#this took forever and I apologize but I can finally write again so if you have aaaaaany wishes and ideas

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

Stowaway Series, Part 3: A Bubbly Disaster

Finally, part 3 of the Stowaway series. I was torn between ending it there and continuing it, but for now stopped here. :D

Find part 1 and part 2 if you want to read the beginning of this. =)

Word count: 3 Warnings: Still SFW. Just a naked butt. Pretty safe, I think? Characters: Ace, Marco & Thatch... and cat!reader :D

The Stowaway Series, Part 3: A Bubbly Disaster

The last remnants of your sanity drowned in a bubble-filled bath that smelled of rose water and white lotus.

At least that was what the label of the bottle read, the content of which Ace had squirted quite generously into the bathtub while he filled it with warm water. Generously enough to result in a veritable mountain of bubbles you had almost hoped would hide you when Marco dropped you into the bathtub, rather unceremoniously so.

Ace had strongly protested that kind of treatment, the sweet boy, while you had sunken deep into a puffy cloud of white foam. Sure, you’d tried your very best to bite Marco’s thumb off a minute prior to that in an attempt to escape… well, to escape whatever the fuck was going to happen in a giant bathroom with three pirates with a combined bounty of over Two. Billion. Berry. And a combined shirt count of one.

So perhaps it didn’t come as a great surprise when Marco dropped you into the bath – with a happy grin, too. But honestly, a girl had to at least try, right? Not that you were totally against getting bathed by three handsome men suffering from a veritable lack of fabric. Preferably those men would not be world-renowned criminals, though. And preferably, you’d be in your human form, being fed grapes or something such. For this whole scenario to work, you shouldn’t be in your cat form. This was just plain weird.

So you’d splashed into the water and immediately stood up to your neck in it, spluttering as you tried to keep your nose over water. Of course, you landed on your feet – you were still a cat, even if only like… 50% of one. The foam had fused closed above you, hiding you from sight, and you’d tentatively waded towards where you thought the door might be, your fur soaking in water as swirls of rosé pink and white drifted past you. After a moment, you squeezed your eyes closed. A soap bubble had gotten into your right eye and you’d almost yowled in pain and annoyance.

 “Where is she?” you heard Ace ask, concerned. Groping hands parted the foam somewhere behind you, and you waded more quickly, your whiskers twitching desperately at the constant contact to the myriad of bubbles in front of your face.

“Ace, that was way too much,” Thatch commented and sighed. “I literally can’t see her in all those bubbles. Why’d you go for so much?”

“Girls like bubble baths,” Ace murmured, shoveling hands full of foam out of the tub. “I didn’t think it’d blow up like this. I should have used my soap.”

“She’s a cat-yoi,” Marco said, and you heard somebody move around the tub. Or at least you thought you did. The bubble foam made sizzling noises in your overly sensitive ears.

“Do you even have soap?” Thatch asked, sounding genuinely curios.

Flattening your ears against your skull, you waded onward, a task made very difficult by being fucking submerged in water to your nostrils. Using your tail like a paddle seemed to do little to propel your forward. Useless thing!

“She’s a girl cat,” Ace corrected him. “She might like it. Kotatsu likes bubble baths. Also. I do owe a soap. Fuck off.”

“Kotatsu is five times her size and is no danger of drowning in it,” Marco replied warily, and you heard fabric rustle, and then a big set of hands parted the foam to your right – you couldn’t see it, but you could hear it.

You melted away from that side and wondered how fucking huge this bathtub was?! Did they do communal baths?! Pirate orgy parties?! Where was the end of this?! You shuddered and waded onwards.

“When was the last time you took a bath, anyhow?” Thatch continued, unperturbed. Water splashed behind you, and you almost growled in annoyance. “By the way, I suspect Kotatsu appreciates the company of the nurses more than the bubbles,” he chuckled, and a hand touched your tail.

You snapped it forward against your body and squinted against the pain. Bubbles. Bubbles everywhere. Was this how you’d die? Suffocated by fucking bubbles?!

“Actually, only four days ago, thankyouverymuch.” Ace sounded exasperated.

You grimaced. Pirates.

“Well, you might as well use the chance,” you could hear Thatch and then something that sounded like he was heartily patting Ace’s back. “Since you went to all the trouble to prepare the biggest bubble disaster since Haruta’s prank of ’17.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna get in there naked. You saw what she tried to do to Marco’s thumb?”

You rolled your eyes. You hadn’t even been successful; your teeth had barely nicked him. Plus, whatever Ace was thinking, you definitely wouldn’t try to sink your teeth into his naked arse. Or anything else, for that matter. You had class, after all.

“Guys,” Marco said, “Focus. The cat.”

You’d given up trying to find your way out of the fucking bathtub for a moment, but now that hand after hand full of foam was suddenly shoveled away, your chance was slipping away quickly. You might have even made it to the rim of this veritable pool if a bubble hadn’t found its way into your left nostril. You tried to control yourself. To be zen. To find your inner center.

You managed for about 2.5 seconds before a hearty sneeze parted the bubbles in front of your face.

Aw, rats.

Looking up and squinting against the burning in your eyes, you saw Marco look down at you, clearly very amused. Clearly also very shirtless and up to his elbows in foamy water. He apparently hadn’t noticed the small cloud of foam that was sitting on his shoulder. “There she is.”

Yay. He found you.

You sneezed again, realized that the door was very much not in front of you, and heaved a sigh that didn’t even nearly match the tragedy one wrong decision had brought upon you. Closing your eyes again, you accepted your fate, your tail curled tightly around you, your ears flattened against your skull, and your strength seeping from your body from the continued contact with water – even if it wasn’t saltwater, it wasn’t exactly doing great things to your stamina and strength, submerged as you were.

“Where’d you get the bath thingy from, anyway?” Thatch asked and sidled up on the other side of the bathtub. You blinked your eyes open briefly. Long enough to notice that he had not bothered putting on a shirt in the meantime. Well. Understandable. But distracting. You closed your eyes again.

“Izou’s stash,” Ace answered and removed a bulk of foam from around you. “Aww, kitty, this is too high for you!” He moved away, and then a slurping sound somewhere behind you announced that he was letting some of the water out.

After a moment of silence, Thatch spoke up again. “He’ll kill you.”

“Naaaah,” Ace shook his head. “He’ll like her.”

“He’ll kill you and not even try to hide it. Shoot you right between the eyes.”

You ducked into the receding water line, curled up as much as you could. Five minutes spent in this porcelain prison, and they were already talking murder. Fucking hell. You better be a very convincing cat.

“Miau,” you uttered and cleared your throat. No, that hadn’t sounded quite right. “Miau?” you tried again, happier the tone.

“Sssh, kitty. It’s all good,” Ace said, and you personally didn’t think anything at all was good right now, but hey, you might be biased.

“He won’t kill me,” he then continued. “I’ll just tell him it was Marco.” He chuckled, and suddenly his hands were on you. Not that you could see right now, but he’d touched your butt enough times today for you to know the way his hands felt on you, and that in itself was… disconcerting. You didn’t even know how your life had derailed like this.

“Yeah, as if I’d be that dumb-yoi,” Marco snorted. “I think she’s got foam in her eyes, she’s not even opening her eyes.”

A large hand came around your chest and propped you up only a moment before a second hand cupped your face. You opened your mouth to protest – still undecided on whether this warranted a hiss or a growl, you weren’t quite sure on the proper cat etiquette – and felt water pour over your eyes. Sputtering, you tried to reel back, but Marco held you firmly. A moment later, his fingers traced your eyes, and the burning sensation was gone in a second. You slowly blinked your eyes open, seeing three very expectant faces looking down at you. All naked, as far as you could see. The men attached to the faces, that was, not just the faces. All very built as far as you could discern. Huh. Apparently a life of pirating made for great upper body training.

With some delay you remembered that you should probably be scared and shrunk away.

“She’s got pretty eyes,” Ace cooed and started to massage the shampoo into your fur, the movements surprisingly tender and somewhat hypnotizing. You blinked up at him. One plus point to Freckles. Clearly, he had great taste.

“Mhm,” Marco made and mirrored Ace’s movements at your front. Each only used one hand, steading your body with the other. There was literally nowhere left to go.

Ace’s hand felt pleasantly warm, while Marco’s was refreshingly cool. It was weird, but… if you had to be honest… probably the most comfortable bath treatment you’d ever gotten in your life. Ah, well. If you were doomed, you might as well enjoy a massage, right?

So what if they were hardened criminals? They also had amazingly dexterous fingers – probably from strangling marines or something such – and they hit just the right spots. Right there, on your lower back and just above your shoulder. You didn’t realize that your eyes had drifted shut, and you had started to purr until Marco chuckled.

“Not so bad now, huh?” he murmured. “Considering you were trying your best to chew off my finger just a minute ago, kitty-yoi.”

You abruptly stopped the purring, and your eyes snapped open. Right. Right. You shouldn’t get too comfortable. The chances that they’d do something nasty after going to the trouble of fishing you out of the sea and literally bathing you like a princess were slim. Not zero. But slim.

You eyed the three of them, taking note of their wide shoulders and muscular chests. Your eyes landed on Ace’s upper arm, the muscles rippling below his skin as he moved, and the letters spelled on it. ASCE. Drunken mistaken? Illiteracy? A lost bet?

The hat he’d worn before was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t look too hard, though; you got distracted by the freckles on his shoulders and, even more so, his very defined pectorals. Shit. He was hot.

Quickly looking away to the pirate in front of you – Marco – you hoped to regain focus. However, his chest was just as defined, and the lines of the giant tattoo there just invited your eyes to roam. It was like they were models for the Hottest Pirates of the Year calendar, and that was slightly unfair.

But enjoyable.

You looked up, your eyes locked with Marco’s, and for a horrible, horrible moment you saw something in his eyes that looked like scrutiny. His brow furrowed and you gulped. Shit. Did he know?! Shit. Shitshitshit.

Just then his hand reached your right ear and he started to rub circles against it and without any conscious choice your brain cells took a vacation and you absolutely melted into his hand like butter onto warm toast bread. One touch and any intelligent thought was annihilated. Your ears were your weakness. The purring was back, full volume, your chest vibrating.

“Awww, just listen to her. Almost as loud as Kotatsu,” Ace grinned and worked the shampoo into the fur along your spine, setting off all kinds so reflexes.

Overstimulated, your tail started to twitch as you tried to simultaneously shift against his hand while remaining in full contact with Marco’s hand at your ear. Your paws were kneading water, your eyes dropping closed.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem all that important anymore that they were allegedly plundering and killing their way through the Grand Line. Their hands were magic. To be fair, you’d never seen them make any trouble on your island, on the contrary… they restocked, paid good money… partied… and left.

Maybe they weren’t so bad.

Maybe getting a full-on body massage was actually completely ethically acceptable.

Maybe playing cat for like a week or however long it would take to land on another island wouldn’t be too bad.

“Well, seeing as you have the little Miss under control…,” Thatch said, and you’d have protested that notion if you weren’t so busy feeling fucking amazing right now. You cracked one eye open to watch him.

He got up and ran a hand through his wet hair. Somewhere, in the periphery of your conscience, you noticed that his wide chest and back were decorated with several tattoos, as were his muscular upper arms. “I’ll go take a shower, and rinse the salt off of me too.”

The next time you had something resembling a conscious thought was when your eyes landed on his very naked butt on the other side of the room, stepping into a shower. His very naked, very shapely butt. And his strong, muscular thighs. And, as he turned to draw the curtain closed, you saw even more that piqued your interest... You craned your neck, the purring momentarily forgotten. How… interesting.

 “Alright, I think she’s all shampooed up-yoi,” Marco decreed and dropped his hand from your ear. You shot him an indignant stare because you certainly didn’t feel all shampooed up yet, you were pretty sure there was a spot still missing just behind your ear. Why did he stop?!

“Didn’t get her paws yet,” Ace murmured, slid his hand below your belly and scooped you up in one movement before you could so much as squeak your protest. In the next moment, you were held against his chest and his fingers massaged your paws. The ticklish feeling immediately shot up your spine and you drew your paw back and away only for him to reach for the next one. The game went on – you had four paws after all – and perhaps you’d have tried to protest more strongly if you hadn’t been made very aware of Ace’s physique over the last minutes. A physique you were now very close to. Close enough to boop your nose against.

Thing was, the longer you stayed in your cat form, the more feral mannerisms bubbled up in you. You’d known this for a while and usually it was fine.

Did you feel the need to run after flickering lights sometimes? Yes.

Could you handle it? Usually.

However, you’d never been in your cat form for this long.

So your tongue was already out of your mouth and halfway to his neck when you realized what you were about to do. Scraping the remnants of your sanity together, you bit down hard, wincing at the pain and quickly turned your head away from him, eyes glazing over. What the hell.

You’d almost licked the 550 billion berry pirate like a Popsicle.

Perhaps he’d been right to decline a bath. Perhaps you would have tried to bite his ass if it was even half as nicely shaped as the rest of him. Just a little. Just a nip. In a friendly, complimentary way, of course. Respectfully.

“There you go, kitty, now you’re all clean,” Ace cooed into your ear and you shivered. Ah, shit. You were in even bigger trouble than you’d realized.

“Time to rinse it all out-yoi,” Marco announced suddenly. “Close your eyes!”

“What?” Ace managed to ask while you squeezed your eyes shut.

Next thing you knew you and Ace both were dripping wet, although it was fair to say that you had been for quite some time and were far less surprised. Ace, on the other hand, looked utterly flabbergasted as he glanced down over his length, then at you, then at Marco, and then back at himself. A frown appeared on his face.

“What the hell, man?!” he demanded to know, his hands tightening around you.

Marco chuckled. “I figured it was a good opportunity-yoi.”

“For what?!” Ace snapped. “Being the most annoying brother since Luffy raided the alligator mom’s nest and had her hunting us through the whole forest for days?!”

“Regular showers are highly encouraged,” Marco said mildly, a serene smile in place.

Ace’s fingers twitched and you looked up at him, seeing his grin grow absolutely feral as he lowered his head. Suddenly, you felt very much like you’d like to switch holder.

“Is that so?” he asked and tenderly set you on the ground. You made a squishing noise as you touched down and grimaced. Shampoo bubbles were still everywhere in your fur.

“As per the nurse’s request…-,” Marco started and easily dodged the bucket full of water Ace was splashing his way. How quickly he had managed to pick up the bucket, scoop it full with water, and splash it out was beyond you.

