#felt like accepting grief as love was saying it was something that had to happen

[urdreamydoodles]

Love your works!!!! And I love Mr. Pickles!!!

May I ask for headcanons if reader dies in their arms?

Asking for: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Piotr Rasputin, Beast, and Illyana Rasputin

No pressure ofc!!! Thank you!!

And have I mentioned that I fucking love your works?!?!

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You die in their arms (Part.1)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Colossus, Hank McCoy & Magik

First of all, thank you for this message, you are my first request and you have no idea how much it touches me. And secondly, your compliments make me blush, I'm glad you like my work, because personally I've never had as much fun as writing about something as this. Get ready for a LOT of headcanons because I have a lot in store. Above all, don't hesitate to ask for other requests <3 And thanks to you, you inspired me to make your request for other X-Men and X-Women. PS: MR. PICKLES WILL RETURN

Emma Frost

The battlefield was littered with chaos—explosions, screams, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. You and Emma had been fighting alongside the X-Men, as you had countless times before, but this time was different. This battle had been brutal, and even though you had faced danger before, nothing had ever felt this dire. You had always fought by her side, both of you in sync, but as the fight raged on, you felt your strength starting to wane.

Emma’s voice was sharp and commanding in your mind, as always. “Stay with me, darling. We’re almost through this,” she had said, her mental link giving you strength. But when the blast came—one you hadn’t seen coming—it sent you flying, the pain immediate and overwhelming. You crumpled to the ground, clutching your side, feeling the warmth of your own blood seeping through your fingers.

Emma’s scream tore through the battlefield, her telepathic wail so fierce it silenced everyone for a moment. In the next second, she was at your side, her diamond form shimmering as she knelt down, her hands trembling as they reached for you. The moment her fingers touched your skin, her diamond exterior shattered, leaving her vulnerable in a way she never was on the battlefield.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no... this can’t be happening."

You struggled to stay conscious, your vision blurring as you looked up at her, the love of your life, her face twisted in anguish. "I’m sorry," you choked out, each word a struggle. "I tried... I really tried."

Tears fell from her eyes, something she rarely allowed herself to do. She pressed her forehead against yours, her voice shaking. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not yet. I won’t let you go."

But you could feel it. The life slipping away, your heartbeat growing fainter. You reached up weakly, your hand brushing against her cheek. "Emma... I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Emma’s breath hitched as she gripped your hand, holding onto you as if her sheer willpower could keep you alive. "I love you too," she whispered back, her lips brushing your forehead. "Please... please stay."

But you couldn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body growing still in her arms.

For a moment, Emma just sat there, her mind refusing to accept what had just happened. Then, with a heart-wrenching scream, she unleashed a wave of telepathic energy so powerful that it swept across the battlefield, knocking down enemies, sending shockwaves through everyone’s minds. She cradled your body, her chest heaving with sobs, her mind desperate, reaching out to you, trying to find any trace of your consciousness.

But you were gone.

And for the first time in her life, Emma Frost felt utterly, completely broken.

Charles Xavier

The fight had been relentless, and despite the X-Men’s best efforts, the battle had taken a terrible toll. You had always been the calm in Charles’ storm, the grounding presence he could rely on when the weight of leading the X-Men grew too heavy. But today, everything had gone wrong. You had been separated from the team, cornered by enemies, and though you fought bravely, you had been wounded—badly.

By the time Charles found you, the world had already started fading around the edges. He wheeled towards you with a speed and desperation you had never seen in him before. His voice echoed in your mind, trembling with fear. *"Y/N, hold on. Please, just hold on."*

You could barely open your eyes, the pain in your body making it difficult to even breathe. But you heard him, and you smiled weakly, your heart aching as you felt his mind reaching for yours, trying to steady you, trying to keep you present. "I’m sorry, Charles," you rasped, your voice so faint it barely carried over the sounds of battle. "I wasn’t strong enough."

"No," Charles said, his voice firm, though you could hear the fear beneath it. "You are strong. You’ve always been strong. Don’t leave me, Y/N. I can’t lose you."

You felt his hand grasp yours, his grip trembling. You had always marveled at how Charles carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, always keeping his emotions tightly controlled. But now, there was no control. There was only fear, and love, and desperation in his eyes.

"You were always my strength, Charles," you whispered, your hand squeezing his as best as you could. "I love you. So much."

Tears filled his eyes, his voice breaking as he spoke. "And I love you. You are everything to me."

You could feel his mind wrapping around yours, trying to hold you there, trying to stop the inevitable. He was begging, pleading with you to stay, to fight, but your body was failing. You felt the warmth of his love in your mind, a comfort even as the world started slipping away.

"Please, Y/N," Charles whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, don’t leave me."

But you couldn’t hold on any longer. The pain faded, the world grew silent, and your grip on his hand loosened.

Charles sat there, his hand still holding yours, as the battlefield around him seemed to blur into nothing. His heart shattered, and in that moment, all the strength and control he had maintained for years crumbled. He lowered his head, his tears falling onto your lifeless body, and he sent out a silent scream, a wave of raw emotion so powerful that it resonated across the minds of every living person on the battlefield.

Charles had lost many people in his life. But losing you felt like the end of everything.

Jean Grey

The battle had taken its toll, not just on the X-Men but on the world itself. You and Jean had fought side by side, your powers complementing each other in ways that made you an unstoppable force. But this battle had pushed you both beyond your limits. You had been caught in an explosion, your body thrown against the rubble, the pain blinding and all-consuming.

Jean was at your side in an instant, her telekinetic powers lifting the debris off you, her hands trembling as she reached for you. "No... no, no, no," she whispered, her voice cracking as she cradled your head in her lap. "Y/N, stay with me."

You could barely keep your eyes open, the world spinning as you struggled to breathe. "Jean..." you whispered, your voice so weak, so broken. "I... I don’t think I can..."

"Don’t you dare say that," Jean said, her voice fierce but laced with panic. "You’re going to be okay. I won’t let you go."

You could feel her mind reaching out to yours, wrapping around your consciousness, trying to keep you there with her. Her love flooded your mind, a warmth that soothed the pain, but you could feel your body slipping away, your strength fading.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your hand weakly reaching for hers. "I’m so sorry."

Jean’s tears fell onto your face as she held you closer. "Don’t apologize," she said, her voice breaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve always been there for me. Please... just stay a little longer."

You could see the anguish in her eyes, feel the desperation in her mind as she tried to hold on to you. But the pain was too much, and your body was failing.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you too," Jean said, her voice shaking as she pressed her forehead against yours, her tears falling freely now. "Please... don’t leave me."

But you were slipping away, the world growing darker, quieter, as you took your last breath. Jean’s sobs echoed in your fading consciousness, her mind screaming out for you, trying to pull you back. But it was too late.

Jean held your lifeless body in her arms, her chest heaving with sobs. She let out a scream, a psychic wave that shattered the air around her, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Her grief, her agony, her love—they all collided in that moment, her powers surging uncontrollably as she held onto you, unable to let go.

In that moment, Jean Grey—one of the most powerful beings in the universe—felt utterly powerless.

Colossus

The battle was at its peak, and the sounds of war echoed around you. Explosions rocked the battlefield as Colossus, in his full metal form, fought valiantly beside you. His towering figure was always a source of comfort, an indestructible wall between you and the chaos. The ground shook beneath your feet as you moved to join him, your heart pounding with adrenaline.

But then, an enemy blast caught you off guard, the impact throwing you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the pain immediate and overwhelming. Blood seeped from your wounds as you struggled to breathe, your vision blurring. You tried to push yourself up, but your body refused to respond. The sound of heavy metal footsteps reached your ears, and you knew Piotr had seen you fall.

His metallic form glimmered in the firelight as he ran toward you, his eyes wide with terror. You had never seen him like this, even in the most dangerous situations. He dropped to his knees beside you, the cold steel of his hands cradling you gently despite their immense strength.

"Y/N!" His voice was thick with fear, a sound you'd never thought you'd hear from someone as powerful as him. "Please, no. Not you. Not like this."

You tried to smile, but the pain was too much. "Piotr..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I... I can't..."

He shook his head, his metal features twisting in agony. "Don’t speak. I’ll protect you," he promised, though the pain in his voice told you he knew there was nothing he could do. He tried to stem the flow of blood from your wound, his massive hands shaking.

His metal body was usually unyielding, but now he seemed so vulnerable, so afraid. He held you close, his cold arms pulling you against his chest. "Stay with me, please," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His entire body trembled as he struggled to maintain control.

Your hand reached up weakly to touch his face, the cool metal of his cheek sending a shiver through your fingers. "I love you," you whispered, the words catching in your throat as darkness closed in around you.

He let out a sob, his steel form shuddering with grief. "I love you more than anything, Y/N. You’re everything to me."

But it was too late. Your breath faded, and your hand slipped from his cheek, falling limply to the ground. Piotr let out a roar of anguish, his voice reverberating across the battlefield. He held your lifeless body close, his tears mingling with the blood and dirt that stained your skin. Even in his indestructible form, he felt more broken than ever before.

Magik

The battle had spiraled out of control, and you found yourself separated from the rest of the X-Men, the air thick with smoke and the sound of clashing metal. You had always admired Illyana’s ability to remain calm in the face of chaos, but this time, the situation was different. The enemies were relentless, and no matter how hard you fought, it wasn’t enough. Then, out of nowhere, a blade struck you, piercing through your side, and you collapsed to the ground.

Before you could even cry out, the world around you warped, and you found yourself in Limbo. Illyana stood before you, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the sight of your bloodied body. “No...” she whispered, her sword clattering to the ground as she rushed to your side.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming, your vision flickering in and out of focus. Illyana’s hands shook as she pressed them against your wound, trying to stop the blood that poured out of you. “I’ll fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can fix this.”

You had always known that Illyana was powerful beyond measure, but in this moment, she looked small, fragile, as though she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. She stared down at you, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she knelt beside you, her hands glowing with the dark magic of Limbo.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. “Not like this.”

You reached up with what little strength you had left, your hand brushing against her cheek. “Illyana,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I love you.”

Her breath hitched as she leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours. “I love you too, more than anything,” she said, her voice shaking. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

But you could feel your life slipping away, the pain becoming numb as the darkness closed in. You wanted to stay, to hold on, but it was too late. Your hand fell limp in hers, your chest rising for the last time as your heart stopped.

Illyana let out a scream that echoed through the very fabric of Limbo, a sound so filled with grief and fury that it sent shockwaves through the demonic realm. Her magic surged uncontrollably, her power crackling through the air as she cradled your lifeless body in her arms. In her rage, the demons of Limbo cowered, the sky itself trembling in fear.

But no amount of power could bring you back, and that realization shattered her. She held onto you, her tears falling onto your skin, whispering your name over and over again as the world around her grew dark, consumed by her grief.

Hank McCoy

The battlefield had turned into a warzone of destruction, and even though you and Hank had fought together many times before, this battle was unlike any you had experienced. You had always admired how composed and intellectual Hank was, even in the most dire of situations. But this time, the enemy had been too quick, too brutal, and before you could react, you had been struck by a powerful blast.

Your body hit the ground hard, pain shooting through you as you struggled to breathe. Blood spilled from the wound in your chest, and every breath felt like a mountain weighing down on you. Through the haze of pain, you heard Hank’s voice, panicked and desperate, something you had never heard from him before.

“Y/N!” He shouted, rushing toward you, his blue fur standing on end as he dropped to his knees beside you. His large hands were gentle as he cradled your head in his lap, his eyes wide with terror as he took in the sight of your injuries. “No, no, this can’t be happening.”

You tried to smile up at him, but the pain was too much. “I’m sorry, Hank,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t... I couldn’t...”

“Shh,” he said, his voice shaking. He pressed his hand to your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. His eyes were filled with panic, his normally calm and collected demeanor completely gone. “You’ll be alright. Just stay with me.”

You could feel the life draining from you, the world growing darker around the edges. You reached up weakly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

Hank’s eyes filled with tears, something you had never seen from him before. “I love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” he said, his voice breaking. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling onto your face. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t... I can’t do this without you.”

You wanted to stay, to hold on, but your body was failing, your heart slowing with every passing second. You looked up at him one last time, your vision blurring as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And then, everything went dark.

Hank let out a strangled sob, his entire body trembling as he held you close. His mind raced, trying to think of a solution, something that could bring you back, but he knew it was too late. You were gone, and nothing could change that.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding your lifeless body in his arms, his tears falling freely as he whispered your name. The battlefield raged on around him, but for Hank, the world had stopped. You were gone, and with you, a part of him had died too.

[petrichara]

Used to really hate when people would tell me my grief was part of love. All those quotes felt like a smack in the face saying it’s meant to be, and how could something so senseless find poetry?

[dvthomir]

Synopsis; you’ve been loyal to Rhaenyra since you were children, becoming lovers later on. After the tragedy of Storm’s Ends, she doesn’t have to mourn alone.

Warnings; grief, death ( lucerys’ ), guilt, Daemon and Rhaenyra never got married.

Pairing; Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader

I haven’t written much in years and am very rusty, however the got / hotd hyperfixation never left and here I am writing again. Please forgive any mistakes, and how short this is.

Grief was devastating to say the least, especially when the one you’re mourning happens to be your child. You shared Rhaenyra’s pain and grief to an extent, although you couldn’t imagine how she felt learning the death of Lucerys. He was such a young child still, eager to help his mother and make her proud, only to unfairly die alongside his dragon.

Many times in the past, you had been Rhaenyra’s rock, helping her through everything- from her mother’s death to holding her hand as she gave birth. It always had been her and you against this cruel world and this would never change, but having to stay strong for your Queen was tougher than ever- a part of you was getting eaten up by the guilt, you should have been the one sent to Storm’s End.

You weren’t a dragonrider per se, but over the years, Syrax and you bonded and she let you ride her even without Rhaenyra’s presence, although this was a rare occurrence. One day, many moons ago, your lover told you Syrax could feel the love you had for one another and that was the reason she liked you so much.

You shouldn’t have let Lucerys rides Arrax to Storm’s Ends, it was obviously dangerous and you let the worst happen- for that, you would never be able to forgive yourself. If only you had insisted to be the messenger, the boy would be safe and with his mother. Learning the context of how Lucerys died, killed by Aemond Targaryen, made you drown in even more guilt as he most likely wouldn’t have harmed you, he had no revenge to seek out on you.

Riding Syrax was something you had done countless times, your arms wrapped around Rhaenyra’s waist tightly, the wind caressing your face as you would enjoy the beautiful view- it was one of the things you enjoyed the most but this time was unlike all the ones before. Rhaenyra and you were here, on Storm’s Ends to recover Lucerys’ remains if there was any left.

Your eyes closed tightly as Syrax neared the beach where fishermen were going through their finds of the day. Your heart tightened as you could make out what resembled a dragon’s wing on the sand, covered by a fishing net. The impending confirmation of what had happened in the sky of Storm’s Ends was terrifying you, you weren’t ready to bid farewell to one of the children you helped raise.

Your beloved had mostly been silent since her uncle, Daemon told her of Lucerys’ fate after delivering the message. This moment was replaying in your head, Rhaenyra’s words echoing in your ears.

All the close members of the Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen’s council were attending the meeting- council whose members were essentially composed of Lords, the Queen herself and you. You weren’t a soldier, a Lord or anything of the sort but wherever the Queen went, you accompanied her, advising her if she asked for your input.

When Daemon interrupted the meeting by his entrance in the room, and simply by the look on his face, you could tell he was the bearer of awful news for the Queen. This was proven true mere seconds later as he informed Rhaenyra and you of the death of Lucerys.

Rhaenyra remained silent, staggering ever so slightly, trying to accept what had happened, what the fate of her young son had been. When she turned around, facing her council, you could discern the pain on her face, even if it was hidden under her anger and need of vengeance.

Your heart shattered into thousands of pieces when you heard the news Daemon was bringing. Rhaenyra’s sons might not have been yours biologically wise, but you had helped raising them and always loved them as if they were yours.

“ I want Aemond Targaryen” was the only thing the Queen said to the council that terrible night, and quite honestly the most she had said since she learnt what had happened to her dear son.

As soon as Syrax landed on the sand, next to the fishermen and smallfolk who ran for their lives immediately after they saw the yellow dragon approaching the beach. Rhaenyra was the first to land on her feet, directly heading for the fishing nets you noticed when flying atop the dragon. You rushed after your lover, quickly catching up- she dropped on her knees, taking off the nets from the remaining of Arrax’s wing and what resembled of Lucerys’ clothes.

Rhaenyra broke into sobs, the reality of her son’s passing dawning on her, mourning him as she held the clothes tightly against her chest. It was your turn to drop on your knees, right next to your lover, whom you held close, she leaned into your embrace as you mourned alongside her, finally allowing the tears to flow down your eyes freely.

Syrax watched the scene from where she landed, roaring her pain and grief away, both from sharing Rhaenyra’s emotions as well as mourning Arrax, her own son.

[patronsaintofelsewhere]

Thoughts on Angel Crowley & Healing from Trauma

(Minor Good Omens S2 Spoilers)

As someone who’s endured my own Trauma and dealt with the resulting PTSD, watching Crowley’s journey from a joyful, silly, and entirely innocent angel to a withdrawn, lonely, hyper-vigilant demon as a result of the Fall both shattered my heart and confronted me with the fact of myself, and I’d like to talk about it. 

When you* experience Trauma, you experience an existential disorientation and a profound sense of grief over the world you thought you knew–one where you were safe and nothing bad had ever happened to you. “Innocence died screaming,” and all that.

You're also therefore mourning the loss of who you were, and struggling to make sense of who you are now. Which is why this conversation is so gut-wrenching:

“I know you.” “You do not know me.” “I knew the angel you were.” “The angel you knew is not me.” 

This dialogue admittedly still makes my eyes swim. It’s reminiscent of the many conversations I’ve had with people close to me who knew me Before and After. Not only are you grieving the loss of your own innocence, so are those around you, and it feels like you’re wearing their loved one’s face like a mask.

And then underneath the grief, there’s a river of–what you’ll later discover is misplaced–guilt. They want you to be who you were. Fuck, you also want to be who you were -- to not have experienced what you did -- but you can’t.

And when they catch a glimpse of something that reminds them of Before-You -- because it's not like that you has just up and vanished, you've just changed -- they say things like, “I feel like I have you back!” Like the After-You is a consolation prize, something to be tolerated while they wait for the Before-You to return.

It’s not malicious. They love you. They want you to be happy. But it just serves as a reminder of your loss and suddenly you’re acutely aware of how alone you are with the Thing that hurt you.

After trauma, you’re lonely and you're afraid. But those emotions make you feel quite naked, because both of those things would require you to depend on other people to feel better and, at this point, the thought of doing that is far too scary, so to the world, you’re angry. Thus begins the cyclical self-fulfilling prophecy.

And that cycle goes a bit like this: People see the mistrust and the bitterness and the volatility (the shield that keeps people at an arm's length and helps you feel safe). They don't see the profound sustained fear underneath, the desperate need to feel seen and accepted. And so people pull away.

And that real or perceived abandonment feeds the monster that’s taken up permanent residence in your ribcage and screams at all hours that you’re not worthy of love, that you’re irreparably broken, and you’ll always be alone. And you pull away from the people that love you. And the cycle repeats. And you start to believe all of the bad things about yourself that the monster tells you.

Being confronted with a character who you adore and who you also relate to closely is bittersweet in that it’s both immensely painful, but also offers you an opportunity to interrupt that cycle, to explore a different -- perhaps more forgiving -- lens through which to view yourself. To practice self-compassion by proxy, if you will. After all, we tend to extend far greater empathy and forgiveness to others than we do to ourselves.

Angel Crowley, "who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty,” (joycrispy) reminded me a lot of “Angel T,” or rather myself before Trauma.

And Crowley's story is tragic. I was heartbroken and angry for him; I felt the depth of the betrayal he experienced at the hands of someone he loved who he'd believed loved him; I found myself wanting to protect him, to comfort him. Crowley did not deserve what happened to him.

And, over a decade later, I realized that I’d finally accepted that I’d been an innocent, just like Crowley had, and I didn't deserve what happened to me, either.

And -- if you find yourself relating to this post -- neither did you.

Once we can tell ourselves that and actually believe it, we can start to lower the shield. We can allow people closer, including ourselves. We can bring the parts of ourselves we may have hidden away back to the surface. We can soften again. We can truly start to heal.

Crowley, at his core, remains the same. He is still kind, deeply loving, playful, silly, and – against all odds – hopeful. But his trauma has changed him; his innocence is gone.

He struggles to trust others; fears abandonment; engages in unhealthy coping mechanisms; finds it easier to prioritize and tend to Aziraphale's needs and desires than his own; and has difficulty expressing his emotions.

But he also gained an abundance of empathy, a deep love for humanity, and a strong sense of justice.

We adore Crowley exactly as he is now; we don't wish for him to be who he was before the Fall. And neither does Aziraphale.

In kind, we won’t be who we were — nor should we try to be — but we can be something new, a different version of ourselves that is equally good, equally worthy, and equally deserving of love. 

After over a decade, I think my Trauma wound has mostly healed, as much as Trauma wounds can, anyway; it’s a dull ache rather than an acute pain. Yet Crowley's story assuaged that remaining hurt like a salve I hadn’t realized I needed.

So thank you to @neil-gaiman for giving us such a beautiful story, and to David Tennant, Michael Sheen, and the rest of the cast and crew who bring the characters we love to life on screen.

Good Omens truly is a gift. May it continue to inspire us to offer kindness and love to ourselves and one another. 🖤

* I am aware that I say “you” when I should use the singular first-person “I,” but I still struggle with this when talking about my own trauma. So I’m using “you” and you, reader, will deal with it x

[klausysworld]

Okay so I have this idea where reader has been taking care of hope for 7 years (Hayley is like dead Marcel killed her or smt) and like in the show Marcel has klaus locked away but when the family rescues him they all come to realise that y/n has built like a whole army of werewolves/vampires just to protect hope. Klaus see’s how much she loves hope and he has loved y/n for like 12 years and hope notices this and then hope tells him that y/n has cried herself to sleep ever night because of loosing him and then obviously the rest is up to you.

This idea has been in my head for a while so I do hope you write it and if not thank you for whatever you write next 🥰🥰🥰🥰

And also sorry my description was so bad but I forgot to say smut would be greatly appreciated ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Family

Y/n had grown up alongside Hayley in the foster care system. They were adopted together and thrown out together. They were loyal to one another no matter the consequences and would follow the other to the ends of the earth.

Y/n hadn't batted an eye at the idea of living with the most dangerous family in the world, if Hayley was going then so would she. She showed her devotion to the unborn Mikaelson and quickly gained the attention and respect of the originals.

Elijah appreciated her love and protective characteristics over her family, Hayley and the baby. Rebekah liked that it didn't matter who said what about her, whether they claimed she was a useless human or nothing more than something to eat, she wouldn't back down form a fight. Klaus had originally thought her to be a little foolish with her confidence and need to help but he found that she knew what she was doing, she was persuasive and intelligent.

When the witches first killed Hayley and took the new born baby, Y/n had pushed aside the grief and the pain from Hayleys death. Niklaus and Elijah could see the horror in her eyes but she told them to get up and find the baby, and they did. Thankfully Hayley returned, as a hybrid, and Hope survived.

Y/n was happy for them to compel her to believe Hope was dead but Klaus interjected and said that he didn't believe it to be necessary. That was when Elijah knew that his brother had placed his trust in Y/n.

