread across the ground around you, on your lap the most beautiful sunrise he had ever seen. 

Anthony felt a blush spread across his neck. 

The day he had first met you, you had been a bundle of nerves. Meeting his family had been the easy part but the head of the household, meant moving up. He had made some comment or joke over dinner and  you laughed and laughed. 

And then there was that time, he had run into you in the park. 

With a cousin, the second you spotted him you beelined for him, leaving your poor cousin to tail behind.

Then at the last ball of the season, his mother had made him dance with you, he believed your mother did the same to you. The whole dance you played a game where he and you would guess what the other couples were discussing and the way you smiled when you had made him laugh.

By god he loved you, he, Anthony Bridgerton, he who swore he’d never love, had fallen in love with you. 

“I give in, I give in” you exhaled, dropping the sword, the children giggled, you picked up a glass of lemonade, “God they can run fast on those little legs”.

The others laughed, Simon seemed to straighten his back with pride, Daphne was looking at Anthony smirking. Someone at the house called your name, “Dear, a letter for you has just arrived”

“It will be from my mama” you roll your eyes, “Better hurry and write something back”. You left the group and thanked Violet. 

The second you had entered the house, Daphne grabbed her brother so fast he jumped, “You’re in love with them, aren’t you! I knew it”.

Anthony blushed harder, failing to speak, Colin and Benedict looked uninterested. Then Anthony realised he was the last to know. Each one of his siblings knew and  just didn’t care enough to tell him. 

After afternoon tea you had found the most puzzling note, attached to your door. Asking you to meet someone in the gardens. 

Across the grass was a blanket and two drawing pads, “Hello?” you called out. As you walked closer you found Anthony waiting, “Anthony?” you asked, kneeling to sit beside him, “What is this?”.

He smiled, handing you a pad and some pencils, “Let’s call it a private art lesson”.

“Why not ask your brother?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell him I said this but you’re the better artist”.

A warm feeling spread across your face and down your neck, you flipped open the pad, “Well draw something and we’ll see what needs work”. 

You looked up from your drawing, Anthony was frowning, the pencil working hard, it was sweet you had to admit.

“No no its…..” you gave up, you think he tried to draw a flower, “It’s a start” you smiled. 

“What did you draw?” he asked.

Damn

You hadn’t planned on showing him, you didn’t plan on showing everyone, but he was looking at you and waiting and it just felt rude not to. Slowly and feeling more heat all over, you turned the pad around. 

“Is that me?” he asked.

You closed the pad hard, “It means nothing.. You were there and- I” you couldn’t find the right words and felt more flushed as you went on. 

“It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful” 

Your mouth dropped open. 

“I know this may seem like it’s coming out of nowhere but I didn’t know how I felt until now. You see I have felt something for you ever since you laughed at my joke during the first dinner, and then today when I saw you playing with Daphens children it made me see things for how they really are”

Your mouth was still open, his words coming as a complete shock but not unwanted. He was everything you could want, he made you laugh, he talked with you with real interest not the half listening other men did, he was an amazing dancer and now this, trying to do something you loved.

His art was poor but still he had tried for this moment. 

He said your name and you swore your heart skipped. “I- I did not mean to overstep”

“Anthony” you smiled. 

He looked hopeful, “yes?”.

“I think I should be the one saying that” you said, unable to stop grinning. 

“Yes?”.

“Yes!” 

You leaped into his arms, he caught you right away. 

Without a second thought you kissed him, falling deeper into love with him. 

After the kiss and the ones that followed, you lay in his arms. “We’ll have to thank everyone, they helped set this up” Anthony said. 

“Benedict will call himself cupid until the end of time” you laughed. 

Anthony linked his hand with yours, “As long as I’m with you, I can face my brother”.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I honestly can't get the image of soft! Cyno out of my head.

People are terrified to the bone whenever someone even so dares to utter his name but you, you sing it like a song and he's always listening, always admiring the sound of your voice. He sits in his office and stares blankly at the documents in front of him, his mind occupied by the thoughts of you - what were you doing, with who are you with? Do you miss him, why aren't you visiting him in his office? Ah, he gets so grumpy when he doesn't see you for a period of time, no matter how short it may be. He prowls the halls of the renowned Akademiya, his entire aura and being darker than the night itself, his eyes feel like daggers to whom ever dares to even take a single glance at him. The General Mahamantra is in a foul mood and Cyno thinks he's being subtle.

He has no idea that the students have legitimate escape routes prepared and other safety precautions in store for these dark times. No one wants to see Cyno on a good day, let alone a bad one. (But not you though, no, you never avoid him... You come to him willingly, like a cute little puppy, the thought alone just makes him want to smile.... He'll be more than happy to even give you some treats if it means you'll stay more.)

Cyno also has no clue that everyone managed to catch on that he is absolutely smitten. Those longing looks of his leave nothing to the imagination and despite his harsh words and tone, Cyno always perks up whenever someone says your name. (People are careful with this though. No one wants to get flayed alive by the General Mahamantra is they make the mistake of speaking ill of you... )

And even if you do something reckless, foolish, downright dangerous, Cyno still doesn't have the heart to be completely mad at you. One of his worst nightmares is seeing you all alone in the desert, lost and bloody, surrounded by the enemy, all of which want to end your life for good. To add salt to the wound, he can do nothing and ponder over the fact that he wasn't there to save you, to be there for you.

That's why he can get so irritated and impatient with you sometimes.

"Stay inside the city." he orders you, but you always just brush him off with a smile and a wave. Don't be so casual with him about this, please, he isn't joking around. His bleeding heart can only handle so much, he doesn't need this excess stress.

"If you aren't in the city, I won't be able to watch over you..." is what he wants to say but the words die out on his lips as he watches you go, his spear in hand and his chest aching with pain.

He can do nothing but watch and sulk from the shadows, sucking in the gentle smiles you so carelessly give to strangers as he sharpens his weapon, ready to end anything and anyone if they dare taint you.

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

(you) on my arm

Summary: On the eve of Kit’s wedding, she announces that she’s leaving Tir Asleen for good. You’ll do anything to convince her to stay, even if your class difference forbids it.

Pairing: servant!reader x princess!kit tanthalos

Contains: enemies to friends to lovers, mature language and content, smut, oral sex (both receiving), light gagging, medieval roleplay, forbidden intimacy, mutual pining, dom!kit, switch!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Based on the song “(You) On My Arm” by Leith Ross. I’ve had this idea for a while, it feels SO good to get it out! Also, we need more Kit Tanthalos smut, why am I starving here??

Your relationship with the princess of Tir Asleen was… interesting to say the least.

You knew what you were in for when you were hired to work as a castle servant. Kit sort of had a reputation for teasing the “help,” and you saw it a lot with one of the kitchen hands whom she often referred to as “muffin girl.” It’s not that you had a problem with the kitchen hand in question, it was just that she never really spoke up for herself, instead opting to sit back and let it happen. You, on the other hand, were much more fiery and quick-witted.

One day, you passed by Kit in another sword sparr with Jade while you were fetching water from the castle well. You hadn’t had much combat training outside of stick fights in the woods with the other village children in your youth, but even then you could tell that Jade was so much better than Kit. It was comical, really, especially considering how it was well known that the princess always won against combat with the knight.

Their fight took away from your attention long enough for you to lose your footing on a misplaced rock and trip, spilling the buckets of water you were holding all over the slick gravel. You cursed, knowing you’d have to walk all the way back to the well to fetch more.

The commotion caused Kit and Jade to drop their swords momentarily and look in your direction. Kit recognized you from the castle staff and smirked, an insult forming on her lips.

“Feeling thirsty, maid?” She called out. “In the future, I’d appreciate it if the castle’s water supply wasn’t compromised the next time you decide to drool over me and my incredible sword skills.”

Anger bubbled inside you while the cocky princess snickered at her own joke. You turned to see Jade rolling her eyes, which made you feel a bit better. Taking a deep breath, you faced Kit and flashed her a sickly sweet smile.

“Of course, your highness. I’ll make sure to keep your ‘incredible sword skills’ in mind the next time I’m patching a tear in your clothing after a spar with Jade.”

Kit’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening and her face flushing a new shade of crimson. Jade dissolved into a fit of laughter, not used to seeing the princess of Tir Asleen being put in her place. All Kit could do was stand there, embarrassed, and gape at you as you picked up the buckets and turned away to walk back to the well.

After the initial wave of confidence from your interaction had dialed down, you began to realize how easily Kit could get you fired. She was the princess after all, she could have anything she wanted at the snap of her fingers, and she knew that. The next couple nights, you laid awake in the servant chambers, and wondered if tomorrow was the day Kit would complain to Sorsha and have you promptly removed from the castle.

But the day never came. You would pass by Kit in the halls, and while she would always purposely avoid eye contact, she never seemed to harbor any ill intents. About a week or so later, she hit you with another taunting remark, and you fired one back out of instinct. This time, instead of getting embarrassed or angry, Kit simply shot you a side-eyed smile and walked away.

Since that day, your relationship with the princess of Tir Asleen was permanently altered into something Kit had never had with one of the palace hands. She would come at you with a quick remark, and you would respond with a sly taunt, or vice versa. Witty one-liners soon turned into full conversations, and your snarky dynamic began to blossom into a genuine friendship.

You had to admit, Kit had her qualities. Sure she was arrogant, stubborn, hot-headed, and a little selfish, but she was also funny, fearless, free-spirited, and… insanely pretty.