Within five seconds the situation had derailed completely. Marco was hosing Ace down at any chance he got, Ace was catapulting buckets full of foamy water at Marco, Thatch was humming in the shower as if this was an everyday occurrence, and you sat there. Just watching. Just wondering if these men were indeed the criminals you had assumed them to be.

Also… should you… like… just go finish rinsing yourself, or…?

Let me know with what we shall continue - Ace's bath? Picking a name for cat!reader that she will hate with a certainty of 100%? (Suggestions? :D) Let me know in the comments! :D @ms-sasa You wanted to be tagged, here you go! <3

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

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

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[haechoxo]

[10:35 am]

haechan's apartment was a mess. empty takeout containers littered the coffee table, clothes were strewn across the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of stale beer. he hadn’t expected any visitors, let alone you.

he had spent the morning trying to shake off the anxiety from his late-night confession, his mind replaying every word he had said to you. he was expecting a phone call, dreading and hoping for it all at once. when a knock echoed through the cluttered apartment, his heart leaped into his throat.

he stumbled to the door, tripping over a pair of sneakers on his way. swinging it open, he was met with the sight of you standing there, looking as unsure as he felt.

“i—” you started, then faltered, your rehearsed words suddenly elusive. “i said i’d call, but i thought... maybe we should talk in person.”

he stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. “uh, yeah, yeah. come in. sorry about the mess.”

you walked into his apartment, glancing around. it was a mess–but it was so very haechan. he looked at you, clearly embarrassed, scratching the back of his head and blushing furiously.

“i, um, wasn’t expecting company,” he admitted, trying to tidy up a bit.

“n-no, it’s okay, i didn’t give you a warning…” you were just as shy as him right now. “i think i’ve seen worse anyway.” you giggle, easing the tension a bit.

“can i get you something?” he asked, his voice awkward and hesitant. “water, coffee?”

you shook your head, mumbling a soft ‘no thanks’, as you took a seat on the couch.

haechan sat down across from you, the silence between you heavy. you took a deep breath, finally getting to the point, “i thought about what you said last night.”

he perks up in his seat a bit, eyes flickering with hope, “y-yeah?”

“i… i want to make it clear first, we can’t just—forget any of it happened,” he deflates, “the hookups, the dates that weren’t dates, our fights too.”

“r-right…” he hopes you can’t see that he’s about to cry again.

“but, we were friends before all of that. you were my best friend… a-and i don’t want to lose that either.”

“i don’t want to lose you either i–” he sighs, frustrated with himself, “i let things get so far out of hand, i won’t ever stop making it up to you for as long as you let me, y/n.”

your cheeks tinge with a blush at his words, “yeah you were stupid,” he genuinely laughs at this, “but i probably shouldn’t have agreed to your ‘proposal’ the first time it happened, i told myself it would be a one time thing, but then one turned into two, and two turned into three years. i agreed because i trusted you, because i liked you.”

haechan’s eyes widen, “liked?”

“well—i still do, i mean why else would we be here, but that’s besides the point!” you quickly try to avert the topic from your silly schoolgirl crush.

“if you’re serious about me, as you say, i can forgive you. if we start over.”

“start over?” seriously, how dense can he be.

“no more hookups, hyuck.” you deadpanned

“oh! right, of course, so… you mean, we can go out on a real date, for real?” you’d laugh at how endearing it sounded if he wasn’t so serious.

some things don’t change.

“well—no.”

“oh.”

“i wanna just… go back to being friends—for now.” you stated softly.

“yeah… yeah that makes sense.” he looks like a kicked puppy, you could almost laugh.

“it’s not forever, hyuck,” a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “just until things are back to normal, when we– heal? i guess, from what happened these past few weeks.”

he nods, “so… just friends?”

“just friends.”

haechan looks visibly relieved, content with the current status of your relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind you keeping him at arms length, so long as you were keeping him at all.

“so... can you tell renjun to unblock me on twitter now?”

sigh.

previous - next

a/n ; APOLOGIES FOR THE LATE UPDATE💔,, i was unfortunately busy yesterday and couldnt stay locked up in my room 😔 and writing a “reconciliation” type of scene was so much more difficult than the angst… like this was a genuine challenge for me… BUT… only one more chapter after this…😰 im thinking of all the little bonus text chapters and silly blurbs i can make but only if u guys would wanna see those so lmk!! ik this isnt the best, i feel like i am better suited for angst, but lmk what u think! advice is always appreciated! xoxo jelly

[philistiniphagottini]

Hiiiii, its me again lmao can I ask for a Jing Yuan oneshot with fem reader what if somebody close to him casually and unexpectedly confessed to him, like, she thinks it's normal for him to have somebody confess to him so reader just did so casually in the middle of their interaction, a little flustered, but doesn't make it too obvious.

Thank youuuu~♡ sorry about earlier btw, i got too excited when I saw you want to take requests and forgot that rules exist 😭 but you're so nice for correcting me, so thanks again.. and i hope you enjoy as well 😊 🥰

Hi! Thank you for the request. Lol, it's okay, you're a good egg. I understand that you were excited and I appreciate the enthusiasm. It all worked out in the end so there's nothing to worry about. I really hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing this and I don't think I'll ever get bored of writing for Jing Yuan.

cw. fluff, love confessions, female reader, 2.3k words

“You’re late.”

Those were the first words out of your mouth when General Jing Yuan finally showed up to your appointed lunch meet up. You tried to not let your disdain show as your nails tapped against the wooden table, tapping to an unknown beat as Jing Yuan took a seat across from you. There was an obvious pinch in your furrowed brow as your eyes briefly drifted over Jing Yuan only to be greeted by his lackadaisical smile. You should be used to his tardiness by now, he tended to run on his own internal clock. Yet somehow, you were still irritated as you pressed the seam of your lips into a tight, thin line.

The warm rays of sunshine danced off Jing Yuan’s face, the light almost as blinding as his smile as he settled in his seat on the private terrace. The gentle breeze played with the tips of his white mane of hair, rustling the bright red ribbon tied into a neat bow as you idly watched the movement from the corner of your eye. Your attention snapped back to Jing Yuan as he cleared his throat, his smile turning warm as he greeted you with soft eyes. 

“My apologies for being late” he said. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

You took a deep and calming breath, trying to let your seething resentment breeze past your lips and be lost in the dancing winds that rustled through the trees. You lightly shook your head as you straightened up in your seat.

“Not long, I suppose” you replied with a soft huff. 

Jing Yuan tilted his head to the side, his eyes shimmering with endearment at the small little pout that formed on your lips. He waited for you to continue speaking, sensing the question that itched at the back of your scalp and lay heavy on your tongue. Your eyes focused on the little beauty spot just under his warm, honey coloured eyes, unable to look directly into his piercing gaze lest you be lost forever in their depths. 

“So, why are you late?”

Jing Yuan waved his hand through the air, brushing off your question as a warm chuckle pushed past his lips. He shook his head.

“Do not worry about it” he replied.

Your gaze narrowed and your ears itched something fierce as you were waved off. Was he trying to tease you, knowing that you would be deathly curious now to wring an answer out of him? Sometimes, you think that Jing Yuan did subtly like to tease you, holding an air of mystery about him, keeping his cards close to his chest and a smile that told you that he knew something that you didn’t. And you really wanted to squeeze an answer out of him now. With a small and undignified huff, you crossed your arms over your chest and it took every ounce of Jing Yuan’s willpower not to coo at the adorable pout that tugged on your plump lips.

“It must have been something important, if it required the General’s rapt attention” you surmised.

Jing Yuan’s smile didn’t falter as you subtly tried to prod at him for more information, your body leaning forward slightly in your chair as your ears perked up for the next few words to slip past his lips. A warm hum stirred in the back of Jing Yuan’s throat as he lay his hands in front of him on the table, tracing the tips of his fingers over the dips in the wooden frame. 

“You could say that” he replied with a firm nod and a nonchalant roll of his shoulders. 

You waited for a brief moment, still leaning forward in your chair as you waited with baited breath.

“So?” you prompted. 

The corners of Jing Yuan’s lips twitched a little higher, seeing as he now had your complete and undivided attention. He was pleased that you weren’t so cranky anymore now that your attention was diverted elsewhere. 

“I had someone profess their love to me on the way over to meet you, that was all” Jing Yuan divulged.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline as you gave the General an incredulous look. Why was he talking so casually about it like he was observing the weather? Your arms fell from your chest and you almost jumped out of your seat to launch yourself across the table at him. 

“Another?” you squawked. “That’s the third one this week!”

Jing Yuan laughed at the perturbed look on your face as you tried to wrap your head around it. You knew he was General and quite popular on the Luofu but sometimes, it was just a little ridiculous how much people fought for his attention. You had been friends with Jing Yuan for such a long time and no matter how many times this happened to him, you would still be astounded how casual Jing Yuan acted about the entire situation, like some poor soul didn’t just pour their heart out to him only to have him turn them down. Speaking of…You swallowed thickly, tongue darting over your lips as you considered your next words carefully, settling back in your seat as you cleared your throat with a polite cough.

“So, what did you say?” you inquired. 

Jing Yuan quirked a bemused snowy brow in your direction as his smile turned coy. “Oh, interested to know?”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you bit the inside of your cheek. “You know I am. Come on, spill the tea.”

Jing Yuan continued to smile as he leaned forward in his chair, shoulders raised in a small shrug.

“What is there to spill? I turned them down, of course.”

Your eyes brightened at his words and you could feel your heart sing with joy. You let go of the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding and sighed in relief. You weren’t sure where in your relationship that your friendship started to turn and mean something more to you. Every time you heard someone confess to him, there was always a sense of panic that would knot in the pit of your stomach as your heart lodged itself in your throat in anticipation. But the amount of relief you would feel when he denied them always put you at ease, after feeling a little guilty about it. After all, they had plucked up the courage to admit their feelings and yet you were more of a coward. It was an inner turmoil you struggled with on a near, daily basis and you feared that if you didn’t act soon, someone else may just steal him away from you.

Jing Yuan continued to speak but you didn’t quite catch what he was saying, pulse racing frantically in your ears as you pondered on what you were about to do next. With the amount of people he had confessing to him, maybe you could try and shoot your shot as well. The worst he could say was no. You swallowed around the hard lump in your throat as you idly chewed on the dry skin around your cracked lips, your cheeks warm as the words suddenly came spilling from your mouth like a flowing river. 

“You know, I think I should probably confess my feelings too, since half of the Luofu has already done it…”

“Hm?”

Jing Yuan paused with what he was saying when he heard you speak up, immediately swallowing his words as his ears pricked towards your meek voice. He blinked owlishly down at you, trying to process what you had just said for what felt like an eternity. After a brief pause, he stirred and smiled at you.

“Did you say something?” he asked.

It felt like your heart dropped down into your stomach and your skin fluctuated between icy cold chills and a rapid hot flush. You shook your head as you placed your shaky hands on the table as you pushed yourself upright, planning to make a quick escape so you could go bury yourself in a nest of blankets and cry for the next few days as you berated yourself for how stupid this idea was. 

“Nope. Nothing. Not a damn thing” you stuttered in a flustered rush. “I have to leave now. Excuse me.”

Before you could get a chance to tuck your tail between your legs and make a swift exit, Jing Yuan reached over the table and grabbed your wrists before slamming your hands back to the table. The sharp sound rang in your ears as you cringed, eyes nervously flitting up to Jing Yuan. He smiled warmly at you. You tried to tug your hands free but he wouldn’t budge.

“Repeat what you said” Jing Yuan said in a slow and firm tone. 

Gone was the dozing General. Now you were forced to deal with the war General that had been steering the Luofu clear of disasters for several centuries. And he would not brook your disobedience. You couldn't muster up the strength to try and leave. Not that Jing Yuan would let you get away with such an attempt. A shiver tickled the base of your spine as you lowered your gaze, chin tucked into your chest as you quietly murmured to yourself. He squeezed his hands around your wrists, the large palms of his hands warm and almost swallowing your tiny hands whole. 

“Raise your head when you speak” Jing Yuan said. “I cannot hear you when you murmur like that.”

Irritation prickled at the back of your scalp and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you were put on the spot. Like he asked, you raised your head and jutted your chin out as you bared your teeth at him.

“Who are you? My Mother?” you grumbled with a biting tone.

“I will act like it if you keep giving me that attitude” he playfully bit back.

A long sigh blew past your lips as your shoulders sagged in defeat. You slowly raised your head, a frown tugging at your lips as you gave him big, sad doe eyes. It made his own gaze lose its sharpness as his eyes suddenly went soft at the little pout that crossed your visage. You idly scuffed your shoe along the floor.

“Why do you always have to be so mean to me?” you lamented.

A soft chuckle stirred in Jing Yuan’s chest. “Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Your cheeks puffed up as your pretty, soused lashes fluttered over your burning cheeks. Jing Yuan soothed the erratic beat of your heart as he drew his thumbs in circles over the fluttering pulse of your wrists, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts before he spoke in a soft voice. 

“Speak to me, my dear.”

The term of endearment that breezed past his lips made you weak in the knees as you slowly crumbled under his alluring charm. You almost collapsed back down in your chair, the tips of your fingers tingling with numbness as you poked them into the rough calluses adorning Jing Yuan’s weathered hands. You turned your words over in your mind before trying to speak to him without the anxiety trying to force your throat to close up. 

“I like you, Jing Yuan” you said. “Really, really like you. So much that I want you to maybe, possibly consider…going out with me?”

Your head was a mess and your sentences felt like a jumble of incoherent words strung together. Your emotions were violently swinging from side to side like an unstable pendulum and you were so surprised that you hadn’t gotten whiplash by now. You hated it when Jing Yuan put you on the spot like this and roasted you in the open fires of a furnace with his scrutinising gaze. Once your confession spilled past your lips, Jing Yuan snorted in response. Your face fell flat. 

“Did you just snort at me, General?” you asked, trying to keep the venom out of your voice.

His shoulders shook with mirth before he roared with laughter. Not exactly the response you were expecting. Your jaw clenched as a soft hiss whistled through your teeth.

“You’re hurting my feelings, Jing Yuan.”

Jing Yuan shook his head as he squeezed your hands with reassurance. “I apologise. I’m just so…elated, to hear you say that.”

You blinked owlishly down at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Really?”

Jing Yuan rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, his demeanour slipping back into casual and playful as he raised your hands to his lips. His breath was warm as if puffed against your skin and you couldn’t tear your gaze off the way his lips parted around a soft coo of your name. 

“Of course. Why do you think I keep inviting you to these lunch dates?”