The Mikaelson brothers watched as Y/n stayed beside Hayley no matter how much she yelled, screamed, cried, killed. Despite Hope not dying, Hayley still felt the pain of loss. It was easy for her to take it out on Y/n, to bring up her past family and to push at all her buttons but Y/n never gave in. She ignored it even when Klaus and Elijah would get involved, sometimes Hayley would have said something particularly hurtful and one of the brothers would intervene, yelling at Hayley to go calm down and offering some sort of comfort to Y/n but she wouldn't accept it.

There was one occasion when Hayley had bitten Y/n, her humanity was almost gone and she had attacked her bestest friend. Klaus had gone ballistic. Elijah had healed Y/n though she insisted it wasn't that bad while Klaus finally managed to scream some sense into Hayley.

Apologies were made and accepted before finally they were all able to go see Hope.

Y/n hadn't ever had a family, even when she was adopted with Hayley they only took Y/n because Hayley wouldn't go without her. So when Rebekah pulled the camera out for a family photo, Y/n made her way inside but Klaus had noticed and went to get her.

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder to gain her attention as he guided her back to the others and promised her that she was their family now. Rebekah had been ecstatic and pulled Y/n to her side as Klaus held up the camera and they all smiled.

From then onwards Y/n would bond with Hope more and more. Hayley had sat with her and they had agreed that should anything ever happen to Hayley, that Y/n would never leave Hope alone. There was absolutely no convincing needed with this arrangement.

Over the next year witches, wolves and vampires came and went. Y/n stayed with the Mikaelsons and befriended the wolves, Jackson especially as he was to marry her adopted sister. She stood beside Klaus at the wedding, holding Hope and watching as the baby's eyes glowed gold in unison. Klaus was just looking at Y/n, listening as Hayley and Jackson recited their vows and imagined those words of love coming from his own lips.

After, Y/n went down to celebrate and Klaus managed to get a dance with her after Elijah finally pushed him to. Something about the other just felt right. It brought a warmth that only held safety and admiration. Like home.

Y/n began to see Klaus as home. When Hayley spent so many nights in the bayou, it was Klaus that she spent her time with and Klaus who always came to seek her out. Often he would use Hope as an excuse to be around her, Hope loved Y/n very much and was always eager to see her. Klaus was even more eager to take her.

But then Lucien arrived, along with Tristan and Aurora. They ruined everything.

Y/n became a vampire, Finn was killed once again and the Mikaleons were faced with peril.

Everything happened within the blink of an eye. Rebekah was hexed and the brothers bitten and Freya poisoned. Klaus was locked away for his violent acts and the others were linked to his life and hidden away in their coffins. And then Hayley, she had gone to Marcel angry and threatening and never returned.

That left Y/n with Hope and a truck full of almost-dead Mikaelsons. She was lost for the first year with Hope. She had lost everything. Everyone.

But when Hope would wrap her little arms around her and whimper for Y/n to not be sad, she knew that she needed to pull through.

It took a lot of effort. Y/n used Marcels tactics and started turning her own vampires, earning their trust and their devotion. She offered them a new life, she sold vampirism well and convinced dozens that this was the way for them. She began to train them, she began to trust them.

There was an inner circle that knew her well and were allowed to see Hope and go inside the house to protect her and the others had a fair amount of freedom however if they wanted daylight rings then they would have to help find the ingredients to heal the Mikaelsons.

It took far longer than she would have liked, 5 years but she did it. And one by one, Freya, Kol, Elijah and Rebekah were awake and healed. It didn't take long for them to come to understand the lengths to which Y/n had gone through.

They learnt of Hayleys death and they watched as vampires came to Y/n with updates on Klaus's position. A couple of her vampires had gone undercover into Marcels territory to get an idea of Klaus's situation. It was because of this that the other Mikaelsons were able to get in easier while Y/n went to her home to see Hope now that she was back form school.

Hope saw Y/n as her mother. Of course she knew everything about Hayley, Y/n old her countless stories and made sure that Hope knew that Hayley was her mother but Hope didn't truly remember Hayley the way Y/n had thought she would. To Hope, Y/n had always looked after her and loved her so often she would call Y/n her mommy or her ma without meaning to and Y/n could never respond, unsure as to whether she was doing something wrong by being Hopes mother. But she also couldn't deny Hope and so wouldn't upset her little girl by telling her that she wasn't allowed to call her that.

So she sat down with Hope when they were having their dinner and told her that their family was coming back in the early hours of the morning. Y/n had made sure to tell Hope stories of each of the Mikaelsons and showed various pictures, Klaus especially was mentioned. "That's your Dad remember?" Y/n would whisper when they snuggled up on Hopes bed and flicked through the photos.

Sometimes Y/n would sleep beside Hope or the other way around. Hope knew that Y/n didn't sleep much, she worried so much and became sad when Hope wasn't with her. Many times Hope had asked if Y/n loved her Dad and every time Y/n would nod "He means very much to me" she would tell her and Hope would smile and hold Y/n's hand.

"He'll come back soon Mommy, don't worry" she would whisper and Y/n would sniff and nod, pulled Hope close and closing her eyes.

When Hope was told that he father was finally coming home, she was excited for both herself and for Y/n. It took hours for her to get to sleep and Y/n had to take her back to bed nearly 10 times before she stayed in bed.

It was deep into the night when the door knocked, Y/n had fallen asleep against with her head against the kitchen table but thankfully had given Freya a key before they left for Klaus. They all made their way inside and softened at the sigh of Y/n passed out with her phone infront of her. Klaus was battered and weak but made his way over to her and knelt down to the floor so that he could pull her down to his embrace. She woke as she was taken from her seat and found herself in his hold. Tears streamed within seconds and she wrapped herself within him until little footsteps were heard and everyone's attention was on the doorway.

Y/n got up quickly, pulling away from Klaus who stared at the doorway with a level of fear. He didn't want his daughter to see him for the first time while he was dirty, bloody and broken.

"Mommy?" The sleepy voiced called, Hope had just come into sight while rubbing her eyes when Y/n quickly picked her up. They all listened as she gently hushed Hope and took her back to bed.

"What's wrong baby?" She asked softly, while tucking Hope into bed. She kissed her head and slipped Hope's wolf teddy under her arm.

"Are they here yet?" Hope whispered and Y/n hesitated. She knew Hope wouldn't sleep if she knew they were there and she knew that the Mikaelsons needed a moment to recover.

"Soon" She told Hope. "They'll be here when you wake in the morning I promise." She murmured and she stroked her face and Hope whispered goodnight.

Y/n came back down and spoke quietly.

"There's enough beds upstairs each of you, you might have to share a room for the night but it's better than a coffin. There's two showers, wait fifteen minutes so Hope goes to sleep before turning them on otherwise the noise will wake her up. We'll sort everything in the morning." She muttered, somehow a hardened exterior was around her now and they all picked up on it. She spoke to them now in an almost professional manner, like she didn't know them. As they all made their way up the stairs and watched as she checked on Hope, closed her door and made her way to her own room, they wondered how hard the past five years had been for her.

The next morning they woke to a stack of blood beside each of them bar Freya who had a cup of coffee waiting. They drank before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

Y/n and Hope were both already there, sprawled out on the sofas and eating from a bowl of berries while watching the TV. Kol was the first to clear his throat making Hope's head shoot up. Her confidence diminished quickly and she was hiding behind Y/n as she got up.

Y/n pointed to the fridge and cupboards, "If you're hungry you can find everything there, I've set up phones for you all so they're on the table. Theres a couple guys outside but they're just here to make sure nobody else is so you can check the garden if you need. Cars are coming in the afternoon to relocate now that you're awake and we have an interview with a school for Hope tomorrow morning so we need to get a full nights sleep and leave by 4pm latest this afternoon." She told them while lifting Hope from the sofa and placing her by the backdoor. "Paints are outside" she whispered to Hope who nodded and ran out to her art table in the garden.

The Mikaelsons each took their new phone and grabbed something to eat before sitting down while Klaus went to the window to watch his daughter from afar. Y/n went back to the kitchen and started washing plates when Elijah came beside her and placed a hand on her back.

"You know that you are our family Y/n" he whispered to her, concerned that she may think otherwise, "even with Hayley gone" he added faintly and she nodded. "I understand you've taken the role as Hopes mother-"

"I haven't. Hayley's her mom, Hope knows that she just slips up" She snapped back and Elijah frowned at the aggression.

"I didn't mean it as a negative thing." He replied softly, "Hayley would love that you are so close to Hope, she had told me all those years ago that you were as much Hopes mother as she was. You have always been her mother, none of us would take that from you."

Y/n sniffled at the thought of Hayley's permission almost and Elijah brought her into his embrace. He had been taking care of his family for centuries, he had the best understanding of what she was going through and he never wanted her to think that they would take Hope away from her just because Hayley was gone.

Meanwhile, Klaus had plucked the courage to go outside and sit with his daughter. He painted alongside her in a comfortable silence while nature danced around them until Y/n came outside and called for lunch. The scene made Klaus think of a movie or a sweet story and Hope smiled and jumped from her seat and tugged Klaus inside for food. He chuckled and followed, obediently sitting beside his little girl while Y/n went on the other side of her. Elijah and Y/n had prepared a simple but homey pasta dish to fill everyone before they needed to leave.

It was during lunch that Hope took notice of how her father glanced and gazed at her mother figure. Part of her was happy for them that they had found their way back and she could have that picture perfect family she had dreamed of for years but the other part of her pushed that idea away. She feared that perfect reality and quickly became upset with the thought of it all.

Y/n could see Hope stressing and took her outside to talk to her. Rebekah tried to comfort Klaus as he sat in a pained silence with the thought that his daughter didn't like him enough.

They didn't speak of it as they divided up into cars and drove to another state, to a suburban area where they had their own homes and new starts. Rebekah was excited, Freya was apprehensive, Kol decided to go his own way but to keep in touch, Elijah was willing to go wherever was seen as safest and Klaus would follow Hope and Y/n wherever they may go.

When Y/n handed him the keys to his own house he frowned, he didn't want to be by himself. He never had. Y/n had asked Hope if she would want to stay primarily at her dads but she wasn't so sure as she didn't really know him anymore.

The separate house arrangement lasted no longer than a week before Klaus was insisting they get a big house they could all stay in. Freya and Rebekah got a smaller house together, Elijah got himself an apartment close by but a little further out and Klaus moved in with Y/n and Hope after getting upset and Y/n understanding his needs.

He had his own room but he never wanted to be in it. He wanted to be in Y/n's, he wanted her and she wouldn't let him. Hope slowly got used to the idea but Y/n pulled away from it despite the ache in her heart that called for him.

Klaus soon believed that she truly didn't feel anything more than that friendship/family bond that she had with his siblings but Hope made sure he knew the truth one night when they were watching a movie and Y/n was out sorting out some vampires that apparently worked for her with both confused and impressed the Mikaelsons.

"I know you love my mom" She told him as they both kept their eyes on the TV, not daring to look at the other as this particular topic arose. Klaus cleared his throat and smacked his lips together but she didn't give him a chance to respond. "She told me she loves you too. Lots of times actually" she quipped and Klaus stared at the screen intensley. "But she won't tell you because she doesn't want to make it weird or make a mistake" she told him.

"She thinks it would be a mistake?" He asked, mentally cursing himself for the childish behaviour he was giving into.

"No...I don't know...She just loves you a lot and she'd be sad again if it didn’t work and I don’t want her to be sad again…” she trailed and Klaus glanced to her.

“Again?” He whispered, wondering if she had been with another man in the years they were apart and it hadn’t worked.

“She used to cry a lot” Hope mumbled, feeling guilty for telling Klaus about it. “Sometimes she would cry in her sleep too” she added and Klaus frowned, wrapping an arm around Hope and pulling her into a hug as she got upset. “She missed you” she whimpered and Klaus nodded, kissing Hopes head and wiping the tears from under her eyes. “She needs you” she told him on a small, strained voice.

Klaus rubbed her back and stroked her hair while Hope cried and let out all her worries for her mother and all the times she had seen her distraught. Klaus told her how he should have been there for them and promised that he would never leave them alone, never let them suffer again.

They ended the night on a lighter note, managed to pull a few laughs and smiled form each to her before Klaus tucked Hope into bed and found her wolf teddy for her. He then sat and told her of how one day she would get to be a wolf if she wanted and would be able to run freely, he told her how he felt when he was in his wolf form and how much he knew she would love it.

Once she fell asleep he went to his room and waited for the sound of the front door to clothes and footsteps up the floor before he came out. He stepped out from his doorway in only a pair of sleep pants, his eyes landed on Y/n and his brows rose. Her face was splattered with dried blood and her hands covered in it. She looked back at him but didn’t utter a word, just went straight for the bathroom.

Klaus followed her quickly and closed the door behind them so that Hope wouldn’t see Y/n looking so dishevelled.

“What happened?” He whispered as she tried to shimmy out of her clothes without touching anything else. He leaned over and clicked the shower on.

“It’s nothing” she mumbled, peeling her shirt from her skin leaving her in just her bra and panties as her jeans lay in a puddle on the floor. Klaus frowned and his hand cupped her face but she pushed it away. “Go away I need to shower” she muttered as she unhooked her bra and he sighed before walking out and staring at the bathroom door as she scrubbed the blood away.

He waited for her to come back out before pestering her again. Demanding to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was doing it to or with. Eventually she snapped and told him it was for Hope. She told him that people had been trying to kill her or take her all of the time, no matter how many spells were on her to protect her. So she had to get rid of the few people who knew their location and also make new vampires near where they were to ensure security.

Klaus didn’t know how to feel.

Before, she was strong headed but she had never been a killer. She did what she had to but she was still emotional and compassionate. He blamed himself, he wanted her to be a Mikaelson and she had become one. She acted like one, she loved like one, she was one.

“I can do that for you, for Hope” he told her gently and she couldn’t help the scoff that left her making him sigh. “Love, we’re here now, it isn’t your job to fight anymore” he argued and she glared at him.

“It was never my job.” She bit, “I did it because I wanted to. I do it because I want to. Hope is safe because of me, you are all safe because of me and I will keep it that way because even after a thousand years you lot still wind up dead time and time again!” She sneered, her vampiric features displaying across her face as her anger rose.

Klaus stared at her as she glared at him, she was mad and he knew that. She had been saving her rage for five years. She was mad that they left her alone, she was mad they let Hayley die not once but twice. She was mad that they hadn’t listened to her all those years ago, she was mad she became a vampire because of them. She was mad that she had never been given an easy option since the day she met them. She was mad and she needed to express it and if there was something Klaus was good at, it was expressing his rage.

So he pushed her, hard. Y/n stumbled back and felt herself tik. She flew back at him roughly, causing him to hit straight back against the wall with a wince before going back to her and shoving her. He only put his hands on her a couple more times before her hands were swinging and her nails clawed at him. He whispered for her to keep going, to get it out as she cried and hit at him. She told him all the things she hated about him and his family. All the things he had put her through and all the struggle she had with Hope. Having to look after a Mikaelson witch with werewolf anger and vampire strength was not something anyone was equipped for but Y/n, a newly turned vampire was certainly not.

Eventually she was too exhausted to keep going. Klaus was on the floor, propped up against the door with his bloodied arm around her shoulders as she curled against him and sobbed. His face and body slowly healed, as he panted for air and rest his head against hers.

After a while she calmed down and realised how much she had hurt him and started crying for the pain she had caused. Klaus told her he had wanted her to so it was okay but she hated herself for it either way. They ended up back in the bathroom, taking separate showers again before heading back out and being in a better mood. They kissed each other on the cheek goodnight and went to bed.

The next morning Y/n was lighter on her feet, she already seemed more relaxed and settled. Less on edge wondering when she would explode with anger. Hope gave Klaus a weird look and asked if they finally admitted they loved each other but he shook his head and she shrugged. Y/n was happy so Hope was happy.

Klaus and Y/n took Hope to her school before going back home and digging up the garden to start planting herbs and flowers. Some had magical properties and some didn’t. Klaus handled the vervain and Y/n handled the wolvesbane before they went inside and started making lunch only for them to get bored and decide to go out instead.

They went down to a small cafe and just ended up having sandwiches and cake anyway but at were happy that they didn’t have to make it themselves.

After they headed back home they cleaned up the house and discussed Hopes upcoming birthday. Y/n told him about her past birthdays and presents and showed him pictures from the last few years.

Weeks went by, Klaus and Y/n became the power parents they had both hoped they would be and Hope finally had the family she wanted.

Hope however started to get annoyed. She just needed them to give in and be together. So she started making hints. But apparently they weren’t strong enough so she went with being direct.

“Would you two just kiss already? Stop staring at each other!” She yelled from the kitchen, knowing they were glancing to one another while the film played in the background. Y/n blushed pink and Klaus cleared his throat, getting up and grabbing Hope. He spun her around and tickled her sides, whispering for her to shut her mouth while she squirmed and giggled.

It happened on many occasions that Hope would just tell them to get on with it. Klaus would watch for Y/n’s reaction waiting for her to give him the okay.

It was late one night when she finally did. It was just them downstairs, Hope was over at a friend’s house for a sleepover so just the two of them were watching usual Saturday night television. They were cuddled up with a blanket around them when Y/n leaned her head back and gave him a look. His brows briefly furrowed as he tried to decipher it before a tense silence overcame them. Both daring the other to do it.

Klaus caved first, leaning down and pressing his mouth to hers. Their lips moved in unison and Y/n’s hands went to his hair, tugging him onto her. The soft, wet sounds of their mouths filled the small amount of air between them as he pushed her down against the sofa and slid his hands under her thighs, hiking her legs up and round his waist.

Y/n stroked her hands round his face, her fingers memorising every detail of his face. Her thumbs brushed over his ears and down his neck while her tongue wrapped around his. Klaus slid his hands up and under her shirt, gliding along her skin to her bra. His fingers teased the lace making her pull her mouth from his and tug her shirt over her head.

Klaus kissed her lips again softly before pressing his own to her chest. Her hand cupped the back of his head, her eyes following his lips as they kissed and sucked down the valley between her breasts slowly. His other hand slid beneath her to unhook her bra and pull it off her arms.

She breathed heavily, looking up at him with lustrous eyes.

“You look so gorgeous” he murmured as he lowered his head to wrap his lips round one of her nipples. Y/n moaned softly as it pebbled against his tongue and her back arched to push her breasts against his face. He groaned softly and squeezed them both in his hands while his mouth teased them both interchangeably.

Y/n moaned his name and lifted his Henley over his head and slid her hands down his chest while his fingers picked at the button on her jeans. She helped drag them off her legs and quickly got her hands onto his. He kicked his own off and pressed himself back against her.

Their mouths were back against each other in a heated frenzy and his erection pressed against his boxers and then against her panties. She moaned against him and thrust her hips up to feel him. Klaus moved his lips down to her jaw and nipped at the skin while his hand made its way down to her stomach.

"Klaus" she whispered breathlessly as she pulled her lips off his and looked down to where his fingers brushed along the soft material of her underwear.

"Please" he uttered. It was an unexpected word for him to say but it made her eyes shimmer as she looked up at him. He leaned down to kiss her once again and she allowed herself to melt into it as he slowly dragged her panties down and off her legs. His hands brushed back up her thighs and she didn't resist when he guided them open and flat against the bed.

Klaus gently stroked his fingers along her pussy lips. Klaus groaned softly as they slid through her wetness and found her clit. Y/n let out a small gasp and pulled her head back, Klaus looked down at her as the back of her head pressed against the couch. Their eyes locked as the pad of his finger rubbed little circles against her clit. He watched in lust and fascination as her breathing escalated and her eyes watered while she tried to keep them open and focused on him.

"I missed you so much" he admitted quietly while pushing a finger into her entrance. Y/n let out a sweet cry that made the desire within him swirl and spike. His finger curled inside her perfectly, his thumb continued to pet her bundle of nerves until her body couldn't help but grind against his hand and his lips pressed a row of kisses along her throat.

"Klaus" she repeated with a moan and he smiled against her skin.

"I thought of you every day" he whispered as another finger began to thrust inside her with each precise flick of his wrist.

"You did?" she whimpered, her heart swelling with love and bashfulness. He nodded with a soft look in his eyes and pumped his fingers deeper into her until the breath was taken from her lungs.

"You were always right there in my mind. You brought me peace" he told her and she moaned weakly. Her hands squeezes at the sheets below her as her eyes shut. Klaus's fingers thrust and curled beautifully to meet the sensitive point that made her toes curl and her pussy clench tightly. "You saved me from myself" he whispered as his lips trailed down the front of her body again, a little quicker this time. His thumb brushed over her clit before his tongue replaced it.

Y/n's body arched in delight and her legs quivered as the soft heat of his mouth caressed her cunt. His tongue swirled around her sensitive bud as his fingers picked up the pace. His eyes closed as the addictive taste of her soaked onto his tongue. Her body arched and tensed with each flick of his tongue and a cry of desperation bounced off the walls as her orgasm pulsed through her. Klaus groaned softly as her pussy quivered and weeped around his fingers. He carefully, gently pulled his fingers out from her and used his mouth to clean her up.

He kissed his way back up her body to her lips and kissed her deeply, swallowing her weak moans of satisfaction and caressing his hands up along her skin. Y/n's hands brushed through his curls gently making them fluff up. Klaus pulled back and looked down at her with a genuine smile and let out a small chuckle when he felt his hair frizz.

She gazed back at him almost shyly. She had wanted him to touch her like that for so long. Too many years of longing. Raising Hope had taken away from any social life she could have had the past five years but even if Hope hadn't been a priority, Y/n only thought of Klaus like that. She could't believe that he had seen her so bare and vulnerable after all those years, touched and tasted her like she dreamed he would.

Klaus could see the thoughts dancing through her mind and slowly stroked her hair as he let her daze float over her. He pulled her to his body, wrapping her in his arm and laying with her for a bit. This was something he didn't want to push or rush. He just wanted to soak this up and be with her forever.

Y/n lay on top his body as they rest against the couch. A blanket draped over them while their eyes watched the screen before them. They were both nearly asleep but neither wanted to move so they stayed there the whole night.

By morning they were back up and getting ready to get Hope from her friends. Hope's eyes narrowed on them as soon as she got in the car, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she saw their entwined hands while they drove home.

When she got home she gave her mother a smile before offering a discreet thumbs up to her dad which made him chuckle and shake his head as she starting making kissey faces and running up the stairs giggling.

[literaryavenger]

You're Still My Sunshine

Summary: A year later, a lot has changed.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Grief. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 750

A/N: This is just a little drabble to continue You Were My Sunshine, hope ya like it.

Masterlist | Part 1

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

A year later

“Hi, mom.” You kneel down in front of the grave, placing down the bouquet of blue roses.

You look around the cemetery for a moment, if anything just out of habit to make sure there’s no danger, but you’re alone.

“Happy birthday.” You look back at the grave, cleaning it a little by brushing off the weeds on it.

“Another year, huh?” You say quietly. “A lot happened… And I’m not sure how we got here, but…”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a hand on your shoulder but you don’t bother turning around.

“I’m sorry, baby, it took me a little to find the candle.” Bucky’s voice rings in your ear as he kneels down beside you.

You look at your boyfriend, smiling at him as he lights the candle on the cupcake and passes it to you. 

Like usual, you look at it for a moment before you blow it out and you can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek, except this time Bucky’s there to promptly wipe it away.

You spend the next few hours there, the both of you talking to the tombstone and to each other while Bucky holds you and wipes your tears away.

When you’re back at the Compound, the team is gathered around the living room watching a movie.

“I still can’t believe Elsa is the only one you allow to know about your special day.” You roll your eyes at Tony’s nickname for Bucky while the team snickers.

“Actually,” You start while you and Bucky sit down on the couch next to Steve. “I… I’m ready to tell you guys.” 