No doubt about it, Kit Tanthalos was hot. You’d never tell her that of course, her ego was inflated enough. Besides, her knowing you were attracted to her would surely give her ample ammo she’d use to tease you.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Kit thought the same about you. You weren’t a princess by any means, but your smooth complexion and gentle features made you a bit of a catch. Class differences aside, was your crush on the next heir to the throne so outrageous?

Stolen glances while passing each other in the hall only furthered your delusions. You swore you could see something in Kit’s eyes that was more than platonic, maybe even some sort of longing. Still, you had no way to be sure, so you opted to keep it to yourself.

Now, you stood in Kit’s room, folding her laundry while she was attending a ball downstairs. You weren’t invited of course, not that you really wanted to go anyway since this was the ball announcing Kit’s engagement to the Prince of Galladoorn. When Kit first told you about her engagement, you felt sick, anger and jealousy flooding your mind. But Kit seemed to just shrug it off, which meant she’s either completely avoiding the situation or has fully accepted her responsibility as heir to the throne.

Knowing Kit, you were pretty confident it was the former.

You scowled at the wedding dress laid out for tomorrow’s festivities. A part of you wanted to kick it under the bed, or take it in for cleaning and “accidentally” lose it. But you knew these actions would have serious consequences, so you stuck with shooting dirty looks to the garment from across the room.

While you were on the floor putting clothes away into Kit’s storage chest, you suddenly heard some commotion outside the door. Your ears perked up, trying to make out the muffled sounds. The voices of Kit and Sorsha were easy to make out, but they sounded angry, as if they were in some kind of fight.

“A petulant child who needs to grow up.”

Sorsha’s voice pierced through the door, followed by Kit’s muffled arguments, and then furious footsteps disappearing down the long corridor. Silence echoed throughout the bedroom before Kit threw open the door and stomped inside, not noticing you mostly hidden behind the foot of her bed.

Not wanting to alarm the princess, you decided to keep your presence unknown, Kit was angry enough as is. She picked up a pillow and punched it, before sitting on her bed and holding her face in her hands. The sound of her quiet sobs reverberated around the bedroom.

At this point, you felt as though you were infringing on the princess’ privacy. You were about 99.9% certain that Kit would never show this level of emotional vulnerability if she knew someone else was in the room. You slowly started to lower the lid to the now fully replenished storage chest, closing it with a dull thud.

Kit jumped at the sudden noise and whipped around, ready to yell at whoever had trespassed. Instead, she saw you standing there sheepishly, and her eyes softened.

“Oh, it’s just you.” She muttered, lowering her head again.

You rang your clammy hands in front of you. “Sorry, I was just putting away your laundry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Kit said nothing in response and continued to stare at her lap. The tear stains painted on her cheeks reflected against the room’s soft candlelight, making them impossible not to notice. Your heart lurched, seeing her in this state was killing you. Despite how uncomfortable you felt, your caring nature overtook and you cautiously moved towards Kit.

“Are you alright, Princess?”

Kit let out a shaky breath. “Jade is leaving.”

A thick silence hung in the air as you didn’t want to interrupt. Kit continued. “She’s going to train with the knights of Galladoorn.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, moving to sit next to the princess and lay a gentle hand on her back.

The only sound in the room was your hand scratching against the smooth material of Kit’s ball gown. Kit was sitting next to you, perfectly still on the edge of the bed, with a blank expression on her face. If the situation wasn’t so heavy, you might have found it kind of peaceful.

Suddenly, Kit jumped up, startling you and accidentally knocking your hand back down. “Kit, what are you…”

“I’m leaving.” She announced before grabbing a knapsack from the corner of her room.

You were speechless, unable to process what she said. “Leaving? What do you…”

Kit cut you off by throwing open her wooden storage chest, rapidly throwing clothes over her shoulder. You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Kit! I just folded those!”

“Well I’ll need clothes wherever I’m going, right?” She shot back, messily stuffing the garments into her knapsack.

She was beginning to scare you, so you tried to reason with her. “Kit, you’ve had a rough night, you’re not thinking clearly…”

“No! No, I’m thinking clearly for the first time in my whole life.” She interrupted.

“If you were thinking clearly, you would know that running away…”

“I’m not running away!” She finally stopped packing and turned to look at you, a somewhat crazed smile on her face. She grabbed your upper arms and pulled you in close, staring at you intently.

“I’m looking for something. It’s not here. It’s out there, somewhere, waiting for me. I have to find it.”

She squeezed your upper arms and let you go, returning to finish packing. You were stunned. Thoughts of what life in the castle would be like without her flooded your mind. You wanted to stop her. You wanted to talk her into staying. You wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, screaming that she was the most selfish person you’d ever met.

Instead, you stood frozen and helpless, watching the princess you grew to care for set to leave. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you managed to barely choke up a few words.

“I wish I’d had a chance to walk with you to parties.”

Kit froze, finally pausing her packing and glancing in your direction. “You mean the balls? Because they’re really not as great as you’d think…”

“I’d wear a dress, and walk in with you on my arm.” The tears started to pour down your face. You avoided eye contact, too ashamed to look at her.

Now Kit was really confused. “So… you want to dress up and go to a ball? Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t care about the stupid balls, Kit!” You exclaimed, now full on sobbing. “I don’t wanna go to a ball! I wanna keep cracking jokes with you in the corridors. I wanna keep stealing glances in the hallways. I wanna get you some pretty little thing and tell you how good it looks on you. I wanna watch you pick out your clothes in the morning and compliment your taste… and then make a snide remark about something. I don’t know what it’d be, but you’d smile and fire something back like you always do. I wanna do all these things with you. I can’t do that if you leave!”

You continued to sob, choking on your tears and struggling to breathe evenly. You felt pathetic, and part of you was ashamed to be confessing all of this to the princess. The other part, however, figured you’d already shared this much, you might as well share everything.

Kit stared at you, wide eyed and shocked. When she told you she was leaving, this was the last reaction she had expected. She took a step towards you. “Hey…”

“I’m in love with you, Kit!” You practically shouted over your shallow breaths. “I didn’t try to be but I am. I know I’m just a servant girl and I’m not a countess or a princess or…”

You were cut off by Kit grabbing your face and pulling you close until your foreheads touched. Your breath hitched and your heart beat faster, but otherwise the closeness seemed to calm you down. It was like the world had stopped, and everything disappeared. You and Kit may as well have been the only two people on earth.

“I don’t need you to get me pretty little things.” Kit started, your name ghosting over her lips. “You are my pretty little thing.”

Kit lifted your chin and crashed her lips against yours. Your body tensed as you were completely taken by surprise, but you soon wrapped your arms around her neck and sighed into the kiss. Her lips were soft, and tasted faintly of falernian wine.

She pulled back to allow you both to catch your breath. You gasped into each other's mouths, the bittersweet smiles you wore offsetting the tear stains that still sat on both of your cheeks.

“Kit, I…”

“Shh it’s ok, pretty girl.” She whispered as she ran her thumbs over your cheeks.

It was at this moment you realized that Kit was still in her ballgown. You knew she had a general distaste towards feminine clothing, instead leaning more towards a masculine look, but you thought it looked nice on her. The silky fabric felt nice against your skin, and you couldn’t help but notice how low her neckline dipped to expose a decent amount of her cleavage.

You pressed your lips to meet hers once again, subtly moaning upon impact. The two of you started inching towards her bed, almost subconsciously as neither of you could tell who started it. Kit bent to lay you down on her duvet and pulled away to meet your eyes.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice.

You nodded, reaching around to pull at the strings on her back that were fastening her dress. She let you, staying perfectly still until you untied the last knot, and then helping you pull it down to a pool around her feet.

Your eyes traveled down Kit’s body, now covered by nothing but a corselette and short braies. She crawled onto the bed to hover over you again, her lips meeting yours once more. Her hands brushed over the side of your torso, before traveling up to lightly squeeze at your breast. You shivered, allowing a whimper to escape from your lips and dissolve into Kit’s mouth.

Kit pulled away from your kiss to latch onto your jaw and gently suck. You gasped, involuntarily bucking your hips against her, causing a smirk to appear on her face. She slowly began to pepper kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, until she reached the only bit of exposed flesh near your bosom that wasn’t covered by your dress. Her big blue eyes stared up at you as she rolled your flesh between her teeth and listened to your whimpers grow desperate by the second.

“Talk to me, honey.” She mumbled, slipping a hand underneath the skirt of your dress and resting it on your thigh. “Tell me what you want.”

“Kit…” you sighed, breathless. She didn’t budge, instead moving to soothe the mark she gave you with her tongue. You groaned, both out of pleasure and because you knew the other servants would almost undoubtedly notice the mark and give you quite the ribbing.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” God, it was like she knew just what to say to make your brain short circuit.

“T-touch me…” you managed to sputter out. “Kit… please.”

An accomplished grin spread across Kit’s features as she lifted the skirt of your dress until there was nothing to cover you but your pantyhose. You gulped, not used to being this exposed, especially in front of the Princess of Tir Asleen. Kit’s fingers wrapped around the band of your pantyhose, looking up at you for approval. You lifted your hips, and she slid them down your legs with ease, tossing them over her shoulder as soon as they reached past your feet.

Kit stared at your naked cunt, your arousal shimmering in the candlelight. She dragged two fingers through your folds before taking them both in her mouth, moaning at your taste. You had to bite your lip to keep from crying out her name, for fear of being heard by any passer-byers.

Upon first taste, Kit knew she needed more of you. She dove into you, encircling your clit with her tongue. There was nothing you could do to stop the primal groan from escaping the back of your throat, causing Kit to pull away and place a gentle hand over your mouth.

“Shh, pretty girl. Gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You gazed at the way your juices dripped down her chin. The sight was so erotic you barely even registered that she was talking to you, focusing solely on how your arousal glistened on her puffy pink lips.