Your brain stopped functioning properly the second you felt his lips ghost over the back of your hands. That and what he had just casually admitted. The gears in your head started to chug and whirl as you came upon a sudden realisation. Had Jing Yuan been subtly hinting at you his true feelings this entire time and you were too dense to pick up on them? You were about to experience the five stages of grief within the span of ten seconds. 

“You…should have made your intentions clearer” you said. 

A mischievous smirk curled on his lips as he gave you a sly wink. “Now where’s the fun in that?” he purred as he kissed your hands again.

There was a scathing remark itching somewhere at the back of your mind but you lost it somewhere in the clutter of thoughts running a mile a minute through your skull. 

“We’ve wasted a lot of time” you pointed out. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make up for it.”

[farfromstrange]

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

[s1ater]

better than him.

pairings. matt sturniolo x fem!reader

about. matt is envious of chris for something that was his before chris’.

warnings. foul language probably

ricky is typing… i finally caved and decided to write for my best boy. for my usual viewers, i apologize 😋.

"you deserve better than him... you know that right?"

his voice haunts you.

you let his words sink in while the silence soaks the both of you and your eyes stay closely trained on the cracks in the sidewalk and what you could make out of it.

it's midnight, close to it and there you were, once again left on the front lawn of chris’ house with no chris.

“he even knows it.”

matt’s words strike your heart cold and you hate how it’s him telling you this. you were sure everyone knew it, but everyone always had the curtesy to not say anything, because in the end it didn’t matter. as much as chris was a bad boyfriend at times, he always made up for it. most times.

this however, was not the time.

“want to come inside?”

“no, it’s fine,” you finally moved, facing him. “i’m just going to go home. i need sleep.”

“okay,” he nods his head, pulling his eyes from yours as he seemed more timid now that you were actually looking at him. “need a ride?”

“i drove.”

“oh,” he sounds sad, “right.”

he coughs, it is so awkward, for no reason, and matt knows it’s because of him. he should have just left you out here by yourself like always and just let you go on your own time, like always, but watching you made his heart ache.

“you sure you don’t want to come inside, y/n/n?” he narrowed his vision on you, trying to make it seem like he didn’t really care, but failing. “just for water or..?”

there’s a longing in his voice, like he needed it more than you did.

your eyes hit the sidewalk again, wincing, causing a crinkle in your eye as you think. there was no harm. absolutely no harm, and yet you hesitated, clutching the back of your neck and digging your nails into your skin in desperation for relief of the stress. stress of answering.

“yeah, why not matty,” you gave in, dropping your hand from your neck and taking the first step toward the home easily, like this was the way you would have headed even if you hadn’t said yes. like this is where you wanted to go and to be all along.

he nodded, trying to hide his smile before walking into his own home, not waiting for you.

he knew you’d come.

matt had known you since forever. way before chris, way before nick, way before anyone. and he took pride in that.

he was the reason chris knew you. he forever regretted that day where he introduced you to his triplet, posing you on a stool for the taking. he placed you like a treat on chris’ nose and he ate you up like a dog as fast as he could, with no care.

“i’m surprised your parents keep letting you out of your house this late.”

you sighed, following him into the home, placing your keys on the kitchen counter and slowly mentally undoing yourself, “me too.”

“they know he treats you like this?”

oh, you hate that question.

you’re not sure how to answer it, even as you both know very well what the answer is.

“let’s not do this, matt,” you bit the inside of your cheek.

the two of you have slowed, you’re posed in the doorway of the living room while he’s in the midst of sitting down, but stops himself, looking at you, really looking at you.

matt liked you, a lot.

“okay,” he nodded, slowly. “i’m sorry.”

like a lot, a lot.

“it’s alright.”

to the point he can barely look you in the face. especially now, after all that has happened.

“i just didn’t come in to talk about him. i came in for you.”

he swallows.

fuck.

really, really, really liked you.

“okay,” he finally sits down. “i’d offer my room, but nick would wake up to the sound of us sitting down and he’d be down my throat immediately.”

“no, it’s fine,” you smiled softly, keeping your position leaned against the framing. “i’m not picky.”

“yeah, you’ve always said that,” he scoffed, “yet you’re the pickiest person i’ve met.”

“not true,” you say fast, wanting to trudge across the five feet between you just to lightly hit him. “you were always the who couldn’t make up their mind on things.”

“picky and indecisive are two different things, y/n/n-“

“and yet, both equally a headache to deal with.”

both your heads jerked to see nick in all his midnight glory emerging from around the corner. if it wasn’t his tone of voice to clue you onto his annoyance, his evening attire was enough to let you know he did not want to be up at this hour.

“hey, y/n,” he passes you, lightly patting your arm as you stare at his feet and the slippers that covered them.

you hold back your laugh, “hey, nicky.”

“left in the dust, again?”

“oh, you know so well.”

“wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that,” he shuffles around behind you, filling a glass with water. “you two are loud as fuck. please shut the fuck up or like… go talk in the guest bedroom.”

“nick, we just got here,” matt leans on his knees, “you’re being a baby.”

nick is quick to dip his head to the side, an offended look on his face that he’d hope matt would challenge, “excuse me?”

you bite down your smile fast, looking to matt who doesn’t bother hiding his, “okay,” he stands, “okay, okay,” he raises his hands in defeat, but the smile on his face keeps pushing up on his cheeks. “we’ll just go in the guest bedroom.”

“yeah. you will,” nick shakes his head, taking a sip of his water.

the high attitude makes you want to laugh, but you don’t press it. nick was one of the moodiest people you had ever met, and as funny as it was, he was also ruthless and didn’t care for hurting someone’s feelings.

you push off the wall, walking toward the guest bedroom that was right down the hall with matt behind you till nick calls out again.

“matt, can i talk to you?”

you both stop, glancing at the boy who no longer seems to be in his heightened attitude.

“yeah?”

he looks concerned.

“outside?”

you suddenly feel the attention on you, even as neither of them were looking at you. but the tension of nicks stare on matt was undeniably because of you. you could tell.

matt’s eyes meet with yours, as if asking if it were okay, and you nod slowly, then watching them slowly go.

“what’re you doing, man?” the front door had just barely shut and nick was already airing it out. “c’mon matt, you can’t do this.”

“do what?”

“matt,” nick gives him the hardest stare he had ever seen, but it wasn’t harsh. the stare was instead knowing, and almost sympathetic. “what do you think chris would do.”

“chris isn’t here.”

“yeah, i know. he never fucking is half the time, but come on matt. it’s not right.”

“what am i supposed to do?” matt feels a sudden burst of frustration as his arm extends out in expression. “y/n’s my best friend. she was mine before she was chris’. you think he thought about what was right before he kissed her, before he asked her out?”

nick stares at him in silence. the remorse leaks from his eyes and matt can barely stand the look, but he can’t force himself to look away.

“chris doesn’t care, so why should i?”

“because you’re better than him.”

the words hurt even as they should be taken as a compliment. matt should’ve known better. matt was kind, and genuine, and he could never act on his bad intentions even if he wanted to because he knew better.

“yo, what’re you two fuckers doing?”

matt and nick break their held stare upon the loud call out from chris who was suddenly trekking across the front lawn. nick looked to him, while matt kept his eyes planted on the cement of their front porch.

“is y/n here? her car’s parked across the street,” chris places his hands on both their shoulders, his usual cocky perma smile planted on his lips.

“yeah, she’s inside,” nick nodded toward the door.

he nods, but his smile becomes pressed into a half frown, looking between them both.

“what’s wrong with you two?” he narrows his eyes on the both of them, catching onto the awkward silence still holding over them and matt’s lack in attempt to look at him. “you both good?”

“yeah, we’re fine. it’s just been a long night,” nick leans away from the hold chris has on him, rubbing his eyes as if proving his exhaustion. “go talk to y/n.”

he doesn’t believe it.

“matt?”

“yeah.”

“you okay, matty?”

“i’m great, chris,” he inhales through his nose sharply, finally looking up to him as if reassuring him. “y/n’s in the guest room.”

matt’s voice is strictly monotoned, ridding any reassurance he was trying to put out. a strange look crosses chris’ face at the short and dry answer and he’s beyond confused now. he studies his brothers face, to which matt can barely look right back anymore.

“okay…” he glances at nick, “i’ll talk to you two later. unless you want to bring this party inside?”

“we’ll catch you in a minute.”

he goes.

“nice one.”

“yeah, fuck you.”

nick let’s it slide off his shoulder, only looking at him with sympathy, “matt, what’re you gonna do?”

“i don’t know,” he sighs, scratching the back of his head. “same thing i’ve always done. be the better person and get over it.”

[lfghughes]

Can you do an imagine where jack’s wife (reader) and kids are at the game when he gets hurt and then after when they bring him home?? A little angst ending in lots of fluff

a/n: y'all i am not good at writing an angry jack because all i can think of when i see him is just a small bean

Your heart was in your throat when Jack went down on the ice, the hit had been a hard one and you knew Jack well enough to know that if he was staying down it was because he was hurt. But you also were trying to not react too much because you had your six year old daughter and your one year old son with you.

Your daughter especially was at the age where she started to question certain things and she picked up on emotions really well. So even if you weren’t reacting she knew something was wrong with her dad but you had to stay calm to keep her calm. “Mommy..is daddy okay?” She asked and you nodded your head. “Daddy is okay, the doctor is just going to check him.” You told her as he skated off the ice.

It didn’t take long until someone who worked for the team found you, and you were sure it was because Jack had sent them which was a pretty good indication this game was done for him. Your stomach was in knots as you held onto your one year old and your six year old. The minute Jack came out of the locker room you could tell he was pissed which meant the news really wasn’t good.

Your daughters hand slipped from yours as she ran up to Jack “Daddy!!” She exclaimed forgetting all her nervousness from earlier and just excited to see him. “Not right now little bug.” He told her as he placed a gentle hand on her head, leading her back to you. “Let’s go home.” He told you, his voice rough which only made that pit in your stomach grow more.

You hated when Jack was upset. When you got to the car the both of you helped strap the little ones to their car seats and then you went towards the drivers seat “I’ll drive.” You told him and immediately a frown grew on his lips. “I’m literally fine, stop treating me like I’m going to break.” He snapped at you out of nowhere. “Jack, I’m not doing this right now. Get in the car.”

It was a clear warning and you were just happy he listened and went to his side. Once you got home you didn’t say another word to Jack, instead you got started on the kids bedtime routine which included baths. This alone took what felt like forever with the two of them and without Jacks help it only felt like it took longer.

But once your one year old was down for bed you moved onto your six year old and in between all of this Luke had shown up to check on his brother. Your daughter before you could convince her otherwise had walked over to Jack. “Daddy can you read me a story tonight?” And with a shake of his head Jack responded “Not tonight.” And with that your six year old returned to you disappointed.

Once you had her in bed you could hear the faint conversation Jack was having with Luke and it didn’t sound great. The last thing you heard was Luke mutter to his brother “You don’t have to be such an ass.” Before you heard your front door shut. “Mommy will be back, pick out a book.” And with those words you went and found Jack.

Your husband sat at the kitchen counter, his head in his hands and your heart sank once again. You walked over to him, your arms wrapping around him and you could feel him soften under your touch. “Your brother isn’t wrong but I get why you’re upset.” You whispered to him. “I’m sorry, baby.” And you could tell it was a genuine apology and that finally everything was catching up to him.

“I just hate letting the team down and you guys.” He whispered to you. “Well right now you have a six year old upstairs who just wants her dad to read her a story.” You reminded him and he just nodded his head. “You’re her hero, Jack. Just remember that next time.” And with those words you saw something shift in Jack and you knew that tonight wouldn’t be repeated again.

[kenmakodz]

CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

11. i'll see you in court ☆

writing in-between cuts!

hugs are exchanged, and many many "i missed you"'s are exchanged. nobara's hands are shaky as she reaches out to her girlfriend, whom she hasn't seen for quite a few months. while they hug and whisper amongst themselves, yuuji envelopes you into a hug of your own, practically bouncing up and down. his words are jumbled and fast, for someone who doesn't know him, it'd be impossible to keep up. "we missed you so much and i know it hasn't been that long but for us it's felt like forever and we never realized how much we needed you back there and movie nights aren't the same without you and and-" a hand reaches up to his mouth, effectively silencing him. "relax, yuuji. i know you missed me." you smile, softening your words always seems to do the trick when he's bouncing off the walls like that. he gives you another quick hug before backing away, taking a short glance at yuuta before doing so.

... why did he look at me like that?

a small wave and a smile is exchanged between you and megumi, he's never really been one for hugs... or affection by any means.

after eventually wrapping up the dragged out greetings, nobara announces that she will 'drop dead' if she doesn't get something to eat immediately, so you're all headed to the dining hall as your first stop. you will periodically sneak glances at yuuta, who has his hands in his pockets and is seemingly glued to the side of toge. you wished he would walk next to you, give you any attention at all, but you're just friends. you aren't entitled to him. at least, that's the conclusion your brain has come to at this point. instead of your black-haired boy, yuuji is by your side rambling about all the different stops they took on the way here, and how nobara insisted on buying snacks at every single one. this conversation continues at the lunch table, which turns into the two of them pointing fingers at eachother back and forth, and megumi ready to put his head in his hands out of embarrassment.

you laugh, and it almost feels bittersweet for a split second. this feels so comfortable, something you've struggled to feel ever since moving here. of course, you couldn't have found a better group to surround yourself with; you're eternally grateful to your new friends for taking you in. but, nothing will beat the pure happiness that comes with being around the people who know you best. the ones who have seen you at your highest, your lowest, your... weirdest.. (we don't talk about mario kart nights). you may have made amazing friends at your home away from home, but these are your friends, your people. yuuta notices your demeanor, and his anxious gaze softens when he realizes what you're doing.

how can i be acting like this when she's so happy?

hands are placed on your shoulders, and you're (literally) shaken out of your thoughts. "earth to y/nnnn!" yuuji's voice rings through your ears as you fade back into the conversation, and you turn to him with silence, yet a look on your face that speaks volumes. his face brightens, and he retracts his hands, holding them up as an apology. "sorry, sorry, but you've been so dazed! we're about to leave!" your eyes widen, trying to recollect just how long you've been in your head for yet again. "where are we going?" you ask, turning to the rest of the group who starts to snicker at your confusion, when they've been talking about the location for at least five minutes at this point. "nobara wants to go shopping, so we're going to the mall." maki finally says, smiling at you thinking she knows something. you squint at her smugness, but brush it off once the group starts to head out.

i should've sat next to her instead.

after another sigh from maki, and matching pouts from you and nobara, a hand taps on your shoulder. you turn around and are met with yuuta, who pulls you slightly farther away from the two girls starting to bicker over whether or not a weighted sloth plushie is necessary. your hand doesn't leave his, and you look up at him puzzled. "what's wrong?" he just smiles and shakes his head, which confuses you more. "nothing, i just didn't want to tell you i'll buy you one in front of them" when those words leave his mouth, your eyes noticeably light up, and even with your best attempt at hiding it, it doesn't work. pushing him away slightly, you attempt to decline, but he's already dragging you back to where you were and picking one out with you.