You’re a little hesitant, but for the past year you and Bucky have talked about it a lot, since you started dating you’ve opened up to him in a way he didn’t even know was possible considering you were already the most open person Bucky’s ever met.

And it felt good, you thought to yourself, and you decided last night you were ready to open up to the rest of your family too.

So you tell them everything, every little detail of the things you do, explaining why you do them because they were your mom’s favorite things. They’re understanding, not loving that you went through all that on your own, but they respect your choice and were glad you now allowed Bucky to be there for you. And, with some more grumbling from Tony, they accept that you aren’t ready to have them all there with you yet.

But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t do anything for you…

Another year later

You almost don’t recognize the grave, having to double check the tombstone to make sure it’s the right one.

And it is, only it’s full of flowers, teddy bears, papers and Avengers action figures for some reason. 

You’re as confused as Bucky when the two of you kneel down and you reach for one of the papers and you start chuckling when you see it’s a message from Tony, to you. It’s clear that he wrote it to make you laugh, full of sarcasm and jokes, and Bucky’s glad to see it’s working.

You read all the notes one by one, all from the team to you, between tears and chuckles, and you can’t be more grateful to have found this family.

You almost forget that this year you have big news, the engagement ring sitting on your finger shining with the sunlight.

I have a lot of things to tell you, mama, you think to yourself while absentmindedly stroking your stomach, where you found out just yesterday your very own little ray of sunshine is growing.

Yes, things are definitely getting better.

[zorrasucia]

can we get your take on the trapped inside the fridge trope? enemies to lovers vibes between reader and carmy? pls and congrats on 300 followers

Hello, Anon! Thank you ☺️💜

And yes definitely! I went for a version where they get trapped a week or so before opening night - I love Carmy with all my heart but he would be absolutely unfuckable that day lol

Send a request for my 300 followers celebration! 🥂

Michelin star chef Carmen Berzatto had already gone through two of the stages of grief after finding out that you two were trapped inside the walk in fridge. He had loudly declared 'this can't be happening' about twenty times, trying the handle over and over: denial. Then, he slammed the door with his fists and palms, cursing at the top of his lungs, screaming his throat raw for no one to hear: anger.

"Fucking manchild," you mumbled under your breath while he screamed through the phone, trying to get "the fridge guy" to get you two out.

You had been training at the kitchen of The Bear for the past couple of weeks, preparing for their opening, and your opinion of Carmy was less than stellar already.

"The fuck were you still doing here anyway?" he barked, like he had suddenly remembered you were there too.

You sighed.

"You asked me to stay, Chef," you emphasized. Was it mature and productive to play the blame game? No. But you were exhausted and cold and tired of Carmy's bullshit. "You asked me to re-label the produce because the tape was torn, not cut."

Carmy looked at the containers right in front of him, his gaze vacant as one tattooed finger traced the edges of torn out tape, one of the last few you had left to replace.

"Right," he exhaled. He seemed to have tired himself out. "What time is it?"

You checked your phone. "Quarter past midnight."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck," you agreed, crossing your arms to stay warm.

Carmy looked at you, his blue eyes fixed on your face as a shiver went down your spine.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Just fine. Freezing myself to death is all," you snarked.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then quickly removed his chef whites, and offered them to you.

"I'm fine," you repeated but then a second shiver went through you. "Thanks, Chef," you accepted reluctantly. The fabric was warm from his body, smelling of aftershave and sweat - manly. You wished you didn't enjoy the scent as much as you did.

He put hands in his pockets, keeping warm now that he was only wearing his t-shirt. Your eyes studied the tattoos on his arms and hands trying to guess the meaning or beauty behind them, stubbornly refusing to break the heavy silence between you.

His phone chimed.

"It's, uh, Tony, the fridge guy," Carmy said. "Says he can be here in an hour."

"Plus however long he takes to get us out," you guessed. Carmy nodded. Then, he shivered.

Fuck.

You couldn't believe you were going to suggest this.

"Want a hug?" you offered, looking down.

"Mmm?" Carmy cocked his head, genuinely confused.

"I said, do you want a hug?" you repeated, arms uncrossing. "You're freezing and I'm freezing and we've got at least an hour and a half more of this bullshit."

He stood in silence for a whole minute.

"Alright."

He moved closer to you, hands by his sides, completely still, waiting for you to make the move. There was something endearing about it, you thought as you laced your arms around his wide shoulders, solid muscle under your palms. You were practically the same height, his curls tickled your cheek.

"This okay?" you asked.

"Yes, better," he agreed reluctantly, his voice vibrating through your chest.

You felt like you were holding a statue. Maybe it was a good thing - it would be a little fucked up if the Carmy Berzatto was eager to hold you tight and touch your body. However, a part of you, the part that loved his smell and liked the look of his arms, kind of hoped he would hug you back.

"You can hold me, if you want," you whispered.

He took a step closer and wrapped his arms around your waist, his exhale caressing your neck.

You stood there, in silence, for a while, unnaturally still. You rubbed your thumb over his shoulder for a bit, it made it feel more like a real hug and less awkward.

All of a sudden, Carmy cleared his throat and moved away.

"You okay?" you asked.

He turned his back to you, hands on his hips.

"I, uh, yes, I'm fine," he replied, voice choked up.

"I'm not going to report you to HR or anything, if that's what you're worried about," you mumbled, suddenly feeling very guilty. "Or if I made you uncomfortable-"

He shook his head. "No, no. It's not your-" he stopped himself.

"My f-fault?" you finished, shivering again. The cold seemed to double down now that his body wasn't shielding you and you wanted him back where he was.

"It isn't. It's just been a while," he ended cryptically, glancing over his shoulder towards you, face flushed even with the cold, rearranging his apron to better cover his crotch. And suddenly you understood. You didn't make him uncomfortable, if anything he was too comfortable in your embrace.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he looked up at the ceiling.

"Chef, it's fine," you tried to reassure him. He huffed incredulously. "It is."

Carmy ran his hands through his hair. You followed the lines of muscle you could guess under his t-shirt - it was a distracting sight. You were flushed down to the neck, warmth invading your belly, and it was way past midnight...

"Chef?" he only gave you a tense hum in response. "Can I help?"

"With what?" he replied brusquely. He was angry, again. He was hard for you and angry - why couldn't he just pick one?

"Never fucking mind," you rolled your eyes. "I was going to offer you a quick fuck but if you're going to be insufferable about that too then I guess you can will your boner away and die mad about it," you spat.

Carmy turned towards you with dark eyes.

"You weren't," he denied roughly. "Why would you? You weren't."

"Because I think you're hot and it feels nice being desired," you shrugged.

This wasn't about being in love or some bullshit, you had known each other for two weeks and you were pretty sure he hadn't really noticed you for most of that time. He was horny, you were willing, and you were both cold as fuck.

He took two steps and suddenly he was in your space, forehead almost touching yours.

"Would you still?" he asked simply, his breath tickling your lips.

"Yeah," you exhaled.

"Even with me being insufferable about it?" he insisted.

"Well, then I guess you better make me come," you dared him.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Carmy grabbed you in his arms and kissed you hard, cornering you against the shelves, his body warm and eager against yours. You ran your fingers through his hair, a little greasy from the day, but still soft and addicting to pull on. He groaned into your mouth. His nimble fingers untied his apron and yours, breaking a bruising kiss to throw them on the floor. He didn't attempt to remove any other piece of clothing.

"Not sure you've got your priorities straight," you sassed when he started kissing your neck and touching your breasts over your shirt.

He angled his hips so that you could feel his cock hard against your center. You moaned.

"Don't I?" he teased right back, smiling into your skin.

"Fuck you," you said without bite, panting as he ground his hips against yours. "Shouldn't feel this good," you mumbled hazily.

"Hmm?"

He seemed lost in it, breathing hard into the skin of your neck, the tips of his fingers tracing cold lines on the small of your back, his palms squeezing your ass greedily.

"It shouldn't feel this good to dry hump in a fucking walk-in," you finished your sentence with a breathy laugh.

Behind you, the shelves were shaking with the steady rhythm of Carmy grinding against you.

His blue eyes searched for yours. "I said I'd make you come. And I will," he panted. "But it's been a fucking long while and I need you to be good for me, okay?" His hands held your hips even tighter.

"Yes, Chef," you exhaled, holding on to his shoulders, opening your legs, and letting him use you.

His movements turned desperate, messy thrusts and low grunts as he stared into your eyes and chased his pleasure. He was breathing into your open mouth, drunk on lust, pupils blown.

"Let go. It's okay, let go," you said, one hand caressing his face.

Carmy let out a sharp groan and closed his eyes, holding you tighter as he came down from his high.

"Fuck," he exhaled on the side of your face, spent. You liked that he sounded soft and needy.

"Not so angry now," you teased, fingers carding through his hair.

He laughed and kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck... His fingers unbuttoned your trousers with ease, and his right hand went inside your underwear unceremoniously.

You hissed at the cold.

"Kind of glad you didn't get me naked, actually," you admitted with a smile.

"Seems like we both enjoyed it just fine," Carmy goaded when his index traced your folds and found you soaking wet.

You couldn't come up with another biting remark, not with his finger inside you and his lips crushing yours. His thumb caressed your clit, doing lazy circles while his index curled inside you.

"Fuck!"

"Good?" he asked.

"More," you pleaded, becoming needy and monosyllabic, arching your back when his middle finger went inside you too.

Carmy swallowed your moans, humming encouragingly as you rode his hand.

"That's it, that's it," he whispered when your pussy started squeezing his fingers.

"Fuck, like that," you whined, rolling your eyes, fluttering around his knuckles, squeezing his shoulders, feeling a wave of pleasure leave you breathless.

You held him tight as you felt the aftershocks, a little confused that he hadn't removed his hand yet but enjoying the feeling of fullness.

His thumb pressed on your clit again, sensitive after your release but still electrified. You let out a low moan.

"I can stop," Carmy offered just as his fingers arched inside you again, making you roll your eyes and shake in his embrace.

"Don't stop," you begged.

It was quicker this time. He had you figured out and ready, pliant under his touch, one leg hoisted over his hip as you unraveled for him.

"Yes, like that," he mumbled as your hips started moving with a will of their own, your pussy tight around his fingers, everything turning white and hot for a moment. He kissed you through it - messy and open mouthed, enjoying your undoing almost as much as you did.

There was a couple of minutes of beautiful silence between you, just your heavy breathing interrupting it.

He kissed the side of your face as he took his hand out of your underwear, wet to the palm. He cleaned it thoroughly with one of the dish towels he kept at the sides of his apron. You blushed at the sight.

"I can wash that for you," you offered.

"No, need," he said, tucking it inside his pocket. His blue eyes took you in completely. "Thank you, Chef."

You nodded, biting your lip.

The fridge guy arrived shortly after that. You two spent the small hours of the morning sat on the floor, not talking, not arguing. Carmy's hand shielded your face from the bright sparks of metal cutting metal.

Things would go back to normal. He would be insufferable in the morning, no doubt, screaming and demanding, losing his mind over torn out tape. But you could enjoy this, having him soft and tired, his arm around your shoulders, knowing well what his fingers felt like three knuckles deep inside you. 

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi, can you please write a Yan!Daenerys prompt 27?

[27]; "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

❝tw: mention of death, mildly angst (?) and obsessive behavior.

The smell of ash and blood filled King's Landing almost like a plague. The screams of those burned by Drogon, once so excruciating, became just uncomfortable memories in Daenerys' mind.

For that was all they would eventually become. It wasn't right but Daenerys didn't care. She no longer cared about becoming what she became. As long as she had you in her life, the entire world could be consumed by dragon fire.

You were all that mattered to her.

Daenerys watched the devastation around her, her eyes fixed on the smoldering ruins of the city that once represented the heart of the Realm. Her expression was a mix of cold determination and a rare tenderness reserved only for you.

She did it for you. All for you.

"I did this for us. For you." Daenerys whispered in awe, more to herself than anyone else. Your presence beside her was an anchor amidst the chaos, a shining light in the darkness she had created.

You looked at her as if you no longer recognized her and, in a way, that was true. This was no longer the Daenerys you knew and once loved. This was a shell of what she once was.

A woman dominated by grief and the fear of losing someone else she loved. And only the gods knew what Daenerys would do to the world if something happened to you.

"Some things need to be destroyed so that others can flourish." She continued, turning to look at you. "They would never understand. They would never accept the world I want to build."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze. There was a deep pain there, a loneliness that only you seemed able to alleviate. Even with all the power and destruction she commanded, Daenerys was, deep down, a woman looking for love and acceptance. And she wanted that from you, just you.

Her gaze, although filled with burning passion, had a coldness that hadn't existed before. The glow in her eyes was now more intense, but also emptier, as if an essential part of her humanity had been consumed by the fire of her own despair.

And it hurt. The sight of a person you loved, maybe still love, being destroyed like this was too much to bear.

"You didn't have to do that." You tried to say, trying to reach the real Daenerys that remained somewhere inside her. "You didn't need to destroy King's Landing, you didn't need to burn all those people and destroy their home. There was another way, there always is."

But your words seemed to be lost in the freezing winter wind, swallowed by the distant sound of echoes from a city in ruins. She lifted her head and the strength in her voice left no room for doubt. "I can't go back anymore." She declared. "What's done is done. And now, you're all I have."

There was a palpable fear in her words, a fear of what might happen if you walked away, a fear that made her cry out for your presence, not just as a partner, but as her anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Not that she would let you get away, but she wouldn't want to hold you prisoner.

Daenerys looked at you with an intensity that mixed love and despair, her voice a painful whisper filled with truth. "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

Her words seemed to hang heavy in the air like a sentence of condemnation and devotion at the same time. She was not just revealing herself, but giving herself completely, displaying her scars and shadows as if they were a sign of absolute love.

What was left of Daenerys, the woman you loved and feared, was desperate to hold on to what she still could hold, even if it meant sacrificing the world around her. And when you looked into her violet eyes, you knew there was no going back.

She was your monster. Your queen. And she loved you so hard that she would be willing to burn the world to the ground, even if that wasn't your desire. It didn't matter in the end, though. Daenerys would always hold on to you.

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being a variant and being on Miles’ side [GN]

[Platonic Headcanons]

c/w: major spoilers, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon inaccuracies? I’m not really sure I’d just gone off what I had perceived from the movie

—

[Unedited]

• Miguel and Jessica had been keeping a keen eye on the teenager spider variant (you) from Earth-2315126 since you’d been bitten at five years old

• Strange thing was your father; Peter Parker was also bit, which meant your dimension had two spider variants as opposed to one— not unheard of but not common either

• It was fortunate for you however because you had someone to teach you, show you the ropes, the fact that it was your father who had become your mentor was only the icing on the cake

• And you were brought up into a spectacular spider variant in his care; strong, compassionate, kind

• Though despite having a father the pair kept a watchful eye on you regardless, seeing promise in your future and believing in your potential

• When you were fourteen your father was killed by Lizard, and for an entire year following you gave up on your heroic persona— hanging up your suit in the wake of your father’s death that rocked your entire world

• Being Spider-Man/Woman is about sacrifice, your father taught that to you when you began and you should’ve expected that you could not have it all

• A loving and doting father and the most badass secondary identity ever, it was always bound to happen and you should’ve prepared yourself for it

• But nobody could prepare themself for the loss of a loved one, and the ache in your chest and the burn in your stomach was something you’d never felt before— nor do you ever wish to feel it again

• So you gave up on the suit and you gave up on being the hero, eventually your Aunt May had stepped in and she scolded you pretty heavily about your state

• You didn’t think she had room to talk and she laid into you pretty hard for that comment because she most certainly did, Peter was her brother after all

• After you got it pretty good you decided that she was right, sulking about and ruining yourself wouldn’t change a damn thing, not only that but you knew your father would hate to see you like that

• You knew he wouldn’t ever force the suit upon you and you accepted that you had the choice to avoid dawning it ever again, but you also knew what he would do in your position

• He would bear the responsibility of his beloved city no matter the circumstances and no matter the heartache, because Spider-Man always gets back up

• So you stood firm upon all the valiant determination you could muster and picked your life back up again

• You got better emotionally and grew stable once more, and in the acceptance of your father’s death you had grown stronger, confident, courageous

• With you back on the streets of NYC the people of Brooklyn often voiced just how much they had missed and needed you

• And you didn’t plan on letting them down again, so despite the lack of a piece of your heart you always showed up when people needed you and you’ve not yet let them down

• Now, back to Jess and Miguel— they had known Peter would die and they had known they could not interfere as this was your canon event, the moment that would make or break you.. turns out it did both

• And they watched as you suffered through the loss, gave up on everything and everyone (including yourself) for a little over a year, worked through your pain and powered forward to overcome your grief, then became one of the strongest variants they had ever seen just before your seventeenth birthday

• Yes, they’ve been watching you for twelve years and yes, you have no idea

• It was on your seventeenth birthday that you had encountered Lizard once again, and this time he had taken enhancement drugs to increase his growth rate to tremendously rapid levels

• To say you were a bit stunned to see Lizard the size of a fucking dinosaur would be the understatement of the entire damn year

• Now, you held malicious and vengeful feelings towards Lizard for a long time in the wake of your father’s murder but it was feelings you had never ever acted upon, not even after you decided to pick up the suit once more

• As mentioned before you knew very well that the angry and hateful feeling brewing inside you at the expense of Lizard killing him could ruin you if you let it

• And that’s not where your morals lie, your beliefs and virtues are straight from those of your fathers— to be strong and courageous, righteous and pure for being Spider-Man/Woman is about hope

• So you did intend to take him down but you’d never do it with sinister intent or threatening tactics— just bring him down is all you wanted to do

• And if you were to speak honestly, it wasn’t as hard as you thought it was gonna be, obviously it was still pretty tough because hello? He’s the size of a fucking house, might as well be fighting a damn dragon

• It was easier because you’d felt at peace with yourself, and when at peace with yourself you worked harder and cleaner, jobs and protecting the city was just.. easier

• The fact the fight was easier than you expected could’ve also been because of your bite, the abilities you had gotten from it were a bit different than your father’s

• See, you’d been bit by a radioactive spider yes but it was a specific species and in accordance with that species you’d gained significantly different skills and traits

• The spider that had bit you was a Northern Wolf Spider, the arachnid gaining that name from it’s behavior of chasing, hunting and stalking prey, and in an odd turn of events you’d gained qualities that were more akin to that of a North American Timber Wolf

• Heightened senses came with the bite for every variant, and your specific qualities included; advanced stamina and strength, increased sense of sight, tremendously keen sense of smell and auditory processing, you had thick and durable fangs meant for tearing and searing

• You also bulked up a whole more more since your father passed, and in gaining more weight in pure muscle you’ve had to make your webs more durable, which helped out a lot with your fight against Lizard

• Speaking of—

“They’ve probably got it handled Miguel, is there any reason to actually go to their dimension?”

“I protect the multiverse which makes anomalies my responsibility, regardless of if that variant can handle them or not. And I’m going to have them join us.”

Jessica didn’t say much after, and she followed Miguel dutifully as he walked into the glowing orange portal. The pair flew through the multiverse for all of two seconds before a portal opened ahead of them and they were dropped onto a roof in your dimension.

“Went a bit too heavy on the ‘roids didn’t ya Doc?” The voice of a young teenager caught their ears. Just off to the side and a couple blocks away. Now facing that way they could see the large head of Lizard standing tall over the lip of the building on the distance.

“Is.. is that?—”

“Dr. Curt Connors.”

You leapt off the metal grail of the fire escape just as Lizard destroyed it with a whip of his massive tail. Using the momentum from your jump you swung a reverse axe kick to Lizard’s chin— putting enough force into it to throw his head back as you flip-jumped from him and landed on the road down below.

“I’m going to rip you apart and feast on your innards!” Lizard snarled as he recovered and glowered down at you with a sinister bear of his teeth.

“Season them well first at least, I’d suggest a nice barbecue rub!” You responded before shooting a web to the corner of the building on your left and swinging yourself into the air. Lizard roared angrily before lunging forward and attempting to catch you between his teeth. They snapped close with a chilling clamp and throaty growl from the beast.

Reaching the corner of the building you had shot your web at you leapt up and backwards flying over Lizard’s head and connecting a web to the side of his muzzle.

“Almost got me there!” You yelled as you swung around and around Lizard’s large scaled snout. “Don’t you know that animals that bite are often fitted with muzzles!” You quipped, enunciating the last word with a firm tug thus tightening the webs you’d been wrapping around his jaws and effectively sealing his mouth shut.

You kept the momentum and attached another web to the end of the one you’d been swinging around his muzzle. Then, you angled your hip to swing towards Lizard’s legs and using the same tactic looped around them several times before you were doing the same thing for his arms. When you deemed him wrapped up enough you landed behind him then tugged hard on the web end in your hand and forced Lizard to the ground by pulling his feet out from underneath him.

Once you were sure he was on the asphalt you were swift to web him up tightly and bind him to the ground. Hopefully, Captain Stacey got your message about the antidote and would arrive soon with it.

Meanwhile, as you waited you playfully walked along the edge of the building. The lip acting as your balance beam as you walked on your toes along it, doing a flip every so often just cause. You’d long since forgone your mask in favor of eating the sandwich gifted to you by the bodega owner on the corner.

Your spider senses tingled before—

“That was pretty impressive.”

You only flinched slightly at the abrupt interruption of your own little world, and turned to see two people. One, a very tall and broad man with wide shoulders and a muscular physique. The other, a woman with dark skin and a styled afro.. and she was pregnant.

“Uhm… thanks?”

“Was that a question?”

“Sorry it’s just—” you shook your head before jumping down and only now standing on the same level as him did you realize how tall the man actually was. “Who exactly are you two?”

“I’d think the suits gave you plenty context.” The woman replied, a smirk tugging up one end of her lips.

“Okay.. and why are you here?” You answered, still on edge about the two variants standing in front of you.

“My name is Miguel O’hara, and I lead an elite strike force dedicated to helping maintain the multiverse.” The man responded and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here?”

“There was an anomaly reading in your dimension and we’re here to retrieve whatever villain has jumped into your universe.” The woman explained, jumping in to answer before Miguel could.

“You mean Kingpin?” You replied pointing to the billboard behind them and they both spun around to find the suit wearing antagonist webbed to it. Thick, white webs covering his entire body save for his neck and head, finally a web over his mouth. And they all watched as he glitched and morphed in colorful and mixed patterns, the board he was attached to glitching out too before changing entirely.

“How did you?—”

“My AP Physics teacher won’t shut up about the multiverse and also he doesn’t look my Kingpin at all so.. I mean you know,” they shrugged.

Miguel turned his head slightly to look at the woman beside him before he jerked his head minutely then he was facing the teenager in front of him once more. You met his masked stare head on (something he was impressed by, not many people can meet his intimidating glare straight on) as the woman walked away from you two before slinging a web up to the billboard and pulling herself up to it.

“You know the whole sinister and dark ‘nobody touch me I’m emo’ vibe you got going on isn’t very heroic.”

Miguel didn’t say anything, didn’t move an inch as he just stared at you. “See that right there isn’t becoming of someone who’s supposed to make people feel safe.”

“I protect the multiverse.”

“Right. But there are ordinary people in the multiverse, in every dimension you’ll find people.”

“The multiverse is my priority.”

“Yikes, saying things like that are not very becoming of a Spider-Man either.”

Miguel turned his observant stare cold as he chose to glare at you instead for the disrespectful responses and jokes. And he figured you must’ve felt he’d changed to glaring heatedly because you awkwardly looked away with a hand rubbing the back of your neck.