She noticed the skirt of your dress was still bunched around your waist, and lifted up the hem until it was hovering above your lips.

“Open for me.”

You parted your lips, and Kit stuffed the bottom of your dress into your mouth, the linen cloth working to muffle your moans. She smiled at you, taking pleasure in seeing you gagged. “Such a good girl.”

Kit dove back in between your legs, swiping her tongue through your slit while gently holding your legs apart. Your head fell back on the bed while suffocated moans vibrated around the linen cloth. At this point she usually would’ve stopped to ask how you were feeling, but she took your pleasured whines as approval enough and kept going.

Your abdomen began to tighten, a sensation you were all-too-familiar with from a couple late-night solo dalliances. Your whines grew louder, more desperate as your jaw clenched harder on the linen fabric.

“Kith…” you groaned, trying to warn her through the cloth.

She nodded, keeping her head between your legs. “I know honey. Let go for me, yeah? You can do it.”

Her hot breath tickling your cunt while her tongue engulfed your clit only quickened the speed of your release. Your hips sputtered, chasing her greedy tongue and painting her features with your arousal. Kit could tell how close you were, and shot you a smug smile before gently squeezing your inner thighs, forcing your body into overdrive with a minimum amount of effort.

Your orgasm crashed over you like ocean waves on an island shore. The pleasure rippled through your body, forcing your knees to shake and your head to roll. You arched your back and rocked your pussy against Kit’s face, desperately trying to get as much out of your climax as possible.

Her voice echoed around the room and disappeared into the night air. “That’s it. Doing so good. So pretty like this. I knew you could do it. So good for me.”

After a moment or two, your hips slowed and your breathing evened as you came down from your high. A final moan ghosted your lips when Kit ceased her movements, lifting her head up to look at you with arousal still glazed across her mouth and chin. She licked her lips, making sure to get every drop, and helped you take your dress out of your mouth.

You laid on the bed, hair splayed across the duvet as you tried to catch your breath. Kit moved to sit next to you, smiling down at your collapsed state. “Feel better?”

“That was…” you sighed, at a complete loss for words.

You turned your head towards Kit, her lap sitting at your eye level. Even though you were still a little woozy, you could have sworn Kit’s braies had a small wet patch just between her thighs. Wanting to test the waters, you lifted your hand and grazed it over her thigh, watching her eyelids almost droop shut, and an involuntary sigh escape from her parted lips.

In the search for your own pleasure, you had almost forgotten about Kit’s.

A new wave of confidence washed over you, and you sat up to face your princess, a wicked idea popping into your head.

“Your highness… might thou please allow me to return the favor?”

Kit stared at you, confused by the unusual formality of your words until she noticed an amused glimmer flash across your eyes. Immediately understanding and falling in with the roleplay, she grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you close.

“Good little maids know how to serve their princess.”

A shiver managed to travel down your body before she kissed you once more, the faint taste of your juices still lingering on her lips. You pulled away and stood her up, untying her corselette and pulling down her braies, tossing them over your shoulder.

Kit was now standing in front of you, every inch of her completely exposed. The dim light from the candles danced across her bare skin as your eyes traveled down her body. You wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her, trying to get as much of her up against you as possible.

You pushed her to sit on the edge of her bed, leaving frantic kisses down her body until you dropped to your knees in front of her. Her legs spread to give you access, and you wasted no time immersing your face to explore her already soaking wet folds. Kit wasn’t quite as vocal as you were, but her low curses and frantic grabs at your hair let you know you were doing a good job.

Kit’s feverish bucking soon picked up the pace, already so close from watching you get off at the hands of herself. You thought about stopping to tease her while she was in her desperate and needy state, but decided against it. Instead, you attached your lips to her swollen clit, flicking it with your tongue while your hand reached up to pinch one of her erect nipples.

A primal moan escaped from the back of Kit’s throat as her climax hit her all at once. She threw a hand over her mouth, muffled curses filling the bedroom while her hips bucked and sputtered helplessly against your face.

You looked up at her after her breathing evened and she settled down, your big doe eyes making an exaggerated expression of innocence. “Was that alright, your highness?”

Kit smirked, rolling her eyes at your insistence to continue the roleplay. “Yes, maid. Thank you for your service. If I need you again, I shall ring the bell.”

Practically snorting at Kit’s blatant sarcasm, you playfully smacked her leg, making her laugh. She fell back on the bed, motioning for you to lay your head on her chest before she wrapped her arm around you, fingers brushing through your disheveled hair.

A comfortable silence filled the bedroom, the only sounds heard were your hands on Kit’s chest and the faint brushing of her fingers through your hair. As wonderful as this night was, you couldn’t let go of the burning question that still lingered in the air.

“Kit?”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

Your heart melted at the nickname, making you dread the next question even more.

“Are you still going to leave?”

Kit sighed, and let go of you to stand up and get dressed. She stepped over her ballgown still lying in a heap and opted for some more traditional masculine attire. She refused to look at you, refused to answer your question.

“Kit?”

“I have to leave.” She answered bluntly.

You felt your heart sink to your feet, and tears well up in your eyes. You actually thought she’d change her mind, thought that you meant something to her. After everything that just happened, she’s still leaving?

“Oh…”

Kit paused, swallowing before her next words. “Of course, I’ll have to be armed…”

You nodded, still staring at your lap, only half listening and not understanding.

Kit stepped in front of you, and lifted your chin to meet her gaze. “I want you to come with me.”

You froze, breath hitching in surprise, and your eyes widened at the suddenly vulnerable princess in front of you. “W-what?”

“I want you to come with me.” Kit repeated. “There’s something out there for me, I can feel it, but I don’t wanna find it without you. Think about it. On the journey, I can hunt, and you can cook. When we get to wherever we’re going, I don’t have to be a princess anymore, and you don’t have to be a servant. We can just… be. I don’t know exactly where we’re going, but I know wherever we go, I want to have you on my arm.”

You stared up at her, your brain still processing her question. She smiled at you, slightly apprehensive for your answer, and held out her arm for effect.

“I’d be better armed, if you agreed to take it.”

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part One)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: A drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 2457 Notes: fun little thing i cooked up while ill and after being inspired by a mutuals work. chap 1 + 2 set up and characters meeting, chap 3 and onward is the smut, enjoy x

‘Hey! You got a mission!’

You glanced up from your desk and peeped around your holographic screen, curiously perusing for whoever had called. A mission? Who was it this time?

You spotted Jess making her way down the opposite hall to you, her eyes scanning the other desks. Ah, of course, you knew her voice anywhere. So this was an elite mission. With your curiosity now fully peeked you slyly leaned your chair even further out into the corridor, eyes peeled to try and see who she went towards.

One of the new Peters, perhaps? They were always clambering for a mission. Or perhaps the new Gwen? She certainly thought she deserved a solo mission, and she wasn’t even wrong.

You became so enraptured with your own office snooping that you entirely missed Jess as she walked up behind you.

‘You okay there?’

You jumped in your chair and nearly fell to the floor, only barely catching yourself on the rim of your desk. ‘AH- Oh, hi! Yes! Yes, all good. All- fine. What is up, boss?’

Jess flatly squared her hands on her hips. ‘I was literally calling you with exactly what is up’ she noted drolly. ‘You got a mission.’

You felt your shoulders tense as your stomach dropped. Your fear must have been clear because Jess immediately raised a brow.

You were getting sent out? Finally? You?

You swallowed down the growing lump in your throat. It was a justified fear, at least in your mind, as if this was true this would be your first big mission for the Spider Society. No more fighting minor crime in your own home city, now you were patrolling the multiverse.

‘Well?’

You jumped a second time as Jess interrupted your thoughts. It was very clear that you were wasting her time.

‘Oh! Ah, shit- yes, sorry.’ In a hurry you pushed your chair back and hopped to your feet, struggling to look as professional as you could. Jess’s face hardly moved. She seemed to be eyeing you up, making tiny little conclusions in her mind that you couldn’t see.

Luckily that didn’t last. Her face quickly changed back to that casual smile, and with a wave of her hand she beckoned you to follow. ‘My god you’re tightly wound. They were right. Come on!’

You quickly powered down the PC you’d been doing busywork on and rushed to follow her.

‘I thought Miguel was the only Spider who didn’t have senses. I've never seen another spider surprised like that’ Jess noted over her shoulder as you followed. You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off as you both exited the research block, with the sliding doors revealing a bright and blinding midday sun beaming down through the glass walls above. You shielded your eyes and hurried to catch up.

‘I do have senses, sorry, just- I’m still getting used to being here. I thought I lost it, actually, funny story, but uh- no, see I don’t know if you ever got told this, but apparently, I heard from one of the older Peter’s there’s this unofficial but pretty established thing called sense fatigue.’

‘Ahuh.’ Jess was obviously just trying to get to Miguel’s office as quickly as possible at this point, but you didn’t notice. You continued rambling.

‘It’s like whisker fatigue on cats, did you know cats got that? So spiders, we’re so used to being the only ones with senses, that when you first join the society it kinda exhausts your senses being around SO many other people that it stops working as well. I think that’s what’s happening to me. Did that ever happen to you?’

‘Nope.’

Jess’s curt response didn’t dampen your spirits. You eagerly jogged along the final main beam towards the go-home machine, jumping and dodging the other spiders as they went by.

‘Huh! Well that’s why you’re an elite, probably, right? Along with other reasons, I’m sure.’

‘Many other reasons’ Jess said.

‘But uh- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s better at home so, won’t affect me on the mission.’