"if i pick one with you, it'll belong to both of us"

"will i get shared custody?"

"i'll see you in court."

yuuta seems much more content than he was before after you two picked out a stuffed cat and named it charlie. but, he was very much still on his guard. he doesn't like the way yuuji puts his hands on you so often, and he doesn't like the way you allow it. but, you're not his, who is he to control you?

-> ooooooh boyy yuuta.. this boy has had his eyes on y/n since the moment the friend group arrived. he feels so guilty for being so jealous, but he wishes he was close with you the way you are with them. your actions and the way you carry yourself seem so much more laid back than how you are with him and the rest. he wants you to be that comfortable with him, why now is he realizing that you may have been tense? he thought you liked him, why do things feel weird all of a sudden..? is he too deep in his thoughts?

-> a bit of a timeskip happened! not much, just two days from when we last saw them :3 (i didn’t know how to fill the gap help)

previous, masterlist, next [12. jealousy]

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⤷ © kenmakodz

[daughter-lilith]

❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 1

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+ (In future Parts)

CW (For whole story): Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: After 10...11-ish years, BG3 has finally ended my fanfic hiatus. After years of focusing on original novels, I’m honestly so excited to get back into this genre!

For anyone who prefers to read on ao3, you can click here. And for those who prefer third-person POV (what I write most), I have an alternate upload also on ao3.

Lastly, this is technically a 1–2-chapter novella that I'm breaking into about 4-5 parts so it's easier on the eyes. So, apologies in advance if there are any awkward breaks between parts.

You patted the lightweight cream over your face, gently massaging it across your cheeks and up to your forehead until it was evenly spread. Smiling at yourself, you took in your appearance one last time for the night, comfortably dressed in nothing but a fitted tank top and black underwear. You had just finished some extra late-night gaming with friends, and you sighed, remembering that you probably should’ve used that time to write instead. Maybe you should’ve used any free time to write, rather than getting lost in other simple pleasures. The third book of your romantasy series wasn’t going to finish itself, and the deadline was fast approaching. Soon, your publishers will be expecting an update.

Turning off the bathroom light and exiting, you put those thoughts aside for now. Right now, you needed sleep, not to fill your head with worry. ‘I’ll get back on track tomorrow’, you thought to yourself. Your townhome was quiet, save for the distant churning sounds of the dishwasher downstairs. Your bedroom emitted a low light from the TV, though the volume was muted. You walked barefoot across the plush carpet, toward your phone that was placed on the small table next to your bed. 3:03 a.m.: the bright numbers flashed at you. You plugged it into its charger, then laid on your queen-sized mattress.

Grabbing the remote, you shut the TV off, which left your room almost fully dark were it not for the soft, orange glow emanating from the salt lamp near the TV. Snuggling under the covers, you exhaled a breath, closed your eyes, and gradually awaited the sweet lull of sleep. A few minutes had passed maybe, you weren’t sure, your consciousness was dangling on the edge of dreams yet still linked to your waking reality. A sound filled your ears, a familiar rumble that shook you out of your near-slumber, eyes fluttering open.

Your eyes landed on the light emitting from your phone, the screen completely illuminated. You usually left your phone on vibrate just in case of anything, but it wasn’t typically a disturbance. And you didn’t normally get messages at this time, except for the occasional random notification from someone who likely lived in a later time zone. Still, as the screen darkened once again, you closed your eyes, not worrying about it. You were a decent sleeper, and once you had fully slipped under, the chance of a quick notification waking you was quite slim. But not even a minute later, another vibration of the same pattern. Your eyes flicked open again, followed by an annoyed sigh as you relented and reached for your phone.

You squinted as the brightness already felt overwhelming despite not having fallen asleep yet. 3:12 a.m. You looked over the screen, noting the blue icon of your security camera followed by the text: ‘a person detected in your front yard’. Then another notification directly beneath it: ‘a person detected at your front door’. You lifted a brow in curiosity. It wasn’t unusual for random things to trigger your camera; a neighbor walking about, even at this hour, or perhaps your neighbor’s cat who strolled the streets at the most random hours. Maybe even someone driving off. Either way, you decided you were going to snooze the alerts but not before checking first.

Unlocking your phone with the print of your thumb, you tapped the first notification. Immediately, your stomach twisted and a heaviness filled your chest. The beat of your heart rapidly accelerated, and you could hear it echoing in your head, a panicked thumping. It wasn’t your neighbor’s cat, or someone walking by, or even movement from a car… Through the camera’s night vision, a man stood directly in front of your door, his head angled down so you couldn’t see his face. He had one arm- one huge, muscular arm- leaning against the doorframe like he was dealing with an internal battle to remain standing. Or as though he had the weight of the world on his rather broad shoulders and looked to your door for comfort. His other arm rested uneasily near his side, it looked like his fingers were tapping against his leg, unable to keep still.

Those expansive shoulders flexed in his position, tensed. And he was tall, almost filling up the entire field of view were it not for the height the camera was set up at. Dark hair, maybe a dark brown, you couldn’t quite tell in this light, was half tied up in a bun, the rest of it pooling at his collarbones. But despite his massive frame, what stood out the most to you were his ears. They seemed a normal size for his head, but the top of them curved into a tall upward point. ‘Elf ears?’ you silently questioned, confusion merging with your heightening anxiety. Surely, they had to be a prosthetic or molding, they had to be, and yet they blended with the bottom part of his ears so well.

You were sitting straight up now, the uneasiness in your belly increasing. What do you do? It was rational to call the cops, you knew this, but how soon would they get there? Do you try and scare him off? Threaten him? You lived alone, but he didn’t know that.

A new wave of panic surged as you tried to remember if you had locked your door. Of course you did, you always did. But what if- what if this was the one stupid night that it slipped your mind? What if— your thoughts were halted when you noticed the stranger lifting his head.

You gasped as he stared at the door for a single moment before his eyes roved up towards the camera. He started tilting his head as he looked intently at the camera, studying it, until his head paused, almost like he knew he was being watched.

You were frozen as you took in his gaze, so intense, so focused. The front door light was on, and paired with the night vision, you could tell he had bright eyes. And those eyes seemed to steal your breath, pulling you in even through the camera. There was so much depth behind his eyes: strength, power, kindness even. But another emotion burned brighter than the rest, a sense of…desperation- if you could call it that. A hopeful desperation, maybe. But for what?

As he looked at you, or so it felt like, you found yourself completely captured by him. The mere sight of him seemed to slow the nervous hammering of your heart, and you took this strange moment to take in more of his features. Apart from his ever-enthralling stare, he also seemed tired, like it had been days since he last rested, like he was too stressed to even get the chance. Four, very precise scars swiped across the right side of his face, from his forehead, cutting across his brow. Whatever injured him, it luckily missed his eye, only continuing to the bottom part of his lip and chin. And on the left side, a curving pattern of tattoos swirled along his face, from the top of his forehead to his chin, and maybe even to his neck but it was difficult to tell from this angle. You couldn’t make out the color, but it was clearly darker than his complexion, dark enough to notice.

A new realization simmered in your mind as your eyes were fixed on him, despite the scarring on his face and the tired look in and around his eyes, he seemed…handsome. He was handsome. More than that even, and perhaps that’s what made it more difficult to look away. You shook your head rapidly. No, his looks didn’t matter. They couldn’t matter. He was a stranger outside of your house at three o’clock in the gotdamn morning. ‘Get it together,’ you thought to yourself.

But the movement of his lips pulled you out of your analysis and self-reprimanding, and your heart battered once again as a new wave of anxiety passed through you. He was saying something. You didn’t hear him, as the sound was muted on your end. Your finger hovered over the volume symbol, trembling. Pressing it wouldn’t give your voice sound, but it would allow you to hear his. Before you could talk yourself out of it, your thumb turned on the volume. Instantly, the distant sound of the soft wind passed through the phone. Your heart beating in your chest, you watched the stranger and waited. And it wasn’t long before his lips moved once again.

“Can you hear me?” the stranger inquired, his voice low and gentle through your phone. When he spoke, a cloud of air flowed from his mouth, a reminder of the brisk night. The sound made your stomach tickle, a new sense of nerves but not of fear.

A brief, grave sigh followed his inquiry, and it only confirmed the emotions behind his eyes. He was definitely desperate for something, perhaps even afraid?

You didn’t dare turn on the speaker to respond, your voice suddenly feeling dry as you tried to swallow any bits of saliva you could.

“Please. I mean you no harm,” the stranger spoke again. His brows curved inward, and his mouth slightly turned down. So much suffering in his warm, kind eyes; so much heaviness in his large arms and shoulders.

Your mouth parted slightly, and you found yourself standing now, rocking side-to-side on your heels. Somehow, deep in your core, as his plea rumbled through your phone, you felt the sincerity in his voice. Your intuition was always quite strong, and at this moment, all sense of fear and suspicion began to wane. The logical next step would be getting the police on the phone while keeping an eye on the stranger from one of the upstairs windows. Instead, your thumb found itself hovering over the speaker. Swallowing, you exhaled an unsteady breath and clicked the button, permitting sound from your end now.

“What do you want?” You tried to sound intimidating, but your voice came out softer than you intended, and you clenched your jaw at how vulnerable you sounded.

The stranger’s eyes widened, and his pointed ears seemed to perk up, a surprising hope filling his gaze. A quick mist of air escaped his lips as you heard him release a quick breath. He stepped back from the doorframe, standing taller, and when he spoke again, you could’ve sworn you died right then and there if you weren’t so very clearly still standing. He had spoken your name- well, almost. He used the shortened version, a nickname only your closest friends and family sometimes referred to you as. There was no way he’d know that name.

With a new resolve, you spoke again, this time your voice came out louder, more confident. “How do you know that name? Who the hell are you?”

He said your name game, softer, desperate, his brows once again curving inward. “You’re here, you’re truly here. Please, may I come in? I will explain all.”

Come in? There was no way that was happening… right? The rational part of your brain was like a blaring siren, shouting at you to do the smart thing. But you often moved through life with your heart first, your emotions, leaving your mind to sigh in relief when everything worked out. Or, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your mistakes. You couldn’t let him in, you shouldn’t.

“I will not harm you. Never,” the stranger affirmed, closing off his promise with your name. Another feeling simmered in your heart when he said your name once again, so naturally, like it had left his lips a thousand times before.

“And I should just trust you?” you retorted, your voice a harsh whisper. But your curiosity was developing by the second as you glanced at your robe lying haphazardly in the middle of your bed.

You heard him sigh, his shoulders lowering, a heavy sense of defeat fueling such a simple action. But he didn’t seem irritated or impatient. And the more he peered into the camera, at you, a pool of dread and grief burned into the wells of his bright eyes. An uncomfortable jolt shot across your stomach at the sight. You knew nothing of this man and had never seen him before, but you couldn’t swallow the sorrow that arose in your chest, nearly causing you to forget to breathe. You were always quite empathetic, but this was…unique. Bizarre.

“What does your heart tell you?” you heard him ask, the words so gentle and pure from such an incredible stature of a man.

You blinked rapidly at the question, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Quickly, you tapped the speaker on your phone to silence yourself. A shaky exhale escaped your throat, and you could hear your heart thumping again.

You stared at the man, whose eyes seemed to glow due to the greyscale night vision. You quickly pondered his question…your heart often told you many things, some right some not so much… And yet, as you stared at this man, who stood outside your door in the middle of the night, quick trails of air consistently leaving his lips, your heart answered. Without another thought, you took two steps towards your bed and picked up your robe, swiftly throwing it over you, your arms sliding in with ease. You wrapped it snuggly around your frame, feeling warm except for the skin below your knees that was left exposed.

And now, your heart was guiding you towards the stairs, down the steps, until you were sneaking down the short corridor to your front door. Your phone was still gripped tightly in your hand, and the stranger once again muttered a gentle plea. The sound of his voice caused a prickle across your arms, a new bundle of nerves as you got closer to your door.

Your house was almost completely pitch-black, except for a few flickering lights from alarms, the thermostat, the Wi-Fi modem, and cable boxes. The steady swishing sounds from the dishwasher were the only audible company, but even it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the drumming of your heart.

Coldness hit the bottom of your feet as you left the softness of the carpet and stepped into the entryway. You stopped in front of the tall, burgundy door, the wooden frame the only thing keeping you separated from the stranger. Thankfully, you had indeed locked it, top and bottom, but even that didn’t seem like it would be enough if he chose to get in with force. Glancing at your phone screen, you noticed he diverted his attention from the camera, angling down to stare at your door. You were holding your breath again, unbeknownst to you, and swallowed harshly.

“You’re right there…” he murmured, reaching to place a hand on the door. “Please.”

Your stomach fluttered at his voice; the baritone was much clearer now that you were hearing him from not just your phone but directly outside the door. You closed your eyes, whispering a silent prayer to anyone who was listening. If any guardian angels are listening, now would be a great time to have my back.

You opened your eyes and glanced at your phone. “Just…take a few steps back.”

Immediately, he removed his hand from the door. “Of course.” The large man retreated some, walking backward down two steps.

Satisfied, as much as you could be anyway, you placed your phone down on a small stand near the door, then reached to unlock the door.

One click.

A quick exhale.

A thumping heart.

Another click.

You reached for the light switch next, flicking on the warm-white glow above your head. You began turning the handle, your mind a wild array of thoughts and images of what could happen. But it was your heart in the end that silenced the panicked voices, your heart that gave you the courage to proceed.

Pulling the door back a few inches, cold air instantly prickled your cheeks, causing a shudder to shoot down your back. You leaned your head in between the small opening, instantly locking eyes with the man just a few feet from you.

Your breath hitched. Even standing two steps down did little to lessen the intimidation of his height. His eyes widened as they met with yours, a flash of relief and hope reflecting in his… what looked like hazel eyes. A gleam of silver or blue seemed to glow in the specks of his irises, perhaps from the lighting, but it was otherwise mesmerizing. You could better make out the swirling tattoo on his face, a deep red that only seemed to bring more attention to his eyes. Subconsciously, you ended up pulling the door back more, your body now half exposed to the outside.