Finally, the woman returned with the Kingpin variant at her feet. This one significantly smaller than yours and lankier too, he must rely heavily on his Tombstone and Prowler. You’d rather have this Kingpin as opposed to your Kingpin— who for some reason is built like a fucking overgrown Silverback Gorilla.

She fiddled with the watch on her wrist before a golden portal erupted into life beside her, and you watched as she threw the Kingpin variant in before stepping in herself. But not before saluting you a goodbye with a playful glint in her eye and cheeky smirk on her face.

The portal closed and then your attention was back on Miguel, and your spider senses tingling brought a hand up to catch the watch he threw at you.

“Join us?”

You looked from him to the device in your hand, then you looked behind you at the Lizard on the ground down below. Captain Stacey at his neck and injecting him with a vial of clear liquid. You turned back to Miguel with a smirk and eager look as you slid the watch onto your wrist. “Sounds like a damn good time.”

• You didn’t know if you actually wanted to be there at Miguel’s Spider Society or whatever he’s calling it but you were also a bit intrigued by it

• So you followed them when he offered you that watch, and you grinned as he gave walked you around the building, giving you a small tour of his headquarters

• When you met Peter B. Parker you had an emotional breakdown and refused to return to the society for days following your first interaction with the man

• When you finally went back he was concerned that he’d done something wrong to garner such a reaction but you were quick to jump in and let him know it was in no way his fault before you explained why you had reacted as you did

• He was more than understanding, offering to keep his distance if that was what you wanted and whilst you appreciated the gesture you told him you would be fine

• And spending time in his company had begun to fill that gaping hole in your heart, obviously he’d never replace your father and you didn’t expect that of him either but his fatherly presence made you feel better than you had in years since your father’s passing

• Mayday was just an added bonus to his presence

• Time passed and you were there for a couple months before you met Gwen Stacey, and the two of you clicked almost instantly, it was a bit odd for you since the Gwen from your universe was about three years old and hadn’t been bitten but you got used to it

• And in that time you’d also learned the pregnant woman’s name was Jessica and that she was Miguel’s right hand in his society that he created

• You’d also met Hobie Brown and Pavitr Prabhakar whom you’d come to adore more than you’d ever outwardly admit lest you wish to give them egos the size of fucking Mars (but those two alongside Gwen were definitely your favorites) (behind Miguel ofc)

• Speaking of, you’d also grown quite close to Miguel in your time as part of his society of spider people, which was a huge surprise to yourself, him, Jessica and pretty much everyone involved

• He couldn’t really explain what it was, just something about your energy and the way you carried yourself that had him intrigued and impressed

• Your attitude that alluded to you never giving up was something he admired about you too, and it was those qualities that drew him in, made him want to protect you

• The bonding with you was something he didn’t expect to happen but was shocked when he wasn’t against it, and he ignored the initial reluctance and fear that he felt when you two began to get closer and closer

• Maybe it was the little things, the way you’d check up on him after a particularly harrowing or difficult mission, or the way you’d do anything to see if you could get him to crack a smile, there was something about your mere presence too, something warm and comforting

• Something he hadn’t felt since his young daughter was still a part of his life, and he was afraid of the consequences that would follow if he ever got close to you and lost you

• The same heartache he felt for his daughter would return, and it was pain that he didn’t want to feel ever again, that’s why he kept himself so guarded, those broken and vulnerable pieces protected behind vaulted steel doors

• But you had somehow managed to slip through his barbed defenses and made yourself right at home in his heart, and again he was initially afraid of the possibility that he’d lose you too and he’d face that pain all over again

• He doesn’t remember when or how he got over it, but he does remember the feeling that washed over him when he finally accepted your friendship

• It felt akin to a bucket of cold water being dumped over that fiery and searing ache in his chest, relief and comfort that he felt weigh so heavily on his chest he almost cried

• After that your guys’ relationship developed to much deepen levels, and he’d never admit to your face but you had quickly become his favorite and he would do anything to protect you, protect your bond like his life depended on it

• And just like Peter, his mere presence seemed to make you finally feel whole again… complete

• And as time continued to pass you’d only grow closer with the two men, finding safety and comfort in their arms, safety and comfort you’d been craving since you were fourteen years old

• Then, Miles Morales came along and everything went to shit

• Despite being on his team for months Miguel failed to mention that there was a spider variant that was an anomaly

• And in failing to mention that you had to figure it out on your own when Miles’ scent hit your nose and he smelled drastically different from the other spider people

• He smelt odd, unnatural and unusual… strange

• It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was an anomaly but you still figured it out by the way his scent, and you thanked the stars for that particular gift you got from the species of spider that had bitten you

• After Miles, Hobie and Gwen returned from the rescue they accomplished in Pavitr’s dimension at the expense of Spot is when things went from bad to ultimately worse

• Miguel had hoped somewhere small in his chest that you would side with him but he knew in a significantly larger part of him that your morals would not allow you to stand for him preventing Miles from saving his father

• Miguel knew that if you had known your father would’ve been killed that horrible night those years ago that you would’ve interfered without hesitation

• So he was not confident that you’d agree with him and well over half of the rest of the spider variants that this is something that must occur

• And he feared the confrontation with you, he feared the hate he’d no doubt see in your eyes when you find out this is where he stood on his opinion about the situation

• He wasn’t wrong either, because when Miles had returned and they all had cornered him after Miles discovered that Spot would be the cause, you didn’t take it all that well—

You were conflicted, you cared about Miguel but you’re morals and beliefs were very important to you— defined who you were. They were instilled into you by your father and you truly believed that by following through with them to the end you were keeping his legacy alive.

And they were loud in your ears right now, deafening in their prominent voice as you watched Miles get more and more tightly wound.

The thing was.. you agreed with him. And your father would’ve agreed with him too. There is no way Miguel knows for absolute certainty that Miles’ universe would collapse if he saved his father. And there’s no way any of the other spider variants could possibly know either.

There were facts and evidence on Miguel’s side but again— your values were speaking much louder than him. Because your father would’ve been disgusted by the behavior these spider variants were displaying, and he would’ve straight up hated Miguel. That you were absolutely sure of.

“This is wrong Miguel,” you spoke up and the spider variant you were speaking of turned to look at you. “You’re just going to let someone die when you know you could change the outcome? How could you possibly think that’s okay?”

“[Y/Name]—”

“Spider-Man isn’t about the acceptance of loss and grief yet to come, Spider-Man is about hope, hope and promise of a greater tomorrow. Hope that there will always be someone there to help… someone there to protect those who can’t do so themselves.”

“The security of the multiverse is important!” Miguel argued, his tone aggressive and his expression frustrated as he ignored the ache on his chest. The ache that had erupted into existence at the expense of his theory proving correct— you would be against him.

“No! What’s important is not standing by and allowing someone to suffer or die! If that’s truly what you believe, then you don’t know the first damn thing about being Spider-Man!”

“[Y/Name]…” Peter B. trailed as he got your attention, walking closer to you and putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We cannot interfere.”

You smacked his hand off your shoulder and stepped back and away from him several times to be standing beside Miles instead. “You too? Peter this is wrong, so unbelievably fucking wrong!”

“[Y/Name], I can’t let you get in the way. I’m sorry.” Miguel apologized before he was throwing something at yours and Miles’ feet. The device activated and put up a scarlet force field, Miles panicked and beat against the walls. As the variants outside the force field argued you looked to Miguel and Miguel only. And he looked right back. You just stared at him, eyes hard and brows taut and pulled together as he stared right back.

You ignored Miles as he continued to search for a way out, Miguel finally pulled his eyes off yours as Peter B. advanced on him. “Miguel! This is taking it too far!”

“He’ll only do more damage, we all know that!”

As they continued to argue outside the shield you turned your back on Miguel and flexing your fingers extended your thick and powerful claws. You could tear this force field apart if you truly tried, that’s what you were going to do. But before you could even put your hands up your senses tingled and you instinctively put your arms around your head to protect yourself as the shield was destroyed by a powerful electrical surge.

When Miles destroyed the force field he hesitated for but a single moment before he turned, grabbed your wrist and took off.

“[Y/NAME]!”

You distantly heard behind you before you were freeing yourself from Miles to run beside him instead, and you two sprinted through Miguel’s headquarters with you leading him seeing as you’ve already been there for close to a little more than six months.

Getting out wasn’t hard, at least not for you. The variants certainly tried but they weren’t any match for you. A well seasoned and thoroughly trained hero with twelve years of polishing your expertise and craft to a fine point.

Miles had a little trouble keeping up but you didn’t get too far ahead of him in which he couldn’t follow, you two only got separated once. And whilst you weren’t entirely sure where he’d gone off to, you had the absolute pleasure of facing off against Miguel (note the sarcasm).

Your senses tingled as you discreetly swung through the underbelly of Miguel’s HQ, and you pulled yourself up just in time to avoid Miguel’s web. And the two of you fought and danced around each other throughout headquarters. Miguel trying to capture you and yourself avoiding that outcome at all costs by expertly evading him. When you had finally reached outside you met up again with Miles on the train overhead cover that was speeding upon a vertical track at astronomical velocity.

It was hard to hang on, even more so with Miguel on your ass but you made due. Better you than Miles and you’d gladly fend off Miguel for him if it meant he could find his way home to save his dad in time. Maybe it was a selfish part of you that wished something for him that you wanted to have, or maybe you truly just wished only the best for the younger variant.

Either way, Miguel was kicking your ass instead of his and you could live with that.

The 2099 Spider-Man choke slammed you onto the cold, hard metal of the futuristic locomotive and pinned you there by a hand around your neck.

“Can’t you see?! He’s the original anomaly! He’s not meant to be here! He is not Spider-Man!” The man snarled in your face. The anger he was feeling making his fangs appear and he sneered down at you, bearing them ferociously.

“He’s more Spider-Man than you’ll ever be!” You retaliated, attempting any sharp words pointed enough to cut him deep and painful. And you watched as his face turned and grew solemn for only one second before he was darkening his expression and snarling at you again.

“I hate to do this to you, but I can’t lose you over this!” He yelled over the roaring grind of the moving train. And your heart fell to your toes when he beared his fangs again— this time with a wide open mouth. A second later he was lunging forward intent to inject your body with venom.

You thanked whatever god above was listening for your much quicker reflexes as you caught him by the lower jaw and redirected his lunge to the air beside you instead.

Then you were bringing your legs up and forcing him away from you, not wasting a second you shot a web to the top car of the locomotive. You pulled yourself all the way up to where Miles had perched himself, and just before you could get a word out Miguel erupted out of nowhere and tackled Miles down.

You moved to help but got a web wrapped around your wrist instead, whoever shot it pulled you off your feet and then you found yourself under Peter B. Parker and Mayday instead.

“[Y/Name], enough!”

“No!”

“You can’t change destiny!” He argued, just as Miguel had done before, pinning you to the ground— though Peter’s was less of an attempt to capture you and just in a way to get you to listen to him.

“We control our own destiny Peter.”

“This’ll put the multiverse in danger! If you’d known your father would’ve been killed that night would you have saved him even if it meant there was an off-chance of your dimension being destroyed?!” Peter was just trying to reason with you now, and you stared directly into his warm brown eyes as you answered him.

“Without question.”

Peter drew back a bit at your response, then you watched behind him as Miguel flew overhead. That was your cue, so you grabbed Peter’s shoulders and utilized the enhanced strength of your specialty skills to push him off you.

Not enough to hurt him or Mayday but enough to give you space to escape, which you did. Once given enough breathing room to leap you leapt, jumping from the locomotive to fly through the air instead. Miles followed you, and Miguel was right behind.

You didn’t get much of that end of the chase, swinging directly to the headquarters and sneaking in past Kess and standing on the platform the machine usually used to send variants back to their proper dimensions.

It was minutes later when the machine suddenly came to life and you watched as the numerous screens turned on, looking a little closer you saw that it was Miles and that he was using his invisibility power to get the machine up and going.

Seconds later you felt his presence land beside you, and as the mechanical spider above lowered down and began creating the web to send Miles home and consequently you to his universe— Miguel erupted through the glass doors like a bat out of Hell.

And you stood back and watched as he sprinted to the platform’s edge, leapt over the gap and began furiously clawing at the web’s exterior.

Just as he was pulling it apart, the sequence completed and you and Miles were lifted into the air as the portal was created before the machine was throwing the two of you through the multiverse and into Miles’ universe.

• After the exhausting and frustrating chase, and even more annoying escape you and Miles had made.. you decided to follow him to his dimension, if only just to see that he’d be okay

• But he took off the second he was back in his own universe (or so you thought) and you were quick to follow, calling out his name in an attempt to get him to slow down but he did not listen

• So you just followed as he swiftly made his way to his apartment, only upon arrival you decided it might be best if you stayed outside which is exactly what you did, and you listened as he told his mom the truth and she responded with a question of her own not knowing who he was referring to

• When your spider senses started tingling uncontrollably is when you though something might be wrong so you webbed yourself to the roof of the building directly across Miles’ apartment and just observed from there

• As you watched him interact with a man that you assumed was his uncle your senses tingled again only it was too late to react when a muscled arm wrapped around your waist and a gloved hand covered your mouth, and then you were pulled backwards and through the portal into another dimension

• Upon arrival at the new universe you were pinned to the ground on your stomach by a heavy weight much larger and much stronger atop you, holding your arms in the small of your back and forcing you tighter against the ground

• You knew it was Miguel and you knew that unlike back at headquarters this pinch would be tighter to get yourself out of— so you didn’t intend to fight against him, you’d already done more than enough for Miles and on the off chance he still needed you then and only then would you fight for him again

• Until then, you’d accepted the fact you’d been captured, so you slumped to the rain soaked concrete of the building’s roof, and as you lay there you could only hope Miles had reached his father on time

—

a/n: Feel like it got kinda lame at the end but I hope you enjoyed the first post of the blog regardless! I’m super excited to get this blog started! Spiderverse is my hyper-fixation right now so that’s what I’ll be focusing on for a moment! Again, hope you enjoyed! Ciao!

[callsign-rogueone]

rest

Brennan Sorrengail x chronically ill reader words: 2.5k 🏷: gender neutral reader, use of nicknames sweetheart and honey, implied past FWB-type relationship between reader and Bren. descriptions of pain and sickness (congrats, u now have my symptoms), downward-spiral of self-deprecating thoughts, reader shaming themself for being weak / ill, one (1) suggestion that reader wants to die but they don’t mean it, confessions of love, cuddles.  this may be the most self-serving thing I’ve ever written. I wrote it to process my grief and anger about my current situation, but I figured I’d post it for the Brennan girlies and anyone who feels like I do right now and could use a handsome mender boyfriend to make it all better.

The gentle movement of the mattress and the smell of smoke and soap and leather wakes you from your nap — Brennan is back. You roll over to face him, every muscle in your body protesting the movement. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers, brushing the hair from your forehead with gentle fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“Same old,” you murmur. 

He lays a hand on your forearm, and the pain dulls. You know better now than to let him block it off completely — he’d done that once before, but when he let go, it was unbearable. 

Better to sit with it, not get used to any relief — it’ll only hurt you further when it all comes back, knock the breath right from your lungs and leave you in a heap on the floor, a mess of knots for him to untangle.

He’s done enough for you already. He does enough for everyone. Never anything for himself. Or if he does, you never see it.

“Was worried about you,” he says softly, still stroking your hair.

The idea of him worrying about you makes you feel sicker than you already are, but a different kind of sick. Guilty, maybe. Disgusted — not with him, but with yourself, for being so fucking weak and needy and such a crybaby. You’re a dragon rider, for gods’ sakes. 

Or you used to be. You haven’t acted like one in months, and haven’t felt like one for longer than that. 

You’d accepted that you’d never fly again, or told yourself that you accepted it, three months ago.

“I can keep fixing the damage, but I don’t know if I can fix what’s causing it,” Brennan had told you in a whisper late one night in this same room, holding you as if he was afraid to let go, that you’d crack and splinter even further if he wasn’t pressing the pieces of you together. 

You used to be able to hold yourself together. You used to be able to do a lot of things. To spar with him, to run with your squad and mount a dragon, swim in the ice-cold streams of Tyrrendor with your friends on days off, to spend hours tangled up in bed with him after lights-out, exerting yourselves in other ways.

But then something came and ruined it all.  You still don’t know what it was — is. It didn’t come quickly — not one big wave that drowned you, not an assailant that shattered bone and sliced through tissue, but a gradual decline that you didn’t notice until it was too late. 

No, you definitely noticed. You just didn’t want to believe it. You made up excuses for everything— reassurances, placating remarks, designed to convince yourself and those around you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you.

You couldn’t sleep through the night, but that was because of the awful things you’d seen that day. But then they started happening even if you hadn’t left the barracks, even if you hadn’t witnessed any horrible sights in weeks.

You couldn’t hold on to your daggers tightly enough, struggled to grip a pen, but that was because you’d injured your hand — but that was only one hand, and months ago. Brennan had mended it for you within minutes of the injury.

Your entire body was aching, all the time, but that was normal with how much riders were required to exert themselves. You just can’t move like you did when you were younger. You aren’t a kid anymore.

But no amount of rest days, no ice or heat or elevation seemed to be enough to recover. That’s the worst of it, really. Being stuck in bed, not by doctor’s orders, not because you physically can’t get up, but because you can’t do anything outside of this room.

Not without pain, anyway, and not without pitying looks and whispered questions about what happened to you — the very same Captain that had rescued an entire squad from certain doom just last year, the most powerful air-wielder in two generations — and concerned words from your colleagues, who miss you, and tell them if you need anything, okay? They’re here for you.

But are they really your colleagues anymore? Is Deòir really your dragon anymore? He hardly speaks to you these days. He’s just too kind to admit that he’s just waiting for you to die, so he can move on, and find a new rider.

Maybe kind isn’t the right word, but you can’t think of a better one right now. It’s hard to think of anything other than how tired and uncomfortable you are.

You used to be top of the class, and now you’re struggling to form complete sentences.

“Talk to me,” Brennan coaxes, still gazing down at you, softness in his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you whisper. 

“What?”

“I know we were… involved for a while,” you say carefully, “but you don’t need to do this for me anymore. You can’t keep worrying about me. It takes up too much time that you just don’t have. You’re running a revolution; you have more important shit to do than to play nurse.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks softly. “What happened while I was away?”

“Nothing happened, Brennan. Nothing ever happens in my life anymore, because I spend my entire day, every day, laying here, wishing I was dead.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, but it’s too late. The words are out in the air, and he’s heard them. “I didn’t mean…” you whisper, “I don’t want to die, I just…”

Tears fill your already-blurred vision, but you can see him in front of you, the mass of his chest and shoulders, the slow movement of his arms reaching out to wrap around you and hold you close, to guide you up into his lap.

“I’m just so tired,” you sob, too-long fingernails digging into the black leather of his jacket, your hands too weak to hold on to him properly. “I’m so tired of being tired, and in pain, and feeling useless.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes. “I’ll keep looking. We can look together. We’ll figure out what this is, and how to fix it.”

“We’ve read every book in the library,” you sniff. “We’ve talked to every healer we know.”

“There are other libraries, and other healers,” he replies, as if it’s that simple, that easy. You suppose to him, it is that easy. To him, everything is easy. He’s not the one wasting away here, you are.

Wasting away. Crumbling. Deteriorating.  

Decaying.

“Why aren’t you giving up?” you ask quietly. “I’ve given up. Deò has, too. He hasn’t spoken to me in days.”

You know the answer, and it makes you feel sick, but you need to hear it.

Maybe that’s selfish of you, to make him declare it out loud to you, to your face, when you very well might not be alive this time next year to celebrate an anniversary — not that you’d be able to do much celebrating if you were. But that little part of you, the only part that’s left of the old you, from the reality where this could work, needs it — needs him. 

“Deò hasn’t given up on you. He went with us, as backup — that’s why he wasn’t responding. And I haven’t given up, either. I’ll never give up, because I love you,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you for years, and I’ll keep loving you as long as I live, and well into whatever afterlife I earn, if such a thing exists.”

You loose another sob, your nails scraping the leather as you cling to him tighter, your anchor in this storm, your lifeline, hiding your face in his neck and letting three months worth of tears continue to fall. 

“I’m not going to let go,” he soothes, laying a hand over yours, that’s still feebly clutching at the sleeve of his jacket. “Not until you ask me to.”

You release your grip, the ache lessening as you do, but your knuckles still throb with every beat of your heart; another reminder that even just existing is painful, that your body can’t even move blood around without complaint.

“There you go. Just breathe with me, honey. Nice and slow.”

You don’t know how long you spend there, trying to steady your breathing. Time has seemed to run together lately, somehow both fast and slow — that happens when you lose your routine, and spend half of a normal person’s waking hours asleep, and normal sleeping hours lying awake, enveloped in pain. He continues to murmur praises to you all the while; sweet, reassuring words that you don’t really process. 

“Do you want to lay down?” he asks after a while, his voice soft and gentle. 

He’s always so gentle with you. Endlessly patient, and endlessly caring.

You nod, thoroughly exhausted— the crying had zapped any energy you’d had left. You feel like a little kid again, soft and confused and small. 

Fragile. 

You’re still in your pajamas, anyway, still in bed. You’d only gotten out of it once today, to use the bathroom, but you’d forced yourself to brush your teeth while you were in there, leaning on the counter for stability all the while. That’s your idea of success and productivity these days.

“Okay. Let me take my boots off, hm?” — You nod, pulling back to let him get up. — “Alright. Can I get you anything? Water?”

You shake your head. “Just you,” you whisper. 

“I can do that.” Jacket, boots, and pants off, he settles in with you, letting you cozy up to him in a position that feels the most comfortable— or the least uncomfortable, really. He starts stroking your hair again in soft, slow motions, the weight and warmth of his scarred palm soothing your headache.

It occurs to you that you’d never responded to his declaration — the one you’d needed so badly that you’d nearly asked for it outright — you’d just clung to him and cried, and he’d held you, even though you hadn’t said it back. He’d stroked your hair and calmed you down from your grief over the life you no longer have and can never return to.

He’s still holding you, still dulling the pain in your body and in your soul.

“I love you, Bren,” you murmur. “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve known for a long time.”

“Really?”

He hums softly. “Oh, yeah. Years and years. Since you nearly broke my jaw in challenges and then insisted on personally escorting me to the infirmary.”

You laugh at the memory. “I felt so guilty about that. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I was pulling my punches.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “It certainly didn’t feel like it.”

There’s a soft pause before he speaks again, hesitant, like he doesn’t want to bring it up again now that your tears have dried, but he knows you haven’t forgotten the pain. You’ll never forget this pain for the rest of your life, even if it goes away.

“When I was in Poromiel, I talked to a healer there who‘s seen something like this before. She wrote down as much as she could before I left, and she promised to ask around and send more information through the boys when they do their next drop-off.”

You cuddle into him closer, ignoring the ache in your back as you do. “Thank you, Bren. I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I guess… I’m just still not used to being taken care of. I know it’s dumb, but it makes me feel worse sometimes, even though it’s helping.”

“That’s how I felt,” he says quietly. You both know what he’s talking about— his recovery from being shot in the battle of Aretia, from dying and being brought back to life. “It was always me taking care of the girls when we were young. I was never the one who needed taking care of. It felt wrong, and I felt guilty, and mad at myself for needing the help. But you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You made an excellent nurse, if a little scary.”

“I was scared myself. Seeing you like that…” You swallow. “That’s when I knew that I loved you — you don’t know what you have ‘til it’s gone, I guess.”

“I am very much not gone,” he scoffs, offended. 

“Fine. Slipping away from you,” you correct. 