‘Let’s hope not.’

With that being the final word Jess led you down the corridor towards Miguel’s office. It was darker there than the rest of the HQ, down in these tight-knit spaces covered in half-made junk and unfinished tech. You had to jump over multiple loose wires and metal plates to get to the door.

‘Miguel! I got who you asked for!’

You scurried up to Jess’s back as you both entered into Miguel’s domain. It was enormous in scope, dark and shadowed with jagged metal spires reaching so far up that you couldn’t see where they ended. In the centre of the room was that signature floating desk, and on that signature floating desk was the man himself.

Miguel O’Hara, slouched over his desk with his hackles raised and his neck bent.

‘Miguel! I brought ‘em over.’

Jess’s call caused him to pause. He was midway through typing something.

‘The new one?’

His voice was smooth, gruff and cold. It sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Yep. The new one.’

With a grunt Miguel finished typing and turned to face you. You jumped as he dropped down from his desk to the floor.

God he was pretty. You felt your heart thud a little harder as he stared down at you, hands carefully placed on his hips to highlight his shoulders.

No, not pretty. He was beautiful. You struggled to stand up a little taller.

‘Hi! Hello, ah- sir, you wanted me for a mission?’

Miguel looked you up and down like he could see through to your very soul. It was very strangely violating to be stared at by those cold red eyes. After giving you the up and down he turned and manifested a new screen at his back.

‘You’re going to E-298. There’s a vulture anomaly.’

‘Ah! Alright. Sounds, do-able. Who am I with?’

‘No one.’

You blanked. Your mouth moved but no words came out. ‘No- no one? Sir?’

Miguel grunted. ‘Somethings up. Almost everyone right now is busy, there’s anomalies everywhere, which is why I’m sending you to clear this up.’

‘Uh- I mean, Jess, is—’

‘Jess is coming with me to deal with an anomaly hole in E-345’ Miguel barked, quickly cutting you off. You pursed your lips on any further complaints.

‘Just subdue and cage the bad guy, then send him back here. Lyla will deal with any larger anomalies. Can you handle that?’

You shuffled your feet to hide how hot you felt. You shouldn’t be indulging this, but your body was reacting quite strangely to being ordered around by the larger man.

‘Ah- yes, sir’ you replied. Miguel nodded his approval, and you ate it up.

‘Good. I’ll need you to head out immediately.’

When Miguel failed to say anything else you assumed that it was time to go, and quickly turned to leave. Short and brief, you thought, what more could you expect though? He was a busy man after all.

But then Miguel spoke again.

‘Wait!’

You paused and turned to see Miguel holding up a single claw. His eyes were narrowed, his brows knotted in a way that was unusually intense even for him. You hated the way you cowered under his shadow.

‘I- I don’t usually bring this up, but, you’re… new, so I want to warn you’ he said, his voice going low. You noticed his nose flaring as he came closer, almost like he was breathing something in. You stood rigid beneath his enormous body. ‘This universe you’re going to, is- home to one of my variants.’

Your eyes widened a little, your mouth forming a soft ‘oh’. ‘Ah! Okay! Is, will you- or, he, I guess- will he be helping—’

‘Stay away from him’ Miguel barked. ‘My variations are not to be trusted. Understood?’

You slowly closed your mouth, giving a short nod.

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ You pursed your lips as Miguel returned the nod. He slunk back to his office without a second word, and you followed Jess out of the office.

….

Later that day

...

‘God- damn it!’

You stumbled across the street floor, hand clutched to your side. You were hiding in a back alley of a smoking building, your body covered in dust and debris. The muted, muffled screams of a frustrated vulture filled the otherwise empty street.  

With a grunt you pressed your back to the wall of the opposing building. It was dark here and the bricks were wet against your suit. You forcefully and awkwardly pulled your mask aside to breath.

Your fight with the vulture hadn’t gone as planned. You’d started out well enough, but that’d just made you cocky. In an attempt to do your best you’d overstretched your web mechanism to the point of jamming it, and you’d soon been overpowered by your feathery opponent.

A few tosses into the wall had bruised at least one rib, and your muscles were straining to even stand.

‘I need… back up…’

It hurt to admit, but you had no other choice. You raised your portal watch and began scanning for anyone you could call for help.

You scrolled, and scanned, and scrolled and scanned until your finger hurt from scrolling. Your movements grew more frantic as your gut began to sink. No, no, no. You could feel your panic rising. Every spider you brought up had an X beside them, meaning they were out of reach for contact.

‘Shit- Shit! Everyone?! It’s really everyone?!’

X after X after X. there was no one who could help you now.

With a soft whine you sank back against the wall, gripping its sides for stability. This was bad, this was REALLY bad. Really, REALLY bad.

You gently cracked your knuckle against the damp bricks at your back. Idiot, you thought. Why had Miguel thought you were worthy to be in this society? Why had you taken the position at all?

In that moment, you felt very much alone.

But, wait. You weren’t the only spider in this universe, right?

Your eyes trailed down to your watch where it’d fallen on Miguel. His symbol for availability was red like the others, but it reminded you of what he’d said. He had a variant here.

Miguel said his variants weren’t to be trusted, but, why? It was strange for him to be so cagey with information like that. Miguel was famously too honest, too blunt, often to his detriment. He only left stuff out if it was inconvenient.

So, what was the issue? Your mind had, at first, gone to the worst possibilities. That he was a mad scientist, or a venom variation, or was so messed up by the DNA splicing that he was incapable of reason.

That didn’t have to be the case though, did it? Perhaps it was something else.

You unceremoniously scrambled to check your things. You had your weapons. You had your watch. Surely if he was dangerous you could just escape, and you could apologize to Miguel later for not listening to him.

Besides, what choice did you have? Either you failed to get the vulture and went back in disgrace, or it turned out Miguel’s variant is a bad guy and you go home in disgrace again. The only good option was the reveal that Miguel’s variant was just, weird, or made him feel inadequate, or wanted $10 for helping out. Thing’s that Miguel could conceivably view as making him unworthy to be a spider society member.

With that desperate cope you made up your mind. You drew your watch to your lips and whispered.

‘Lyla? Hey, Lyla?’

‘What’s up, newbie.’

The snazzy little AI appeared on your wrist, eagerly pacing back and forth as she waited for orders. You swallowed hard; it was now or never.

‘Ah- you, can trace people in this universe, right?’

‘Yep.’

‘You could, theoretically, trace any spiders here?’

‘Yeeeppp.’

‘Could… could you uh, please, trace the Miguel O’Hara in this universe, for me?’

At that Lyla paused. She spun on her heel with dramatic flair, her glasses falling down her nose without her even touching them. She looked surprised.

‘Wow! Didn’t take you for a risky little sneak.’

‘I’m not! I’m just- I need some help and everyone else is busy.’

‘Ahuh. Whatever you say, I don’t care. Honestly I’m just excited someone asked me. I’ve wanted to see his freaky variants for years, but he won’t ever let me look it up. Since you asked though, I got immunity.’

You tried not to think too much about the implications of what she’d said. You lay back and waited for Lyla to complete her scan, all while very aware of the vulture’s continued destruction going on in the building beside you. For now he was contained in there, as you’d put up a light shield, but that wouldn’t last forever.

Please let this work, you pleaded internally. Please.

‘Aha! Got ‘im.’

You let out a sigh of relief as Lyla re-appeared. ‘Great! Where is he?’

‘He’s close’ Lyla cooed, waving a fake document in front of you that was too small to read. You gestured with your hand for her to hurry up.

‘Yes! Okay! Where?’

‘The pine forest park just beyond the city line, to the north. Looks like he’s pretty deep in there.’

You felt your enthusiasm die just a little. He was in a forest? Why? You felt a little pang of anxiety in your gut about this whole thing, but you quickly shut it down as the vulture’s rampage grew louder. No, it was probably fine. Maybe he just had a hidden base in the woods, that was normal, right?

Besides, you didn’t have time to spare. Either he helped or didn’t, and if he didn’t want to help you needed to know that sooner than later.

‘Okay. Thanks Lyla, I owe you.’

‘Everyone does.’

Lyla zipped out of existence as you swung yourself back into the open air, flinging your body way above the city skyline. Up here, with the clear sky and wide-open city scape, you immediately spotted what Lyla had been talking about: an enormous pine forest way off in the distance, hugging the cities edge like a sleeping bear. It looked thick, untamed, and its edges were dark beneath the clouds of an oncoming storm.

You swung your way through the streets and watched the trees grow closer.

‘Alright’ you whispered, your body soaring through the sky. ‘Let’s meet the new Mr O’Hara.' Link to part two!

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: The End

A/N: This. This series is my Mona Lisa, my Sistine Chapel, and these final brush strokes literally tore me apart. I poured my soul into this one. If you hate it, please don't tell me. But if you love it, please do because this is my everything. I hope it's enough.

Need to catch up? Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death, illness, reference to sex, I think that's all.

Word count: ~2.5k

Four and a half years. That's all you have left. It's not enough.

******

The years slip away with Elvis going back and forth every couple of months like he did before. The kids get older, you get older, and Elvis gets older too. Every time he leaves, it tears out another piece of your heart knowing it's getting closer and closer to the last time you'll see him. He's in good spirits every time he visits, but it's hard not to notice his body declining. Making a portal to send him home gets harder and harder, but he still maintains that he's fine. You both know he's not, but what is there to do about it?