The strange man breathed a quick sigh, much more joyful than the ones from earlier. “It’s you. It’s truly you.” A smile spread on his face, deepening the laugh lines on his cheeks. His large arms extended toward you and he took a single step forward.

Instinctively, you recoiled, and he froze, a wave of regret painting his expression.

“Forgive me,” he rushed his words, his muscled arms now hovering in surrender. “I am stricken with disbelief. But I meant what I said, that I would never harm you.”

Without the echo and semi-clarity of speaking through your phone, you could feel the sincerity in his words far more than before. The way his gaze pored into you, the shame that seemed to hover at the idea that he just frightened you, your fear began to wane. Yes, he did startle you just now, but then instantly soothed your anxiety on his words alone. You eyed him up and down, slow, taking in more of his appearance than what could be seen through the camera.

He was even larger. Bulging muscles looked like they wanted to flex in his arms, held back by a strap or belt across his biceps. Green leaves padded his shoulders, decorating the intricate garb he wore. You slightly narrowed your brow in question. He definitely looked like he could’ve just left some sort of Renaissance faire or some comic convention, but at this time of night? Maybe if it was Halloween that would explain things, except it was a few weeks into winter.

Brown armbands covered what you could only assume were thick forearms beneath, and he was wearing pants that were partially concealed by a flowing white skirt- or at least what used to be white. It looked stained, like he had once fallen in mud and he was only partially able to wash away all the evidence. Still, as your eyes returned to him, you certainly couldn’t deny the sculpted ruggedness in his face, his jawline. He wasn’t just handsome, but beautiful even, strange attire and all. And his age, you couldn’t quite measure it. When he smiled, he looked like he could’ve been late thirties. But he appeared a bit older when he frowned, maybe early forties.

“Who are you?” you questioned, feeling slightly more comfortable. You opened the door further, feeling your legs tingle, reacting to the cool air.

But he didn’t answer right away, seemingly lost as his gaze similarly roved over you. But it was slower, more deliberate, and you crossed your arms around yourself, almost self-conscious under his analyzing eye. And even though your robe covered you almost completely, you still remembered you were practically naked underneath. Could he tell that you were?

Clearing your throat, he startled, the leaves shaking over his shoulders, and locked eyes with you again.

“I am Halsin,” he said, confidence oozing in his timbre. A hearty smile followed his introduction, and your caution continued to fade and drift away.

Halsin, you thought. You shifted your mouth to the side, pondering. It didn’t ring a single bell. You had a few lovers in your past, some casual to serious. But there was no way you would’ve ever forgotten such an unfamiliar name, especially if it was attached to the absolute tower of a man before you. You looked at him once more, noting a flicker of hope in his eyes. Hope that maybe you would know something.

“Where did you come from…Halsin?” He frowned at your inquiry, visibly dispirited that his name did not connect with you. “You’re not exactly dressed for this weather,” you continued. His arms were completely exposed, and his clothing certainly did not seem well-suited for the winter. While it wasn’t below freezing, there was an evident chill in the air, a reminder that spring was still well off. You suspected that he had to be at least a little uncomfortable.

Halsin smiled at your observation, a gentle chuckle leaving his throat. “You are correct. I did not think to prepare for which season would greet me. As for where I came from… it is a realm quite far from here.” He glanced away, off to the side as he paused. When he looked back at you, there was a sense of uncertainty in his eyes. “A place called Faerûn.”

“Faerûn…” you murmured, narrowing your brows as your eyes searched his face. “I’ve never-- is that a country? An island?”

His smile remained, though laced with a touch of gloom. “A continent.”

A continent? Not one you’ve ever heard of before. A name like that wouldn’t have been hard to forget, especially if it was one of the continents of Earth. You released a soft breath, trying -and failing- to mask your budding confusion.

You heard Halsin speak, his smooth baritone drawing your attention back up his tall frame. “He warned me you may not remember…but I was hoping…” His words drifted off into the cold air. When he spoke, he wasn’t looking at you, like it was meant to be a side thought.

“Who warned you?” Your breath came out harsh as an involuntary gasp escaped you.

He bowed his head slightly, bringing one arm across his chest. “Silvanus.”

Another name unfamiliar to you. You stared at Halsin, quizzically, and it was clear to him that he understood the gnawing confusion that rattled you.

“Perhaps I can come inside to talk? I am fine with this brisk air, and I do not mind explaining all out here but…” he sighed, concern etching at the corners of his eyes, “you are trembling. And I don’t think it’s from fear, not entirely.”

As he said this, a shudder dashed up your back. You weren’t aware how long you’d been shivering, too baffled by the large man before you. Too distracted by this entire interaction. But a sudden passing wind supported Halsin’s observation of you, and you curled your toes inward, trying to shield them from the cold. The air prickled your lower legs, traveling up your thighs and your back. The robe that clutched your frame was as warm as it could be, but not warm enough to soothe you against the winter’s air.

After a light sniffle, you steeled yourself and stared at him directly. “I’ll let you in, but you have to do something for me first.”

“Anything,” he quickly responded.

“Tell me something about me that only those who know me would know. Just one thing that involves me.”

Halsin rocked back on his right foot a bit, shoulders squaring a pinch as he tilted his chin slightly. He turned his head to the side, his expression deeply focused, thinking. Meanwhile, your heart was amping up again, a fleet of nerves crackling in your gut as you awaited his answer. This was it. This was the moment that would solidify if you could completely throw even more caution to the wind and allow this strange man to enter your sanctuary, in the middle of a winter’s night, alone. Finally, Halsin’s voice filled the night air once more, a soft timbre.

“Your back,” he started, still looking away. “There is a mark there- a small streak- it begins near your lower spine, tracing further down, only stopping at,” he paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. He cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s lighter than your overall complexion, the only such mark on your body.”

You froze, your voice stunned into silence. Your lips parted, but only the warmness of your breath trailed away, forming a small, fading cloud. Halsin finally looked at you again, uneasily pressing his lips together.

A beating heart thumped loudly. Yours or his? Of course it had to be yours. But the way he was staring at you, the slight tremble in his lips, a brief rock on his heels, he was nervous. Uncertain. Perhaps desperately hoping he was right. Visibly, he did not appear to be an easily nervous man, that he could ever seem to lack any confidence, and yet you felt his nerves even more than you saw it. And he was right- the birthmark that trailed down the end of your spine. Only a few would know of it: your parents from when you were a child, your closest friends who helped zip your outfits up on occasion, and some ex-lovers who were lucky enough to have you in a position of giving them such a view.

It wasn’t something you hid per se, but you didn’t really flaunt it either. In most, if not all pictures of you, you were either clothed or facing forward. Maybe some passerby caught a view of it at beaches or pools, but one had to be really paying attention.

“How…” you breathed, searching his eyes. “How did you know that?”

A brightness washed over his face, and his shoulder evened, standing taller. “Because I know you. And I could never forget you… my heart.”

His… heart? A flush of warmth filled your cheeks. Something in the way he said those words, the way his unwavering eyes focused on you, meant something to you. You meant something to him.

Sure, you could mark him off as some weirdo stalker, that had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense. But an unpleasant tickle poked your gut at the idea, like the very thought of him being such a thing was an insult. And looking at this mountain of a man; who dressed like he came from another time, with large, perfectly pointed ears and a large scar that didn’t seem to be fake… No, he wasn’t just some stalker.

“May I?” He gestured towards the space between you and the door.

You bit the side of your bottom lip, heart thumping. Another rush of wind passed over your feet sending a more vicious chill up your legs. So, you leaned fully to the side, pulling the door back as far as it could go. Halsin seemed to release a breath of relief, before stepping up and towards you. You nearly gulped as he did, almost forgetting just how much taller he was since he was initially standing a few steps down.

He kept his gaze on you as the distance closed, and his large frame nearly filled the entire entryway. You watched him intently, neck angled up the closer he came. Instantly, the scent of pine and sandalwood filled your nose, amplified by the warmth radiating from him. How was that possible? He had been standing in the cold for some time and yet it was like the setting sun in the middle of summer had just entered your home. You almost smiled, overtaken by a sudden sense of peace and tranquility. Of strength and protection. Of the wild and the power that came with it.

Halsin continued to peer down at you, a nearly-there smile on his smooth-appearing lips. You weren’t the shortest person in the world, but you’ve never felt as dwarfed as you do now. Halsin moved by you, careful not to invade too much of your personal space, which was almost impossible in the small entryway. Finally, you broke contact with him and turned to close the door, one final breeze blowing inside as you did. You closed your eyes briefly, shooting another quick prayer before turning around and hustling past the hulking man.

You moved towards the kitchen, feeling the weight of his steps calmly following. You almost turned the main light on but hesitated; the idea of the bright light illuminating the whole room suddenly made you nervous. It was much brighter than the one by your door. This would mean facing him fully, without the presence of faint shadows to help mask any emotions. That and, you were still very much in your robe with just a tank top and your underwear beneath. Your hair wasn’t a mess per se, but not exactly presentable for a guest. Or for whatever he was. So instead, you turned the rotating switch, activating the spherical ceiling lights. A warm, dim glow gradually filled the space as you turned it halfway and stopped. Just enough light.

“Most intriguing,” you heard him say. You didn’t understand what he meant but decided not to question it. There were already too many questions, and you wanted to get to the most important ones first.

Stepping toward the island at the center, you finally turned to face Halsin again as you stopped at the side of the counter. Your kitchen was decently sized and typically didn’t have an issue with a couple of people being in it at once. But Halsin absolutely dominated this space. You noticed his eyes searching behind you, at a very particular area with a quizzical expression. Looking over your shoulder, nothing but more counter space, the sink, and the dishwasher. Was that what he was looking at?

“Oh, I can turn it off if it helps,” you said casually. Maybe it was distracting him. You leaned towards it and hit the pause button instead of canceling it entirely. Instantly, a new silence filled the room, and you were already missing the steady, rhythmic whooshing sounds of the washer. At least it drowned out the sound of your heart which now all too familiarly thumped in your ears.

Turning back to Halsin, who was already looking at you, made you fiddle with your fingers, trying not to cower beneath his gaze. This was your space he was in, your home. So you steeled yourself as best as possible, steadying your breaths, and held his gaze, waiting.

But Halsin continued to watch you, once again trapping you under the powerful pressure of his stare. You licked your lips, tense, and you could’ve sworn you heard his breath hitch.

“Halsin?”

He blinked. “Forgive me, I am just…” he exhaled, smiling, “taking you in.”

Part 2 here! Hope you enjoyed! Would you have opened the door?👀👀 & Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the final part either as a comment or in tags if you reblogged, that way you can binge it or just simply be notified when it's complete!

[eskir]

dusk - sunday x gn!reader

warnings - nsfw, smut, dubcon, and slight yandere?

word count - 864

a/n | i have no clue what i'm doing with this tbh and i apologize if there are any mistakes. this is probably one of my first writing bits for him and my grammar is off, i will admit. was also unsure of whether to keep it in third person or second so i just choose the latter. no explicit details and the first paragraph was just me trying to get into the mood of writing. thanks for reading if you do! oh, also took some inspo from sleepingelvhen's and mimisplayground's posts. i am also so embarrassed by what i wrote at 11pm so take this fever dream.

He smiles down upon you, playing the role of an angel as he extends a hand, a helping hand, as if he had nothing to do with your current situation. As if he didn’t orchestrate it so that you would gratefully take his hand, run into his arms and cling onto him as if he was the only safe thing in your world. And Sunday relished feeling like he was the only thing that mattered. Even more, he loved controlling and twisting events and words so successfully to fulfill his own desires. Sunday loved that you never found out, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

He loved it when you were under him, panting with your face painted a deep shade of red. He enjoyed looking over you, touching you in places that he knew would elicit little sounds. Dragging his finger down your spine slowly, watching your back arch and not caring if you begged for him to hurry. ‘you want me to go faster? you’ll have to earn it,’ he’d whisper in your ears, his voice soft and a smile adorning his face that doesn’t reach his eyes.

He's ruthless, bringing you to the edge, watching you writhe underneath him with a coy smile. Sunday doesn’t do anything except continue, wearing you out. If small tears form, he'll wipe them away and coo at you in a sickly sweet way as he continues. He draws out begs and whines, almost pushing you over the edge until he stops suddenly, a pleasant smile on his face as if he had no clue what he just did. 

He'd make you beg even more, persuading, almost forcing, promises out of you. Making you swear that you'd never interact with those individuals again or that you'd stay by his side forever, whichever suited his mood. And if Sunday wasn’t in the mood to draw out promises? He'd tease you instead, maybe bringing out some toys with the promise of continuing if, and only if, you put it on. So you let him tie you up, placing a gag over your mouth and a blindfold over your eyes. Blind to both what's happening and the manipulation occurring.

And he wouldn’t stop once, he’d do it multiple times over the course of hours. Enjoying the way that you broke down, nearly begging for his touch. He'd find small things to critique you over, like the way that you talked to that one person for just a little bit too long, or the smile you flashed to the person that was obviously flirting with you. Sunday paints those events as things requiring punishment, and what better punishment than delay? After all, you wouldn’t ever want to experience what other punishment he has to offer, no?

The only thing stopping him from continuing this cycle is the exhaustion that he can see building up. Be that the way that your eyes start to close or the subtle shift in your tone, he notices it all. So finally he brings pushes you over the edge.

And at the end of it all, he’s barely tired. You can feel the way that your legs will barely function the next day, a numb jelly like feeling spreading throughout your body. But he doesn't, only watching and finding a certain amount of joy, knowing that you'll have to rely on him the next day. But it’s still nighttime, so he caresses your flushed face, tracing your cheekbones and jawline ever so softly. He takes note of the way your eyes close from exhaustion, wiping away sweat and drawing circles on your skin idly.

He doesn’t often take you this far, but today he didn’t feel like using honeyed words to keep you near. Instead, he now brushes his fingers over your body, a grin forming as you flinch and ultimately move into his touch. Sunday knows that you enjoyed his touches, no matter how little or tiring, still seeming to crave his love. So he uses it against you, under whatever righteous guise he chooses.

But as long as you remain devoted to him, like a worshipper to a god, he will stay patient, follow your whims, and be a 'good' person. As long as you were devoted, he would persuade you in the gentlest way, through soft touches and sweet words. Never mind his demeanor toward others.

So he picks up your tired body, pressing kisses to your forehead as he draws a bath. Letting you rest in warm water, he massages your head, soap bubbles forming. He scrubs your body, maybe a few teasing touches, but nothing more. Sunday understands that you're tired. 