“Not doing that either. I’m staying right here.” He lays a kiss on the top of your head. “And we are going to have a nice long nap, and then I’m going to draw you a warm bath and make us some dinner, because I like taking care of you, because I love you, and because you deserve it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Another pause while you work up the courage. “Bren?” you ask softly.

“Yes, my love?”

The sweet name is enough encouragement to say it. “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He holds you in place with a gentle hand on your back, leaning his head down to meet you. You tilt your chin up, your noses brushing.

“This feels familiar,” he muses. “Very familiar.”

You roll your eyes lazily. “If you’re going to be all smug about it, then you don’t get a kiss.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

You rest a hand on his jaw, guiding him closer. Your fingers twitch and shake, but he holds them steady, his hand pressing yours against the stubbled skin gently — a silent statement that he’s not going anywhere, and he’s ready when you are.

Endlessly patient.

The kiss isn’t desperate and hungry like they had been before your affliction had started, when surges of need and emotion had led you into each other’s beds two nights a week — you aren’t taking from each other now, you’re giving. It’s gentle. Sweet, loving, reassuring.

Each soft movement is a promise, a whispered oath — he’s here, and he isn’t leaving. He’s determined to figure this out and fix it, with you.

You don’t need anything more than that.

He takes your hand, moving it from his jaw to his mouth — kissing your palm. “I love you,” he repeats, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “You’re important to me,” again, to the back of your hand, “and we will get you the help you need. But for now we both just need to rest.”

“Thank you.”

“Always,” he responds, helping you tuck yourself back into his arms, and pulling the blanket up over you both. 

“Goodnight, child,” Deò says softly. “I love you. We will get through this together.”

You’re a little surprised by the declaration — he’s never told you anything like this before — but you return it nonetheless. “Love y’too,” you murmur.

Sleep comes to you easily, and this time, you have a good dream.

[jesterwriting]

reacting to you getting kidnapped and being grievously injured. both recovery and death routes

pairing: trafalgar law x reader, crocodile x reader, doflamingo x reader (separate)

contents: kidnapping, blood, death, grief, general angst, and a little but of toxicity from doffy because let's be real here.

word count: 1.9k words

The stench of iron clouded your senses. Despite the heat, you shook uncontrollably, barely able to curl in on yourself. Numbness spread from your chest outward until the pain you had once been so intimately acquainted with felt like nothing more than a distant memory. You could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears. There were voices above you, but they were far too muffled for you to make out anything aside from sharp, jeering laughter. A kick to your ribs made pain bloom from your abdomen before it tapered off into nothingness. It was supposed to hurt. Why weren’t you hurting anymore?

It had been a long time since you had been so afraid. She was an old friend, one you hadn’t been visited by ever since you met your partner. You were a weak little thing, especially in comparison to them. It had never been more obvious than now, left more of a pile of meat and bone rather than a person on the rickety floor of the old shack you’d been dragged into.

All it took was a distraction. Today was your birthday, and you were so focused on thinking about your special day, that you were taken by surprise. A sob rattled from your chest as your terror faded away, slipping from your grasp, just as your blood spilled from the wound on your belly. As if to catch the fleeing emotion, you clenched your fist tight enough for your fingertips to bury themselves into the meat of your palm. All you felt was a dull pressure.

I think I’m dying.

Whether you wanted to or not didn’t matter anymore. Another weak sob shook your body. Looking down, you acknowledged that you could reach out and touch your insides. All it would take was an exploratory hand and an insatiable curiosity, neither of which you thought you were capable of at the moment. It wasn’t until you looked up did you realize one of your eyes was swollen shut. Or missing, you thought tiredly. It wasn’t like it would matter anymore. There was no surviving this.

Acceptance did not come easy. You wanted to fight, you wanted to scream, beg, cry, anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. As one last act of defiance, you flexed your toes in your boots. Even that minute task felt monumental, like you were at the last stretch of a marathon.

“I don’… Wanna-” You didn’t want to die.

There was someone waiting for you. Someone strong, someone who protected you, who loved you. Someone whose notoriety got you in this position in the first place. If you were a lesser person, you would blame them for what happened to you.

Where were they when you needed them most? You did nothing to deserve this. It wasn’t fair. You inhaled a sharp breath as tears poured down your face, mixing with your blood to create a pinkish puddle on the floor. The fact of the matter was: it wasn’t their fault, and as easy as it was to blame yourself, you knew it wasn’t yours either. Those who were at fault were above you, drinking and laughing over your battered body like they weren’t soon to follow. Your lips twitched upward at the thought. At least you would be avenged. It was a small mercy, but one you indulged greedily.

You didn’t hear the door open, nor did you see who entered, but judging by the horrified faces of your assailants, you could wager a guess. Your body moved as if on autopilot, unbroken arm sliding across the floor towards your lover, smearing gore across the wood as you reached for them. It was a shame that this was it. You only hoped they would move on without you.

If only you got to say goodbye. If only you were able to tell them not to hide from your bones, but build something new with them. As if they could bury your spine in the ground and you would sprout anew, whole and intact again.

As your vision faded to black, you caught your lover's expression. It was…

Trafalgar Law

Fear. It was only there for a second before blue light filled the enclosed space and the men who surrounded you were diced into tiny little pieces. Law would not allow his emotions get the better of him, not when you were in critical condition. Your heart was still beating. That meant he had time, he wasn’t too late. Steady hands — but, oh, how they shook when he was done with you — stitched you back together, piece by agonizing piece. Even when he was done, Law wouldn’t rest. He would spend his days watching you, counting your breaths with the rise and fall of your chest.

Recovery would be slow, made even slower by his insistence to treat you as if you were made of glass. He would be more irritable than usual, especially if you went against his orders as your doctor. If he had to strap you down to keep you from moving and reopening your wounds, so be it. As long as you were alive by the end of it to scold him for it, he didn’t care. Law could not fathom how close he was to losing you, and it will take a while to process. He might come off as wishy-washy, some nights holding you as tight as your injuries would allow, breathing in your scent as if it was the last time he would see you. Other’s, Law would throw himself into his work, so as not to allow himself to think, avoiding you when he wasn’t treating you.

If Law lost you, he would close himself off entirely. Whatever walls you had managed to tear down would return stronger than ever. He wouldn’t allow himself to mourn properly, rather, he would throw himself back into his plans full force. Barely eating, barely sleeping, barely living. The crew can tell he’s not handling your loss well, though whoever attempts to bring it up is subjected to a brutal verbal lashing from their captain. It isn’t until night comes and Law finds himself in a cold, empty bed would he allow himself to cry.

Sir Crocodile

Disbelief. Whatever Crocodile expected, it was not this. While he certainly did not expect you to single handedly beat your attackers into submission, he certainly didn’t expect to find anyone stupid enough to so brutally harm someone that belonged to him. Crocodile did not trust easily. Many said that he did not trust at all. The fact that the one person that he allowed in was inches from death was enough to make his stomach churn. He would waste no time with the fools who attacked you, dispatching them swiftly before he contacted the best doctors at his disposal to treat you. As much as he would love to whisk you away into his arms, Crocodile knew moving you while you were so injured was not a good idea. Instead, he would crouch next to you and keep you awake until the doctors arrived. As if you would break, he would hold your smaller hand in his, gently brushing your blood-smeared hair from your forehead with his hook.

Recovery would be spent in the lap of luxury, showered with not only gifts, but more of your lover’s attention than ever before. That wasn’t to say Crocodile usually neglected you, it was the fact that he was a very busy man. Normally, he would be in meeting after meeting. Now, with you laid upon silk sheets and covered in bandages, Crocodile was by your side twenty-four/seven. He would spend his days relaxed in a plush chair by your side, either reading the newspaper or filling out paperwork. The doctors who treat you would never be alone with you, always under Crocodile’s threatening stare, as if daring them to slip up in some way.

If Crocodile lost you, he would be numb. He would attempt to go back to his life before you. While he knew it wouldn’t be easy, he didn’t realize how your ghost would haunt him. Your pillow still carried the scent of your shampoo, the sweets you kept hidden in his desk would crop up from time to time, and the indent on the cushion of your favorite chair would not fade no matter how many times he flipped the cushion. On busy days, Crocodile found himself looking for you in his office, always ready with a silly quip or observation he would huff at, only to be met with hollow disappointment when he found nobody there. He goes full scorched earth, ridding himself of all your possessions, attempting to cut you from his life entirely. Even then, he still dreams of you.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Rage. You were his. The threat of his wrath should be enough to guarantee your safety. But it didn’t, and here you were, barely breathing at the feet of scum that were worth less than the mud on his shoes. Doflamingo kills them swiftly — it was a shame he couldn’t take his time punishing them, you, however, took precedence — before he finds himself by your side. He prods you, as gentle as he is capable of, with the tip of his shoe. When you squirm, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A good partner was hard to come across, and while Doflamingo was not picky with his flings, he did prefer someone with a little more substance to rule beside him. You would be hard to replace. Doflamingo calls for the best doctors in Dressrosa to attend to you. While he waits, he allows you to dirty his pink jacket with your blood, draping it on top of you so he doesn't have to look at your battered form for longer than he has to. While he would never admit it, not to himself and never aloud, seeing you so broken left a pit in his stomach.

Recovery would be tedious. Without you around to terrorize tease, Doflamingo finds himself bored with his daily comings and goings. More often than not, he’s beside your bed, frowning down at your sleeping form, waiting to get your reaction to some ridiculous, teasing notion he had in store. He hates seeing you so unresponsive. Doflamingo is used to your laughter, your stuttered words, your shy expressions, not whatever this is. It isn’t until now that he realizes just how attached to you he has gotten. For the hundredth time since Doflamingo found you, he regrets not torturing the scum who hurt you more. Once you awake, you will be confined to the palace until further notice. You will only be safe if you are within his grasp, and he knows now more than ever, that he will never let you go.

If Doflamingo loses you, he will be furious. The doctors who were supposed to save you are unceremoniously killed in his rage. And so is anyone unlucky enough to cross his path for the next few days. It isn’t long before Doflamingo is looking for your replacement. The palace is empty without your presence, and there is a you-shaped hole he intends to fill before he can think too hard as to why he misses you so much. No one is good enough for him. No matter how many applicants he gets, no matter how many new playthings color his life, none of them will ever be you. Doflamingo finds himself discarding people from his life quicker than usual, especially if they did something you would never do.

[dilf-issues]

Your Eyes Tell: 2 | T.S

Synopsis: Tommy could never accept a whore to love. But he did anyways, however his ego and pride might be the death of him.

Chapter Summary: Brief glimpse of how they first met. Y/N woke up.

Warnings: Angst, grief, childloss.

A/N: I choose bear. I also plan to make this into a series.

PART 1 | PART 3

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4 YEARS AGO

The streets of Birmingham were dark and cold. It was late at night and Tommy felt like he wanted to get some fresh air while driving around Small Heath. He found himself driving through the city, lost in thought. As he rounded a corner, he noticed a group of men surrounding a young woman, pushing her against a wall. Tommy’s first instinct was to keep driving, he didn’t care what the fuck would happen to anyone other than his family but when he realized the men were being more violent than he would expect, he pulled his car to the side of the road and stepped out, his presence immediately commanding attention. The men turned to see who had interrupted them, and their faces pales when they saw The Thomas Shelby approaching.

He truly wanted to drive away and leave her alone but the men were starting to rip her clothes apart, as she screamed for help.

“Oi! What the fuck are you doing?” It’s like all three of the men had caught in a headlight, they immediately went speechless as their throats became dry at the sight of Tommy standing before them. One of the men let the girl go as he tried to sprint away. However, Tommy quickly took out his gun and shot just a few centimeters away from his feet. He trembled, holding his arms in the air as he turned around. His eyes were filled with tears and it seemed like he might have just wee his pants.

Tommy gestured the man to come back with his gun as he ran towards his friends in fear.

The woman who was lightly bruised, her clothes torn, was confused however she could be nothing more than glad that someone had saved her. She had no idea who he was but it seemed to her that the men feared her saviour.

“Now, answer my fucking question” Tommy paused taking turns to look at all three of them, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, eh?”

“Mr. Shelby we were just fooling around! She’s a whore, she’s not worth your time, Sir!” The other exclaimed as if it had made the situation better.

Tommy glanced at the woman who silently sobbed, it seemed like she was cold but Tommy thought of how him saving her was already enough of being a good samaritan for a day.

“She’s screaming and I took it you didn’t pay her. If you want to be a fucking cunt at least fucking pay her” His voice was nonchalant and it was enough to keep the men trembling, “I suggest you lot fuck off and if I see you being cheap cunts again, I won’t let you go next time”

The men nodded violently as the three of them scurried off like a bunch of roaches. Once they disappeared, Tommy was about to leave her alone but was stopped when she had grabbed his forearm.

“Wait! I wanted to say thank you, Mr. Shelby?” It came out more as a question, and Tommy raised his brows.

“You don’t know who I am?” He asked as the woman shook her head. Not that he cared, it was just suprising.

The small interaction was enough for Tommy to properly take a look at her, “How old are you?”

“I-I’m 19, Mr. Shelby” His gaze was intense and it made shivers run down her spine, she looked at the ground, finding her shoes somewhat the most interesting thing in the world to look at.

Tommy furrowed his brows, “Aren’t you a little too young to be a whore?” Tommy took the time to study her, she looked... Different. In a way where she didn’t seem like she was from Birmingham. Her features were unique and she was pretty, too pretty to become something so... Dirty.

“I was fired from being a maid, and it seemed like my employer had told everybody in Small Heath not to hire me... I don’t have a choice” Tommy was now intrigued and since they were in the cold, he didn’t exactly mind but he knew she was freezing.

He hummed as he walked away from him and got inside his car. At first, the girl was evidently disappointed when Tommy left her but Tommy didn’t drive away.

“Get in. I’ll get you somewhere warm” Her eyes widened at his offer. The only thing she could think of was that Tommy probably wanted to be a customer. Despite her being happy Tommy got her off the pavement, she was disappointed at the thought that Tommy probably wanted to sleep with her. She hurriedly got in, her face full of awe as she studied the vehicle she was in. “You’ve never been in a car before?”

She shook her head in amazement. A huge smile on her face and if Tommy hadn’t been such a cold man, he would have been amused by her reaction.

“Mr. Shelby, if you desire my service I would be honored to offer you for free” She muttered, it was as if she was ashamed to say it out loud.

“I don’t want to fuck you” Thomas stated, as her eyes widened at the claim. She hadn’t had a lot of customers because she tried her best to avoid going on the streets but men rarely rejected her advances, “I’m taking you to my pub, I’ll buy you a drink”

Ever since she became a prostitute not long ago, she had never heard men approach her in a way that would be appropriate and polite. She couldn’t lie and say Mr. Shelby didn’t make her stomach flutter with butterflies when he offered her a drink. Not to mention how handsome he was and she had considered the night to be lucky, she was almost glad to be attacked.

When they arrived, the pub seemed closed but Tommy entered with ease. She was so impressed with everything about Tommy. He seemed like a kind man, he dressed well, and he also seemed important. She had wondered what he did to become so successful.

“Sit down, I’ll pour you a drink” She obliged without a question as Tommy walked behind the bar and poured her alcohol.

“Oh! Um... Can I just get orange juice? But if you don’t have that, I’ll just have water. I’m too young to drink...” Tommy almost laughed at her face but he just gave her a small smile, he couldn’t deny she was a strange girl.

“You work as a whore but won’t drink a glass of brandy?”

“I told you I had no choice, but I have a choice in this...” She muttered softly, Tommy almost felt bad for what he said.

“Orange juice it is...” He quietly poured her a glass as he slid the glass towards her, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N... What’s yours, Mr. Shelby? Your first name I mean?” Thomas still couldn’t believe she had never known everything about her.

“Thomas, but people call me Tommy”

“Thank you for saving me again, Mr. Shelby. I have no idea what would happen to me if you didn’t come”

Tommy merely hummed, her grace didn’t really mean much to him. There was nothing she could offer that would benefit him. He could fuck her, but he wasn’t an animal, she was far too young for him. However, he wouldn’t deny that she is beautiful.

“I’m intrigued” Tommy addressed, “Tell me, how did you end up in the shitty streets of Small Heath? Because you don’t look like you belong here”

Y/N took a deep breath as she started to tell him her backstory. In some ways, she was excited to talk about it despite the sadness behind it. She hadn’t had anyone to talk to in such a long time, there was no one who would entertain her in such ways.

Tommy had learned her father was a native of Birmingham while her mother was from a foreign country and how they fell in love when he traveled the world. Both of her parents opened up a small restaurant downtown and it was quite successful but Tommy was surprised he had never seen it before.

Then... France happened. Her father had to be drafted which left her and her mum to keep the shop afloat. When the war ended, they received the news that her father had died.

Her mom couldn’t bear the loss of her husband, she went mad and killed herself.

Leaving her alone, an orphan.

Y/N was naturally gifted to be a great cook, so she became a housemaid for a wealthy couple in an estate outside of town. She was doing well until the woman of the house’s husband took a liking to her and tried to approach her inappropriately. The wife caught her husband harassing the poor girl however instead of punishing him, she banished Y/N to the streets and influenced every housewife that she was whore.

And a whore she became.

“You’re a great cook?” It seemed like Tommy had ignored everything she had told him, taking an interest in her skills.

“Well, I try... My mom and dad taught me ever since I was little”

“If I ask you to cook me a meal, would you do it?” Tommy asked, and she did nothing but nod eagerly, “If I like it, you stop being a whore and you become my housemaid”

“This is easy!” She giggled softly and she stood up, patting down her torn up dress, “Where should I cook?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows in surprise, the eagerness that she had was beyond endearing.

“Settle down, now… I’ll give you a place to clean yourself up and rest. You come meet me here tomorrow at the same time, you can cook when the pub is closed”

She nodded, excitement filled through her veins as she smiled widely at Tommy.

There was a brief silence in the air and Tommy only stared at her silently with an unreadable expression on his face.

Y/N didn’t say anything as well as her smile grows softer and softer.

Both of them weren’t speaking to each other but it was as if they had communicated telepathically as Tommy nodded, acknowledging her appreciation towards her.

“Let’s get you someplace to stay, eh?”

.

PRESENT DAY.

Obviously, Y/N had passed his test. Or else, she wouldn’t have been here right now, lying in his room on the verge of death, feeling nothing but pain coursing through her whole body.

People would wonder, ‘How the hell could she endure the consequences of being around Thomas Shelby?’

It sure as hell was not the first time she had been awfully mistreated by Tommy before. But this one was sure the worst.

She remembered the time when Tommy had asked her to be a whore and lure the men who were his enemies. He had promised to save her before anything turned sour, however, something else came up and he had totally forgotten about her. John was the only one who managed to save her before she got raped by those men. That doesn’t mean she left the battle unscathed. Tommy didn’t want to how sorry he felt but instead, to make himself feel better he had killed them with his bare hands.

Nobody knew who did that, Tommy had kept it a secret.

Waking up from what she had endured had traumatized her. She was so terrified of men to the point where she couldn’t even look Tommy in the eyes, screaming in his face whenever he entered the room to check on her or give her a meal. Polly had taken over, being the one who tended to her, fed her, and cleaned her wounds.

“Pol... Don’t you think I look skinny, nowadays?” Her voice was so hoarse, she had been screaming and wailing a lot. Pol had encouraged her to drink more water, however, it seemed like it wouldn’t heal too easily.

“I think you look better than when we first found you, my love. I feed you quite well, don’t I?” Polly remarked with a small smile.

Y/N shook her head, taking off the blanket as she stood up and walked towards the standing mirror Tommy had in the corner of his room.

“Pol, don’t you think I look different?” She asked as she studied her figure, her face full of confusion.

“Well, you’ve been to war, Y/N... I’m sure you’ll look as pretty as you are when you recover, yeah? Now why don’t you lay back down, you need to take your medicine” Polly didn’t have any idea what she was going on about, so she paid her no mind, separating her medicine and arranging them in ways that it would be easier for her to take.

Y/N, still stood in front of the mirror, her brows deeply furrowed as she studied herself.

That’s when she turned to the side, looking at her growing belly and realized--

Her stomach was flat.

“P-Pol...?” Her voice broke as her hand went down to her stomach to feel it, “Where’s my b-baby, Pol?”

Polly’s heart dropped, feeling dread and the sense of impending doom coursing through her body. It was as if time had stopped for her, her face going pale as she just stared at Y/N in deep sorrow.

“S-Sweetheart... I need to tell you something, why don’t you sit down, yeah?” Polly tried her best to speak to Y/N softly, approaching her with cautious steps as her figure started to shake in front of the mirror, “Come here, darling. Just sit down, alright?”

“No! No! It can’t be, maybe it’s just hungry? R-Right, Pol? If we feed them, they’ll grow back! Right? R-Right?!” Y/N's voice starts to raise louder and louder, the evident sense of panicking etched on her face as the tears start to well up in her eyes. “Pol, please! Just make them grow back, they need to be h-healthy!”

Pol had never felt so much sympathy for a person to the point where she had felt like she wanted to cry herself, and she was. She was crying, sobbing along with the poor girl who had never deserved something like this.

“The doctor said the baby didn’t make it, my love... I’m so sorry, Y/N...”

Her grief-stricken voice echoed through the room, a primal scream that cut through the air like a knife. Every line on her face seemed etched deeper by sorrow, her eyes wide and wild, tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body convulsed with each anguished cry, the sound of a mother's soul being torn apart, the loss of a child left an indelible mark on her very being.

She crumpled on the floor, her body wracked with heaving sobs, the pain too deep for words. Her fingers clenched at her chest, as if trying to grasp onto the fragment of the life that was gone. Her voice rose and fell in a desperate, mournful wail, the sheer intensity of her suffering echoing through the room, her face a contorted mask of agony and despair.

“M-My baby!” She wailed as she clutched her stomach, the screams came in ragged, labored gasps, each one a fresh wave of anguish tearing through her body. She clutched at her hair, pulling at it in a desperate attempt to find some release from the torment. Her eyes glazed over with disbelief, searching the empty air as if seeking the presence of her lost child.

Tommy, who was in his office where he had spent most of his time, sleeping, working, and everything in between. He heard the screams and wails echoing through the house as his eyes widened in panic because he recognized who’s voice it was.

He wasted no time running down the hall, storming inside the room. As Thomas entered the room, his eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. The woman he loved, the one who had carried their child within her, knelt amidst the ruined remnants of their shared hopes and dreams. The once-neat room now resembled a devastated battleground, the evidence of a storm of grief and despair laid bare in shattered glass and torn fabric. His heart ached as he gazed upon the woman, crumpled and broken, the stark reality of their loss mirrored in the shattered reflection of the broken mirror.

“Thomas, out!” When Polly noticed his presence, she quickly stormed towards him and tried to push him out of the room to leave both of them alone. Thomas didn’t budge, his strength clearly overpowering Polly as she tried her best to get the man out of Y/N’s side.

“My sweet girl...” Thomas called out softly, pushing Polly out of the way she sighed, her face full of worry. She was scared both of them might get hurt, it is not the best time for Thomas to see Y/N right now.

When Y/N had heard Tommy’s voice, she spun around to face him, her eyes filled with a searing look of fury. The sight of him, the cause of her anguish and despair, fueled the fire of her rage. With a snarl, she lunged at him, her hands lashing out in an attack fueled by a mixture of pain and anger. She scratched, clawed, and hit, every blow an outlet for the torment that consumed her. The room echoed with the sounds of their struggle, a desperate battle between love and bitterness.