And then, before you know it, it's July of 2027, or 1977 for him. John Jessie is 10, Erin Love is 7. Your babies have been replaced with kids and your youthful, vigorous husband is replaced with a man you know is past his prime. He doesn't know it, but you do. He has a little over a month left and you find yourself falling apart at the smallest things. He kisses the back of your hand while you all watch a movie together and you have to get up and go to the bathroom to weep. He sings in the shower and you lay in your bed and rock your body while the tears stream down your cheeks. You drive to dinner with him in the backseat of your minivan between the kids watching a movie on the little screen that comes down from the ceiling of the car and when he laughs you almost have to pull over to keep from crashing as you drive with teary eyes.

He stays with you for a full three weeks because you continue making excuses to keep him around. You need him to help with this or the kids have something going on that he should be there for. In reality, you can't bear the thought of saying goodbye. Because this time you know it's really going to be goodbye. And you can't tell him, so he'll treat it like any other parting. He'll kiss your cheek and say "until next time, honey" like he always does.

But you know there won't be a next time. And the knowing is eating you alive.

In early August, a summer thunderstorm rips through in the middle of the night. Elvis is still there, wrapped around you breathing softly as you lay awake trying not to cry. There's a sharp flash of lightning and not ten seconds later, a crash of thunder tears into the quiet night. You listen for opening doors and sure enough, in less than a minute Erin is in your room and on your bed.

"Daddy!" Elvis sits up and she snuggles into his warmth. He strokes her hair and shushes her gently.

"You're okay, baby girl. Daddy's got you."

John Jessie walks up to the bed cautiously.

"She okay? I just came to check on Erin-" There's another flash of lightning and John Jessie jumps. When the thunder crashes, he crawls into the bed next to you. He might be a big 10-year-old, but you're still his mama. The rain is coming down in torrential waves and you hear hail start to plunk against the windows.

You and Elvis sit with both kids in between you and the power flickers. Erin gasps and John Jessie pats her hand.

"It's okay, sister." Elvis kisses her hair.

"Your brother is right, sweetheart. Nothin' to worry about."

Just then, the power goes out fully.

"Daddy!"

"We're alright. Your mama will go get a candle to light." He looks to you in the dark and you grab your phone and turn the flashlight on. Then, you slide out of bed to find a candle and a lighter. It takes you a minute of fumbling around the house to get what you're looking for. When you make your way back down the hall to the bedroom you pause just outside the door and your heart stops.

He's singing.

In the twilight glow I see

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When we kissed goodbye and parted

I knew we'd never meet again

Love is like a dying ember

And only memories remain

And through the ages I'll remember

Blue eyes crying in the rain

Some day when we meet up yonder

We'll stroll, hand in hand again

In a land that knows no parting

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When he reaches the end of the song, you're on your knees on the floor in the hallway, tears soaking the front of your night shirt, biting your knuckle and trying not to hyperventilate.

How will you survive without him?

You won't. You can't.

The power flicks back on and you hear both kids cheer. You quickly try to pull yourself back together and as you do, you make a decision.

You're not sure how you'll pull it off, or if you even can, but your mind is made up to try.

You walk back into the room and get back in bed with a new determination.

"You okay, honey?" Elvis looks at you curiously. You smile brightly.

"Mhmm! Now, let's get these kids back in their own beds." He shakes his head.

"You're somethin' else, honey. Twenty years together and you still keep me on my toes." He leans over and kisses you softly and then you each take a kid back to their bedroom. When you come back together, you settle into his arms and relax. Tomorrow, you'll think of a plan.

******

The next day comes and goes and so does Elvis. While the kids are at school, you make love and open a portal. You give him the next rendezvous point for the fall, knowing you'll see him before then. As expected, he kisses you and says he'll see you next time. Before he leaves, though, you grab him one last time and pull him into a deep kiss. Memories of every one of your kisses over the last 20 years comes crashing into you and you shake as you hold him, not wanting to let go. You have your plan, but if it doesn't work out, you want your last kiss to be a real one.

"Honey, do you want me to stay?" The portal shimmers behind him.

"Yes. But I know you can't."

"I don't have to go right now. We can make another one later." You look into his eyes, the same eyes that met yours in fear when he first appeared in 2007.

"No. If you don't go now, I'll never let you go."

"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" He doesn't want to leave you if there's something wrong.

"I'll be fine. Now go. I'll see you soon." He smiles softly and kisses your forehead.

"I love you with all of me, y/n. Always have and I always will."

"I love you too, Elvis." He squeezes you tightly one last time and then turns and walks through the portal. When it disappears, you sink to the floor. You have no more tears, so instead you pray. You pray for him, for his body and his soul. You pray for yourself and your kids. And you pray that your plan will work.

******

On August 15th, 1977, at 10:30 pm Elvis arrives at his dentist's office. It's a rather routine appointment, so he doesn't think too much of it. But when he gets back to the room and sees the shimmering portal, he's stunned.

This is not your agreed-upon meetup time or place. Somehow, he's alone in the room, but he knows he doesn't have much time before the dentist comes back. He decides there must be some urgent reason for you to show up here and a pang of worry hits him. Hopefully the kids are alright. The dentist knocks to let him know he's coming back in the room and Elvis takes a breath and walks through the portal, hoping he can get back without the dentist noticing.

"Honey, what the-" and then he sees you. Your eyes are wild and you're chewing on your thumbnail. It looks like you haven't slept in days, because you haven't, and your eyes are puffy and red with the remnants of your last crying spell. He immediately walks to you and wraps his arms around you. "What happened? Is it the kids?"

You lean against him and take in his warmth. You're afraid to move or speak in case something you do upsets him and causes what you're trying to avoid.

"No, it's not the kids. They're fine."

"Then what is-"

"It's you."

"Me? What about me?" You back up and look into his face. How will you tell him?

"You- if..." You trail off, not sure what to say.

"Honey, you're scaring me. You better tell me what's going on right now."

"I have to tell you something. And I need you to trust me. And then you have to make a choice." Your heart is pounding in your chest. You've thought of this moment so many times in the past two weeks and now it's here. The decision to give him a choice was not an easy one, but you know him. Telling him what to do is never the right option.

"Y/n. What the hell are you talking about?"

You take a deep breath, close your eyes and pray silently. Then, you open your eyes and look at him standing in front of you.

"You're going to die tomorrow." It hangs in the air between you like some tangible thing.

"What?" He almost whispers it.

"If you go back, you will die tomorrow. You have to."

"What do you mean, I have to?"

"Because you already did. Look." You hold your phone up to him and show him on Google. Elvis Presley, January 8th, 1935-August 16th, 1977.

He backs away from you and covers his mouth in shock. He shakes his head.

"No. I don't believe it."

"Elvis, why would I lie to you about this?" He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. He searches yours for evidence that this is some kind of cruel trick, but all he finds is sincerity and desperation.

"You said I have to make a choice."

"Yes. If you stay, I can take you to a hospital and we can try to save your life. But you can never go back. You'll be stuck in this timeline forever."

"I'll never see Lisa Marie again."

"No."

"I'll never perform again."

"Not as Elvis Presley, no."

"Elvis Presley is dead."

"Yes. But you could live as John Burrows." He sits down in a chair against the wall.

"That's a hell of a choice, honey."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Maybe if I'm supposed to die..." You nod and turn away from him. Your shoulders quake as your body is wracked with sobs. You don't want to impact his decision, but you can't control the anguish you feel at the thought of losing him. "But maybe you were meant to save me."

You turn back to him, your face shiny with tears. He walks to you and wraps you in his arms like he has so many times before. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

"Y/n, you've saved me a hundred times over. You've made my life worth living. Save me one last time."

"You're sure that's what you want?"

"Yes."

******

The dentist rushes out to Ginger in the waiting room.

"Where did he go?"

"Who?"

"Elvis! He's gone!" She stands up and they frantically search the office, the parking lot, and the grounds of the building, but Elvis is nowhere to be found. Ginger calls Vernon in a panic.

"He's gone?"

"Vernon, it's like he disappeared! I don't know what could've happened." Vernon is quiet for a bit.

"Come home. I'll explain everything."

Back at Graceland, Vernon holds a discreet meeting with all of the most important people in Elvis's life. The conversation that occurs has been kept secret forever.

"Elvis is dead. Or, at least, that's what we're going to tell everyone. In 1960, Elvis sat me down once and warned me that this might happen. He said that there was a distinct possibility that he might disappear and never come back. If he did, he made me promise to proceed as if he was dead."

"What if he comes back?" Ginger is hysterical.

"He won't. He assured me he would be gone for good. You know how he is. We have to do what he asked."

Vernon looks around the room carefully.

"Elvis Presley is dead." They all nod in agreement.

"May he rest in peace."

******

The hospital staff think you're crazy when you insist that your husband is going to have a heart attack. Still, they run some tests and detect a good number of things wrong with him. They admit him and are shocked when he does, in fact, have a heart attack. Luckily, because he was already in the hospital, they're able to catch it quickly and stop it from doing too much damage. Still, this begins a health journey that will last the rest of his life.

But that's the important part.

He lives.

The miracles of modern medicine keep him alive well into his 70s. He watches your kids grow up. He cheers louder than anyone at every graduation and cries like a baby when he walks Erin Love down the aisle at her wedding. He even plays with his grandchildren and watches them grow up. He never stops missing Lisa Marie, but he's so grateful for the opportunity to be the dad he always wanted to be for John Jessie and Erin.

The two of you have your fights, like any other married couple, usually about you trying to feed him a heart-healthy diet. At one point he throws a whole baking sheet of salmon into the backyard to prove a point. You want to be mad, so you put your hands on your hips, but when he turns around to face you, you both erupt into laughter. You solve a lot of your problems by laughing together.

And once he's healthier, you spend a lot of time in bed together. Your lovemaking is not nearly as athletic as it used to be, but it's satisfying and you keep things interesting in your own ways.