After the bath, he bundles you up in blankets, preparing to clean himself as well. He does it quickly, not wanting to miss out a single moment with you. When he comes back, if you're still awake, he'll cuddle with you, kissing you more. If you try to kiss him back, he'll smile, shaking his head as he motions for you to go to sleep. So eventually you do, warm and comfortable, knowing that the next day will be decided based off of Sunday’s whims.

[t-art-c]

"This is not love, Scaramouche..."

CW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Human Trafficking, Manhandling, Self-deprecation, Toxic Cycle, Implied Stalking, and Gaslighting

A/N: GUYS!! Just to remind that I do not condone the actions I write for my yandere oneshots. This is only explorations of how abuse or toxicity affects a person. There may be inaccuracies, but I always try to make it as accurate as possible and always give respect, especially towards victims.

-----

The words you uttered did nothing but make your husband rage. His eyes turned sharper, and his scowl even deeper. He tightened his grip over the whip he has been using to punish you yet again over something menial.

He would always say that it may be menial to you but it is detrimental to him. As the spouse of the Balladeer, Scaramouche, every action you make will be reflected to him. So, every action you do that is not to his taste meant that he married a slob, a whore and every insult under the Sun.

There was this one time when the Jester visited Scaramouche's manor. Your husband was not home at that moment so you decided to be proper host and offer tea to the harbinger.

The Jester had an overwhelming presence that made you shake. So when you were pouring him tea, you have accidentally spilled some over his white coat. With terrified eyes, you bowed your head to the ground and begged for your life.

Fortunately, he spared you and told you that he will have it washed when he leaves. Unfortunately, your husband witnessed the whole thing. He pulled you into an empty room and berated you over how you embarrassed him with your actions.

For the second time of that day, you apologized with your head down and just took all the insults he threw at you.

After taking all the abuse for years, you have finally had enough. You do not even care what would happen to you when you confront him.

Death?

Yes, you had nothing to lose anymore when all he ever did was take everything from you.

"What would you even know about love?"

He went there. In all honestly, you should not have been this surprised, but you can always count on your husband to know how to hurt you.

"More than you ever will..."

Saying it felt freeing. There is not an ounce of fear in your body, not even anger. You felt happy. Without raising your head, you know that he shaking in anger, maybe even grinding his teeth.

A few seconds pass, but nothing happened. There was only an uncomfortable silence surrounding the both of you.

"You do, don't you?"

He walked closer and made you look at him in the eyes.

"But that's what I love about you."

He slapped you hard to the point you fell to your side. The wounds you have gotten prior from his previous punishment throbbed and started bleeding again.

Tears started to form from the corner of your eyes. You held the cheek he slapped and smiled bitterly.

"As I said again, this putrid thing you force on me will never be love."

You stood up from the ground and stared at your husband.

"Every single day, I have to tell myself that what we have is just something other couples go through. But I know deep down, it's wrong, and abnormal."

You walked closer to him and softly held his hands.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Scaramouche's face softened. He tenderly held your bruised cheek and placed a kiss on it.

"You deserve everything. My love, my wrath, my loneliness, my happiness, every single one of it."

-----

Love truly is a fascinating thing.

How cruel of your husband to choose you to be the receiver of his putrid love. A man who will forever stay young while you grow older and inevitably leave him all alone again.

Maybe, that is why he shows you all of himself. He knows that one day you will not be there by his side to give him comfort. Even if the comfort he feels from you might be just like warmth from an already extinguished bonfire.

You did love this awful husband of yours once upon a time. But now, you do not know what to feel for him. Anger? Sadness? Regret for even meeting him one faithful day?

In a rare occasion where he will allow you to explore the outside world again with him by your side, you have always thought of running away. It will be futile as he is much more stronger and faster than you could ever be. But if you do hypothetically escape, where will you go?

You were a nobody, prior your life with Scaramouche. Not even one person ever knew of your existence. Just some orphan who was able to survive the unforgiving world by stealing from other people. That is until you messed with the wrong person and was taken to a human trafficking ring.

Other orphans like you from the ring had their names taken away. Nobodies who did not bother to care for each other, because caring for someone in a dangerous place meant weakness that can be taken advantage of.

When The Balladeer suddenly visited the ring, you were ecstatic.

Finally, there might be a chance for freedom for you from this wretched place. Finally, a place far better than this one.

You did everything you could to make him notice you. Made yourself look pitiful in hopes that he would glance and choose you.

But, he never did. Instead he chose a young boy from beside you.

"I'll take this one. And make it quick."

"Certainly, my Lord!"

It did not work. Of course, it would not work. Who in their right mind would choose someone as weak as you. The Balladeer probably already have a specific person in his mind.

You were not able to stop the tears from coming out your eyes.

It was probably the most pathetic you have ever felt. Not even once have you cried when you were beaten and starved by your captors. But you just know yourself that you will never be able to escape this place.

This place will be your resting place.

"Hm... I'll take this one too."

In your self-wallowing, you did not even notice that the Balladeer is standing right in front of your cage. Only then you noticed when you were roughly grabbed by the arm and dragged away by his men.

The boy he picked was nowhere to be seen.

In your shock, you can not even verbalize how thankful you are of him. So, you just cried again.

"Again with the crying. I order you to stop that or I'll be sending you back in that hellhole."

You dried your eyes quickly from his threat, in fear that he will make true of his promise. However, the dirt from the shirt you have been wearing since you were taken stung your eyes, which caused you to tear up more.

"Tch. You can't even follow orders properly."

You started to tremble from the glare he sent your way.

"I apologize, my Lord! T-the dirt from my shirt just stung my eyes that's all. I hope you can forgive my mistake!"

Just before he says something, you have arrived at a wooden carriage. Inside, you can see the boy from before curled at the furthest corner. The man gripping your arm let go of it and ordered you to get in.

After that initial interaction with the Balladeer, you have seen him until a year later.

-----

You loved Scaramouche with all your heart. He is probably the only person your heart will ever know to love. Even after everything, your husband will always be the one you adore.

The pathetic, worthless you who will always crawl back to him after every punishment. Seeking his love and forgiveness.

After all, who else would be able to withstand his overbearing, opressive love?

"I will always love you..."

The way you said it was bitter, but accepting.

Your husband only stared as he pulled your head to lay on his shoulder. The scent of his sakura cologne filling your senses. He held you tight as if he was afraid to lose you.

"You know I will never leave you..."

You hugged him as you contemplate about the life you have lived.

"Hm... I will not let you even if you tried."

A laugh went out of your mouth at his response towards you. Your shoulders were shaking as you cried.

-----

It has been a long time since you last saw the Balladeer. It took you some time to fully adapt to your new environment. As a new orphan recruit of the Fatui, you were given a new name by your coworkers.

Pavel.

They told you it meant "small". Which you guess is understandable since you are the shortest of all the recruits. It does not mean you are happy with it.

Work in the Fatui can sometimes be very boring or hectic. It is currently in its hectic stage since you have received news of the Balladeer visiting to check on how things are going.

"Pavel! Can you help me with auditing?"

Lev.

He was the boy you were with when the two of you were bought by the Balladeer. Just like how you were given a nonsensical name, Lev was also a victim of it. Your coworkers said that Lev meant "lion", as they are always reminded of a lion when they see the boy.

Over the course of a year, the two of you have grown closer to the point of seeing each other as family. Although, you two are close, not once have the two of you ever shared about your lives prior the Fatui.

"Alright, which part should I help you with?"

The boy gave you a thankful look. He then handed you another notepad to write into and pointed over a pile of papers on a table not far from him.

"Just those. Don't worry, I already finished most of it. I just want to take a quick break. My head is killing me."

You gave him a pat in the head and let out a sigh.

"Remember to visit the clinic."

He let out a laugh and exited the room.

You proceeded to audit the pile of papers. It was quite peaceful, even if there a bustle of people just outside of the room. Everyone is working hard to await the arrival of their Habinger.

It has been a while since you last saw the Balladeer. No other interactions happened between the two of you after being forced in the carriage.

He probably got his hands full the moment we arrived at Snezhnaya. Even with his youthful face, he is still a cutthroat harbinger.

"To think there's someone lurking in this room"

You jumped from your spot as you heard a voice just behind you. You turned around and saw the person everyone has been preparing for to arrive.

"L-lord Scaramouche!"

You kneeled one leg on the ground as you greeted the Balladeer with respect.

"Rise."

You stood up and maintained yourself to not anger him. Knowing his temperament from what your coworkers have told you, he is not to be messed with.

"What are you currently doing?"

You showed him your notepad.

"I am currently auditing some papers right now, my Lord."

He let out a sound of acknowledgement as he waved his hand.

"Follow me."

Without wasting a second, you walked in front of him and opened the door, then went behind him to follow.

The two of you walked in silence as the people around you stopped what they were doing and kneeled towards their Lord.

"We welcome you, Lord Scaramouche!"

The Balladeer waved his hand and everyone piped down. He spoke of an event that every single Fatui member must attend to. A festival that let those with family to go back home and spend time with them.

Everyone was excited and have started talking amongst themselves after the Balladeer has explained the situation.

The two of you walked back to the room where the two of you met and saw Lev already working on the audit.

"Lord Scaramouche!"

He kneeled and bowed his head.

"Are you the one who was supposed to be auditing?"

The boy gulped from the inquiry.

"Yes, my Lord. I have asked Pavel to cover for me for a while as a I go visit the clinic to get some medications."

The Balladeer glared down at him.

"I order you to never do that again. Do the job given to you, even if you're sick. I don't care what excuses you have."

"A-affirmative, my Lord..."

After all of that, you have never seen Lev again. You were taken by the Balladeer and have started working directly under him.

Your old coworkers who you thought you were close with never interacted with you again. Every time you try to talk to them, they will make an excuse to run away from you.

It made you feel disappointed as you feel alone once again.

-----

"Do you really think my love for you is disgusting?"

Scaramouche's hug constricted you body against him. It is getting more difficult to breathe.

"Yes. It's so disgusting that it makes me want to puke."

Perhaps you have a death wish, but you know yourself that your husband would never let you die until he has his fill of you.

"How brave of you to be truthful to me. But I guess that's what I love about you. Only you will I ever allow to insult me like this."

His grip on you became even more tighter as he place his head on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

A disgusted part of you tells you to push him away, but then there is that lovesick part of you that feels comforted in the pain of his hug. The dichotomy between your emotions leaves you breathless.

He knows how to play with your heart. Maybe he already knew how much he has wrapped you around his finger. He might as well have actually tied invisible strings around your joints like a puppet.

It sometimes makes you feel confused of what you should be even doing. Since everything you have ever done seems to have only inconvenienced him.

"Love is supposed to make me feel safe in your company, Scaramouche. Not once have you ever tried to make me feel safe."

You started to comb his hair with your fingers.

"But for some reason, I feel even more safe knowing that you hurt me. All the insults and the pain you have forsaken me with, I openly accepted"

Scaramouche rubbed your back as he kept his silence.

"We are so different from each other. Yet, we are unfortunately perfect together."

-----

It has been a month since you started working for the Balladeer. He never called you by the name that was given to you by your former coworkers. For some odd reason, he asked for your real name.

"My real name is (Name), my Lord."

It was the name left to you by your mother before abandoning you in the streets as a child. You never had much use of it as nobody would ask a dirty rat like yourself for it.

"(Name)..."

The way the Balladeer whispered your name sent shivers down your spine. Your cheeks started to have a rosy hue from how he kept repeating it under his breath.

It made you feel strange as this is not a befitting behavior from a subordinate.

"If you do not mind me asking, my Lord?"

He stared at you

"Speak."

You clasped your hands together as you finally asked your question.

"May I visit a friend of mine for my day off this coming Saturday?"

The air around suddenly became heavy.

"No, you can not. After all, there's nobody waiting for you anymore."

Even in such an icy environment, sweat started to fall from your forehead.

"Pardon?"

The Balladeer let out a chuckle as he placed his cheek in his hand."

"I have eyes everywhere. What do you think happened to him?"

Without even answering him, you bolted out of his office and ran through the cold weather. You were determined to see the answer for yourself and hope to whichever archon is listening to you to this one time to grant you goodwill.

Your lungs started burning from how much you are inhaling the cold air. But it never even made you stop running as you finally reached the apartment complex specifically built for Fatui agents.

Since the you and Lev came together, they made it so to make the two of you roommates. It was a fairly average room for two, but since you two are always at work, it is kept quite boring. Only Lev's action figures are strewn over the place.

You opened the door with the key you have kept in your person.

"LEV?!"

There was no reply to your call. Only silence and an equally empty room with no warmth. Lev's action figures were nowhere to be seen.

"I guess no one's home."

Is there truly no archon who will ever listen to you? Is this why back in the human trafficking ring, nobody formed friendships with each other?

"Since you've already seen your answer, let's head back."

With nothing else to do in an empty room, you followed the Balladeer back to his office.

The silence in the office was deafening as he signed the papers you have handed to him. Only the noise of his pen scratching the paper surrounds the both of you.

"What if I tell you that I'm meant to be a god? Would you worship me?"

You stared at him.

"If that is what you want from me, my Lord. Then yes, I will worship you."

He blinked at you.

"What a fascinating answer. However, it's not what I'm looking for. And here you wonder why the gods don't listen to the likes of you."

What else does he want from you then?

-----

"I finally have what is rightfully mine. That annoying fox and that dumb traveler made it all too easy."

Scaramouche is currently bandaging the wounds he has inflicted on you while recounting the story of obtaining the electro gnosis. To be frank, you could care less of what he thinks as you do not like gods.

"What's your plan now?"

He glared at you as if you have just asked the stupidest of quesitons.

"Become a god, what else?"

You laughed.

"How boring."

Your husband dropped your arm and stood up from the bed. He carried with him the first-aid kit back to the bathroom. You laid down your bed and await his return.

When he went back, he made you pull the blanket over the two of you.

"I'll not be back for a few weeks. Even if I don't want to, I have to since only that bastard the Doctor can do something about it."

You frowned at him.

"The Doctor is dubious at best. Are you really sure?"

Scaramouche pulled the blanket over the two of you to shut you up.

He may be hundreds of years old, he can never stop being a brat. But you guess, that is one of the few things you find endearing about him. Even if there are more bad things than good things you can see about him, your heart will always beat for him and him only.

You hope this endeavor of his is finally the thing the ends him.

"Even to the end, I will never be apart from you. For you are the only one I have left to lose."