Her body moved with a wild frenzy, her every move aimed to cause him harm. Each blow was a cry of anguish, a release of the pent-up pain that had consumed her. Tommy, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, stumbled backward, flinching at the unexpected attack from the woman he had loved. His own guilt and despair fought with his desire to defend himself, leaving him momentarily paralyzed by the bitter irony of their situation.

When Polly tried to pull her away from him, Tommy raised his hand at her, telling her it was okay and he... Deserved everything Y/N was doing to him.

“I’m so sorry, my love” Tommy choked out, not being able to contain his own emotions as the tears flowed out of his eyes, “It’s all my fucking fault. All my fault” Y/N paused for a brief moment as Tommy’s words pierced through her anger. The use of the term 'my love' seemed to pull at the heartstrings of her conflicted emotions. She froze for a moment, her eyes meeting his, and in that instant, the raw pain and grief that fueled her rage began to soften into a mix of hurt and vulnerability. Tommy continued, his voice choked with remorse and sorrow, "I'm so sorry, my love. Please, forgive me."

“Why didn’t you go after me...” She wasn’t hitting Tommy anymore, she wasn’t inflicting any sense of pain that she could on Tommy. However, out of all that happened, what she had just said had hurt him the most. “I t-thought you would go after me”

She sobbed into his chest, her tears staining the expensive cotton and that was the moment Tommy had embraced her figure, hugging her tightly but not enough to hurt her in any way. In his eyes now, she was his fragile love, holding his heart in a glass box. If he broke her again, he would break himself. Tommy doesn’t know what he would do to himself if something had happened to her again.

“Please... Please if you will have me again, I will spend the rest of my living days, every second... Trying to earn your forgiveness. I will show you how much I love you... Please Y/N, even if you can’t forgive me now, I hope you try. I am willing to wait for you until the end of my time”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Double trouble: fun little au about hot sex and cute spats between König and his younger self

My terrible diseased brain: I wonder how young König felt when he realized his older self has a wife. Did he feel relief? That there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that there is someone who will love him, flaws and scars and all? Did he feel bitter that he doesn’t get that love until he’s older, more tired? Did Colonel König ever think about the fact that his wife would even have loved him as the young, stupid asshole he used to be? Do you think that the recuit and the colonel ever have a quiet moment of just existing next to each other, having a mutual realization that he was worthy of love all along?

Me: good grief

Bucca my sister in crime!! Ily 🩷🩷🩷

I'm sorry that you had to wait so long and on top of everything, all I have for you is angst 😭❤️‍🩹❤️

Young König is surprised (to say the least) when he sees his older self as a married man. He’s stunned to see he’s even alive. He thought he would die before reaching his 30s, in a way he had aspired to be dead before growing too old: that was the goal goddammit.

Who would want to live long enough to see how they turn even more lonely, fucked up and cold?

So his whole worldview is in turmoil now. This is what happens instead? He grows old and happy and gets to marry this hot chick? He gets to be a colonel?? He gets to be loved???

Young König is in love with reader too before even a month has passed, he’s torn between wanting her all to himself and settling for the bone he’s given. Even if he’s a horny menace full of red flags, he adores her. In a way I think he’s the most tragic character in this love triangle/polycule because he seems to be ok with it and has this nonchalant ‘no strings attached’ attitude while clearly, he’s madly in love (and needs therapy).

The attempted mating procedure of young König goes something like this: he sees a hot girl -> he opens his mouth -> she leaves. So now that he is the one who was approached, the dynamic is a bit different. The presence of Colonel means that his bad behaviour flares up like a bad old wound that’s poked. The saddest thing is that the older version has learned to love himself, he loves his wife boundlessly, he even loves his silly young self.

I mean what else can he do but love this beaten dog who’s trying his best and is still a mess?

Colonel’s secret hope is that he could somehow help the young pup to reach destination self-acceptance a little faster through this experiment. But like all of König’s tries to help himself and others, it backfires a bit…

Because young König doesn’t fool himself for one second with daydreams of love. He knows reader doesn’t love him like she loves the Colonel: he’s just a fucktoy in this sick scenario. So no, he isn’t mature enough to co-exist with his older self without bringing good old competition in. Reader can tell him she loves him all she wants, he’s not going to fall for that. Her and Colonel’s love life and marriage only remind him of what he doesn't have, what he can’t get. It’s just scraps for him, like always.

(When will it be his turn???)

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They cling to each other for a long time. Gradually, Eddie’s breathing stops catching with sobs, and he becomes aware of other impressions: the water dampening his jeans as he sits on the tiles, the muffled chaos on the other side of the bathroom door—people calling desperately for loved ones, hospital staff shouting orders.

And as Eddie calms, he feels when the hug shifts, when Dustin starts to shake, and it turns more into Eddie holding him than the other way around.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths, only stuttering slightly. Swallows and tries to gather himself. “What happened to your face, man, you okay?”

Dustin nods over his shoulder. “One of the windows blew at Ste—at the house when the… when the gates...”

“Shit.” Eddie pulls back a little, and he can see the evidence of it now, little pieces of glass littering Dustin’s hair. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re fine, they stayed there. It was just one window, the house barely got hit compared to…” Dustin trails off with a shrug that Eddie takes to mean compared to the whole town. “There was an old bike in the garage, so…”

“You biked here? By yourself?” Eddie had half been hoping that he’d somehow hailed a cab or something equally miraculous, can’t fathom just how dangerous it currently is to travel alone, so exposed, if the whole town is anything like the trailer park—

The ground splitting, blood red light, Steve’s blank eyes—

Eddie shakes his head. “Jesus, Henderson. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break something.” Or worse.

“I don’t care.” Dustin lets go and fixes Eddie with a fierce stare, eyes wet. “I—Eddie.” His voice breaks. “I said I hated him.”

They’re both avoiding using Steve’s name, like saying it out loud will mean they have to face the terrible reality of it.

Eddie pushes down another wave of grief. Dustin needs to hear this. “That’s—Dustin. He knew that wasn’t true.”

“Yeah.” A harsh laugh of self-loathing, and Eddie’s heart breaks at the sound. “But I still said it. That—that says—”

“That doesn’t say anything about you,” Eddie says fiercely. “You hear me? Not a fucking thing. You…” He pulls Dustin into another hug, feels the tremors of him crying. Squeezes tight. “You were just scared. No crime in that, all right?”

“Sorry, Eddie, I—I’m just. I’m really fucking scared.”

He has no idea if Dustin is really listening, wonders distantly if this is how Wayne has felt over the years, when faced with him. He just holds onto Dustin, hopes that it’s enough, hopes that it says all that he means. Christ, kid, can’t you see how much he loved you? He’d have done anything for you.

Eddie strokes a hand through Dustin’s hair, carefully removing pieces of glass. Oh, he’d have done anything for you.

And he did.

It’s only when they pull themselves up off the floor that he notices Dustin’s limp.

“You did break something.”

“I don’t think so.” Dustin stands on the foot experimentally, then winces with a quickly stifled cry.

“Hey, don’t! Here, just…”

He gives Dustin his arm to lean on, and they walk in silence. Eddie finds that he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what balance to strike. His usual joking would just ring false, but what he actually wants to do, which is keep double checking that Dustin is okay, feels too close to… to something that Steve would do.

He doesn’t want to be a reminder of all that they’ve lost.

They find Robin waiting for them outside the restrooms. Her face is pale, blotchy, and when she runs to Dustin, wraps her arms around him, Eddie remembers—

Robin’s arms tight around his chest, holding him back. He had caught the ambulance driver glancing at his watch, realised it was to check for the time of death, and now he's making a mournful keening noise he didn’t know he was capable of.

Denial flooding him, painful, overwhelming. He can’t accept it, suddenly, even though another part of him repeats ‘he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone’ like a lament; wants to scream, “You don't understand, he can’t be—he was just talking to me—”

“Why are you just—someone fucking help him!” He's reaching for Steve, but Robin's grip is strong; he just brushes Steve’s fingers, and they’re cold, why are they—

“Eddie,” Robin is whispering brokenly. “Eddie, stop, it's—it's not him anymore.”

Eddie breathes, presses his back against the wall as Robin takes Dustin’s weight with a concerned expression.

“He needs someone to take a look at that,” Eddie says, nodding at Dustin’s leg. His voice sounds normal, if a little flat. Oh. He’s numb, he thinks.

When Robin replies, she sounds similar, looks grateful at being given a task, something to do. “They're taking minor wounds on the floor below.” She gives ‘minor wounds’ a skeptical air quote with one hand.

They start heading towards the elevator, and then Eddie sees it out of the corner of his eye. Denim jacket, a flash of plaid.

He makes sure Robin is still holding Dustin before he starts to run. People jostle against him, unseeing, slamming into his shoulders, and he keeps fighting against the tide, because—

“Wayne!” he calls desperately, feeling suddenly very young.

Up ahead, someone turns. And then there is a familiar warmth around him, ushering him to the side, away from people.

“Eddie,” his uncle says, and he looks exhausted and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

The sight of him triggers a rush of emotion all over again, and the only thing Eddie can say is a choked, “I didn't kill her.”

Wayne’s eyes soften. “C'mon, son. You know me better than that.”

Eddie’s breath hitches again. Wayne holds him, holds him like he did when he was a child and had bad dreams, a hand cupping his head like there, now. We’ll make this right.

And then Wayne pulls back, eyes flickering over Eddie. “Christ, Eddie. You hurt?”

There’s a split second of confusion; Eddie glances down at himself, sees the blood and vomit on his shirt. Sways a little, and Wayne grabs onto him in alarm.

“No, it's not—I'm fine, Wayne. Promise.” He breathes through a lump in his throat and gets out, “A friend died,” which feels so inadequate for the enormity of what had happened.

Wayne stares at him for a long moment. Then he says, very gently, “This is something big, ain't it?” He gestures to the thronging corridor, to the windows. “What you got mixed up in?”

Eddie almost laughs at that. From Wayne’s phrasing, it sounds like he just got mixed up in the wrong crowd at school, when really, just a few days ago, lost in despair, he'd somehow found the strangest, best people in the world.

And now, he's lost one of them.

“Fuck, Wayne, there's—there's so much I want to tell you,” he says. “But I—I don't know if I can. Not yet.”

It hurts to say; Wayne’s always upheld the fact that Eddie can tell him anything and everything. He can see that Wayne is about to reply as much, but then he must spot something on Eddie's face, sense the fear.

“All right, Eddie,” he says calmly. “Not yet.” Then his eyes widen a fraction, and he moves forward, as if to shield him. “Aren't the cops still looking for you?”

“I...” Eddie shakes his head. He recalls having a very distant thought that he might get arrested as they arrived at the hospital, but it had gone as quickly as it came; because he’d seen Steve—seen the body get covered with a sheet, and Nancy's hand had gripped around Eddie’s wrist like she needed an anchor, nails piercing his skin.

“Not sure,” he finishes honestly. “I—I don't think so. I don't know why.”

Wayne studies him, then sighs. “All right,” he repeats. He doesn't sound happy about it, but he can read Eddie, read that there's somehow even bigger things to worry about. “You got people here?”

“Yeah.” Eddie blinks away the image of Steve's glassy stare, thinks of Dustin—Dustin, who still needs him. “Yeah, I...”

Wayne nods. “Go. Some folks got banged up at the plant, one of the nurses said they need volunteers.” He lets go of Eddie with reluctance. “Stay in the building, all right? I'll come find you.”

Eddie nods. It’s one of the hardest things in the world, to walk away from Wayne. He didn’t think he’d ever have this back. “I love you.”

Wayne tsks, brings Eddie in for a brief, fierce embrace. “I love you, too.”

-

It’s not Dustin that Eddie finds first as he retraces his steps, but Nancy, taking a call. He sees her lips move: “Mike.” Something changes. She goes very still, her grip on the phone tightening. Then, whatever she’s saying is delivered rapidly; she slams the phone down and runs right into Eddie.

“Woah, where's the fire, Wheeler?” Eddie says. His heart is already in his throat at the sight of her; she’s white as a sheet. What fucking now?

She breathes in and out, then grabs his hand. “Come on.”

They run together. Nancy doesn't provide any explanation as they hurtle up the staircase, as she leads him to a very quiet corridor in the ICU.

“Just...” She takes a breath, collects herself. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

And she storms through another set of doors. Eddie stands there, frozen. It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life. When she comes back, she’s much slower, and she sits down opposite him, puts her head between her knees.

“What's...? Shit, Wheeler, you're scaring me.”

She looks up. Surprisingly, her eyes are dry. “I'm about to tell you something,” she says, “and... Eddie, I'd only tell you if I was sure.”

Eddie blinks. “Shoot.”

“Okay. They—Steve. He was being taken away. To the...” Nancy's eyes dart to a sign, and Eddie fights back nausea. To the morgue. “But then they... They've found a pulse.”

The words take a while to truly hit Eddie, as if they come from a long tunnel. When they do, he feels his legs buckle, and he slides down to the floor. He's glad Dustin isn’t here; hope, false hope, is cruel.

“Nancy,” he says, through gritted teeth. "That—that’s not possible. I—I felt him—” He can’t even say it. I felt him die.

Nancy leans forward, puts her hand on one of his knees and squeezes. “I know,” she says simply. Then she stands. “Come with me.”

But Eddie doesn't want to move. He wonders if it's all been too much, if this is a trick, if Nancy’s had enough and is finally turning him in. But then he remembers how she had held onto him as they celebrated the communication with Dustin in The Upside Down. And he sees her eyes now, sharp and earnest.

So he lets her guide him onwards.

He comes to a halt outside a room. Feels a weight in the pit of his stomach, like he’s at a turning point; that maybe this is all in his head, and he'll go right back to his bedroom, and Steve will—Steve will—

Nancy’s hand slips into his. She raises her eyebrows, and it’s not quite a smile she gives him, but the expression seems to say, Together?

As one, they walk inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispers.

In a bed lies a body that looks remarkably like Steve Harrington. There’s a cast on one of his legs, but what draws Eddie’s attention is his face, the waxy pallor of it, the mask fitted tightly around his mouth. That awful stare has gone; someone has closed his eyes. Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s holding his breath until he sees the slightest movement of Steve’s chest, the weakest rise and fall... but it's there.

Eddie turns away and retches. Nothing comes up. Nancy rubs at his back.

“I spoke to some... there’s doctors who—they know about. Everything. They told me that they're not really worried about his leg, it just seems like a normal break,” she says. Her voice wavers slightly, like she's fighting tears. “The... the bites on his stomach stopped bleeding, but... it's his lungs, they think.” She nods at the mask. “They're giving him the same stuff they gave Will, after he was in The Upside Down. They say it's the best chance he's got.”

Eddie thinks about Steve throwing up. His gasping breaths. Panicking. Fuck, he can’t breathe. Then—

“He was coughing,” he says. The memory feels hazy, as if it happened years ago. “When we were… on the bikes, to my trailer. I could hear him.”

He feels shaky again. Nancy draws up two chairs, close to Steve’s bed, and they sit.

He is aware, suddenly, of a slow but steady beeping. A heart monitor.

It doesn’t feel real. Eddie pinches the skin on the back of his hand hard, half expects to see a clock instead of…

“Fucking hell, Wheeler,” he sighs. “What are we gonna do?”

“Make sure he’s not alone,” Nancy says.

They keep a silent vigil. At some point, Nancy rises, flits out of the room. Eddie hears hushed conversation just outside, and then Dustin and Robin come in, Dustin hobbling on crutches. Robin makes a wounded noise, reaches forward and holds Steve’s hand so gently.

Eddie doesn’t dare touch him. Something in the back of his mind whispers that he might break the spell, that Steve might crumble away into nothing if he so much as—

“It doesn’t look like him,” Dustin says. He sounds torn between anger and despair. “He looks… gone.”

Eddie sucks in a breath. “I know.” Because Dustin has voiced his precise fear: that this is all that remains. A different death, but a death all the same.

-

It happens much later, when Dustin has been shepherded back to Steve’s house by Nancy and Robin. “We’ll check on the kids,” Nancy had said, “and then we’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Eddie told her, noting the sunken, fatigued look to all of them.

They’ve been gone for just over an hour when Eddie, fighting sleep, realises that he hasn’t told Wayne about the state of the trailer. He almost wants to search for him, but he doesn’t dare leave the room, even if he can only really look at the hospital sheets, his eyes darting away from Steve’s face. Dustin’s right; he looks gone.

He hears it half in a dream, eyes closing despite himself. A radio, faintly, from another room, a cleaner leaving the door ajar.

Leaving nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town. Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town.

He jolts awake sharply, as if his body is already aware of something before his mind has understood. Still blinking away sleep, this time he does not look away when his eyes land on…

It’s barely there. But Eddie sees it: the faintest of creases on Steve’s forehead.

Eddie stares. Then it clicks.

“Holy shit,” he says, hushed, afraid that if he speaks too loudly, it will all stop. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry—he ends up doing a mixture of both. “Harrington, is this your fucking song?”

The sound of the radio fades away, and with it so does the tiniest of frowns. Desperately, Eddie picks up the chorus himself, stumbling over the words in his haste; and this time, he sees it happen, the change from an unnatural laxness to…

A little pinch in between Steve’s brows, subtle, but there.

“Fuck, it’s really you,” Eddie says. “You’re still in there.” His eyes burn with tears. He reaches for Steve’s hand, holds on despite the lingering coldness to his skin. “Christ, please keep fighting, man. Please.”

[mononijikayu]

magnetic — ieiri shoko.

As Shoko smiles and leans in to kiss you, a rush of bittersweet emotions floods her heart. In that tender moment, she can't help but reflect on the magnetic pull that drew you both together, like two stars orbiting each other in a celestial dance. But beneath the surface, she knows that nothing lasts forever. Inevitably, the forces that brought you together will begin to wane, replaced by the slow, steady drift of separation. It's a reality she's all too aware of, a truth she's learned to accept.

GENRE: Hidden Inventory to Pre-Fearsome Womb Arc, 2005 - 2018;

WARNING/s: Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Banter, Romance, Pining, Grief, Mention of Illness, Depiction of Intimacy, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Near Death, Depiction of Grief, And Then They Were Roommates;

masterlist

listen: magnetic by illit

note: i liked this song. i ended up writing it to be happy, but it ended up being sad instead. anyway, i wrote this a while back and this is the prequel to 'let you break my heart again'!!! i wanted to write suguru into this more, you and him flirting and shoko gets jealous, but i ended up not doing it because its getting way too long. let me know if you want that to be written on another part!!! i hope you love it~

IT WAS CLICHE TO SAY IT, BUT IT FELT MAGNETIC. As Shoko's gaze lingered on you, she couldn't help but notice the subtle nuances of your presence that had captured her heart so many years ago. Your radiant smile, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm, illuminated the room with its warmth and brightness. It was a smile that seemed to carry the promise of better days ahead, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

Your long hair, flowing behind you like a banner of freedom, danced in the breeze as you swung open the door, revealing a glimpse of the world beyond. In that fleeting moment, as you exchanged a wave with your brother, Shoko felt something stir within her—a spark of recognition, a sense of connection that she couldn't quite explain.

Your carefree demeanor, so effortlessly captivating, spoke volumes about your spirit and resilience. Despite the challenges and uncertainties of life, you carried yourself with an air of confidence and grace that was both inspiring and infectious. It was as if you were untouched by the troubles of the world, your spirit unyielding in the face of adversity.

And as she stood there, lost in the reverie of that fateful day, Ieiri Shoko couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion wash over her—a mixture of longing and nostalgia that tugged at her heartstrings with an undeniable force. It was a feeling that defied explanation, rooted in the inexplicable connection she felt with you from the very first moment their eyes met. 

It had been many years since that day, yet the memory remained etched in her mind as fresh and vivid as if it had happened only yesterday. In her mind's eye, she could see you rushing through the halls of Jujutsu High, your energy infectious as you moved with a vibrant vitality that seemed to light up the entire room.

It was as if fate had intervened, weaving the threads of destiny to bring the two of you together in that singular moment. For Shoko, it was love at first sight—a feeling so powerful and undeniable that it had lingered in her heart for years, shaping her thoughts and emotions in ways she could scarcely comprehend.

And now, as she stood before you once again, the memories of that day flooded her mind with a bittersweet intensity, reminding her of the profound impact you had made on her life from the very beginning.

As the first day of Jujutsu High unfolded, the bustling hallways echoed with the chatter of students, each one brimming with excitement and anticipation for the year ahead. The air was alive with the energy of new beginnings, as freshmen and returning students alike embarked on their journey of learning and growth.

She hadn’t met the other older students just yet — but she was supposed to meet the new batch of freshmen coming in. Yaga–sensei had messaged them that it was time to gather up, to finally get to know each other. 

The walls whispered tales of centuries-old practices and rituals, each corner holding secrets passed down through generations of sorcerers. Yet amidst the age-old traditions, there were glimpses of modernity - digital displays and state-of-the-art facilities coexisting alongside ancient artifacts and mystical relics.

For Shoko, the contrast between the old and the new was both intriguing and intimidating. Jujutsu High was a place where ancient wisdom met contemporary knowledge, where tradition and innovation intersected in a delicate balance.

Shoko couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Everything was so new and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the comfort and familiarity of her previous school. She was no longer of the regular world, that’s what Yaga–sensei said. She had to do well. She wanted to do well.

For the first time in her life, finally felt like she wasn’t different. Beneath the surface of her bubbling apprehension, there was also a sense of excitement—and anticipation of the adventures and opportunities that awaited her at Jujutsu High. She was a sorcerer now. She belonged here. And she felt it.

She started to cheer for herself, a little magic spell that calmed her down – that got the tension high. Shaking her arms, she started to whisper to herself over and over, ‘it was going to be okay!’ and ‘you’re so strong!’ like she actually meant it. Shoko thinks looking back at it now, it's the most embarrassing thing. But as a young woman, she supposed it felt like it was genuine enough. It got her through life, after all.

As Shoko composed herself and started to walk forward, she halted as she felt her eyes twitch over the loud voices echoing across the halls. The brown eyed woman suddenly found herself in the middle of a fight, or at least that’s what that looked like.  Two white-haired individuals, a tall boy and a girl, caught her attention as they engaged in a boisterous, fight, or conversation — Shoko wasn’t sure.

For a moment, Shoko thinks to herself that the feeling of a surge of apprehension welling up within her and returns like a brutal punch. So much for the charm she cast on herself. She scoffs. She’s never doing that again. The commotion and energy radiating from the pair on the other side of the hallway seemed to overwhelm her senses, and she couldn't help but think that dealing with them would be far too much trouble. Wait—are those gonna be her classmates? 

Shoko bit her lower lip. Yaga–sensei did say her two other classmates would be hectic and loud. But Shoko didn’t expect them to be this loud. They’re way too loud for her already. Shoko thinks at that moment that she wishes there was a chance for a smoke. To get her through this. But she curses under her breath. Smoking is prohibited in the school. Yaga–sensei did say that there are sprinklers too. 

Taking a deep breath, Shoko closed her eyes briefly, silently reciting a more suitable mantra to calm her nerves. Over and over again, she repeated it. She felt the tension in her muscles ease as she shook her arms, whispering reassuring words to herself over and over again.

"It's going to be okay," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're going to go eat some coffee jelly later. There’s a konbini nearby. You can smoke too. Just hold on, Sho. Hold on.”

As Shoko discreetly edged closer, her curiosity peaked, her steps faltering as she strained to listen in on their conversation. With narrowed eyes, she leaned in even closer, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to catch every word exchanged between the two.

Every 'HAH!?' and 'HUH!?' was recorded in her mind, every pitch, sound, vowel, texture, and existence. The two bantered like children, their tongues wagging and fingers flipping off in a playful exchange that filled the air with laughter and warmth.