But one thing has changed. You notice it the first time you have sex after his heart attack. You roll onto your back next to him sweating and breathing heavily and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Shhh. Honey, listen."

"What?"

"It's gone." And then you notice. There's no buzzing sound, no shimmery air.

No portal.

He sings quietly.

At last I'm where you want me

Don't you know, that's where I want to be?

I've been round for the last time

Oh, girl, what can I do?

Oh the time the web was woven,

How I fell in love, fell in love with you...

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @deltafalax @tacozebra051

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

I have a sickfic prompt for you!

Okay, so imagine Peter sick in bed. Tony babysitting because May has to work. Before May leaves she mentions to Tony, “Can you grab his pjs out of the laundry? He always wants a particular pair when he’s feeling sick-“

And Tony doesn’t think anything of it. So he goes to grab Peter’s clothes and sees the pjs…

Are a tourist shirt and Hello Kitty pants

This ask came in all the way back in March. It was a fun idea so I held into, hoping to eventually turn it into a mini-fic. Well, friends. Today is the day. Have a big dose of soft, guilty Tony and sick, cuddly-warm Peter.

Hello Kitty Pajamas - 826 Words

“May! May, I’m here!” Tony called as he let himself into the Parkers’ apartment. He’d received a message an hour prior requesting his presence. Specifically, so he could babysit a significantly ill spider-baby while his aunt went in for a mandatory shift. He’d hesitated at first because was he really the best choice? May had assured him there was no one else. And that even if there were, she was sure Peter wouldn’t want anyone but him. An unfamiliar warmth had bloomed in his chest, prompting him to obtain his keys.

“Sorry!” May called from down the hall. “I'm sorry! He sweat right through his clothes. I was changing the sheets, so you didn’t have to.”

Tony pulled a face without meaning to. A slight laugh escaped May’s lips as a result.

“He’s in the shower now. That should help with a lot of the congestion.” she paused, sighed and twisted her lip between her teeth. “I know he’s old enough to take care of himself. I just- with his fever going up and down so rapidly I didn’t want him to be here alone. Just in case.”

“It’s fine, May. You know I don’t mind spending time with him,” he said, keeping his voice as steady and nonchalant as possible. “Thanks for changing the sheets, though. Housekeeping isn’t really my thing.” They both knew, without a doubt, that he’d do it again if needed. But neither of them commented on it.

"Shoot! How did it get so late? I really need to get going.” He watched May scramble to find her purse and keys. “His favorite pajamas are in the dryer. Can you grab those for him?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks again, Tony,” May said, already halfway out the door. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Tony smiled and waved to her toward the hall. “Any time, May. You know that.”

Once she was gone, he located the laundry area and opened the dryer. Inside was a heap of towels of varying sizes. Among them, he managed to stop a white shirt and some pink fuzzy pants. Although it wasn’t until he hauled them out that he realized what they were. Hello Kitty was patterned across the bottoms, and the top was the over-sized tourist shirt. He suddenly realized it was the outfit he’d purchased the kid directly after their first argument. He blew out a breath as an image of Peter, wearing that exact outfit with tears running down his cheeks popped into his head. Guilt began to swirl in his gut. He dug around in the dryer hoping to find different pajamas. He couldn’t fathom how those could possibly be Peter’s favorite. Unsuccessful, he clutched the shirt and pants tightly in his fist and carried them to the restroom door.

“Pete?” he called. “I’m putting your PJ’s outside the door.”

“Thanks,” Peter rasped, coughing harshly after. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, Bud. No rush.”

Tony sat down on the couch. His leg bounced and his fingers tapped on his knee as he thought more about that decidedly horrible day. The whole thing has been his fault, really. If he’d just told the kid he’d called the FBI… He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand down his face. God, he’d been a jerk. He shouldn't have shouted in the kid’s face and really shouldn't have taken the suit. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

“Hey,” Peter said as he rounded the corner. “Sorry, May made you come.”

Tony swallowed with difficulty. The sight of the pajamas making his stomach churn. “I-”

“Are you okay?” Peter interjected.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Tony quipped. Peter continued to frown. “I’m fine. Just- thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Definitely,” Tony agreed, then sucked in a breath. “May said those are your favorite pajamas.”

Peter hummed positively and dropped down onto the couch. “They’re comfortable.”

Tony's brow furrowed. “They don’t make you think about that day?”

“Sometimes,” Peter shrugged. “But mostly they make me think about you.”

A warm wet head landed on Tony’s shoulder. Water soaked through his shirt. He found he didn’t really mind. “I’m so sorry, Kid,” he whispered. “I really didn’t handle that situation very well. I didn’t communicate with you the way I should have, I lost my temper when that backfired, then I took it all out on you. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me?”

“Already did,” Peter yawned. “Like- a long time ago.”

It shouldn’t have been that easy, Tony thought to himself. But Peter is such a good kid… he leaned his cheek against the top of Peter’s head and sighed. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t feel so good.”

“Well, let’s get you into your bed, hmm? May changed the sheets and everything.”

Peter nodded and started toward his bedroom. Tony followed behind, smiling softly as the kid exhaustedly crawled under the covers. Astonishingly, the sight of the pajamas didn’t bother him so much anymore. He traversed the room and ran his fingers through his kid’s hair.

“Sleep well, Kiddo,” he murmured. “I’ll be out there if you need me.”

[cheeriecherrymain]

papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

[hordebreaker]

I heard about his death from Alan Rogan, who rang me early in the morning at Rod’s flat. I burst into tears, I felt completely bereft. I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without George.

When I left him for Eric, he had said that if things didn’t work out, ever, I could always come to him and he would look after me. It was such a selfless, loving, generous thing to say and it had always been tucked away at the back of my mind. Now that sense of security had gone. I was devastated. I’d known that his death was inevitable, but I’d kept hoping that, with all his money, they would find a cure for him. At the end I hadn’t grasped how ill he was as I hadn’t seen him for a few months. The last time had been at my cottage: he had phoned to say he was coming to Sussex to visit Ringo and Barbara and wanted to see me—I think he was curious to know where I was living. I was so glad we’d had that last meeting.

Danae Brook, a Daily Mail journalist whom I had known slightly, on and off, for some years, was due to come to the flat at ten o’clock on the morning George died. She wanted a photograph I had of somebody she was writing about. I was walking about like a zombie when, suddenly, she was there and wanting to interview me. I didn’t say anything to her but when her piece appeared it was all about how we had modeled together and been chums, and she had been with me soon after I received the news that George had died. I felt exploited.

His funeral was in Los Angeles. I didn’t go, but I was invited to the memorial concert, which took place a year later in the Royal Albert Hall, organized by Eric. I couldn’t go: I had booked a spiritual holiday in Peru. Instead, I watched it on video. On the day, I took myself away from the rest of the group and spent the day high in the mountains, thinking of George, the tears trickling down my face. I was happy to mourn him alone and in my own way.

You never know with grief how long it will last, but I think I’ll miss him for the rest of my life. We shared so much and grew up spiritually together and there are so many things that no one else knows about that we did together; and for many years there were so many questions I wanted to ask him and so many things I needed to speak to him about. And then there were the dreams. I would dream he was alive and I would say to him, “Oh George, it’s so wonderful that you are alive after all, this is so fabulous; I knew they had all made a mistake.” Some dreams can be incredibly vivid and so very real and then I would wake up and within the first couple of seconds I would think he was alive, and then that wave of reality would wash over me as I became more conscious. - Pattie Boyd, "Wonderful Today".

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 2: Revelation

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.8k

Unfortunately, Thatch’s first meal back didn’t agree with you either. Your meal lasted about thirty minutes before you had thrown it back up again. 

Ace, ever the kind hearted soul, held your hair and rubbed your back, whispering encouraging words to you. Once you finally finished emptying the contents of your stomach, he helped you back to your room, and got you into bed. 

“I’m going to go get Marco,” he said, tucking you in.

“No!” you pleaded. “Please Ace. He gets so weird about me being sick. Just leave it alone until morning. I’ll be better by then. Please.”

You gave him your best doe-eyed look, pouting just enough to make him cave to your wishes. 

“Fine,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if you’re not better by tomorrow…”

“I promise I’ll go.” You knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with one more day of illness after Thatch was back. Even if you didn’t go of your own volition, Marco would hunt you down and force you to run tests. Might as well seem like a willing participant when everyone else wanted you to do it. 

“Okay,” Ace agreed. “Do you want me to-”

“Go.” You waved him on. A party was surely about to start, and you knew that Ace needed to be social for a few hours. “Go have fun. I’ll just sleep here with Jinx.”

Ace smiled at that. “I’m glad the two of you are finally getting along.”

You rolled your eyes. “Only took her three months to realize I’m not going anywhere.”

“Love you,” Ace whispered, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

“Love you.”

The door shut, and you were plunged into darkness, the only light coming from your window. 

You tossed and turned most of the night. The bed felt simultaneously too big and too small, too hot and too cold. You could feel sweat dripping down your back as you flipped back and forth. It was miserable. You were miserable.

After hours of tossing and turning, Ace finally came back into the room. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Come with me. The stars look amazing tonight.”

You frowned. “The moon is too bright tonight for the stars to be worth it,” you argued. “I don’t feel well enough to go for mediocre stars.”

“No,” he whispered, his voice getting slightly louder. “There's no moon tonight.”

You gave a slight laugh. He must’ve been really drunk if he couldn’t find the moon. “Ace, it’s definitely a half moon tonight. The moon cycle doesn’t change.”