[littlenightma]

Hello. Could you write more about Sheriff Eric Newlon (if he's dark or yandere it would be great.) Your article about him was great.

Yandere!Eric Newlon Headcanons

• Eric comes off as a normal guy. Always has a smile on his face, greets everyone with warmth and is always there when someone needs him. His dazzling charm sucked you in. No one could have ever seen the darkness brewing beneath the surface of his nice guy facade.

• Eric thrives off of protecting you. He loves the way you curl into him with his coat wrapped around you as you two walk down the sidewalk or when you tighten your hold on his hand when you pass a group of unfamiliar people. You have no idea the lengths he would go to in order to keep you safe.

• No idea.

• And damn it what kind of man would he be if he allowed you to wander the world without him, alone, naive to the dangers that were lurking around every corner.

• Eric isn’t just in love with you. He’s obsessed with you. Everything about you Eric thinks about every waking hour of the day from your twinkling eyes, your gorgeous hair, down to your luscious body. He’s practically itching to get off his shift so he can drive home to find you curled up on the couch waiting for him.

• He has access to everyone’s files at the station, including yours. Especially yours. He keeps a copy locked in his desk drawer, tucked safe and sound, where he can pull it out whenever he wants to. All of the info he could ever want to know is right there within arm’s reach.

• He knew which cafés you preferred, which stores you liked shopping at, and where you got your car maintenaced. He knew everything about you before you even knew his name.

• You didn’t actually believe running into him as much as you did was all due to chance, did you? Silly one, you should know by now when it comes to Eric, nothing is ever just a coincidence.

• He pulls it out when he’s having a particularly bad day in order to run his thumb across the picture he took of you while you were out shopping with your friends. You’d stayed out longer than usual so he felt the need to check up on you and he got so enthralled by your beauty that he just had to snap a photo to remember the moment forever.

• You start noticing Eric’s paranoia emerge the longer you two are together and the more his feelings for you grow. At first, he comes as extremely protective, but then it progresses into something more darker, more…possessive.

• When he comes home to find you not there, he checks his phone. To his dismay there is no text and he becomes scared thinking that you were hurt. Call after call there is still no answer. Eric rarely shows himself so when you come home in the middle of his breakdown he is instantly in your face asking you question after question not letting you answer the first one. He chides you about not informing him of your whereabouts and berates you about who exactly you were with.

• You brush it off, believing it to be a symptom of being a cop for so long. You explain that you had to stay back at work to put finishing touches on a project and this seems to calm him some. He pulls you into a hug.

• “I’m sorry I acted like that, baby. I just get so scared when I don’t know where you are.”

• Puts a tracking app in your phone and on your car without you knowing. He can’t allow that to happen again. What if you had been hurt and what if he didn’t reach you in time? He can’t risk it.

• Black Friday shopping was always off limits to you, but when your friends invited you to go with last minute you decided to go. Eric had been constantly hovering and you yearned for space.

• What a stupid decision on your part.

• Eric is livid. He’s like a bull ready to charge as he’s driving out to find you. When he does, he is suspiciously calm. He asks you to come with him and you do and on the way home you apologize but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are trained on the road. Inside the house though it’s like a matador had finally raised their red flag.

• He’s roaring. “I fucking told you not to be out on Black Friday! Why can’t you listen to me?! I’ve lost so much. So many people. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you!”

• “Eric, you can’t expect me to stay home when everyone’s out shopping.”

• And then he snaps. He yanks your hair, his handsome face dangerously close to yours. “Don’t fucking do it again or I swear to God you’ll regret it.”

• And the worst part is that no one would ever believe that highly adorned and doting Eric Newlon would ever do something so horrible and so vicious.

• You’re stuck with no where to turn. If you leave, he’ll track you down with the plentiful resources he has at his disposal. You are trapped, forever his.

NSFW 18+

• You have pushed Eric past his limit. You are tied to the dining room table, legs spread and mouth gagged. He has presented you like an oven-baked turkey and he can’t wait to take a bite out of you. He runs his cock over your slick opening teasingly, preparing you to get basted by his cock.

• “You really don’t know what you do to me, do you? After everything I have done for you, all the love I have ever given and you still want to leave me.

• He thrusts exactly three times. “So. Very. Ungrateful.”

• You moan against your gag. Your body is betraying you. It accepts him with open arms, like he was meant to be inside you. You tried so hard to get away from him, but he always managed to reel you back in.

• Eric sees the turmoil on your face, sees the fight you’re having with yourself. With every snap of his hips he knows he’s closer to breaking you down and he’s desperate to do it.

• He pours cranberry sauce on your chest, letting it dye your chest maroon. He rubs the sticky liquid over your body and it looks like blood. Your blood.

• “I could fake your death so easily, you know. Then lock you up and keep you all to myself. No one would come looking for you. Or I could always find someone else who will appreciate my efforts.”

• You fight your binds, not liking that he was talking about someone else while he was rearranging your guts.

• “Ah, so you do care. What is it, dear? Want me all for yourself then?”

• Crawling on top of you, he unknots the gag and kneels over your face. He puts his cock to your mouth. “Why don’t you show me just how grateful you are.”

[creativesaturn]

Can you write where Emily isn’t used to a dom fem in bed so when y/n puts Emily in her place she can’t help but want more

Summary: Emily got home late from work, now she has to work for it.

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader (nothing to specify fem tho)

Warnings: thigh riding, sub!Emily, softdom!reader, praise, nicknames (baby and 'good slut'), lmk if any others !

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: I realize this may not be perfect but you can always request again 😭😭

You were sat on the couch, eyes fixated on the TV with a throw blanket laid out on your legs. Emily was supposed to be home two hours ago, which heavily annoyed you. But, you knew her job required things like that. It was always hard to manage, but was always worth it to be with her.

Your were lost in thought when Emily finally entered the apartment. Your eyes falling off the TV, letting the words go in one ear and out the other.

"Hey," Emily greeted you with a guilty smile. You looked up from where your eyes had fallen and stared at her, when you realized you didn't react you swiftly put on a smile.

"I'm really sorry." She apologized, removing her coat and throwing it on the arm of the couch.

She moved towards you, letting you speak, "It's fine, I know it's out of your control." You sighed in understanding, your eyes glued onto her as she leaned her knee on the couch to twist herself and straddle your thighs.

"I hate how understanding you are." She admitted, "You're allowed to be mad, I know I told you I would be home hours ago." She almost sounded like she was begging, begging you to be mad, to do something.

"I'm really not, though." You shrugged, your eyebrows furrowing with harmless emotions. You found both her hands in yours, lifting your back off the couch to press your chest against hers.

You lifted your head, studying her features. "I have you now, that's what matters." You mumbled, pecking her lips softly.

"I love you." Emily muttered against the soft gap left between your faces.

"I love you more." You smiled, letting the gap close between the two of you. This kiss was far more intimate than the last, letting each other melt and relax into the kiss.

Emily's hand trailed your body, up your thighs to beneath the oversized shirt you were wearing. You moved your hands to her wrists, stopping her before she could get any farther.

"What do you think your doing?" You asked with a teasing smirk, opening your eyes to look at her.

"Making love to you." She answered, a wide grin on her face as she tried to fight the grip you had. But when you pushed her wrists down, she quickly gave up with a fake frown.

"You're gonna have to work for it." You whispered, eyeing her lips with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh?" She said beneath her breath. It wasn't often that you decided to be dominant over being submissive. But when you were, it was a sight to hold and a memory Emily would hold onto forever. She'd never choose to be submissive, so when you would do it with no warning, it turned her on more than she'd like to admit.

"Yeah, you're gonna be a good slut for me, hm?" You breathed against her lips, your hand trailing to the back of her hand to keep her in place.

She nodded with a smile, she couldn't seem to fight off. She took it upon herself to kiss you once more, cupping your face with both hands and pushing herself farther into you.

You got your hands busy with her jeans. Your fingers scrambled with her belt, unhooking it and letting it fall to the ground with a thud of metal. You fingers delicately unbuttoned her pants, followed by the zipper. You dipped four fingers into her waistband, struggling to pull it down.

When she noticed your struggle, she pulled away to take them off. When she slid them off, you kicked the blanket off you.

"Underwear, too." You spoke softly, you never knew how to make your words sound dominant. It was mostly just your actions that had her covered in goosebumps.

But she listened and obeyed as she let her underwear fall to the floor. When she situated herself back to her original pose, you tapped her left thigh. "Up." You muttered. She raised her left thigh with no words, watching as you put your leg where her thigh used to be. Your hand fell back onto her thigh to guide her knee in-between your legs.

You got yourself comfortable before leaning back on the couch with a shit eating grin. "Now what?" Emily asked, tilting her head at how you seemed to just relax.

You raised a brow as if to say, 'im glad you asked' with no words. You brought your thigh up in one quick motion, slamming into her unclothed cunt.

She gasped and fell forward, catching herself inches away from your face, with her hands on behind your head. The feeling of your soft pajamas that you would feel in store and go, "wow, feel that," against her made her shiver.

"Ride." You whispered, placing one hand on her hip and the other resting on her face.

Her first movements were hesitant and unsure, her eyes falling down between your bodies to stare at the way she moved against you.

"Eyes on me, Em." You stated, lifting her eyes back to yours. You used your hand that was on her hip to guide her movements.

She finally got the hang of it with her mouth open, letting broken moans fall, and her eyes threatening to close. She could feel the pleasure filling in her stomach, her eyes lazily locked onto yours. Every time she'd get even slightly closer to you, she could smell your perfume that you'd even spray during the night.

"Fuck.." She croaked, her movements getting faster and needier with every second that you flooded her senses.

"You're doing so good, Em. Dragging that wet pussy on me." You praised her, pecking her lips with each word.

"Making a mess all over me..." You cooed, referring to the trail of slick arousal that her dripping cunt formed against your pants.

Emily moaned in response, unable to form words at this point. You took pity on her when you watched her shut her eyes, unable to hold them for any longer.

You wanted to prove you could be more dominant than you are, to tell her to keep her eyes on you and if she dared to shut them you'd force her to stop. But you could tell how close she was, chasing her high in a desperate plea for the ecstasy that followed.

Your eyes stared at her fucked out face, unable to look away from the woman you call yours. "You're beautiful." You muttered under your breath, but Emily didn't seem to hear you since she didn't react.

"You're so close, baby." You stated, guiding her orgasm. You placed kisses down her jaw to her neck, nuzzling your nose in the crook of it and taking in her scent.

"Gonna cum.." She whined, her movements far more pathetic than before as she let your words guide her to the edge.

She finally snapped with a loud moan of your name, gripping onto your shoulders and digging her dull nails in your shirt.

You pulled your head up when she came to a stop, "You okay?" You asked with a soft smile, looking up at her.

"Perfect," She responded lazily, "I love when you do that." She admitted through a kiss she placed on your lips.

"Mm.." You hummed, pulling her deeper into you.

She let go of her own body weight, falling on top of you and letting her head fall on your chest. "Em, I have to get up, baby." You laughed, looking down at her as she refused to budge.

"Let me catch my breath." She groaned, "Then we can take a bath together..." She whispered, smiling at the thought.

"Okay." You responded, running your fingers through her hair.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[sillyblues]

Omg for that Miguel O'hara fanfic where the reader was called annoying. Can the reader return back to her dimension and Miguel is trying to contact her and sends someone to go check up on her. But the person comes back and shakes his head at Miguel, saying they weren't there so Miguel asks Lyla for the reader's location. She's in an alleyway or rooftop and she just tells Miguel she doesn't want to talk. Miguel brought the bear too, just to show that he does care about her and the gifts she gives him. You could change some of these ideas. :] -c

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: sorry this took me long to reply because i had to at least push a part of the preggo fic before i write this and this wasn't included on annoying part 2, i rlly considered this but the idea i had in mind with this was an angsty one and i wanted a happy ending for it so yeah :(( but still here's an alternate ending of annoying!

Miguel O’Hara was an asshole.

And he knew that of course, because he was the one who made this persona to protect himself from getting hurt. He had to be a real piece of shit so that he couldn’t get attached to anyone and wouldn’t get hurt if the universe inevitably ripped their arms away from his again.

But you. Oh god, you.

You were the reason why he had to wear a mask, a lie. You were so beautiful that his bleak world of loneliness was shattered with just a smile. Your voice brings back life in the void that resides in his heart. Your touch heals the hurting man that he so desperately tries to hide.

Like a moth attached to a flame, he easily got attached to you. And he hated that. He promised himself that he would not let anybody in and love anyone but God, it was fucking you. When he realised his mistake, he tried to be mean. He tried to regain and be in control of himself again (because he couldn’t get a hold of himself when it came to you) so that he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He tried to ignore you despite his mind clinging to a word that you say and the urge to just be near you, to see you.

But when you fell from the platform, he was instantly reminded of his daughter, who disappeared into atoms and molecules, into thin air in his arms. He was instantly reminded of Gabriella, who the universe ripped away from his awms. His body reacted instinctively.

No. He had already lost her. He didn’t want to lose you again. 

Don’t do this to me. Don’t hurt me again.

In fear of losing you, he didn’t know he had hurt you. And when he realised it, it was too late. You ran away in tears, in pain that he caused and fuck, he was a piece of shit. He bitterly chuckled as he cried as he clutched the teddy bear you gave him. His tears fell on its fur, and he kneeled.

Miguel O’Hara was an asshole because he had to be one so that nobody couldn’t hurt him but when he had hurt you instead, he found himself questioning himself.

.

.

. 

Miguel knew you just as you knew him. When Peter came back to his office with no news of you, he quickly knew where you were. So he went to you himself instead and just as he knew, you were there on the rooftop of your apartment sitting with your back facing him. He clutched the teddy bear as he walked towards you.

His heart hammered against his chest and rang in his eardrums. His jaw was clenched and a part of him wants to hide forever but at the same time, he needed to apologize to you for what he have said and done. You did not deserve him but you deserved an apology.

But what if you didn’t want him anymore?

“What are you doing here, Miguel?” your hoarse voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he could hear the long time you cried and the pain that laced with it. His heart stung at the memory of him yelling at you once more.

“[Name]...” he whispered out your name and he was reminded of the days he thought of apologizing to you, days of saying your name as practised his apologies, and now that he was finally here in front of you, the owner of the name he desperately called out was in front of him, he didn't know what he was feeling. “I'm here to apologize.”

“You don't need to. It's fine. I don't really care anymore.” you said as you still looked ahead. his eyes widened at your figure that seemed so smaller than ever before.