"I'm telling you, the kikufuku strawberry mochi from granny Kirei is the best,"  The tall boy declared with a playful grin, his hands gesturing animatedly as he made his case. His dark rimmed glasses lowered, the bluest eyes Shoko had seen echoed across the hall. “Why argue at all? We tasted every flavor. Nothing has EVER topped granny Kirei!”

You seemed to have a spirited twinkle in your eyes, as you shook your head at your brother—face full of mock disbelief. You cross your arms with a huff. "Hah!? No way, four eyes! Red bean mochi from grandpa Nemui is clearly superior. It's the perfect blend of sweet and savory! You’re just too much of a loser to admit that!”

The tall boy chuckled maniacally at his sister's defiance, leaning in closer with a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on, sis, don't be ridiculous," he snickered, nudging you gently with his elbow. "Everyone knows that strawberry mochi is the ultimate flavor. It's like a burst of sunshine in your mouth! Unlike that salty little—”

You rolled your darker blues back at him, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh please," you retorted, nudging him back with equal playfulness. "Red bean mochi has been a classic for generations. It's a timeless delicacy that never fails to satisfy. You’re just, once again, too much of a loser!”

"And what about you, no-name?" Satoru suddenly turned to the other side of the hall, his grin widening as you followed your brother as he turned his body. "What's your take on the great mochi debate?"

You look at him with a raised brow, curious. “Your six eyes picking up something? I’m surprised it took you too long.”

“Sometimes it takes time, little sister. Not perfect everyday!” Your brother retorted haughtily as he put his hands on his pockets. “Come on now, don’t be shy, no–name. We’re going to be classmates, after all!”

As the white haired boy's attention shifted across the hall, Shoko couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over her. She watched with bated breath as his gaze landed on her, his grin widening with mischief as you followed suit, her curious eyes assessing Shoko with a raised brow.

Shoko can admit she felt truly caught off guard by their sudden interest. But she supposed that she was a stranger to them. Shoko felt a flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

Her cursed energy must have been leaking throughout, spiking high with her nerves. She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to gather her thoughts. With a quick glance around to ensure no one else was the subject of their attention, she pursed her lips. 

As Shoko took a hesitant step forward, she couldn't shake the feeling of being under a microscope, every movement and word scrutinized by the two enigmatic figures before her. Despite her best efforts to appear composed, her nerves betrayed her, her palms growing clammy and her heart pounding in her chest.

The tall white haired boy gave her a playful grin and it only widened as he waited for her response, his eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity. His sister, standing beside him, observed Shoko with a mix of amusement and intrigue, her expression unreadable yet somehow inviting.

“You don’t have to answer my brother if you don’t want to.” You grinned at Shoko, deep blue eyes echoing through the sunlight. You smiled at her as though Shoko was the only one that mattered. “He’s over zealous about things, it's ridiculous!”

In that moment, as Shoko's eyes met yours, she felt a spark of recognition stir within her, a sense of familiarity that she couldn't quite place. There was something about you, something captivating and alluring, that left her breathless. Suddenly, the nervousness was replaced by this tender warmth — warmth she had never felt before.

“HAH!? I was not!”

“You were!”

“Was not!”

“You were, four eyes!”

“You take that back!”

“No!”

No matter how mature you are — Shoko supposed that you will always be like a child with Gojo Satoru. You were two peas in a pod, the same and different all at once. But you were one soul cleaved into two. Satoru liked to think that the most. You did too, all your life.

As Shoko watched the two of you engage in their playful banter, she found herself at a loss for what to do. The argument escalated with each exchange, their voices growing louder as they traded playful insults back and forth. They almost reminded her of children, who would get louder and louder, trying to win no matter the cost. 

Caught in the crossfire, Shoko couldn't help but feel like an outsider, unsure of how to interject or if she even should. Part of her wanted to step in and diffuse the tension, while another part of her was intrigued by the dynamic between the two siblings. But she supposed it was better to just let the two of you be.

Maybe you’ll get tired, maybe you’ll back off. Shoko thinks that over the years — she learned to just let the two of you be the children that you were together. Because you smiled at Satoru afterwards. She loved it when you smiled, even if it wasn’t for her.

As their argument continued to escalate, Shoko shifted slightly, her own feet tapping lightly against the floorboards. She was unsure of whether to stay and observe or make a hasty retreat. Maybe she could find Yaga–sensei and get herself some peace and quiet.

So that she can finally go to the konbini and get a pack of cigarettes, with her fake id and then a snack, that good coffee jelly brand. Just as much, Shoko can’t pretend that she didn’t feel like an intruder if she butts into the situation. 

But then they stopped, you huffed and puffed, as you looked away from your brother. Your brother rolled his eyes at his little sister and turned to Shoko.

“Tell me, seriously — what do you like in mochi?”

Shoko wonders how the two of you could just stop fighting and just pretend that nothing happened. But she supposed you both just knew when it would stop. She still wonders everyday how you dealt with Satoru like that, even growing up. Shoko blinked for a moment, she never really liked sweet things. Not even when she was a kid. But maybe this will come to an end when she gives you an answer. Shoko took a deep breath, she summoned her voice and spoke, her words carrying a hint of uncertainty but also a quiet resolve.

"I don’t like sweet things that much….” Shoko began to say to you. "But I’ve always had a soft spot for the classic red bean flavor. My grandma used to make it when we visited her.”

As Shoko voiced her opinion, her words were met with a sudden lull in the siblings. The white haired sister turned her attention towards Shoko, her eyes narrowing with pleasure as she considered her response. They had the same taste.

Your brother looked at Shoko as though she had grown a second head. Shoko realized that she never really got your brother’s acquired taste for something sweet. You join him, Shoko supposed, to amuse him. But nothing beyond that, she thinks.

The tall boy, on the other hand, wore an unimpressed pout on his face, his gaze alight with disappointment as he studied Shoko’s nonchalant look. "Red bean, huh?" he remarked with forlorn. “You and my sister are both weird! How can you not like sweet things – let alone in good ol’ mochi?”

“Not everyone has the same insane diabetic palette as you, Satoru.” You retorted at your brother, snickering at him and his disappointment. “Besides, red bean flavor is a classic! It’s the very fabric of the Japanese experience!”

“Oh, that’s…shut up!” The dark rimmed glasses went up, his eyes hiding in the darkness. Yet he still pouted like a child. Shoko wonders if he was more a five year old than a high schooler. He straightens himself and looks at Shoko. “You’re missing out, you know?”

“I don’t think so.” Shoko retorts to the boy, now she knows he was named Satoru and snickers. “I’m happy with what I like.”

“But wouldn’t you give this a chance?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

You nudge him playfully with your elbow. "Leave her alone, Satoru," you chided, your tone affectionate. "She deserves to like what she likes.”

He simply shrugged at you. "Suit yourself," he replied, his pout still present. "But just know that you're always welcome to join us for a taste test whenever you're feeling adventurous."

He turned back to his sister, the argument starting again as you chide him for acting like a five year old. As the exchange unfolded before her, Shoko couldn't help but feel like laughing at the sight of you both. Yet now, she stood there – wondering if she should leave now. You then blink and panic as you realize that you neglected Shoko again, distracted by your brother. You hit her brother over the side of his head as you grew red and flustered.

“OW!? What was that for, you witch?”

“You distracted me — we just forgot and ignored her. It was rude, Satoru!” You scolded your brother, who was rubbing the back of his head, crying. You bowed deeply to Shoko and started apologizing. Shoko realized that you look really cute when you’re flustered. You now turned to your brother.“You apologize!”

“I–I’m so sorry!”

As the white-haired boy continued to rub his head and mutter under his breath about how rude you always were to him, you just ignored him and turned to Shoko again. With a warm smile, your eyes reflected a mix of guilt and genuineness, silently acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation.

"Sorry about that," you said, your voice soft and apologetic. "My brother can be a handful sometimes."

Shoko couldn't help but notice the warmth in your smile and the sincerity in your eyes. Up close, you seemed even more like a goddess than she had imagined, radiating a beauty that was both captivating and ethereal. It struck her how similar you and your brother were in appearance, yet there was something uniquely mesmerizing about you.

As she met your gaze, Shoko felt a pang of admiration and perhaps a hint of envy. You were undeniably beautiful, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of standing in your shadow. But despite her insecurities, she couldn't deny the pull of your presence, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

You furrowed your brows slightly, realizing that in the midst of the commotion, you had unintentionally overlooked Shoko. "I'm sorry, to you," you said apologetically, your voice sincere. "I didn't mean to ignore you. It's just... well, things tend to get a bit chaotic around here sometimes."

Shoko waved off your apology with a gentle smile, understanding shining in her eyes. "It's okay, really," she assured you. "I know how it is, especially with everything going on."

Your brother, Gojo Satoru, chimed in as he rubbed the small of his back. "Yeah, sorry about that too," he added, his tone lighthearted. "We can get a bit carried away sometimes."

Shoko looks at you softly, shaking her head. "No need to apologize," she replied, her voice warm. "I'm just happy to be here, getting to know everyone."

You smiled appreciatively at Shoko's understanding, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between the three of you. "Well, we're glad to have you," you said sincerely, your gaze meeting hers. "And if you ever feel like we're ignoring you again, just give us a shout. We promise to pay attention this time."

Shoko chuckled at your words, feeling at ease in your presence. "I'll keep that in mind," she said with a playful grin. "Thanks, both of you."

There you go again, smiling at her in the most beautiful and wondrous way. There was a comforting aura about you, as if you carried with you a sense of magic that immediately put Shoko at ease. You remained calm and composed, radiating a sense of warmth that enveloped Shoko like a gentle embrace. It was as though you just had a natural talent for making others feel welcome and accepted, regardless of the circumstances.

"Oh, we forgot to introduce ourselves!" you say, your face turning red again. You told Shoko your name. Shoko thinks it rolled off the tongue easily. It was as soft as a feather, as tender as a featherbed. You were warm. And that made her warm inside too. Like it’s summer again. “And the troublemaker beside me is my brother, Gojo Satoru."

Satoru finally regained his composure and grinned sheepishly, offering a casual wave. "Nice to meet you," he chimed in, his tone casual yet friendly. "So, what's your name?" he asked, his blue eyes locking onto Shoko's with genuine curiosity.

"It's nice to meet you too," Shoko replied warmly. "I'm Ieiri Shoko." She watched as Satoru's blue eyes locked onto hers with genuine curiosity. Your own eyes looking at her tenderly.

As the footsteps drew closer, the atmosphere shifted, a palpable tension hanging in the air as the three of them turned to see another student approaching.

Shoko couldn't help but notice the tall, calm demeanor of the newcomer, his long dark hair neatly tied in a bun and his deep purple eyes exuding an air of quiet confidence. His bangs framed his face in a way that Shoko couldn't help but find intriguing, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he would quickly become popular among the students.

Meanwhile, you seemed equally intrigued by the newcomer, your gaze lingering on him as you scanned him from head to toe. Shoko felt a twinge of discomfort at the intensity of your stare, but she remained silent, choosing instead to observe the interaction between you and your brother. Satoru, unable to contain his amusement, let out a snicker that quickly escalated into laughter, drawing curious glances from both Shoko and the newcomer.

Satoru pointed towards the approaching student and exclaimed, "Bangs!" His words were followed by a burst of laughter, infectious in its nature.Your eyes widened in surprise. 

“Hey, Satoru, you can’t just say that! Idiot!”

“B-but, But….” His laughter would not stop. “T-the bangs….”

The other boy, his eyes narrowing in displeasure, approached Satoru with determined strides. His brows furrowed as he confronted the Gojo heir, his voice laced with an unmistakable edge of irritation. "What did you say, four eyes?" he demanded, his tone firm and challenging.

As Shoko observed the exchange between the two boys, a knot of apprehension formed in her stomach. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the crackling energy of their impending clash. She could sense the animosity radiating from their confrontation, the weight of their unspoken grievances hanging heavy in the air.

Despite your attempts to diffuse the situation and prevent further escalation, Shoko felt a growing unease settle over her. She recognized the telltale signs of their cursed energy rising, a surefire indication that things were spiraling out of control. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Shoko braced herself for the inevitable clash, knowing that this encounter could only end in chaos.

As you urged them to cease their conflict before it attracted unwanted attention, Shoko's instincts urged her to act. Ignoring the warning signs, she tugged at your arm, her grip firm and determined. In that moment, she made a split-second decision to intervene, knowing that the consequences could be dire but unwilling to stand by and watch the situation escalate further.

“Do you want to go get coffee jelly with me?”

You looked at her, your eyes blinking at her.

“But what about them—”

She grinned at you. “Let them suffer for that.”

She pulled your hand, and you protested back.

But soon, the alarms were blaring all around.

After the chaotic incident in the hallway, you and Shoko retreated to the convenience store, seeking refuge from the tumultuous events unfolding at Jujutsu High. As you returned later, Shoko stood faithfully by your side, a silent companion in the aftermath of the chaos.

Together, you shared a coffee jelly, the sweetness of the treat contrasting with the bitter taste of the day's events. Despite your shared dislike for the overly sugary dessert, you found solace in each other's company, grateful for the opportunity to get to know Shoko better.

As you and Shoko made your way back to the school grounds, you were met with the sight of your brother and the other boy, you both find out to be Geto Suguru, both nursing bruised egos and battered bodies. The unmistakable crack in the gym hall wall served as a stark reminder of the consequences of their reckless behavior.

Yaga-sensei's swift reprimand awaited them, but you and Shoko were not exempt from punishment. Despite your intentions to intervene and prevent further chaos, you were both scolded for leaving the premises without permission, a stern reminder of the rules and regulations that governed life at Jujutsu High. But Shoko didn’t mind. You kept bowing your head, apologizing though.

As fate would have it, this was her new life.

Ieiri Shoko thinks that her life changed pace.

But she supposed that she liked it that way.

It felt magnetic, being around you everyday.

SHOKO THINKS THAT SHE FELL FOR YOU BEFORE SHE COULD DESCRIBE IT. In the familiar surroundings of Shoko's dorm room, you felt a sense of ease that eluded you elsewhere. It was as if the walls themselves held a comforting embrace, welcoming you into their sanctuary of warmth and familiarity. Ieiri Shoko couldn't help but notice how effortlessly you made yourself at home, navigating the space with a comfort that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond.

As she watched you settle into her bed, Shoko couldn't shake the thought that perhaps you were more at home here than anywhere else. It was a bittersweet realization, one that tugged at her heartstrings and left her grappling with a swirl of conflicting emotions.

On one hand, she was grateful for your presence, for the companionship and comfort you offered her in times of need. But on the other hand, she couldn't help but worry about the toll that your restless lifestyle was taking on you.

She had seen firsthand the toll that the demands of being a Jujutsu Sorcerer could take on a person, the sleepless nights and endless battles that left scars both seen and unseen. She hated seeing you in the healing room – but she just saw you smile each time. Even when you got scolded by her, you smiled. That made her heart pound each time. 

But that also made her feel sad deep down inside. While she admired your strength and resilience, she couldn't help but worry about the toll it was taking on your well-being. Deep down, she knew that she had no right to judge you, not when she had her own vices and struggles to contend with. But just as you worried for her, she couldn't help but worry for you, the weight of her concern settling like a heavy burden on her shoulders.

As you lay there in her bed, lost in your thoughts, Shoko couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. And that she couldn’t help. She couldn’t stop at it either. Not even if she tried. She loved you too much for that.

As you moved around Shoko's dorm room, Shoko couldn't help but admire the way you meticulously folded your uniform and neatly arranged it on the coffee table. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about your character and attention to detail. She couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and comfort wash over her as she watched you, a feeling of gratitude for your presence in her life.

Returning from a grueling mission, you sought solace in the familiar surroundings of Shoko's room. It was a routine that had become second nature to you both, a silent agreement born out of mutual trust and understanding. Shoko had come to cherish these moments, the quiet intimacy of your presence filling the room with a sense of calm and reassurance.

At first, Shoko had assumed that your visits were a result of your brother's busy schedule, leaving you with limited time to spend together. But as time went on, she realized that there was something deeper at play. It wasn't just about seeking refuge from the chaos of the outside world; it was about finding solace in each other's company, about finding a sense of belonging and acceptance that transcended the confines of the mission.

As you settled onto her bed, Shoko couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. She had come to cherish these moments together, the simple yet profound connection that existed between you. She enjoyed the warmth of your body under her sheets, the sound of your laughter filling the room with joy and light. In your presence, she felt truly alive, as if the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was the here and now.

As she watched you, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, Shoko couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of Shoko's room, she knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be. And for that, she was grateful.

The recent promotion to Grade 1 had indeed brought with it a flurry of responsibilities and assignments, demanding much of your time and attention. Yet, amidst the flurry of activity and the relentless pursuit of excellence, there were moments of quiet solitude that left you feeling unexpectedly lonely.

In those solitary moments, when the demands of duty momentarily subsided, you found yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that seemed to linger just beneath the surface. Despite your accomplishments and the recognition that came with your promotion, there was a lingering feeling of disconnect, a sense of longing for something more.

Perhaps it was the weight of expectation that accompanied your newfound status, the pressure to excel and prove yourself worthy of the honor bestowed upon you. Or perhaps it was the absence of meaningful connections and companionship in your life, a void that seemed all the more pronounced in the silence of your own thoughts.

Regardless of the underlying cause, the feeling of loneliness persisted, casting a shadow over even the most triumphant moments of success. It was a reminder that, despite your achievements, there was still a longing for something deeper, something more fulfilling that eluded you in the midst of your professional pursuits.

With a weary body, you finally lowered your body and laid down on the bed. As you looked around the room, taking in all the traces of Shoko’s existence — you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sight of her familiar surroundings. Without hesitation, you made yourself at home, settling into her bed instead of your own. Somehow you felt more comfortable here. You felt more at home where Shoko was.

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you finally felt like someone was watching you. Turning to the doorframe, you were met with the sight of Shoko standing there, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern. Despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on your shoulders, a smile found its way onto your lips as you greeted her.

"Hey, Shoko," you said softly, your voice warm with affection. "Mind if I crash here for a bit?"

Shoko's heart fluttered at the sight of you, her feelings for you bubbling to the surface with an intensity that took her by surprise. As she watched you, lying there in her bed, she couldn't help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions. Part of her longed to embrace you, to hold you close and never let go, while another part of her feared the repercussions of crossing that line.

Shoko grappled with the realization that she harbored feelings for you, feelings that ran deeper than mere friendship or camaraderie. It was a realization that stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her, leaving her torn between the desire to acknowledge those feelings and the fear of the unknown that accompanied them.

Admitting her love for you felt like stepping into uncharted territory, a daunting journey fraught with uncertainty and risk. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was too soon, too premature to declare her affections openly. There were so many unanswered questions, so many variables at play, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to confront them just yet.

The prospect of allowing herself to fully embrace those feelings filled her with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. On one hand, there was the exhilarating prospect of exploring the depths of her emotions and forging a deeper connection with you. On the other hand, there was the nagging fear of rejection, of opening herself up to vulnerability and the possibility of heartache.

In the end, Shoko found herself grappling with a complex web of emotions, unsure of how to navigate the delicate balance between longing and apprehension. For now, she chose to keep her feelings hidden, burying them deep within her heart as she wrestled with the uncertainty of what the future might hold. Until she was ready, she was content with this. She was content with being together with you. 

With a soft smile, she stepped further into the room, her gaze never leaving yours. "Of course, you can stay," she replied, her voice soft and gentle. "You're always welcome here."

As Shoko's soft words washed over you, a sense of relief swept through your weary body, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Thank you, Shoko," you said with a grateful smile, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift from your shoulders.

Settling onto her bed, you patted the space beside you invitingly. "Would you mind joining me?" you asked softly, your voice filled with warmth and gratitude. "Bed’s too big. Can’t lay down here by myself. Not right now.”

Shoko nodded, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy as she settled beside you. "Of course," she replied gently, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. "I'm here for you, always."

You let out a soft sigh, you look at her apologetically. “I’m sorry. I seem to be out of it.”

She shakes her head at you. “It’s okay. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“I just….”

She leans towards you. “What happened? Do you wanna talk about it?”

You let our lips rest in a flat line. “It was horrible, Sho. I was….I was close to losing it.”

It was a bad case of a very downturned family home and it created a curse, where a child was taken captive for days on end. No one noticed, not until it was far too late and the curse had grown too huge, too big, feeding off the fear of this one child and this child, was about to lose himself. Shoko's attentive gaze never wavered as you began to unravel the harrowing tale of your recent mission. With each word you spoke, she remained a silent witness, her presence a beacon of unwavering support in the tumultuous sea of your thoughts and emotions.

"It was a close call," you confessed, the weight of the memory pressing down on you like a heavy burden. The memory of the child's desperate cries still echoed in your mind, a haunting reminder of the perilous situation you had faced. She could see the forming tears in your eyes. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to save the child in time."

As the words left your lips, you could feel the rawness of your emotions bubbling to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you. Shoko thinks she’s never seen you this down before. Not even with the other bigger missions that were laid at your desk. But this was different.

The fear and uncertainty that had gripped you in that moment resurfaced, sending a shiver down your spine. But even as the darkness threatened to consume you, Shoko remained a steadfast presence by your side. Her unwavering support and understanding served as a lifeline in the midst of the storm, offering you solace and comfort in your time of need.

With each passing moment, you found yourself opening up to her, laying bare the depths of your fears and vulnerabilIties. And as you spoke, you felt a sense of catharsis wash over you, the weight of your burdens slowly beginning to lift. It was always like this when you were with Shoko. Somehow, everything was easier. Somehow, everything felt like it was something that wasn’t hard at all — living, being young, being trapped in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. 

In the safety of Shoko's presence, you found the courage to confront your demons, to face the darkness within and emerge stronger for it. And as you gazed into her eyes, filled with empathy and compassion, you were lucky. You were so lucky to have Shoko by your side. But she thinks she was way more lucky with you. Because you were the angel that made her life mean something. More than anything, you saved her. And she was so happy, so so happy with that.

Shoko's touch was like a gentle caress, her hand resting warmly on your arm as she offered words of comfort and reassurance. "You did everything you could," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil. "I’m so proud of you, you know.”

The sincerity in her words washed over you like a wave, easing the tension that had knotted your muscles. You couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude towards her, knowing that her unwavering support was a beacon of light in the darkness.

Your eyes sparkled with emotion as you met her gaze, her words resonating deep within your soul. "You're always so kind to me," you whispered, the depth of your gratitude evident in your voice.

A smile tugged at Shoko's lips, her hand delicately brushing against your face. "And so are you," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "It goes both ways, doesn't it?”

As you looked into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passed between you, a shared bond that transcended words. Your hand instinctively reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the simple gesture filled with tenderness and affection.

In that fleeting moment, as the world around you melted away, it was just the two of you, enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy and passion. Your hearts beat as one, synchronized in the rhythm of love, as your faces drew closer, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic pull.

With a gentle touch, your lips met in a tender kiss, igniting a firestorm of emotions that blazed brightly in the depths of your souls. It was a kiss filled with the sweetness of affection, the warmth of devotion, and the promise of a future intertwined together.

As your lips lingered against each other's, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor the exquisite taste of each other's love. In that moment, all doubts and fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and belonging.

It was more than just a kiss; it was a declaration of love, a vow to stand by each other's side through every storm and every triumph. And as you pulled away, breathless and filled with euphoria, you knew deep in your hearts that this bond, this connection, would endure for eternity.

You smiled at her like she was your world.

Ieiri Shoko smiled back, like you were hers.

You both start to laugh tenderly together.

That kiss just magnetized her closer to you.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

YOU NEVER PUT LABELS ON ANYTHING. That’s at least what Shoko’s mother said to her when she was younger. She was a single mom, one that had experienced heartbreak over and over again. And at a young age, Shoko had watched that repeat, as each and every time, she watched Shoko grow up, watching every bit of the man that had left their lives blossom in Shoko. There was so little permanence in the world, her mother added, other than parting and sorrow. Shoko thinks her mother was right.

Shoko thinks it was right that even when you loved one another, you never put a label on what your relationship was. Because it was easier to just pretend. To detach about the personal, the depth of one’s very heart. That’s what you wanted, because you knew that the moment you woke up from that mission with Nanami and Haibara, you would never be the same.

You were slowly withering before her eyes. You were not long to live a long life, one that you had imagined with her each and every night in her bed. You weren’t meant for that and she hated that she knows too well that you’re right. 

You still smiled at her, you still laid in her bed. You still wrap your arms around her each night. You still were ever so present. Ever so attached, ever so devoted to Shoko. And yet she knew, she knew too well, she knew too much, that there will come a time that it wouldn’t be the case.

That your scent won’t linger in her room anymore. That your bellowing laughter wouldn’t ring out of her ears anymore. That she wouldn’t feel your touch one day anymore. She tried not to cry, she tried not to show you any sadness in her eyes either. But she knows that you know. She knows too well that you can read her like she was the back of your hand. 

Your brother watched your figure laying in silence, sleeping so peacefully on your side of Shoko’s bed. These days, Shoko and he had become ever so obsessed with watching you sleep. Watching you breathing. The sight of you limping in your own blood, disfigured by the curse with cuts and wounds — it was hard to get out of their head. They think that it wasn’t easy. You were too much of a hero for your own good, wanting to save Nanami and Haibara. Nanami told them everything. 

The memory was etched vividly in Nanami’s mind, like a scene from a nightmare that refused to fade with time. It was a dark and ominous night, the air heavy with the scent of blood and the stifling presence of curses lurking in the shadows.

As you arrived on the scene, you found Nanami and Haibara locked in a desperate struggle against a Grade 1 curse, their strength waning as they fought to hold back the relentless onslaught of malevolent energy. It was supposed to be a Grade 2 curse – that’s what the report said. You were nearby and you felt it. It was way more than a Grade 2  curse. Without hesitation, you rushed to their aid, your heart pounding with adrenaline as you prepared to face the formidable foe.

Nanami's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in his tone. "Protect Haibara, I'll handle this one!" he shouted, his eyes locking with yours as he faced the looming threat.

The curse, sensing your interference, split itself into two entities, a sinister grin spreading across its grotesque features as it sought to overwhelm both you and Nanami simultaneously. Haibara struggles, already wounded from when he couldn’t dodge the curse’s attack.

With lightning-fast reflexes, you darted between the two, deflecting blows and launching counterattacks with all the skill and determination you could muster. "Stay focused!" you shouted to Nanami, your voice strained with exertion as you fought to keep the curse at bay.

But the curse was relentless, its attacks coming faster and fiercer with each passing moment. As Nanami urged you to prioritize saving Haibara, you made a split-second decision, throwing yourself into the fray to protect your comrade at any cost.

You fought with everything you had, your mind focused solely on the task at hand as you battled against the curse's relentless onslaught. "I won't let you harm him!" you growled, your resolve unwavering in the face of danger.

But despite your best efforts, the curse proved to be too cunning, outmaneuvering you at every turn until, with a vicious strike, it managed to land a devastating blow.

As the curse's dark energy coursed through your veins, you felt a searing pain unlike anything you had ever experienced before. In that moment of agony, you knew that you had been cursed, your fate sealed by the very creature you had fought so valiantly to defeat.

And as darkness closed in around you, you couldn't help but wonder if it was all worth it, if your sacrifice had truly made a difference in the end. But as unconsciousness claimed you, one thought lingered in your mind: you had done everything you could to protect your comrades, even if it meant facing the consequences alone.

Yu Haibara was killed soon after.

Gojo Satoru had arrived at the scene.

Nanami rushed to you and to Haibara.

It was a horror scene, one from hell.

He doesn’t want to see it again.

Gojo Satoru's usually vibrant demeanor was subdued, his usually lively eyes now clouded with concern as he turned to Shoko. He doesn’t usually drink, but he has a cup of the sweetest alcohol now and then. But whiskey was somewhat a good lullaby for the pain. And Shoko agreed. The weight of the news about your condition hung heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the room.

Despite his efforts to maintain composure, there was an unmistakable hint of sorrow in his voice as he addressed Shoko, his words weighed down by the gravity of the situation.

"How long does she have?" he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on Shoko's face. 

Gojo's inquiry hung in the air, the weight of his concern palpable as he awaited Shoko's response. His gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any glimmer of hope amidst the heavy news.

Shoko's heart sank as she grappled with the weight of her response. Each word felt like a burden, heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead. "The level of curse on her is extreme," she began softly, her voice tinged with sorrow. "But she's fighting with every ounce of her cursed energy. Maybe a few years, at most."

The weight of Shoko's words seemed to settle upon Gojo like a heavy shroud, his expression falling as the reality of the situation sunk in. A pang of guilt gnawed at his heart, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon him. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret and sorrow for the pain you would endure.

In that moment of shared vulnerability, Shoko's heart swelled with gratitude for Gojo's understanding. She shook her head gently, her eyes brimming with empathy as she reached out to reassure him. "Don't be sorry," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. "I'm the one who's sorry that I can't do more to help her."

A palpable silence enveloped them, thick with unspoken emotions and shared sorrow. Then, Gojo's voice broke through the quiet, his words heavy with emotion as he turned his gaze to Shoko, his concern evident in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, the vulnerability in his tone echoing the turmoil of his own heart.

Caught off guard by the depth of Gojo's concern, Shoko hesitated, her facade of strength crumbling in the face of his genuine care. "I'm fine," she replied automatically, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

But Gojo saw through her bravado, his gaze softening with understanding as he reached out to offer her comfort. "It's okay not to be okay," he said gently, his words a soothing balm to her wounded soul. "I'm not okay either. I've cried more times than I ever have in my life, losing Suguru and now... losing my sister too."

In the embrace of Gojo's comforting arms, Shoko felt a wave of solace wash over her, easing the burden of her grief, if only for a moment. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, a silent testament to the pain and sorrow that weighed heavily on her heart. "It's not fair," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she clung to him for support.

Gojo held her close, his own tears mirroring her anguish as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. "No, it's not," he agreed softly, his voice thick with emotion. "But we'll get through this together. I promise. So be strong for you. Be strong for her. Even when you can't."

In that moment, Shoko wondered how he could feel like this. She thinks he had a better right to feel worse. He lost the person he loved and now he was about to lose the other half of his soul. Yet Shoko thinks that being enveloped in the warmth of their shared sorrow, Shoko found solace in Gojo's unwavering presence. She was thankful.

Despite the darkness that surrounded them, she knew that as long as they faced it together, they could find a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. And with that realization, a flicker of determination ignited within her, strengthening her resolve to weather the storm ahead, hand in hand with the one she held dear.

As you slowly woke from your deep sleep, the world around you gradually came back into focus. You found yourself nestled in Shoko's dorm room, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains casting a serene ambiance over the space. With a gentle smile, you turned to face Shoko, who stood by the doorframe, watching over you with a look of fondness.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep," you murmured softly, your voice still tinged with drowsiness from your deep slumber.

Shoko shook her head gently, her smile warm and reassuring. "It's fine," she replied softly, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. "You didn't miss much."

In that moment, as you lay there together in the stillness of the night, a sense of peace washed over you, wrapping you in it's comforting embrace. And as Shoko pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, you couldn't help but return her smile, grateful for her unwavering presence by your side.

As Shoko observed your gentle smile, a surge of warmth flooded her heart, filling her with a profound sense of affection. With each curve of your lips, she felt herself drawn closer to you, as if your smile held an irresistible gravitational pull, effortlessly pulling her into your orbit. In that fleeting moment, as she stood beside you, she felt a deep sense of devotion blossom within her, a commitment to preserving the joy and happiness reflected in your smile for as long as she possibly could.

In the quiet intimacy of the room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, Shoko's gaze lingered on you, her heart brimming with tenderness and adoration. She knew that she would go to great lengths to protect that smile, to shield you from the darkness that threatened to dim its radiance.

For in your smile, she found solace, hope, and an unwavering sense of purpose—a beacon of light guiding her through the darkest of nights. And as she stood by your side, she vowed to cherish every moment spent in your presence, knowing that your smile held the power to illuminate even the darkest corners of her soul.

As you both lay there, enveloped in the comfort of each other's presence, Shoko's voice broke the peaceful silence. "Hey, once we graduate... we should live together again," she suggested, her tone filled with warmth and affection.

You hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your features. "I don't want to burden you," you replied softly, your eyes meeting hers.

But Shoko shook her head, her expression earnest. "You would never be a burden to me," she insisted, her gaze unwavering as she searched your eyes for any sign of doubt.

You could see the unspoken words lingering on the tip of her tongue, the emotions swirling beneath the surface. But instead of voicing them, you simply smiled at her, a silent acknowledgment of her unwavering support.

"Okay," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll live with you."

As Shoko smiles and leans in to kiss you, a rush of bittersweet emotions floods her heart. In that tender moment, she can't help but reflect on the magnetic pull that drew you both together, like two stars orbiting each other in a celestial dance. But beneath the surface, she knows that nothing lasts forever. Inevitably, the forces that brought you together will begin to wane, replaced by the slow, steady drift of separation. It's a reality she's all too aware of, a truth she's learned to accept.

Yet, despite the looming specter of heartbreak, Shoko finds solace in the present moment. She resolves to savor every precious second spent with you, to relish the warmth of your embrace and the sweetness of your kisses.

For Shoko, there are no labels, no promises of forever. There is only the here and now, and the simple joy of being with you. And as long as she can feel that magnetic pull, that undeniable connection between you, she'll gladly weather the storms of uncertainty and cherish the moments they share together.

Ieiri Shoko kept her promise.

As you did, for nearly a decade.

That magnetic pull, that decade.

It was eternity to her, that she knew.

This life to the next, she believes it.

[mrskreideprinz]

| My Honey |

Pairing: Acheron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Selfship Coded, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Acheron goes by She/Her pronouns, Break In (nothing bad happens), Reader has Abandonment Issues, Reader is referred to as a girl, Reader goes by No Pronouns but is very much mentioned to be fem, 3.1k words.

A/n: This is my attempt at my first Acheron fic. This was going to have smut but it just felt very out of place so I removed it. So, yeah this is just a big heaping handful of hurt/comfort lmao

Summary: It’s been two years since Acheron left so suddenly and her disappearance haunts you to this day. 

Tagging: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez

Time moved so slow as of late, always taunting you with the subject of her absence. It had happened so suddenly and before you could protest she was but only a memory. A memory that followed you everywhere you went, tormenting you. You’d lay down to sleep and her piercing eyes would cut their way into your mind. Dreams of her body against yours turn into nightmares in a flash. Everything about her followed you even after so many years and eventually you decided to accept it, embrace it. Sure, she would never return home, but maybe one day those nightmares would turn into pleasant dreams, and perhaps at some point you’d stop crying out her name in your sleep.

“Acheron..” You called out, but there was no answer.

Most nights were spent like this, lonely in bed aching for the touch of her hand, and even more were filled with you crying out into the darkness. She was never there, always a drifting memory in your empty life. You’d only known her for a couple years before she left but it was enough to get addicted. You still remember how her eyes lingered on your body, soaking in the sight of your curved form. Even after all this time you could feel her presence lingering over yours as if she was still there, looming over your body like a curse. 

You tossed and turned in your bed, clinging to the blankets as if they were Acheron. The lack of her scent stung your nose, so empty and clean. All you wanted was her warmth to keep you company. Little did you know of a stranger's presence in your room, stroking a hand against your resting face. The figure stands over your sleeping form, watching calmly as your breathing remains steady even though you were very clearly troubled by something. They look one last look before climbing out your bedroom window and jumping onto the ground below. 

It isn’t until morning that you notice something amiss. The room is cooler and something seems… off, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Although you thought about it all day regardless. The rest of the day is spent doing mundane things, busying yourself so as to not think of the woman you still loved, who’d up and vanished like it was nothing to her. You got a drink of water and your eyes glossed over the mug that used to be her favorite. Cooking dinner was no easy task either, because you were eating her favorite. Although that was entirely of your own fault, no one else's. Still, the grief was an experience you lived through everyday. The day was long and empty, each breath you take a painful reminder of what you had loved and lost. So, you decided to cut your losses and go to bed early. No good could come from staying awake any longer. Not all days were this bad, just today. I mean, it was the anniversary of her disappearance, after all. 

Even in the warmth of your bed you felt cold, a sickly feeling settling into your bones like it was home. You gripped the edge of your blanket in your fist, silent tears falling onto the fabric. Why couldn’t things have been different? Why didn’t she even say goodbye? So many questions ran through your mind, all without an answer to accompany them. Sure, it’d been years and yes, you should’ve moved on by now, but you couldn’t. God dammit, it was her, it was always her, and she left you without saying a word. Why would she do that? Did she not love you like you did with her? These questions haunted you until the moment you finally slipped into unconsciousness. 

In your sleep you dreamt of nothing, just a vast empty field full of wilted roses. On the horizon was the setting sun, falling past the ground as darkness nearly began to envelop you. It was beginning to get dark with every passing second. Ignoring the uneven path before you, you pressed onward. Water splashed quietly underneath your feet as you made your way through the field. Slowly, little by little, the flowers began to bloom and the darkness grew into light. That’s when you saw a shadow of a figure standing before you. They did nothing but stand there, waving to you just seconds before you woke up gasping for air. Your face was damp with tears, your heart raced, and you felt.. Different. 

Quickly you made your way out of bed, not paying attention to your surroundings as you frantically went to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water. As you poured the water into the cup you told yourself all would be fine. It was just a dream, you thought. Just a horribly familiar dream. Tears began to stream down your face, still. You took a sip of water, a single small drink before pouring the rest into the sink. You cared less of how wasteful you were being, only focused on the awful dream you had just experienced. Something in your chest bloomed in agony. Would everything always feel this awful? You shook your head as if to shoo away the thoughts.

Dragging yourself back into the room you didn’t bother to look up, not until you felt a sudden warmth, along with being welcomed into a room that was even darker than you remembered. That’s when you looked up and saw a person, someone familiar. Her. At first you didn’t know what to say. Your immediate reaction of fear quickly dissipated as your eyes locked onto hers. It had been years, years, and she came back. There was so much you told yourself you’d say if this were to ever happen, but none of them came to you right now. Instead you simply whispered her name like a forbidden prayer. 

“Acheron..” 

Her sorrowful expression blossomed into something hopeful and happy. She nodded, reassuring you that she had indeed returned home. Everything happened so suddenly just like when she left. Instantly you reached out to her, trying your best to walk towards her, but instead you fell to your knees. At least you would’ve had she not caught you in her arms. Acheron held you close, pressing your head to her chest as you clung to her and cried out a life’s worth of pain. You weren’t sure whether you were sobbing because of the pain or the sheer shock of her return, either way it felt as if your life was ending just as it had begun. 

Acheron didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she should say anything. She wanted to say how sorry she was, confess how much she loved you, still loves you, but the words were lodged in her throat. It felt like hours in which she held you, stroking your hair and shushing you lovingly as you cried in her arms. Maybe it had been, but neither of you cared about anything or anyone but each other at that moment. The only thing that mattered to you was holding onto Acheron so tightly that she’d never leave, again. Acheron had no intention of leaving your side ever again, though. She knew she couldn’t just say that, she’d have to prove it over time, but she’d prove it for an eternity if that’s what would make you feel better. 

Finally your cries began to die down into something more quiet, you still clung to her but pulled away slightly to look up at the woman who’d walked right back into your life. “Why? Did I–” You were swiftly interrupted by Acheron’s voice.

“No. That had nothing to do with you.” She replied firmly. 

Still, you had your doubts and Acheron knew this. You rested your head against her chest, your hand hanging onto the loose fabric of her coat. Inhaling her scent you felt your body finally seem to relax, rocking itself into a state of relief. Your grip on her began to lessen as you felt your eyelids fall, exhaustion finally setting as Acheron continued to stroke the back of your head. You were moments from falling asleep when she spoke.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was a whisper, barely audible had you not been wrapped around her. 

You pulled back to look at her. She was crying, trying her best to avoid your eyes and hide her tears but failing regardless. Placing a soft hand to her cheek you pressed your forehead to hers, then adding your remaining hand to her opposite cheek. 

“It’s okay.. It’s okay..” You whispered back. 

She tried pulling away but your hands kept her grounded and in place, you weren’t strong by any means, Acheron just couldn’t bear the thought of putting any distance between the two of you. Was it okay, though? Truly could this agony she caused be relieved in any way? She gripped you close, holding the back of your head as she tried to will her tears away. Sadly, that did nothing to quell her sorrow. You tried to get her to look at you, reassuring her as you tried pulling away but she refused to loosen her grip. It wasn’t until you pushed her away and grabbed her face to look at you.

“Acheron, listen to me!” There was a brief moment of silence before you continued. “I know it won’t be easy and I know you hurt me badly. Trust me, I know, but I’m.. I’m willing to try.. Try to make this work. At least I will try if you will too?” You try to remain confident but your words fall into a question rather than a statement. 

Acheron couldn’t deny how badly she wanted to run away again, far far away, but she refused. She would not do to you, again, what she did before. No, she would do things differently this time, that she swore to herself. She wrapped you up in her arms again and gave you a tight squeeze. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” She whispered. “I promise.”

You smile and hug her back, crying tears of joy from hearing her words. Maybe there was hope for you two after all. 

The both of you held each other for a while. Although it felt like hours it had only been mere minutes. Then you sat up slowly and looked at Acheron with a smile, kissing her gently on the lips.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” You stand up and hold out a hand for Acheron to help her off of the floor. 

“Okay.” She replied softly. 

You led Acheron to your kitchen where you pulled a chair out for her at your round, wooden table as you quickly rummaged the cabinets to prepare her a glass of water. 

“Water okay?” You ask.

She nods and hums in approval. 

After pouring her a glass you set it on the table, and then go to make yourself a cup of coffee. You add your usual to it, stir it and then sit it on the table, as well. You sit down for a moment to take a sip of your coffee, think of what you were going to make her now that she was home. Did she still like the same things? Has her palette changed that much? Would she want something different or find comfort in the same old things? 

“Is everything alright?” She asked hesitantly, her voice pulling you from all those daunting thoughts of yours.

Your hands shook as they curled around the coffee mug, you didn’t know what to say. What should you say? 

Acheron reaches out a hand and places it on top of yours gently. “Hey, I’m not goin’ anywhere. Never again.” She smiles at you fondly and you know that her words are true.

Still, that doesn’t erase the doubts that linger in your mind. Maybe a meal would ease the anxiety itching at your stomach. “Yes, I’m okay. I think..” You paused. “I think I just need to eat something.”

You pull away so suddenly and begin to look through the fridge for something to eat, then as you drowned in your thoughts again you began to frantically look for that one food. It had been here before,  you didn’t eat it, not that you remembered, anyway. So, where the fuck was it? Why was everything so unorganized? Why hadn’t you thought to have food readily available for moments like this? Why were you so messy? Why were you such a mess? Why were you so fucking pathetic?! 

“Hey,” A hand gripped your wrist and you were flipped around to face Acheron. “That’s enough.” 

Tears flowed down your face, staring at the ground in shame as Acheron moved to quietly shut the fridge door. This was her fault, she did this to the girl she loved the most. She had to pay for the consequences but you shouldn’t have to. Acheron took her hand and moved your head to bring your attention back to her.

“Listen to me, you did nothing, absolutely nothing to make me leave.” She whispered, her lips inches from yours. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

Oh, how you wished you could believe her. 

“But..” You started to speak but not before Acheron promptly shushed you. 

“No. I mean it.” She paused, looking deep into your eyes before averting her gaze slightly. “This is my burden to bear, not yours.” 

Although she was correct in that fact you couldn’t shake the scratching feeling that you could’ve at least done something. You should’ve seen the signs you so commonly told yourself. Logically you knew you shouldn’t think like that but you couldn’t help it. The event truly messed you up and it made you second guess whether things would work with Acheron. Thankfully you came to your senses fairly quickly. This would not be an easy fix, it would take time and energy neither of you probably had, but it would be worth it. Sure, some would call you a fool, but you already lost her once and you weren’t about to do it, again.

Acheron thought about saying something but resisted, not sure if the words were productive to say. She shouldn’t and refused to be selfish at a time like this, no matter how guilty she was feeling at that moment. 

“It’s going to take some time, maybe too much time, but the work will be worth it. You are worth the work.” She reassured you.  

She placed both her hands on your face and rubbed the pad of her thumb against your cheek. “I fucked up, royally. I know it and you know it, but, please, let me fix this. Let me prove to you my love.” 

Her words stung in the way that they were so raw. Acheron had in the past kept many things from you, holding her honesty as something only some deserved to know. Unfortunately she realized a little too late that you deserved that honesty. Fuck, how she wished she could take it all back in a heartbeat. She smiled weakly at you and you leaned in closer, your lips now just barely grazing hers.

“I trust you.” You whispered against her lips, then softly pressing your lips against hers.

She pushed you away gently, her face filled with an expression of pain. “No. I don’t deserve it, not yet at least.” 

“Shh, just trust me..” You shushed her, leaning in for another kiss.

This time she didn’t pull away, too captivated by the touch of your lips to even want to back away. Granted some scared part of her dug deep down wanted to run far away, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t. Although it would be the easiest option it was not the one she truly wanted. It was not an option in her mind, the only choice she had was to love you. Acheron swore she would love you even when her hands shook and your body withered away, becoming food for the ground. She would love you even when the two of you were no longer bodies to feed and rather just souls floating into the empty chasm of space. 

She pushed her lips harder against yours, whimpering a little at how you grabbed at her shirt. You were so desperate for her love that it threatened your body with a wound you feared could not be cured by Acheron’s hands. You didn’t care, though, you just wanted Acheron. Wanted her to touch you, fuck you, love you. Truthfully you just wanted Acheron in any way she was willing to give herself. You ached for her, the good and bad, ignoring any potential consequences it could give. 

Acheron clumsily pushes your back against the fridge as your lips part and teeth clash in the heat of the moment. Your hands roam her body as hers hold onto your face firmly. Both of you are filled with fervent desire, kissing one another feverishly. The two of you fight for dominance until you pull back out of the kiss panting and looking up at Acheron with wanting eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” Acheron apologizes.

You smile. “It’s okay. I- I didn’t mind.” You admit. 

She blushed as her hands, which were by her sides, were grabbed gently by your own. You rubbed the back of her hands with your thumbs, humming something familiar as you did so. Acheron heard it somewhere before, but memory failed her. She leaned her forehead against yours and closed her eyes, humming in pleasure as she feels you kiss her cheek gingerly. The both of you hold where you’re at before you grab her face and give her a gentle kiss.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” You say, starting to get some eggs, milk, and sausage from the fridge. “You must be hungry.” 

Acheron hums. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Although you can’t see the great big smile on Acheron’s face, it’s there. She stands beside you and watches with glimmering eyes as you start to prepare the pan to prepare a very early breakfast. Maybe, she thought, things would be okay. Perhaps you two would make it out to see the light, after all. Either way, one thing was for sure, Acheron was beyond happy to be back into your life. Life wasn’t as bad as she’d always felt it was. For once, she felt truly and undoubtedly happy.