And neither did your cycle. You always had your period between the half and the quarter moon, which hadn’t happened yet.

“I’ll show you!” Ace said, picking your hand up and dragging you out of bed. Sometimes you forgot how strong he was, how effortlessly he could pull you along when he wanted to. 

You followed him, laughing at his confidence. Perhaps the alcohol and the ship lights had confused him as to what was a moon and what were lights. 

As you walked, you watched his gait closely, and realized he wasn’t drunk.You had gotten pretty good at figuring out how many drinks he had based on his walking abilities. He had probably only had two or three beers through the night. Surely he was just confused. 

It was late, the entire ship quiet and eerie with just the two of you walking through the halls. During your journey to the deck, you only passed one other person. Teach. 

“Hey you crazy kids!” Teach laughed, looking at you and Ace. “What are you up to so late at night?”

“Gotta prove a point,” Ace laughed. “What about you?”

“Ah, just getting one step closer to my dreams, that’s all.” Teach cackled at his own statement and gave you a wink. “What point are you proving tonight, Ace?”

“He claims there’s no moon tonight.” You rolled your eyes to show that you clearly didn’t believe him.

“No moon?” Teach cackled, the boom of his voice making you flinch. “Well he’s right about that. It’s a no moon night. Hard to see out there. Be careful you two. Never know what’s around the corner. ”

“See ya tomorrow!” Ace called as he pulled you along, away from your conversation. 

It should’ve struck you as strange that Teach was heading for the commander's hall so late at night, but you were too focused on the fact that another person said it was a no moon night. Based on your calculations, you shouldn’t be anywhere near a no moon night. It didn’t make any sense. 

When you got out onto the deck, it was dark and silent. The party was over, all of the lights extinguished. 

And there was no moon. 

“Impossible,” you whispered, your mind starting to race. 

“Told you!” He boasted. “And I’ll have you know I hardly drank anything at all, so I know what I’m talking about!”

He led you back to the rear of the ship, your mind running at a hundred miles. When was the last time you had your cycle? Had you even had one last month? You usually followed these things so closely, but you had been so busy recently you hadn’t kept track of time. 

And you and Ace were painfully careful. Ever since the first night full of recklessness, you had been so careful. There hadn’t even been a time when-

The onsen, you realized with horror. The two of you had certainly not been careful then. You had been busy all night, and protection had been the last thing on your mind at that moment. 

Fuck. You hadn’t had a cycle since then. You were certain. Your stomach knotted into a ball of anxiety, and suddenly everything made sense. 

The loss of appetite. The sickness. The inability to control your body temperature and devil fruit ability. Your body was reacting to some foreign thing inside of you. Something that had been growing for two months. Even Jinx seemed to realize it. No wonder she was being nice to you recently. 

You resisted the urge to run over to the edge of the ship and vomit, sick with this new revelation. Had Marco realized it before you? Is that why he was so insistent on running tests? If Marco found out, then he would be obligated to tell your father. And you would be pulled from all your duties. Nobody would listen to a pregnant strategist. Nobody would let a girl with a baby do any fighting. Your life as you knew it would be over. 

You were panicking, but you tried not to let it show externally. You had to remain calm. You had to figure out where Ace stood on this matter first. 

As the two of you laid on the ship deck and stared at the stars, you finally worked up the courage to ask the question. 

“How do you feel about kids?” you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. You could only hope he wouldn’t be able to hear your heart drumming in your chest. 

“Kids?” Ace asked. “They’re okay, I guess.”

“Do you want some of your own?”

Ace gave a dry laugh, the kind that was bitter and angry. “No.”

You looked at him, but he was glaring at the stars. “Really? You don’t want kids?”

“Having kids is selfish,” Ace said, acid laced into his words. “People who have children just want their own legacy. That's not fair to any kid.”

“I get that, but-”

“Look,” Ace said, his voice full of fury. “My father was a criminal and my mother died in childbirth. What my mother did was selfish, and my father was narcissistic. I never got to know either of them, and yet they thought I should live regardless. I would’ve rather my mother lived than her dying to protect me.”

You didn’t know much about Ace’s parents, except that he didn’t like to talk about it. This was the most he had said on either of them in the entire time that you had known him. 

“Your mother sounds selfless, then. Not the other way around.”

Ace scowled, refusing to look at you. “You’re wrong. She was devoted to the man she loved, which made her devoted to me. But only because she thought I carried his will. I’ll never put another person in that position.” He finally looked at you. “I’ll never put you in that position.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to tell him it was already too late for that. You wanted him to hold you, to tell you it would be okay. You weren’t sure how devoted you were to this child you might be carrying, but you had devoted your heart and soul to him already. 

“Okay,” you said simply. You returned your gaze to the sky, trying to blink away tears before they could form. 

Ace sighed. It was clear he realized that he had gotten too intense. “Besides,” Ace continued. “We’re pirates. Families and happy endings don’t really exist for us, you know? It’s not worth it to dream about a reality we could never have.”

You were tired of hearing his pessimism. You didn’t want to think about what kind of ending awaited you if it wasn’t happy. And so you stood to your feet and brushed the dust off your clothes. 

Ace looked up at you, confused. “Where are you going? We just got here.”

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you say you won’t get a happy ending. I’m not going to lay here and pretend I’m fine with you being okay with dying, Ace. You promised! You promised you wouldn’t die, so I’m not going to listen to you talk about it like it’s a real possibility!”

You could feel hot tears streaming down your face, and you rushed to catch them before they fell and burned a hole in the deck. 

“Hey, easy now.” Ace stood to his feet, helping you wipe your tears, and then rushing to wipe them on his clothes to avoid being burned. “I didn’t realize this was a big deal. I thought we were just talking.”

“It’s not a big deal!” you fussed. “I just don’t want you talking like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Ace whispered, pulling you in for a hug. You could feel him stiffen at the temperature of your body, but he didn’t complain. He held you while you cried, waiting for your body to still again.

“Do you want kids?” he finally asked once you settled down. 

He hadn’t expected you to start crying again at his question, and you could feel his grip tighten against you. You knew he was confused, but thankfully he didn’t try to solve the mystery.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, rubbing your back, trying his best to soothe you as your body continued to heat back up. 

“I don’t know what I want,” you sobbed. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Ace said. “Today was full of a lot of emotions. Maybe we should just go to bed.”

“Okay,” you whimpered. You were exhausted. You blamed the little parasite in your body for all your mood swings. You blamed it for everything. 

Tomorrow would be a new day, where you could solve this problem together. Now, you just needed sleep. 

The two of you walked to bed arm in arm, unaware of just how much your life was about to change.

--

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[grapejuicestyless]

The Tide Always Goes Out

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

ANGST

Summery: You were sick. You had always been sick. But you looked so healthy, so it couldn’t be true. Conrad could live in denial of his best friend’s inevitable death but there was nothing he could do to stop it and he has to accept it.(Inspired by the book Little Women specifically the scene in the 2019 film between Beth and Jo.) Mentions of illness and death.

We sat on the beach squished on a small blanket. wrinkles from our shifting and creases beneath us from where we sit. We talk about everything and anything all morning. Not minding the grey overcast of the clouds covering the usually very blue sky. Or how the waves are more violent than they usually are. I know this because I remember it vividly. It wasn’t that long ago I was really there. Making sure it would last forever. Only now I wish I hadn’t because it haunts me more than it comforts me. And the entire way it played out still makes my heart ache with regret.

Somehow I end up with her lying over me. She lays her head in my lap, the thin blanket woven together with faint reds and oranges creating a little hammock for her to rest on. I can feel the way her heartbeats erratically over my thigh. The way her lip’s curl into a soft smile. The ocean reflected in her eyes. If it weren’t for the heavy eye bags and the slight tremble in her bones, she’d be normal. A normal girl with no issues. You wouldn’t even know how deeply her suffering ran. Sometimes, on the better days, I let myself become fooled as well. Playing dumb hurts less than facing the truth.

“Con.” Her eyes flick up to mine, and I can’t help the way my own avert her gaze. I am too afraid to face her. Even now. The girl who I worship day and night. I never did pray before her, but now I pray that when I wake up, she’ll still be beside me. And we can enjoy the company the other has to offer just one last time. I can’t look down and see how much she’s changed. It scares me, because the traces of the illness torturing her is evidence to how real it is. And I would rather live in oblivious bliss.

“I want you to know I’m not really scared anymore.” It’s not what I expected to come from her lips, but it’s what she lands on. Theres no room in her wording for me to deny what she’s trying to say. My eyes flick down to hers, and my hands moves the hair blowing in the wind messily across her face.

“Y/n, come on. Don’t say shit like that.” I smile, but I don’t really mean in. I don’t find her words funny, and I don’t like that my best friend is sick.

“No, Conrad. I’m serious.” She breathes out, hands pressing against my skin to lift herself up. I feel a chill run through my body without her warmth to ease the morning chill. More than that, I can feel the coolness in my heart when she separates from me, and I long for the next moment I’ll feel her gentle touch.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and I’m certain that I’ll be okay.” I continue to look at her, but only this time, she is the one looking at the sand, tracing her fingers in it as they stretch past her ankles to the floor.

“And I’m only so sure because I know you’ll be there.” Her eyes flicker up to the sky and I swear I see the sky brighten for just a moment. The blue underneath all the grey breaking free for a split second. “I’ve known you my whole life, and I’ve felt things for you that I have felt with no one else. I know you, and I trust that you’ll come find me in the next life.” Pulling at her lip, she waits for a response.

“But I want to keep you in this one.” My hand finds hers and all I can do is squeeze onto her desperately. Wanting nothing more but to keep her close. So I can watch her. Make sure shes okay. She’s lost all of her fight, her will to stay. And I know it’s because of the pain. I’ve heard her sobs just down the halls and the hushed whispers of my mother and her’s. But part of me wonders if it’s simply because I did not do enough. If I wasn’t enough reason for her to stay.

“It’s like the tide going out. It goes out slowly, but it can’t be stopped.” And we both know it. Theres no stopping what will happen to her. Theres no wish or medicine or fight that could keep her here beside me. It makes me want to cry, but I don’t. It would be selfish of me to get so upset when I am still here. Well and alive. Promised many years to age and achieve things she never was given the chance to.

“I’ll stop it.” I don’t look down at her, but I can feel how she shifts. The way her frown only deepens and the bags in her eyes get heavier. She sighs heavily into the silence, shaking her head slowly. She refuses to cry though. Partly because I know she knows she’ll have plenty of time to cry in the darkness of her room, when the ache in her bones is too much and theres no way of stopping it. And the other part of me recognizes that it’s because there’s no reason to in her eyes.

Y/n knew it better than all of us. She had lived a good life. She could do things and want things some children could never even dream of. She had a warm home with a glowing fireplace that her family often gathered around. A loving sister and a great brother. Her mother and father were healthy and she had the best friends she could have ever asked for. Her only regret is that she had to make her own mother pick out the details for her headstone.

When I pull her into my body, I have no idea it will be for the last time. I have no clue that her sobs won’t part from her lips. Because when she closes her eyes, she doesn’t drift into her usual place of rest. Her eyes don’t flutter open at the soft creak of the stairs when Jeremiah decides he wants a late night snack. Nor does she stir when Steven laughs, following behind him not as skillfully.

Not even when her mother screams early in the morning, hands clinging to her limp wrists, cold and lifeless. The tears from my mother mixing with her younger sisters don’t even make her flinch. And it’s chilling because it almost looks like she was smiling. The lift of her lips is barely there, but it makes me feel better knowing she went in peace.

I remember that day more clearly than ever. How the grey sky haunts me and the way she spoke so surely about her death still sends chills through my veins. I could have only wished to have looked at her a little closer that day. So that even in her darkest moments, I could be as certain as she was that the image of her would never fade, and I would always be able to memorize each wrinkle in her skin.

So I tell myself that when it’s my time, I’ll do what she said I would. I’ll find her in the next life. And I’ll look a little harder at her, and I’ll admire her for longer.

[catboyieejeno]

your lazy morning drabble w donghyuck was super cute 🥹 could i request a slight angst/fluffy drabble with how jaehyun would spoil his partner when he realizes they are going through a hard time? thank you 🤍🤍

comfort; jung jaehyun

pairings: bf! jaehyun x gn! reader (mentions of reader having hair tied back, but no pronouns)

contents: cursing, established relationship, slight angst, jaehyun cheers reader up, ending is all fluff :,(

Your boyfriend prided himself in learning and knowing everything about you; he knew you better than anyone, and even you couldn’t deny that.

Jaehyun had memorized your endearing quirks and habits, learned to appease your unique sense of humor, mentally noted your list of pet peeves, watched warily for signs of your stressors. He knew these things about you practically better than he knew himself. He was observant, patient, a good listener. All of the qualities that made you so very sure that you were in love with him, and he with you, because who else would make the time and effort to know you so well, if they weren’t.

A few months into the relationship, Jaehyun noticed the slight mood changes you would go through, where for a month or so, you would feel fine, happy, whole. Then, out of nowhere and entirely unannounced, a wave of stress would hit you. You had a sensitive soul, one prone to be affected by the external factors that were out of your control, and when too many things went wrong all at once, you would break down.

His heart ached every time he realized that he couldn’t always make it better, but nonetheless, he never stopped trying.

Today was one of those days. Your really, really shitty days.

Earlier in the week, you and one of your long term friends had a fight and stopped talking. A mere two hours later, you got stuck in the middle of a rainstorm waiting for the train home. The rain caused you to get sick with migraines, nausea, and fever galore, which you had to endure every day of class for the remainder of the week. Your sleep schedule was suffering, since you were in a constant battle with your illness which wore you down. The medication you needed barely aided your symptoms, only serving to make you drowsy, and the countless stacks of notes you needed to study for today’s midterm were relentlessly packed with information. A midterm worth a considerable, significant amount of your grade, which you failed with a 47%.

The front door slammed behind you, bag crashing to the floor as you stepped inside your apartment. You kicked your shoes off to the side, disregarding where they may have landed, keys flying onto the couch. With your lip caught between your teeth, which you were convinced was the only thing keeping you from crying out of pure frustration, you shuffled down the hall and straight into your bedroom.

As you stepped inside, Jaehyun’s head snapped up, eyes momentarily lighting up at the sight of you until he took note of your expression.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he cooed, arms pushing himself off the mattress. He hurried over to you, ready to pull you into his arms, but your outstretched hand halted him and kept him at a distance.

With the most docile tone you could muster, you muttered out a single phrase, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jaehyun gave you a curt nod and watched, frozen in his spot, as you stormed around the room, grabbing the clothes you would wear after your shower. His eyes followed you, seeing as you drop them on the corner of the bed. In one motion, you yanked the tie out of your hair and left it on your nightstand, fingers scratching at your scalp to soothe the soreness of having it tied back for so many hours.

Your gaze landed on the desk in the corner of the room, where all your study guides, notes, and cheat sheets laid sprawled out, mocking you. Maybe if you had studied harder, if you had stayed up later. Unable to look at them any longer, you ran over, piling each stack one on top of the other and slamming the papers face down against the wooden surface. You shut the textbook with a boom, and picked up the now useless notes you had made, crumbling them up within your fists, hoping you’d find some relief by crushing them into nothing.

It wasn’t until Jaehyun came up behind you, placing his hand ever so carefully on your shoulder and uttering a small “Babe?” that you noticed the hot, angry tears pooling at your eyes.

“What?” You snapped, turning around, “I’m not in the fucking mood, Jae. I already told you I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

His lips pursed, taking in your words. “Okay.” was all he managed to say.

You continued on your track without sparing him a second glance, grabbing your clothes and going straight into the bathroom.

You spun the shower handle to the highest degree and began to peel your clothes off your body, discarding them in the hamper. For the first few seconds that the hot water hit your skin, you felt relief, as if just for a moment, everything terrible that had happened this past week was not real, like it was not hurting you. You squeezed your eyes shut, basking in the blissful feeling, until your ears pick up the sound of your front door closing and your heart dropped.

Your hand flies to shut off the water, and you wait for a moment in silence, yearning, pleading with yourself that you had only imagined the click of the door.

Timidly, you call out, “Babe?”

There was no response.

“Jae?” Your second call is louder, although somehow weaker and tainted with guilt.

Jaehyun had stormed out, undoubtedly because of the way you spoke to him.

“Fuck,”

Finally, for the first time this week, your tears come spilling out as you switch the water back on. It muffled your sobs, but it no longer soothed the hurt in your chest.

You can’t remember how long you stood there, pouring out all your pent up emotions; you had no defined measure of time, but you were there long enough for the water to start going cold, leaving you no choice but to step out.

Your tears eventually stopped as you finished dressing yourself, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself in your blanket and go to sleep.

Truthfully, you wanted to be in your boyfriend’s arms, to feel held and loved by him as you rambled on about all the things that had upset you, knowing he would not only listen to you, but hear you.

The bathroom door opened and shut behind you, and as you turn to your bed, just about ready to collapse into it, your feet skid to a stop.

Sat on the edge of the bed was Jaehyun, a bouquet of the prettiest pink tulips in one hand, an iPad in the other. Organized on the bed was an assortment of your favorite snacks and comfort foods. You take a look around, mouth agape, as you notice the white sheet hung up on the wall opposite of the bed.

A projector illuminated the opening credits of your favorite movie, the one you had been begging him to watch with you for forever, onto the smooth surface. The room light had been dimmed, replaced by fairy lights that glowed a light shade of purple. The pillows and blankets had been propped up into the shape of a fort. Your nightstand was full of your favorite skin care masks and creams, along with a new and neatly folded silk pajama set and white slippers that matched the exact outfit Jaehyun was wearing.

“Are you insane-“

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about what happened and I’m sorry for pushing it earlier, but I couldn’t just let you be-“ he cut you off, but you were quick to interrupt him, kneeling in front of him where he sat on the bed.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, it was just misdirected anger and I know that’s not an excuse,” You rambled, bringing a hand up to cup his face, “Baby, you didn’t have to do all this,”

“I don’t care about earlier. You’ve been so upset all week, I couldn’t stand to see you like that anymore.” he explained. Jaehyun sets aside the two gifts in his hands, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

“I thought you stormed out,” you confessed, “I heard the door close and I thought-“

“I would never, love,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips and gestured around, “I only went out to get all this,”

“I can see that,” you giggle, “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

His fingers came up to brush your wet hair behind your ear and he kissed you again, moving his mouth smoothly against yours. The feeling of bliss returned, and you swore you could’ve melted right then and there in his arms. The comfort you felt in his hold was incomparable.

When you pulled away for a breath, you looked around once more, taking in the sight of the room and gifts.

“An iPad?” you raised a brow.

“I was tired of seeing you scribble in those notebooks every day.”

Your head tilts back in laughter as you hold him close, thanking him. He started going on about the matching PJ’s, urging you to put yours on so the two of you could match, and you sighed, just about ready to get off his lap and change. Admittedly, you were anticipating his reaction to the movie and the night ahead. Before you get up, however, you remind him of a simple fact.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

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requests r open

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