“No, [Name], you should care. I was an asshole, a huge piece of shit and you didn't deserve that—”

“Last time I cared, I got shouted at telling me I'm annoying!” you snapped as you finally turned around and looked at him. He finally saw you but he didn't want to see you this way. He didn't want to see you hurting and in pain.

“I'm really sorry, please believe me, I didn't mean any of those, please.” he desperately begged and a part of him wondered how would his past self react if he knew of him for doing the exact thing he didn't want to do. If his past self saw him now, attached to someone enough to beg them to believe him, there was no doubt he would go insane. And he was insane. He was insane for all of this. He was insane for you.

“Liar,” your lip trembled and his heart broke at the sight of you crying again. “No, Miguel, you said what you needed to say and it's enough for me. I was a problem, I get it.”

“Let's just end this now. I quit. I give up.” your tears fell from your cheeks and he wanted to comfort you, to hold you, to wipe your tears. But he couldn't. The hopelessness in your voice destroyed him.

He caused that. He hurt you.

Miguel was only terrified of the fear that the universe would take you away if he got close to you and in his fear, he was the one that took you away from him instead.

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[moroostar]

– LIYUE BOYS REALIZATION ⋆

–☆ fluff

–☆ including: Zhongli, Baizhu, Xiao, Xingqiu, and Chongyun

🗒: I know this isn't really as good as I want it to be, but I don't really want to re-write this.. this took me forever to finish ρ(・・、)..

–☆ Zhongli:

Both you and Zhongli have been friends for quite awhile before he realized he was in love with you. You known about his past lover, Guizhong, and had felt bad when he finally opened up to you more in detail about his past.

You weren't sure how you exactly ended up being his close friend. All what you could remember was Zhongli sitting next you while you were having tea and reading a book.

"Do you mind if I sit here? There isn't any seats available."

Looking up from your book, your eyes meet with his golden eyes as you looked him up and down.

"Oh, well I suppose you can."

After you gave your approval of his sitting next you, Zhongli introduced had himself to you as you did the same, and from then on, both of you became close friends.

The moment Zhongli befriended you, he felt more.. comfortable with you, he couldn't really explain it.

"Zhongli? Hello? Earth to Zhongli?"

You waved your hand in front of his face, causing him to break from his trace.

"My apologies, I was.. spaced out."

A giggle escaped your lips. Zhongli's eyes soften and a smile appeared on his lips as he heard you laugh.

His eyes grew wide as realization hit.

There.

Your laugh is what caused him to realize his feelings for you.

Zhongli was in for a ride when he figured it out.

–☆ Baizhu:

Being Baizhu's assistant was oddly calming for you. He wasn't rude or bossy at all, it made you happy that he wasn't like many bosses in Liyue.

Although Changsheng, is quite sassy with you, but she's grown to be affectionate with you as well. It has taken you awhile to get to this stage with her and not many people have seen her with anyone else, but Baizhu. In fact, no one has, not even Baizhu until now.

"Changsheng, I need to write this person's perspiration–"

The snake tighten her body around your neck, but too tight to choke you. A chuckle left your mouth as you attempted to write the perspiration once again, only causing Changsheng to nuzzle her face to your cheek.

While this was happening, Baizhu was stocking on the medicine that were getting low and was in the city of Liyue.

When he returned and was walking up the stairs, he heard you laughing and being curious as to why you were laughing, he quickened his pace up the stairs.

He found you and Changsheng together and saw how affectionate his snake was being with you. Baizhu never thought that he would see her being this comfortable around someone that isn't him.

A smile was forming on his lips as he watching the two. He was admiring how Changsheng has finally warmed up to you and how she became affectionate. Baizhu felt jealous even, but not too jealous of course. He more jealous of how Changsheng was able to be that close to you.

He felt more happy than anything.

"Baizhu! Hello, sorry that I didn't notice you earlier."

When he heard your voice, he felt his heart beat race quicker.

"No worries, but I see that Changsheng has gotten comfortable with you. She's rarely like that with anyone."

Changsheng was growing tired and yawned, falling asleep on your neck as you nodded and smiled at him.

That was the moment Baizhu realized his love for you and how he wants to be with you.

He was surprised at this, but didn't mind if it was you.

–☆ Xiao:

Xiao had made a promise to himself to never get attached to anyone. And he kept that promise for many years, until he saw you with the Traveler, helping them to the Wangsu Inn. He beard about the Traveler for being the hero in Mondstadt and so did you, which is why you offered your help to them.

You went over the history of Liyue and how the Lantern Rite was close to appearing there.

When you arrived at the Wangshu Inn, you chatted with Verr Goldet and how they needed Xiao.

After you talked to her and told them what she had told you, you had decided that they can solve everything by themselves from here on.

"Where are you going to go? Why don't you stay with us!"

The Traveler has agreed with Paimon's statement as you looked at them both surprised.

"Really? I don't want to be a bother to you or on your mission."

They both had approved of you joining them on their quest in Liyue, almost like a tour guide for them.

When you all finally meet Xiao and the two Travelers from Mondstadt had to leave, you wished them luck on their journey to find the Traveler's lost sibling and hoped they come back to visit.

After they had left, you had remembered about Xiao and wanted to try to be his friend. Now, it took you a long time for Xiao to actually be more comfortable with you and allowed you to close to him, but it was all worth it to you.

Over the months you and Xiao had spent some quality time together everytime Xiao was free. Verr had allowed you to permanently stay there, as in exchange, you would help throughout the inn when they needed your help.

Most of the time you'll be with him during the night, it was he was the most available for you. You also know how much hard work he does and you wanted to treat him to his favorite dish, almond tofu.

You spent your time into making the dish for him, and when it was finished Xiao had came to you.

"Why are you here instead in our usual spot?"

You turned around to show him your reason for not being there.

"This is why!"

Xiao stood there and looked at the dish then you when he saw what you were holding.

"Is.. that almond tofu?"

"It is! I remembered that you talking about how it was your favorite food, and I know how much you're always fighting off monsters and such, so I wanted to make you this."

He felt his heart pace quicken, you really did listen to him when he talked to you and you remembered what his favorite food was.

His mind was filled with confusion. He cleared his throat before he spoke again.

"Uhm.. thank you."

The moment he knew he broke his own promise that he has kept for years to keep everyone safe from him, was when you made his favorite dish.

–☆ Xingqiu:

Books had always been Xingqiu's favorite thing to do all the time. He would be so interested that he would lost track of time and wouldn't even notice that he was on the last page of a book until he read the last sentence and tried to flip to the next pme to find it to be finished.

Wanwen Bookhouse is the place where most of his favorite books are, he would always go there when he had free time for it. Normally it would be Jifang that would be managing the place when he would visit, but there was someone else that was there.

Xingqiu wondered who he was and where Jifang was, so he planned that when he figured out which book to get, he would ask him.

So, when he found a book that he was interested in, he went up to him to purchase the book.

"Oh? The Legend of the Shattered Halberd series? I've heard that this is an interesting series."

Xingqiu was slightly taken back that you attempted to make small talk from him.

"It definitely is, I'm quite fond of this series."

You hummed as he gave you Mora for the book then you gave him back his book.

"Where is Jifang? I normally see her here, and who are you if I may ask?"

"Jifang is sick and asked me to take care of the place while she rests for the day. I'm her nephew that she wanted to be her assistant here."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement as he took his book from your hand and said thank you before leaving.

Xingqiu was interested in you, but didn't know how to tlak to you again. He made sure to be finished with his book quickly (Xingqiu already tends to finish his books in 2 days or so), so he can go back again.

He continued to visited the Wanwen Bookhouse a lot more than he usually did, just so he can see you and make conversation with you. It went on for a while until you two eventually became friends.

The two of you would often read books together and have debates about them, or just had some tea together.

Eventually, he figured out that the series he read almost everyday was in the consideration of being discontinued due to the author's age.

Of course he was disappointed at first, but he knew it was going to happen someday. He told you about it and you saw the disappointment in his eyes, so you decided to make him a gift.

It took you some time to finish it, but you thought it was worth it if it made him happy.

You had gave it to him when you guys spent your time together again. He asked about what was in your bag, as you don't usually carry out a bag with you.

"Oh, so uh, you know how your favorite series has the possibility of being discontinued? Well, I had made you my– your own version of it. It took a very long time to make, but–"

Xingqiu immediately took the book and opened it to find it filled with the version that he remembered telling you what he hopes what could happen in the next book.

His face had heated up when he looked at the pages and a smile was starting to appear on his face.

He loved how you put your time into this just for him.

He knew what his feelings were towards you now, he was worried only for a little bit, but he quickly got over it as he realized that it was you that he grew feelings for.

–☆ Chongyun:

He got another report about someone thinking they had unwanted spirits in their home, so of course goes to their home to excorise the spirit.

It took him about 3 hours just to find out that it has been a cat in the person's home. He was a lottle irritated about this, it was very clear to you. You felt guilty about it and promised to make him lunch everyday until you didn't feel guilty about it.

After 4 months of you making him lunch, you had already gotten over about being guilty, but you enjoyed cooking for someone else for once (malewife/j).

Chongyun had asked you if you still felt guilty about it and said he has forgiven you about it already, you told him your reasoning about why you still cook for him. He was embarrassed about the answer, but he didn't want you to stop making food, he enjoyed your cooking.

You also liked to write little notes when you give him his lunch, sometimes it'll say some words of encouragement or just some questions you had about him being an exorcist in Liyue.

When you were making his lunch, you decided to write a little something more special and decorate his lunch.

Chongyun came by at the usual time and picked up his lunch from you, he went to a place where he could enjoy the view of Liyue.

He opened his lunch to see what you had made and wrote that day.

'Your smile is very pretty, so is your eyes. I always get reminded of snow, or something, everytime I see them. Anyways, I wish you a good day, Chongyun ♡.

– Y/n'

While he kept re-reading the note, he felt his cheeks go red.

He soon enough calmed down, then looked at his lunch to see that you had decorated it to look like popsicles.

He immediately thought how cute it was with your note you put.

"I guess I'm glad that it's you."

[itjazzbicch]

The Way You Are

Pairing:  MK1!Kenshi Takashi x Reader 

First time writing for Kenshi so I hope I did well! 

Summary: Returning home to the reader who was worried about his travels with Lord Lui Kang and his fellow champions, the reader is in shock when they see that he not only has Sento, sees what Sento can do, and also learns why Kenshi came back wearing a red band across his eyes...

Warnings:  MK1 story mode spoilers (If you don't know what happened to Kenshi in story mode lol) Slight swearing, established relationship, little flirting toward the end (And that's it, pretty much!)

Word Count: .9k 

Kenshi setting out to find Sento already worried me since he was going on this conquest alone, being his only support, and learning how it turned out to be much more than finding Sento put me in distress.

It took him some time, but he finally came back to me, telling me over a phone call; his low tone built up more anxiousness, but I was glad he was finally back.

Learning about the realms and how he was being sent to Outworld was a lot to take in as it was all new knowledge to me, and I was relieved when I saw the hilt of a new sword out the window.

He must've gotten his hands on Sento! Hearing the door open, I nearly jumped for joy but came to a slow halt once I saw a blindfold covering his eyes.

"Kenshi?"

"I did it, Y/N," He started smiling at me, pulling out the centuries-old sword to show me, "I have Sento."

"I never doubted you, Kenshi," I smiled back, nervous to ask, "What's with the blindfold?"

"About that," He sighed, hand caressing the red band, clearly nervous to explain why he was wearing it, "Don't worry. I can still see, sort of."

"What happened while you were gone?" My voice grew stern as I approached him, wanting to know what he was hiding, going to touch the band, but he gripped my hand:

"You don't want to see. Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"I do," I said more sternly, showing him that I was acting out of care, "I want to know what happened because if someone did this on purpose, I'd gladly visit them."

"That's not necessary," He huffed, letting my hand go, "It wasn't intentional."

"Please, just let me see," I whispered with a sweeter tone, his deep sigh a signal to allow me to lift the band, seeing how his eyes were gouged, "Oh my goodness."

I covered my mouth with a hand as tears filled my eyes, angry at the thought that someone would do such a thing to him, someone I cared about more than anyone.

"This wasn't intentional? Are you kidding me?" This disbelief was strong, unable to accept that this was somehow an accident.

"It truly wasn't, Y/N," Taking my hand to provide comfort, he assured me, "But as I said, there's no need to worry. Sento gave me back my sight in its own way."

"What do you mean?" I knew Sento was a mighty sword but didn't understand until he entered my living room.

"See how I can move around with no issues?" He pointed out, watching and beginning to understand, blown away as he wielded Sento, "Just watch."

Going to a fake plant I had in the corner, he sliced the leaves into pieces, my jaw dropping at the blue aurora that flowed around Sento's blade, not believing my eyes:

"What the hell? What was that, Kenshi?"

"Sento has my ancestors within it," He explained, "They guide me, make me stronger. I can finally free my clan from the Yakuza and their crimes."

I still couldn't believe what I witnessed, but I knew it was true. I ran to hug him as he put Sento away, hugging him tightly and praising, "I knew that you could get Sento back. You will fulfill all your goals. I know it."

"Thank you, Y/N," He hugged back, squeezing me as he whispered, "Thank you for always being the one by my side."

"Forever will be, Kenshi," I vowed, holding his face, staring at that blindfold and only able to imagine the hell and pain he went through to make it this far; there was still a far way to go.

Tears swelled in the corner of my eyes again, and he quickly noticed, trying to apologize:

"I know that I worried you while I was gone, and seeing me like this-; I'm-"

"It's okay," I assured, swallowing a breath to shake off the sad tears and mean wholeheartedly, "You came back to me, and if Sento brought back your vision in a new way, that's all that matters. I'll always love you the way you are."

My last sentence made him smile, his embrace warming with his words, "I may have lost my eyes, but I'm not easily defeated. Don't stress over me. I'll always come back to you."

"You better," I teased but meant firmly, bringing his lips to mine, filling our connection with all the passion in my heart that I had for him, making him chuckle some as our lips briefly parted, "Or you better take me with you."

"You'd be in for culture shock. I'm not even sure if that's what I should call it," We laughed more, but I was serious despite my giggles:

"Maybe, but I'd still go and kick the hell out of anyone who even thinks of harming you."

"So protective," He joked, smirking at me while gripping my hip, "I still have skills, you know?"

"I am protective, and I own that," Kissing one more time as I hugged him again, I made sure he knew all my actions and words were made from love, but also trying not to be too serious and play along, wiggling the hip in his hand, "And trust me, I know you have all kinds of skills." 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome