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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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AU List

Hello! Welcome! This is my attempt at keeping the AU's boiuncing around in my head in order. They should be mostly in chronological order.

Some of them are getting turned into full length fics! The list (and it's open to suggestions) can be found here: Fic List

A couple of things:

Please feel free to write your own fics based on any of these! No need to ask, simply link it so I can also read it <3

If you have any specific scenarios you have an idea for and would like me to write- my asks/prompts are always open! I can't guarantee quality as I do most of my writing at like, 3 AM but I'll try my best!

I don't condone racism, bigotry, homophobia, etc.. I do not welcome it here. I acknowledge that I have biases that I've yet to unlearn. If there's something that makes you feel unwelcome in the things I write, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.

I write these mostly on little to no sleep (that’s when I get creative I guess?) so good luck.

Squatter! Danny Raises Tim AU:

[Here] In which Tim finds a squatter (Danny) in his house and gets a brother.

[Here] AU of Squatter!Danny where Tim finds Danny squatting in the Nest as Red Robin and thinks he's a coffee-fueled hallucination.

[Here] Tim and Danny stalks the Dynamic Duo and freaks them out.

[Here] Tim and Danny goes shopping, Jazz Fenton casually suggests murder as a means of sibling adoption.

[Here] Tim meets Jason! Robin and fanboys his way into thinking he could become Robin. Danny tries to temper Tim’s stalking habits.

[Here] Family Bonding

Ghost King and the Justice League:

[Here] The JLA summons Danny and Constantine regrets his poor life decisions.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Ghost King!Danny can hear the screams of the Joker's victims.

[Here] Batman tells Hal Jordan to babysit the unconscious Ghost King because Hal’s neon green.

[Here] Zatanna helps the dying ghost boy by repairing his grave and hunting down the GIW

[Here] Zatanna retrieves the gravestones of Phantom's subjects and gives him a safe space to grieve.

[Here] Ghost King!Danny babysits Wonder Woman at the behest of the Goddess Hera.

[Here] Ghost King!Danny munches on some demons.

[Here] Local space ghost scolds superhero club because they littered in space.

[Here] The OG Young Justice team summons Danny in a private school bathroom

[Here] The JLA failed to prevent cultists from summoning the ghost king. Luckily, they get Danny instead, who seems to be the king's assistant.

Alcoholic! Danny Adopts Jason Todd AU: (Fic)

[Here] Alcoholic!Danny saves Jason Todd from a mugger and gives up alcohol to be a big brother.

[Here] Alcoholic! Danny confronts his stalker, buys chili dogs for his new little brother, and kills a pedo in that order.

[Here] Going Sober!Danny meets Batman, and then gives his new little brother an apartment and tells him he can go to school.

[Here] Going Sober! Danny takes his little brother back to school shopping

Spider in Gotham AU: (Fic)

[Here] In which Peter Parker gets isekai'd and shrunk, commits crime, and adopts a Gothamite street kid for a brother.

[Here] In which Peter Parker’s alternate memories haunt him in the form of nightmares, his identity gets made by his roommate, and he talks to a concerned vigilante with poor sleeping habits about his own poor sleeping habits.

Gotham! Danny and His Bats:

[Here] Writing Prompt: Cryptid Danny predates the Bats.

[Here] In which Danny is both Tim Drake and Gotham's City Spirit.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Danny and Gotham’s Bay that’s full of dead bodies, ghosts, and a very alive Red Hood

[Here] Gotham Spirit Phantom has a moment of introspection and would like people to stop blowing parts of the city up

[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in and proceeds to have a bad time and decides to DIY mental health.

[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in, pt. 2: Danny bullies Bruce into self care.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Shade! Jason stumbles across a ghost Danny, adopts him, gets turned into a full-fledged ghost, eats cookies, and gets pulled back into his human body.

Danny in Gotham:

[Here] Accidental Crime Lord! Danny Phantom and his takeover ft. a gaggle of orphans and a stressed Batman

[Here] Writing Prompt Lawyer!Danny Fenton and heroism within the confines of the law.

[Here] Lawyer! Danny prompt fulfillment

[Here] Coffee Shop Owner! Danny enforces the shop's neutrality by beating up the Joker with a chair and accidentally seduces the Red Hood.

[Here] New to the City! Danny dropkicks Red Hood in his stupid red helmet

[Here] Danny vs. Mr. Muffins

[Here] In which Bruce, Alfred, and Dick grieves while Danny wonders why they were grieving on an empty grave.

[Here] In which Danny did not get the memo about Gotham's pharmaceutical companies

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU:

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans up beach after local vigilante explodes his plane over the ocean.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans the Gotham bay and does broke college student things.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny extorts money from Batman for blankets.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes a friend and calls Red Robin broke.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes Batman a debtor and makes friends with the best vigilante recyclers in Gotham.

[Here] Tim asks Danny to introduce Tim to Danny, Jason has a post-zombie crisis.

[Here] Batman tries to adopt another kid, Danny gets Vlad flashbacks, and the Bats finds out that Jason is stinky.

Danny Gets Yeeted (Yoted?) Into Gotham AU:

[Here] Danny gets dropped on the Batmobile and acquires minions

[Here] IOU One (1) Big (Harvey) Dent

[Here] Danny trolls the Waynes by telling them he's died before (and pretending he doesn't know they're vigilantes).

[Here] Tim makes bad excuses for vigilante injuries and Danny forgets about the knife embedded in his stomach.

[Here] Sleepy, assassin-trained Damian accidentally stabs civilian Danny and feels bad about it.

[Here] Danny's Knife Collection (but not just knives).

[Here] Ghostbusters but they don't actually catch the ghost (Danny)

[Here] Danny’s in the goddamn walls!

[Here] Danny's first family game night: trauma, eating paint, and aiming the Bat cannon at the GCPD and firing feral vigilantes out of it.

[Here] Cassandra Cain (former Feral Child) reassures Danny (who is Ghost Feral) that they're siblings.

[Here] Danny gets ice-cream with Duke, Bruce vs. (corrupt) CPS

[Here] Danny does gardening with Alfred

Danielle "Dani"/"Ellie" Phantom:

[Here] "Ellie" visits Gotham and encounters a Stinky Red Hood.

[Here] "Dani" trades "removing corrupted ectoplasm" for "a meeting with Batman about the GIW" ft. Stinky Red Hood and a confused Nightwing.

[Here] A paralegal gets reincarnated/isekai’ed as Danielle “Nellie” Phantom, Prompt

Gremlin Genius! Timothy Drake:

[Here] Toddler! Tim is irritated at his heroes for showing up late at their own Gala.

[Here] Tower Scene AU

Reincarnated as Gamer! Timmy Drake (fem Tim): (Fic)

[Here] The Dissociative Experience™️ of realizing your afterlife is a cosmic oopsie (and that you’re now playing a game as a female Tim Drake).

[Here] Art for the fic

New Tim-line, Who Dis? AU:

[Here] Time Traveling! Tim has a crisis on a plane and hires Deathstroke to off the Joker.

[Here] Time Traveling! Tim takes over Bludhaven's underground at nine years old by terrorizing them and takes out his big brother's enemies via blackmail and Amanda Waller.

[Here] Tim Drake Vs. The Education System round 2

[Here] Dick Grayson remembering his dumbass, self-sacrificing little brother from a different Tim-line.

Prompts Found:

[Here] Tim is a sleeping cat and the law is: you can't move.

[Here] Heartbroken Danny leaves Dick Grayson with a table full of cold anniversary dinner.

[Here] Tim beefs with Superman.

[Here] Triplet Tim

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 2

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 3

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4.5

[Here] The Trio escapes Amity via train

[Here] Dick Grayson plays dumb... a bit too dumb

[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- Too many beds (dcxdp)

[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss (dcxdp)

Thoughts about DC/DP:

[Here] Richard Grayson's successful image change

[Here] DC vs. The Fan Ability of Saying "No"

[Here] Jason's Pit Madness

[Here] Gotham's City Planners

[Here] Jason and Cass discusses their kill/no kill policies and comes to an understanding about each other.

[Here] Danny can be a twink OR he could be buff as hell.

[Here] DC Canon is soup.

[Here] Damian's relationship with art throughout his short life.

[Here] Ra’s could have revolutionized the medical field but decided to be a creep and clone a minor

[Here] Tim Drake is that troll from Trolls the movies, Branch

[Here] Butter Sock

[Here] Gotham city’s unanimous agreement not to fish dead bodies out of the bay

[Here] Danny in Hogwarts.

[Here] Reincarnation Manhwa + the Bats

[Here] The Bats, Supernatural AU

[Here] Jason's sick fic

[Here] Damian is lost in Amity Park

[Here] Tim, Danny, and floating down a river in a wine barrel

[Here] Reincarnated into Damian Wayne's older sister.

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gatheringbones · 8 months

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[“Poverty is embarrassing, shame inducing. Misery (misère), the French sociologist Eugène Buret once remarked, “is poverty felt morally.”

You feel it in the degradation rituals of the welfare office, where you are made to wait half a day for a ten-minute appointment with a caseworker who seems annoyed you showed up. You feel it when you go home to an apartment with cracked windows and cupboards full of cockroaches, an infestation the landlord blames on you. You feel it in how effortlessly poor people are omitted from movies and television shows and popular music and children’s books, erasures reminding you of your own irrelevance to wider society. You may begin to believe, in the quieter moments, the lies told about you. You avoid public places—parks, beaches, shopping districts, sporting arenas—knowing they weren’t built for you.

Poverty might consume your life, but it’s rarely embraced as an identity. It’s more socially acceptable today to disclose a mental illness than to tell someone you’re broke. When politicians propose antipoverty legislation, they say it will help “the middle class.” When social movement organizers mobilize for higher wages or housing justice, they announce that they are fighting on behalf of “working people” or “families” or “tenants” or “the many.” When the poor take to the streets, it’s usually not under the banner of poverty. There is no flag for poor rights, after all.

Poverty is diminished life and personhood. It changes how you think and prevents you from realizing your full potential. It shrinks the mental energy you can dedicate to decisions, forcing you to focus on the latest stressor—an overdue gas bill, a lost job—at the expense of everything else. When someone is shot dead, the children who live on that block perform much worse on cognitive tests in the days following the murder. The violence captures their minds. Time passes, and the effect fades until someone else is dropped.

Poverty can cause anyone to make decisions that look ill-advised and even downright stupid to those of us unbothered by scarcity. Have you ever sat in a hospital waiting room, watching the clock and praying for good news? You are there, locked on the present emergency, next to which all other concerns and responsibilities feel (and are) trivial. That experience is something like living in poverty. Behavioral scientists Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir call this “the bandwidth tax.” “Being poor,” they write, “reduces a person’s cognitive capacity more than going a full night without sleep.” When we are preoccupied by poverty, “we have less mind to give to the rest of life.” Poverty does not just deprive people of security and comfort; it siphons off their brainpower, too.”]

matthew desmond, from poverty: by america, 2023

#matthew desmond #brainspace #history stuff #currently reading #horror! horror! horror!

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blondieeu · 5 months

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practice. satoru g.

okay don’t get me wrong, moving into a small apartment with fiancé!gojo was one of the best decisions you could’ve ever made for yourself and your future.

making the house your own and setting up the wii, putting a billion pictures of the two of you up around the house, even getting a little puppy and naming him gumi just to make megumi mad.

to getting to experience more intimate things with him like helping him make things because he ends up really loving oragami, seeing his morning face when y’all both look busted asfc or cuddling together in the winter because for some reason the heater is broken he turned it off on purpose.

but the thing was, satoru was a very sexually active man… ever since you got your own apartment without anyone to be in your business he wanted to fuck you everywhere and anywhere he could.

on the table, on the couch, on the balcony, in the pool, on the dryer, on the floor, on the wall, the kitchen counter even right now in the shower!

you tried you didn’t to stop him from sweet talking you into letting him come into your shower, believing him when he was pleading with you, “baby i have to go somewhere let me in your shower,” “it’ll just be quick,” “please in and out?”

your second mistake was letting him scrub your back, and then start kissing on it, and then start to pull you closer, and then start kissing at your lips… and then start to lift your leg up …. “just the tip baby!!”

and here you were, holding onto the shower tiles for dear life. warm water flowing into your curly hair while he gripped your waist and kept slamming it into you.

“ fuckkk me toruuu— ..”

you cried, getting dizzy from all this fuckin’ and putting a hand behind you so he would slow down a little.

“ ‘m gonna nut quick if you keep doing that ‘toru..”

“ oh yea? cum on it then babe,”

he encouraged, going a little faster and grabbing both your arms to hold behind your back so you were forced to be upright, now fucking you up against the shower wall.

the calling of your ass against his waist was loud accompanied by the extra noise of the water and the two of you making loud noises you especially.

and before you really even knew it, there was a warmth pooling out of you and onto his fat cock, a white creamy texture that he calmly stuffed back into you quietly with a smile.

… “ can we do it again ? i didn’t get to nut inside );”

okay last one for 2nite i have to get up early😘🫣 bloundieeu xx

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foreingersgod · 6 days

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omg I saw you wrote for pb and I was wondering your take on her comforting a reader who struggles with mental health or anxiety? Tysmia && I love your work !! ❤️🤗

for any of you struggling out there, i’m here with you! if you ever need, my inbox is always open :)

Anxious . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you’ve struggled with anxiety your entire life, but you never told anyone, including paige. during one of your bad anxiety attacks, she finally finds out.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

since you were young, about starting middle school, anxiety controlled the entirety of your life. every decision, every breathe, every moment, anxiety was driving you. it was so suffocating that you fell behind the other kids. you didn’t play sports or join clubs, nor did you hang out with friends because you feared the worst. those voices in your head, that twisted feeling in your gut made life almost unlivable.

when you graduated high school and moved away for college, the anxiety lessened. you think in some ways college helped you find yourself and for a little bit, you were living freely.

in that time, you met your girlfriend paige. you had met her through one of your mutual friends at her birthday party. paige had spotted you from across the room, completely captivated by you. you were beautiful, had the most adorable laugh, and had the most unique style she had seen. she couldn’t help but ask for your number.

the rest was history. you and paige hit it off immediately and became inseparable. when you were with paige, you felt amazing. anxiety was the last thing on your mind. talking to people became easier, leaving your house was no longer scary, life was good. your days of anxiety and panic attacks were well behind you.

but about a year into your relationship, things started to fall apart again. that particular year, you were facing a lot of hardships and it was hard to manage it all. your mother was rushed to the hospital for a minor respiratory problem, she was recovering well, but the financial burden fell to you. school was beginning to pile up as well, it felt like you were drowning in school work. things at your job had been getting worse too, you were understaffed (and underpaid) and practically running the whole place. and on top of that, it was paige’s last year at uconn and she was so stressed about the upcoming season, and you were finding it hard to balance being her support system and the rest of your life.

it was hard.

when things started to go down hill, you felt that familiar feeling creep its way back into your mind. you found that your heart was pounding more and more when you left your cozy apartment, that your thoughts weren’t your own, and that you were always worried about the future. you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function properly at all. but you stayed optimistic, thinking that this would run its course. because you were getting better, right?

you kept all of this from paige. you were worried that she would worry and you didn’t want to make things worse. after all, you had never even told paige about your struggles with anxiety and mental health in the past and you wanted to keep it that way.

on one saturday night in june, one of paige’s teammates hosted a small get together at a quaint little restaurant with the team and their partners. everyone was stoked to see one another and catch up. normally, you would have loved this sort of thing. you used to love those types of settings, but now you were struggling to act excited about it. when paige had told you about the invite, you immediately became apprehensive.

“you excited?” she asked, telling you the details of the event “it’ll be fun”

“stoked” you managed to croak out.

when 6:00 pm rolled around, you were dressed and ready to go. paige was downstairs, keys in hand, awaiting your arrival, but you remained in the bathroom. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to talk yourself down from a panic attack.

you can do this, YN, it’s gonna be ok you told yourself.

“YN!” you heard paige holler from the bottom of the stairs “we’re gonna be late, babe! are you ready?”

touching up your hair and fanning the tears out of your eyes, you rushed out of the bathroom. paige greeted you by the front door with a kiss, hands finding the small of your back and leading you out to her car.

the drive was dreadful. all you could think about was going home, thinking that something was going to go wrong and ruin your night. it had you discretely biting your nails as you looked out the car window. paige, oblivious to your agitated state, was telling you about the restaurant the get together was held at and how she was exited for you to try it. you nodded along, trying to keep yourself distracted.

after a painfully long drive to your destination, you were being escorted to the table where your party sat. you were met with toothy smiles and cheerful greetings from paige’s teammates as you arrived. paige pulled out your chair for you and sat down next to you while conversing with a few of the girls.

you were doing fine at first, only sparking up conversation with a few girls to keep your anxiety at bay. you were managing. even when the waiters began taking orders, you got through it no problem. laughter filled your small corner of the restaurant as everyone joked and talked with each other, there was absolutely nothing to be worried about.

20 minutes passed, discussion was still alive and you were getting through the night like a champ.

until the food was brought out.

the second that plate was sat in front of you, you felt the pace of your heart pick up. you didn’t know what was going on, but for some reason, the thought of eating your food in front of all of these people set you off. you hadn’t had a history of this, normally you didn’t mind eating in public. you assumed it must of been the stress of keeping food down. you stared at the steaming meal in front of you like it was some sort of extraneous creature. just the thought of lifting up the fork had you spiraling about every possible thing that could go wrong.

what if you threw up?

what if the food was raw?

what if everyone saw the way that you were eating? they’ll probably think you look funny.

your eyes welled up at the thought of it all, your head hung low to hide your dampened mood. your legs were bouncing uncontrollably to try and balance your nerves, body practically shaking from fear.

as you attempted to reserve yourself, praying no one would notice. you felt paige’s hand rest itself onto your knee, gripping it gently to halt your bouncing. she tapped the inside of your thigh, leaning in and whispering into your ear.

“hey, what’s the matter baby?” she muttered just enough for you to hear “you’re shaking”

you bit your lip harshly. fuck

you shook your head. it was all you could muster, couldn’t find the ability in your throat to produce any words. the urge to cry out for help gnawed at your chest.

before paige could question any further, you abruptly stood out of you chair. the wooden legs scraping against the black and white tile of the floor. as your back turned, rushing to the bathroom for any sort of isolation, you felt eyes burning in the back of your head. you heard paige call out for you faintly, but it was no use, you couldn’t sit at that table a moment longer.

the bathroom felt miles away as scurried past other tables. tears were streaming down your cheeks, most definitely taking your mascara with it. finally reaching the single occupant bathroom, you shut the door and locked it behind you. you were careless of the germs as you sunk to the bathroom floor in despair. knees hugged close to your chest and head buried into your arms. sobs racked your body and trepidation coursed through your veins. you were losing control of yourself.

out of the blue a knock sounded at the bathroom door. assuming it was another diner of the restaurant, you ignored it hoping they would move along. then you heard her.

“YN, are you in there? are you ok, what the hell is going on?” paige’s voice rang through the door.

“i’m fine” you hiccuped “i’ll be out in a second, i just need to pee is all”

“don’t lie to me” she said “you were shaking and sobbing when you left the table, the hell you just have to pee”

you continued to cry, loud enough for paige to hear.

“baby, please, what can i do? what’s going on, i want to help” she pleaded.

past all the pain your mind was putting you through, you yearned for paige. she made you feel so safe, the whole reason you were able to battle your anxiety in the first place. you didn’t want to rope her into this, but it was far past keeping it a secret now.

with hands still trembling, you unlocked the door and let her in. without wasting a second, she was at your side, locking the door behind her. her arms wrapped around you protectively, rubbing your back to comfort you as you fell to the floor again. she sat with you as you crawled into her. your head tucked into her chest as you cried, tears soaking into her shirt, fingers clinging to the fabric. paige tried to move the hair out of your face to get a better look at you.

“you’re scaring me, YN” a worried expression washed across her face “what can i do? who do i have to fight, huh?”

she tried to cheer you up, accepting defeat once you cried harder.

“i-i don’t-” you were struggling to speak still “i don’t even know where to start paige!”

she pulled you closer to her chest “just try baby, take your time. i’m right here with you, we’ve got all the time in the world ok. just get it all out, you’re safe”

and that was all it took for you to completely break down if front of your girlfriend. every detail from the last few days, from your past, everything about your anxiety came spilling out.

“before i met you, i had chronic anxiety. like so bad i could barely leave the house. then i moved away for school and it got better, and when i met you it pretty much went away. but you know with my mom? and school and work and now you’re in your last season with your team? it’s just been getting to me and the anxiety has started to get worse again. i can’t eat or sleep right and i feel like i’ve been losing my fucking mind, paige”

she was such an amazing listener, sitting there on the dirty bathroom floor as her girlfriend bawled into her shoulder. the whole time her eyes were glued to you, gentle fingers carefully wiping your tears away.

“why didn’t you tell me all of this? tell me about the eating and the sleeping? YN, it makes me sick imagining you going through all this alone”

“because i didn’t want you to worry and i was too embarrassed to say anything”

“well i’m worried now” she said “and embarrassed? baby…”

“i know, it’s silly, but i was just scared you’d think of me less if you knew what a mess i am when i get anxiety like this”

“i could never think less of you. ever. please know that”

“but i-”

“no, listen” she interrupted “just because you struggle with your mental health or have a hard time dealing with your anxiety doesn’t mean i’ll think anything less of you. you’re my whole world. this life and in the next, you’re my entire soul. i want nothing more than to be here for you and to help you overcome things like this. if anything, it only proves to me how strong you are and how i’m so lucky to have a girl who’s able to get through all this”

you sniffled, tears stopping as she continued “i love you, more than you know. and i’m sorry you felt like you needed to do this on your own”

you really had the best girlfriend out there. someone who loves you even through your own insecurities.

“i love you so much” you kissed her with your lips salty from the tears “thank you for being here, i don’t know what i’d do without you”

“get through all this just the same because that’s how strong you are. i’m just here to help in anyway you need” paige leaned in for another kiss, this time deeper, strong hands cradling your jaw “how about i go tell the team you’re not feeling well and we’ll go back home, eat some ice cream and watch anything you want?”

you nodded, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm “even new girl?”

“yea baby, even new girl”

moments later, you were back in the comfort of your home. snuggled in bed next to paige, bowls of ice cream on your lap, the tv buzzing in the background.

you could finally breathe again, you just needed your girl.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn wbb #wlw #wlw imagine

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blakeswritingimagines · 5 months

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Burn The House Down

Summary: Having to have you was always his main goal, as time passes and you change as people Aemond seems indifferent even during your big news.

Word Count: 3.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

For years since you were children, you did your best to be kind to the Targaryen children no matter how odd they seemed, never noticing how Aemond always seemed to be around or that he was behind things falling apart in your life even when he was there to console you. But would continue on when something better seemed to take place in front of you. The older you got, the more you slowly but surely noticed how erratically and obsessive Aemond seemed toward things in his life but kept shrugging it off like it was nothing going about your day. Aemond had been secretly stalking you since a young age, watching you from the shadows, making sure you were always safe. When you both were children you could always catch him staring at you with that odd look in his eye, that burning obsession and curiosity as his fingers twitched waiting to touch you. As time went by, and you all became adults, you had started to notice him even more. He was always there somewhere close by. You noticed the odd things happening in your life, you did not know they were his own doing. He had a certain power over you and your life.

Aemond can recall each time you were quite kind to him during his formative years in the Red Keep. You always listened to his troubles, and his desire to leave and see the world. He remembered your kindness towards him even without a dragon, he can understand how you might have not noticed the attention he lavished upon you. You were often busy with matters of your own and he did not wish for you to worry about things, he tried to keep his feelings to himself as best he could when he could. He did not see his affection for you as erratic but rather focused on something he truly desired. You used to go visit him in the courtyard when you weren't busy with more important matters. You always seemed to have a lot in common even if it was Aemond altering himself to fit you better, but one thing that never changed was that he still kept following you, being close to you, and watching you with those lilac/sapphire eyes of his, that sparkled every time he turned his gaze on you always seeming to be studying you. You had only been a child when Aemond's strange obsessions started. But as your body changed into maturity, his interest in you changed as well. Aemond watched closely you growing into a young woman, your curves getting fuller, and he felt… things. Forbidden fantasies, desires. He was ashamed, of course. Naturally, he went out of his way to pray more often but he couldn't help it. You were his friend, yes. But also, you were something else to him. Though his intentions were not clear, it did not help that you saw Aemond as an older brother-like figure. However, there was always something that piqued your interest and intrigued you at the same time, the odd affection he had for you. You could not comprehend how someone could follow your routine for so long and not make a proper confession to you, or at least make a romantic advance which led you to believe he must've not cared in such a way. He wanted to know more about you the older you become. Your likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams, secrets, etc.

He always wanted to get closer to you and get to know you even better almost as if he wanted to lock you away and be the only one around you. One thing that stood out to Aemond was that whenever he would see you, you would always be kind and warm towards him regardless of his choices and decisions he would make. You seemed to genuinely care about him and his well-being. You never tried to pressure him to talk about his feelings or share any of his personal thoughts. Aemond had always appreciated this about you. You were someone he could turn to and trust. You noticed him again, just as you had when he was younger. In passing, you glimpse that same strange look in his eyes and recall all those times he was always near. You ponder what it could mean and wonder if maybe he still felt the same way. It worried you. Your duties and responsibilities keeping you busy but you can't help but wonder what Aemond is doing and if he is still watching over you. You had not forgotten about him. His attention and affection have not gone unnoticed.

That attention and affection were growing daily. It was all Aemond would think about when he first woke up or when he would fall asleep. His thoughts would be consumed with everything he could know about you, where you were, what you were doing, all of it. It got to the point where if he was not near you he felt lost. He always knew where your chamber would be, who your friends were, your favorite foods, your favorite cloth to wear, everything. He needed to be near you. You were the only person in this realm who truly made him feel this way, and he was unsure he wanted his feelings to go unanswered any longer. It was not uncommon for Aemond to keep watch over you, but he rarely made himself visible if he could help it. He was not one to reveal his own feelings but this was something different. He began to feel drawn to having you as his, like a magnet. He was constantly thinking about you, wondering when you would cross paths again spending more time together, hoping the next time you did he might muster up the courage to speak his truth. He knew you deserved to know how he felt. But how do you tell someone something like that without knowing if they feel the same?

He was obsessed with you. He needed you, and not just physically but emotionally. He wanted more than your body, he wanted your mind and soul. He would do anything to be close to you, to touch your smooth skin, anything to have you notice him. You were his muse, his everything. He wanted your attention, he wanted your love… he wanted you. Yes, his obsession with you had become his obsession to possess you. His life had become completely consumed by you even if he was capable of saving face in front of others. Nothing mattered to him except you. Nothing else had meaning to him anymore. He had to have you. The risk of rejection was too severe for him. He could never bring himself to reveal how he felt. But he had to make you want him. He knew that if he could just figure out what you desired in a partner, he could make you his and own you. The more obsessive and possessive he became, the more you seemed to become oblivious. You might never even think to look his way.

He could be near you or call on you, but that was not enough. He wanted more than that. He wanted you to be his and only his not enjoying when another held your attention. He wanted you all to himself. He spent hours dreaming of ways he could make you realize how he felt, how he needed you like he needed air in his lungs. He would even contemplate things he could do to make you jealous, just so that you would notice him and confront him. He had to confess his feelings or he would simply implode. If you felt the same way he could not wait another minute. If you did not… He would find a way to make you care enough about what would happen.

You often caught a glimpse of him in your peripheral vision. It started to frighten you a bit, wondering if someone knew your secrets. But you always ignored those thoughts even being comforted by the tall blonde male himself that he would look after you, reminding yourself daily that Aemond wouldn't do anything to hurt you. You continued going about your life, trying to forget your suspicions. One evening, you were walking back to your chambers when you felt someone's eyes on you. Turning around and seeing Aemond, watching you. He smiled at you nervously. You were about to walk away when he stopped you. He cleared his throat. He had prepared this moment in his head for so long. There was so much he wanted to say, he did not know how to begin. He was nervous and fidgeting but he was glad he had finally stopped you. He had prepared exactly what he wanted to say. He took a step towards you. “My lady. I… I have spent a long time in this castle. And in that time I have been watching you and there is something I must tell you.”

Your heart started to beat rapidly, almost painfully. You knew what he was going to say but you didn't want it to be true. You listened to his words silently, wondering what he had to say. Your face was a mixture of emotions. You were nervous but you were trying hard to hide it. You were afraid that if you let your guard down, he would see just how much power he wielded over you. "What do you wish to say, Aemond?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stood silently, listening to every word Aemond had to say to you. Your face was filled with emotions but you couldn't tell what those were, it was a mix of confusion and scared. You took a step back from Aemond, unsure of what to say or what to do. "You… what did you want to say?" You said while biting your lower lip nervously. Aemond's sudden approach surprised you, making you uneasy for some reason… You had never seen him so forward before, it wasn't like him. He stepped closer. He had to get this right. He took a deep breath and continued. “I-I… I wish to…” he stumbled a bit. He had to collect himself. “I have known you for a long time my lady, and ever since the day I first saw you my life has changed. Every time I look at you my heart beats faster. Every time you walk through these halls I have to stop myself from following you. My lady, I want… no… I need you. You are my everything."

You feel butterflies in your stomach at Aemond's words as he speaks of his feelings for you. You'd never heard something so romantic from anyone, let alone Aemond. You were speechless. Your mind was racing and you were not sure what to say. "Aemond..." You said while biting the inside of your cheeks, feeling overwhelmed by his confession. "I don't... I didn't expect this. I thought you... felt the way about someone else." You looked down playing with your fingers, trying to find the right words to say in return. “Do you… have someone else then, my lady?” He asked with a nervous expression on his face. He was not sure if he wanted to hear the answer to that question. He had to find out. But could he bear to hear you tell him that you loved another?! The thought of another man touching you, being embraced by your arms, kissing your soft lips was… it made him feel sick with jealousy and rage. No, why would you ever be interested in someone else? Surely he had to be your one and only.

“Darling…” he took a step even closer, you two were almost face to face. “There is no one but you. I dream of you, when I lay with those whores I close my eyes and see your face. You…” he paused. “You are perfect for me.” He grabbed your hand, his body trembling, nervous about your answer. “Please, say something. Tell me I’m wrong.” He whispered, his breath trembling. Aemond looked you in the eyes. “No. There has never been anyone else. How couldn’t I fall for someone like you? You are a beauty second to none. I do not deserve you for I am just a second son, just a prince. It is true I am the second son but you are my first love.” He held out his other hand. “Please, let me court you, my lady.” He said while holding back a smile. He was waiting for your response. Your thoughts were still racing, feeling confused and overwhelmed by Aemond's words and gestures at that moment. You look up at him, biting your lower lip as you tried to gather your thoughts. You didn't know what you should do or say but there was something Aemond's words brought to your mind a question you had been asking yourself for a while now. You looked up and met his eye, hesitating in what to say but you decided to just be honest. You took a deep breath and exhaled. "Aemond…" You said quietly. "I was wondering… do you truly love me?".

Aemond gulped. Could you truly be asking him that?! A question he had been dying to hear fall from your lips but could not bring forth. He was speechless, his mind racing, his heart beating faster than the drums of war. Was that your way of accepting his feelings? Or was that your way of turning him down? “Do I love you?” Aemond repeated the question. “My lady… I do not think I can love anyone else.” "Say it, Aemond." Your tone had become firm, as your eyes were looking straight at Aemond. There is no going back and you both knew it. "Say that you love me." You took a step closer to him, your face right in front of his. You wanted him to say it. "And mean it with all your heart." You spoke, putting your hands on his chest. You knew he was about to say it, you could feel it. He took a deep and nervous breath. You were so incredibly close to him. He could see your eyes, and hear your soft breath. He felt his heart racing and almost skipped a beat. He could not help but notice just how beautiful you were. But would he say the words? He paused and gulped. He had to say it. He had to mean it. He had to be true to his feelings or otherwise live with a regret worse than death. Aemond took a step closer placing his hands gently on your face and stared directly into your sparkling eyes. He had been dreaming of this moment. “I love you. I love you with all my heart.” The words just… poured out of him. His feelings had overcome him. He had no way of stopping them. There would be no turning back once he spoke them. But he had no choice. You deserved to hear the words. You deserved to hear how he felt. “I love you. I love you with everything that I am.” And he meant it. He meant every word.

You felt the coldness of your husband's touch after months of your marriage and knew things had changed. You knew something was wrong and wanted to have a word with Aemond about it only for him to keep sending you away. You confronted him late one night in your shared chambers, alone, with no one around. "Aemond, what happened to that sweet and loving man I once married?" You asked with a sad expression on your face while sitting on the bed watching him. You had noticed that Aemond was slowly becoming cold and distant towards you. You had noticed his behavior change ever since the wedding night when your marriage was consummated. He no longer looked at you the same way and didn't show any emotions towards you, almost as if he was trying to hide the marriage from the world. You had tried confronting him about this a few times before and he had no answer, only excuses and half-hearted replies.

Aemond was sitting in a plush black leather chair opposite his wife, trying to contain his emotions. He hated seeing you sad, he hated seeing you cry, it was like an aching pain that he could not shake. But he could not tell you. You had to know why he did what he did but how could he ever tell you. How could you ever understand? He had to keep his voice soft, his expression stern, he could not show emotion. He hated the thought of you finding out what he had done, it was the one thing he feared the most. “Oh, my dear wife.” Aemond took slow steps toward you. His movements were cold and unenthusiastic. “What has happened to me? I’m not sure. It is nothing to worry over my love. I am merely busy with my duties. The Realm needs me more than you.” He took his place on the bed beside you, looking away from his wife. Why were you being like this, always nagging him about the smallest things? Always making mountains out of molehills. He had important work to do, you had become merely a distraction. "Oh but, Aemond…" You said, slightly annoyed by his tone. "And why do you only love the realm? Is there no love left for me? Is that why you act like this? You are always alone with that cold and distant gaze. You once were sweet and loving but I am not so sure anymore if that man is still in you."

You were getting angrier the more you spoke since you've been having mood swings lately and could react to nothing. Standing up with your hands on your hips while you stared at him, not breaking eye contact. You wanted answers. "You are ignoring me, Aemond," you said, your voice growing sterner. You slowly approached your husband, stepping closer to him and resting your hands on his shoulders. "We hardly speak. You act as if I am not there. You use the excuse of duties to keep me away. But you don't want me. I know it and I can feel it… Tell me, Aemond, do you still love me?" You took a deep breath attempting to calm yourself. You looked so desperate, so vulnerable. Of course, you would ask him something like this in a situation like this. He looked up to you with a frown. He could not believe you would question his love for you. What would cause you to think such a thought?! “You silly woman.” He sighed. You were pushing his buttons. He could not bring himself to yell at you, but maybe that was what you needed. He knew what you wanted to hear. “Yes! I love… you. Happy?” There, he said it. He hoped that would shut you up.

Those cold words wounded you but you tried to keep your emotions in check. You had to fight the urge to give him a harsh word. You didn't expect Aemond to have grown cold to you. Taking a step back and sat back down on the bed, your voice sounding defeated. "Very." You finally replied. Your voice sounded soft as you tried to keep your composure together. You wanted to cry, you just didn't expect this. You were expecting to love your marriage to a handsome prince to a T. But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong… You didn't know what went wrong. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment or reason. You didn't understand the whole situation, you could feel Aemond's coldness towards you and you knew that you had to do something but you just didn't know what. You were getting desperate.

You were walking through the halls of the Red Keep, as everyone was busy getting ready for the feast. You heard two lords whispering to each other as you walked past, one of them talking about you. “The Prince's wife has gained weight. She's nothing close to what she once was in her youth.” He whispered, referring to your younger years, as the other lord chuckled at the comment. “She is no longer a beauty in the sight of men,” said one of them. You couldn't believe the way the Lords and Ladies spoke to you. They mocked you behind your back, calling you the Prince's delight and a whore, all of it hurt you deeply. But to see your own husband do nothing to stand up for you… it hurt more than any insult you had ever heard. You couldn't believe it. You had never seen this side of him before. You heard the whispers behind you and felt hurt. You were not the person you once were, but was beauty the only thing these lords cared about? But alas, it was true. You had recently put on weight. It was hard not to let your lifestyle get to you. The constant feasting and your love of wine were catching up to you. You did not wish to turn, you did not wish to confront them, you wanted to be left alone. You wanted this day to pass by without any issues but knew you still had to appear beside Aemond and hopefully, he be in a good mood.

As the feast started, you were placed next to your husband Aemond, who looked bored throughout the entire event. He didn't acknowledge any of the guests, or you. The lords whispered about your weight gain, behind your back to anyone who listened. Your dress was tight and the whispers bothered you, making you self-conscious. You ate in small portions, not wanting to appear gluttonous. You took a sip of wine and your eyes spotted Aemond, who was staring at you. You knew it was time for an important statement to clear the air. "Aemond." Aemond froze. Hearing his name be spoken. He was speechless. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and could see the lords whispering and chattering, but for some reason, he could hear nothing. He felt as if he was going mad. But he knew that his hopes were in vain. He looked up to you. The look on his face was one of no emotions. What did you want now? “Yes, my lady?” Aemond asked with his usual apathetic tone. You seemed to be speaking, but he could barely hear you from all the feasting and loud music. What did you want to say?

"I'm pregnant."

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon

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atlabeth · 1 month

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(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

pt1 pt2 pt3

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

#this is so soap opera of me #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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gatorbites-imagines · 11 months

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Hihi, love your writing. Just sending over a request for a male reader (could be ftm if you'd life) with Hobie Brown? So basically the reader is apart of the organisation too and is a spiderman (could be possibly like a rock and/or punk based spiderman, or something completely opposite it's up to you) and it's how he had met Hobie and how they got close? I can send more details over if you'd like, thanks!

Hobie Brown x Male reader

Headcanons

I couldnt find any gifs of hobie yet, so just have this one.

Spoilers for Across the Spiderverse I guess? Reader is a Juggalo because I like ICP lmao.

You were one of the Spidermen that stood out somewhat amongst every other spiderperson around. You suit was white and black and had Juggalo features painted on the face. You wore a baggy ICP t-shirt and black shorts, maybe even a jacket or battle vest covered in patches. You wore a pair of heavy boots as well, perfect for kicking ass.

Along with that you didn’t respect the machine, aka the people in charge, as much as everyone else. You liked fighting and busting fascist and racist heads, you didn’t get involved with cops, and you were stubborn like a mule. This resulted in Miguel hating you because you were so difficult, but you were one of the best, so he kept you around.

You really liked fighting, which could be seen in the claws you added to your gloves, the brass knuckles worked into your suit, or the hard covering on your knees perfect for kneeing people in the chin. Those were only the visible ones, but you had many other hidden gizmos. This made you a bit of an outcast amongst the spiderpeople, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care about anyone’s approval but your own.

When Hobie joined the organization, it had been for Gwen’s sake in the beginning, since he himself doesn’t care much for large organizations with one leader who makes all the decisions. He puts up with it though, since its his duty to be spiderman.

Color him intrigued when one day he, Gwen and Jessica are called to Miguel’s area. When they arrive, they first see Miguel pacing back and forth rubbing his temples in clear annoyance, and second, they see a spiderman perched on the wall with little respect in his posture, roasting Miguel from head to toe.

Hobie already liked you from just that, but when you jump down to introduce yourself and he sees the anti-capitalism and anti-cop patches on your jacket? He might have fallen in love.

You, Gwen and Hobie were sent on a mission together, and you and Hobie got along like a house on fire. Gwen joked about being a third wheel the entire time, but she was just entertained about how well you two got along.

Outside of missions Hobie and you hang out most of the time, jumping into each other’s dimensions and just spending time at the others place. Hobies place is as punk rock as you can imagine, with all his instruments and an organized mess going on.

Your place is more what you’d imagine from someone who listens to rap, hiphop and ICP. You got a lot of music, casettes, cds, anything you can imagine. Lotsa posters or homemade merch stapled to the wall, etc.

When Hobie and Gwen make their band, you are invited of course, you are the singer. You can rap up a storm and speak so fast its hard for them to keep up some days. Hobie won’t admit it for a while, but hearing you spit bars makes his heart flutter.

Gwen would tease the both of you for having a crush on the other, which you both deny, because you are both cool and having crushes isn’t cool.

Gwen jokes about you two being boyfriends after you accidentally wear each other’s vest after spending the night at Hobies’ place. You both just roll your eyes at her and roast her with no actual heat, just doing it how friends would do it.

You both start dating at some point, neither of you can pinpoint when. One day you two just find yourselves cuddling on your rundown patched up couch without your masks on, cuddling and kissing.

Neither of you ever actually ask if you are boyfriends now or not, because you both know you are. It takes a while for Gwen and Pavitr a while to realize you two are together, since you don’t actually act any different.

Its only when they see you pull up his mask and your own to kiss him before going on a mission that it clicks for the both of them. They both whine that neither of you actually told them you were together.

When the movie happens you peace out the same moment as Hobie, having stolen your own tech so you two can keep visiting each other even if you aren’t part of the organization anymore.

Neither of you were ever big parts of being part of it anyways and only stayed for each other and for your friends, but seeing how Miguel deals with the whole Miles situation, you agree you need to leave.

You work together to make the watch for Gwen so she can save Miles. You two might join her too if needed, especially you, because you will take any chance to knock Miguel on his ass, maybe knock out those cheesy fangs of his.

Like I said, you hate authority. And since Miguel is authority, you hate him. Hobie follows after you because hes whipped and loves you deeply, plus he knows you can get kinda careless at times, so he has to pull you outta trouble if he needs.

You are both so grossly whipped for each other, it makes Gwen and Pavitr gag, though its fake gagging. You share clothes, instruments. You do his eyeliner and paint his nails, he does your Juggalo face paint. He always makes sure to give you a big kiss, which just wipes the paint onto his lips too.

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twola · 5 months

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idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever.

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him.

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-”

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up.

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him.

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #twolafic #prompt request #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic

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catslvrr · 2 months

Text

for better or worse

pham hanni x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: You’re absolutely wasted at a party. You somehow end up spending the night lamenting to this stranger about how much you miss your ex. You find out the next morning that the stranger is said ex.

Contains: drinking, death-related jokes, cursing

Playlist

Like all bad decisions you’ve made in your life, it always starts with Danielle.

“Please,” Danielle begs, standing in the doorway to your room like a toddler who’s waiting to tell their mom that they just vomited. “Just for tonight.”

You glare at her as you pause your TikTok. “I’m not being your designated driver. Catch an Uber.”

Danielle skips toward your bed and flops on it, resting her chin on the palm of her hand and kicking her feet like a kid. She’s putting on this disgusting baby voice. “Please, I’m begging you… I don’t get paid until next week.”

You ignore her and press play on your TikTok. It’s an edit of Asami Sato, and damn, she is so fine. You’re blushing and giggling to yourself until Danielle rudely interrupts you by pulling your blanket to the floor, ridding you of its comfortable warmth.

“What the fuck!”

She pouts. “Please? I won’t ask again.”

“You said that last time,” you give her a blank stare. “And the last last time.”

“Last time was five months ago! And I always make it up to you.”

Danielle rolls over on her back, and her head is heavy on your legs. She begins to poke you.

“Please,” she whines, dragging the word out. You close your eyes as her voice rings in your ears like a mosquito, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from murdering her.

Danielle is a lovely roommate. She pays her half of the rent on time, she keeps her space tidy, and she always brings you leftovers from the bakery that she works at. Only issue is, she’s a massive social butterfly. Meaning that wherever she goes, there’s always a party — either in your own apartment, or someone else’s.

She keeps trying to explain to you why she’s like this – saying that she’s an “E” for her “MBTD” or “TMDI” or whatever, but you couldn’t care less. All you know is that you want to peacefully rot in your bed.

But, damn, she can be awfully persuasive. Persuasive meaning incessantly pestering you until you give in.

You sigh in defeat. “Get out before I change my mind.”

Danielle sits up at the speed of light and grins.

“I love you so much,” she presses a sloppy kiss on your hand. You wipe your hand on your blanket in disgust. She then skips out of your room humming some song.

As you force yourself out of bed to get ready, you mentally prepare yourself for the night ahead.

Every time Danielle drags you to one of her parties, you hate her a little more. Which is impossible, because no one hates Danielle. But here you are, cursing her as you stand alone, leaning against the wall, arms folded, and cynical eyes scanning the crowd.

Danielle had practically abandoned you the second the two of you stepped foot in the house, preferring the company of her other friends. You don’t mind of course — this is always the standard drill.

There are the people who are not exactly drunk, just a little buzzed, who are mingling with each other, conversations full of giggles and exaggerated voices. Then, there are the people who are drunk, either dancing sloppily on the floor or passed out. You hear a group of people in the backyard cheering someone on to chug. Lastly, there’s the small group of people who are completely sober, stuck in the same boat as you are.

Okay, so maybe you do mind that Danielle abandoned you. Because you’re stuck here looking like a bitter loner, and in this very moment, you are one. You feel awkward, self-conscious, tired, and extremely bored.

You’re checking your phone for any new notifications (there are none) when you look up and make eye contact with a familiar face for a split second.

You immediately look back down and open Instagram, pretending that you have something to do. You hope she didn’t recognize you. If you can’t see her, she can’t see you, is what you tell yourself.

You hear footsteps approaching you, but you convince yourself it’s just a stranger walking past.

“Hey,” Minji says, a small smile on her face. Nevermind.

“Minji,” you greet her tentatively. “Hi.”

Nothing better than seeing your ex’s best friend for the first time since the breakup that happened three months ago. As expected, she’s taken on the role of the responsible one and is sober.

You mull over the past for a split second — you’ve never seen Minji tipsy, let alone drunk. She’s always been a good friend. It sucks that you guys don’t talk anymore, for obvious reasons.

Minji joins you in leaning against the wall. “How are you?”

“Good. You?”

You’re not curt because you have something against her — you just have no idea how to navigate these types of social dilemmas. There’s no exact rulebook for approaching a conversation with your best friend’s ex, especially an ex who you are still in love with.

“I’m good as well.”

Silence follows after. You fidget awkwardly, pulling out your phone just to stare at the same Instagram feed you were only looking at a few minutes ago. You keep refreshing the feed, but to no avail. You’re staring at the same reel of a cat playing a rhythm game.

“Look,” Minji says. “What happened between you and Hanni—”

Your finger twitches at the mention of her name. You straighten yourself up and rush out an apology. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Minji doesn’t stop you as you hurriedly weave your way through the mass of sweaty bodies. You don’t even know where the bathroom is. It takes you a good ten minutes to find it, and it’s surprisingly vacant.

You lock the door behind you. The air is humid inside, and you feel claustrophobic. The lights are dim. You steady yourself by gripping the sink. Hair is sticking to the back of your neck, and your clothes cling to your sweat.

You let out a deep exhale to collect your thoughts before washing your face. You stare at your reflection, and you’re not sure if you like what you see. You’re pale and your eyebags are prominent. You’ve lost the fat in your cheeks that Hanni always used to…

You splash water on your face again. If Minji’s here, then that means Hanni’s definitely here. Fuck, you knew you shouldn’t have come today. You close your eyes as the water drips down your face and back into the sink. It’s been a rough few months.

You grab some tissues to dry yourself and chuck them in the bin before steeling yourself to go back outside. You cautiously creak open the door and peek outside to check if Minji is still there. To your relief, the coast seems clear.

Your eyes scan around the house for a bit longer, searching for another corner to nestle into. And that’s when you see it. Or, more specifically, her.

Hanni’s leaning on the balcony railing, red solo cup in hand, and the moonlight is gently resting on her. There’s someone else with her – she looks familiar but you can’t remember her name. It was either Yunjin or Yeonjung. Or it could be Yeojin.

They’re laughing together, and Hanni’s eyes are crinkling just like you remember, and you remember the sound of her laughter, and how it was a melody that you were proud to bring out, and God, she just looks so pretty. Like she didn’t just go through a breakup.

Then Yunjin/Yeonjung/Yeojin places her hand on Hanni’s waist, and your body goes frigid. You feel hot — anger at first, shame next, and guilt last. And it’s a fiery concoction that burns all over you.

You have no right to be jealous. You force down the lump in your throat and look up at the ceiling until the tears are gone. Fuck. You will not survive the night sober. You take one last glance at Hanni and Yujin/Yeonjung/Yeojin and make up your mind.

You text Danielle: catch an uber, and send her $20 with Apple Cash. She’ll be fine. You hope. Then, you beeline straight to the kitchen, rummage through the cabinets, and help yourself to a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Then, you down it.

You grab another bottle of soju from a fridge (peach because it’s the best flavor) to slowly sip on as you settle on some couch. It feels slightly sticky, but beggars can’t be choosers. You know you’ll be too drunk to care in a second — you’re lucky you’re a lightweight.

It’s twenty minutes later that you feel the heat encompassing your body and the tip of your ears burning. You can barely hear the music over the pounding of your own heart. You automatically keel over to the side and relish the coolness of a silk pillow.

You’re mumbling to yourself (and possibly drooling) when you hear a muffled voice.

“Hey, you okay?”

Huh, the voice sounds just like Minji, but you’re too sluggish to respond. A few minutes later, there’s something blissfully cold pushing against your cheek, and then it’s gone. You’re pulled up so that you’re sitting again, and your head lays against the top of the sofa.

“Drink this,” Minji(?) says, and they guide the bottle to your hand. You shakily take a few gulps, and of course, you spill some of it on yourself, but Minji(?) cleans it up with some tissues.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Do you have anyone to take you home?”

You try to shake your head, but it makes you feel nauseous and you almost fall face forward off the sofa. Minji(?) luckily catches you and helps you back up.

“I’ll be back,” Minji(?) says. “Stay still.”

You blearily open your eyes, and everything still seems the same. Every movement of your head feels as though it’s in slow motion, like you’re in some kind of TikTok velocity edit, but worse.

People are still mingling, there’s still Boat Race and Beer Pong going on, and the night is still young. Your eyes close shut on their own. Your heartbeat is still as loud as ever.

Clearly, your plan to drink in order to forget about your ex didn’t work, because just a few minutes after Minji(?) has left, you think of Hanni again.

The two of you met in your first year of university the way most people meet: through a friend of a friend. In this case, the friend of a friend was Danielle. So, in retrospect, at least there’s one thing you can thank Danielle’s amiableness for.

You and Hanni hit it off quite well — both still new and adapting to the unexplored terrain that is university, and despite your initial awkwardness and standoffish nature, you both found an unlikely friendship through your common love for simulation and management games.

(If you scroll all the way back to the top of your message history, it would show your first conversation as you teaching her how to illegally download City Skylines.)

Four months later and after countless movie marathons and one laptop explosion (your Macbook Pro died in flames after you attempted to open the Sims 4 with all its DLCs that you pirated), the two of you officially started dating. The way Hanni asked you out was extremely nerdy, but you think that’s what made it all the better.

You were both playing Minecraft one night, and while you were in the dark depths of a comically humongous cave, Hanni was doing God knows what up on the surface. That’s how it always was: Hanni was the builder and you were the miner. There’s no better dynamic than that.

It was relatively silent for around ten minutes until your curiosity got the better of you. “What are you doing up there?”

“Nothing,” you could hear the smile on her face. “Just building.”

“I know that,” you huffed. “I mean, what are you building?”

A muffled giggle. “Secret.”

You paused your mining. You’d probably see endless corridors of stone and coal in your dreams. “Should I go back up?”

“No!” Hanni quickly exclaimed. “Please, not yet.”

“Alright,” you grumbled, placing down a crafting table to make a new pickaxe. “Hurry up, I’m almost out of food.”

Fifteen minutes later, you heard a meek, “You can come up now”, and then the abrupt sound of her ending the Facetime. You were confused, and you tried to call her back, but to no avail. You spent an embarrassing few minutes trying to remember where the stairs back up were. Eventually, you began the arduous journey back up to the surface, and when you reached the top, your thumb ached from pressing the space key too much.

You saw it immediately. Right next to your cottage was a custom cherry blossom tree with a bench under it. You moved towards it, and a sign caught your attention: “Can we place our beds next to each other from now on? <3”

You laughed to yourself, blushing, and entered the house Hanni made before breaking your bed and placing it next to her pink one. You took a screenshot of this and sent it to her. She replied immediately with a Facetime call back. And that was that.

It was 9 months of this: enjoying each other’s presence, being disgustingly in love and domestic, opening yourselves up to one another… before The End arrived. Maybe you should have seen it coming. You were never good with your emotions though.

(Danielle’s horrified reaction upon seeing your ‘T’ result after that nonsense test she made you do flashes through your mind.)

Even if you did see it coming, would you have been able to stop it anyway?

Looking back now, it was so obvious. The number of dates dwindled down. The dates that did happen, once full of animated conversation and laughter over silly little things, now consisted of half-hearted and dry replies.

Maybe it was your fault. You know how distant you can get under academic pressure, and especially with a course as demanding as nursing, there’s barely any time to yourself, let alone Hanni.

The End happened on a Saturday evening. A familiar rhythmic pattern of knocks echoed through your apartment, and you slowly made your way to the door to greet Hanni.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly as you leaned against the doorframe. “I missed you.”

With the hand that’s not holding takeaway, Hanni squeezed your hand lightly. “I missed you too.”

You both made your way back inside the apartment. You went to your room and slumped back in your chair, continuing your work as Hanni set up the table for dinner. Even though both your schedules were packed, you were glad that you were able to see her once in a while. It sucked, but it had to be enough, was what you told yourself. Little did you know.

At Hanni’s calling of your name, you remember running your fingers through your hair, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath. A second was the plan. You ended up dozing off right then and there, and Hanni had to come in and shake you awake.

Dinner was quiet, save for the sounds of the clinking of cutlery and the occasional slurp. It had been like this for a while. At least there was background noise with the TV playing on some obscure channel. You wondered when this became the norm. The two of you didn’t even bother to ask about each other’s day, because it would elicit the same response: “Exhausting.”

You swallowed the last of your food and mentally prepared yourself to drop the bomb.

“Hanni,” you started off cautiously. “You know how we’re in second year now?”

She hummed in response, her eyes meeting yours. You missed when it used to have so much life and love in them.

“Well,” you breath hitched. “I start placement soon. And it’s full-time.”

“Oh.”

You both knew it was coming, but you guess it wasn’t something you were both prepared to face. Full-time placement typically ranges from four to six weeks, and the university allocates you a location to work at, usually far from home.

Hanni’s face was unchanging, and you hated this. She used to always be so expressive around you. You would always be able to read each other like a book — that’s how it always was. “How soon is soon?”

You tapped your finger on the desk nervously. “Like… next week type of soon?”

She dropped the chopsticks on the table. “Are you serious? You couldn’t tell me sooner?”

“It’s not that deep,” you hastily defended yourself. “A month isn’t that bad. At this point, it’s normal for us to not see each other for a month anyway.”

Your tone was harsher than you intended, but in the heat of the moment, your pride and your stress got the better of you. But this was the worst mistake you could’ve made, because it all escalated so fast and so wrongly.

Hanni scoffed in disbelief. “You say that like it’s my fault. You’re the one who’s always busy. You’re the one constantly canceling our plans. I’m the only one who’s trying to keep this relationship together.”

“Don’t act like I’m not trying here,” you gritted your teeth. “You know my schedule. All the free time I have, I spend it with you.”

“I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me over wanting to spend more time with you.”

“I’m not—” You stopped yourself from raising your voice. “I’m not guilt-tripping you. You should’ve told me how you felt rather than just dropping this all on me today. I’m already stressed enough.”

Hanni let out a scornful laugh. “Oh, you can’t be the one to talk about dropping bombs. And have the past few weeks not been enough of an indication for you? You’re too stressed to notice how we literally act like strangers?”

“You can’t expect me to read your mind!”

“Well, I expect you to at least care enough to notice!”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Look—”

She cut you off. “Whatever. I don’t think this will work out. Especially now that you’re practically going MIA for a month.”

“Are you serious?” You spat. “You don’t think our relationship is worth fighting over? You can’t even handle a few weeks?”

The jarring screech of the chair scraping against the floor as Hanni sharply stood up rang in your ears. “I have been fighting. But clearly, you’re too in over your head to see it. We’re over.”

And with that, she stormed out of the apartment with a thunderous slamming of the door.

You’re crying. You’re still at the party, drunk out of your mind, and you’re bawling your eyes out. You at least have some dignity to force yourself up and stumble outside so that no one has to witness what a horrible mess you are.

You drop yourself against the wall, and you hit your head against it. It hurts like hell, and there’s going to be a bruise tomorrow, and you want to scream so badly. You clench your fists instead, feeling the digging of your nails into your palm, your body racking with sobs as you try to breathe, but it’s too hard.

You couldn’t even grieve in the first month, because you were on placement. It did provide a temporary distraction from The End, but at night, when you lay in bed, miles away from home, there was nowhere else to run.

You sat with that weight, that feeling of your body closing in on itself. Tossing and turning, you could only rely on completely crying your eyes out until you were so drained that you had no choice but to fall asleep.

All you were left with each morning was the swelling in your eyes and the ache all over your body.

When you finally finished placement, you did what anyone else would do after a breakup: entirely shut the world out. The only time you left was for mandatory classes, which you barely survived. A cap and mask to hide your miserable self was the solution.

In the third month, Danielle somehow managed to lure you out of your room. She offered you some takeaway from your favorite restaurant, and you were surprised that she didn’t pry. You must’ve looked really bad. After that, you gradually assimilated yourself back into normal society and got a grasp of your usual routine.

What hurt most was that it wasn’t hard to live without Hanni, because you had already been separate and distant before you even broke up. The other hardest part was learning how to move on, because it was something you never thought you’d have to do.

You didn’t want to move on though, and although Danielle reassured you that it was fine (you finally broke and told her everything one night when she found you drunk on the couch blabbering to yourself), there was this nagging feeling in your chest that it was the right thing to do.

After all, it was your fault.

You hear the door of the house open and there are faint voices floating around. “Check if she’s outside.”

Some time passes by before a soft voice calls out your name. This is followed by a few gentle taps on your cheek.

You curl yourself up and turn away from the stranger, your voice small and croaky. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m gonna take you home.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

A few seconds pass by with no response. You assume mystery person has left, but they speak up again. “Why?”

“I’m sad,” your words come out nasally because of your blocked nose. “I’m really really really sad.”

You hear a sigh before the mystery person sits next to you, a few inches apart. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I miss my ex,” you whine. “I miss her so much.”

“Um—”

“I want her back,” you continue, slurring your words. “I’m so stupid. So stupid.”

Mystery person listens silently.

“And the universe keeps reminding me of her. Yesterday, I was playing the Sims, and the Sim I made of her burnt my house down. She must really hate me.”

“...You made a sim of her?”

You sniff. “Yes. And I made one of me. And I made us marry.”

Mystery person laughs quietly. The two of you sit there and focus on the muffled music from the party for a few minutes.

“Did you really mean it?” They suddenly ask.

“Mean what?”

“That you want her back.”

The question makes you burst into tears again.

“Yes,” you ramble. “I miss her so much… I want her back… I’d do anything…”

Your voice grows weaker with every passing word. You pass out after a minute of repeating the same thing over and over again.

You wake the next morning with a killer headache and swollen eyes. Huh, this doesn’t feel too unfamiliar. You’re snuggling yourself deeper into the bedsheets, but then you realize that this is way too comfortable to be your own bed. You blink your eyes open, adjusting your vision, and thankfully the room is dark, otherwise you would’ve been flashbanged.

Oh my god, your mind eventually registers. This is not your room. This is Hanni’s room.

You sit up in shock and horror. It makes you nauseous but you hold it down. How on earth did you end up in her room?

You can hear some shuffling outside the door. Okay, you think. Two options here. Best case scenario: It’s Minji, and you can awkwardly say hi and bye. Worst case scenario: It’s Hanni. There is no current thought as to how you will approach the situation.

Then you hear humming, and just your luck, it’s Hanni.

Okay, you think to yourself again and look out the window, is it possible to survive that jump? (It isn’t.) Your brain runs through hundreds of methods to somehow suddenly die, but none of them are plausible.

Hanni approaches the door, and you quickly hide under the sheets and pretend to be asleep.

She flicks the light on. “I know you’re awake.”

You sheepishly peek out from under the covers.

“Go brush your teeth and shower,” Hanni says. Then, in a smaller voice, as if embarrassed, she continues, “Your toothbrush is still there.”

You stand in the shower, contemplating all of your life decisions that have led to this very moment. You brush your teeth, still contemplating all your life decisions. You consider sending a text to Danielle, something along the lines of: I HATE YOU!!!! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!, but that’s not very fair to her.

You decide on sending a nicer text: hi i hope you got home okay… sorry for not staying sober!

You pace around the bathroom, thinking of what to say to Hanni when you step out. You could just take off and run, but you’re probably not coordinated enough to do that. Guess it’s time to be the bigger person and have a mature conversation.

You take one big dramatic step into the living room of her apartment. Minji isn’t home, it seems. You gulp as you see Hanni, back turned to you as she’s cooking breakfast. There’s already a glass of water and Advil waiting for you on the table.

You wordlessly sit down and gratefully take it. After a while, Hanni sets the table up, and this takes you back to the day of The End. You sit there, frozen, but then she stares at you in confusion and you remind yourself to eat like a normal human being.

“So,” Hanni says after a bit. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“No,” you fidget in your seat. “Did I do something bad?”

“You said you missed me. And wanted to get back together.”

“Oh,” you swallow.

Hanni tilts her head. You still can’t read her. “Did you mean it?”

You play around with your scrambled eggs. “...Yes?”

She continues to stare at you.

“I did,” you say, a bit more firmly this time, albeit shakily. “And I’m sorry — for everything. I took you for granted… and I should’ve been more considerate of your time and your feelings.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry as well,” Hanni bites her cheek. “I shouldn’t have expected you to know how I felt.”

Another pause. “And I miss you too.”

“Truce?” You offer an awkward smile.

Hanni puffs out her cheeks. “No more last-minute news?”

“No more last-minute news.”

“Spend more time with me? Quality time?”

You nod. “Tell each other how we feel?”

“Tell each other how we feel,” Hanni repeats. Then she says in a serious tone, so serious that you almost don’t believe what you’re hearing. “Buy me Planet Zoo?”

“Buy you… Planet Zoo?”

Hanni swiftly hooks her pinky into yours before you can stop her. “You pinky promised!”

Unbelievable.

“Whatever,” you mutter with a smile.

Planet Zoo is a small price to pay to get the love of your life back.

(“Okay, how drunk was I on a scale of one to ten?”

“Oh, you were so drunk.”

“I said on a scale of one to ten.”

“Like, passed out on the floor, crying, mumbling my name scale of drunk.”

“Okay, not my finest moment. But you were there with Yunjin… or Yeonjung. Or Yeojin. What else was I meant to do?”

“Yujin. It’s Yujin.”

“Oh… Agree to never mention this again?”

“Nope. Love you.”)

Dedicated to user shuxiii… hope you enjoyed if you are reading this…

#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #pham hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader

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obeymesheep · 1 year

Text

Husband Energy

Lucifer, Mammon

gn reader!!

OMG SOOO LONG!! hope everyone enjoys this, i am planning on doing all the brothers just on my own time! thank you so much for being patient, it's the end of the semester so i had lots going on, and was also working on this which is much longer than normal!

Lucifer

Lucifer probably bought the ring the day you told him you loved him. It's no small feat getting the demon of pride to fall in love with you, let alone a fall in love with a human.

He kinda sets you up a lil, just a little trick. He has you believe that he's proposing at the restaurant, its very mean, where he gets down on one knee... to tie his shoe, or these long speeches about how much he loves you, and how he never wants you to suffer so that's why... he's paying the bill. When you get home, a little disappointed, you cuddle up with him with a glass of brandy, and confess what you thought tonight was. Lucifer chuckles and pulls out a ring.

"Is this what you wanted love? I apologize for the tricks, but seeing how badly you wanted me to ask was too cute to pass up. I promise you will never spend another night alone, and I will forever hold you in my arms"

Lucifer doesn't let you touch anything!! He is a perfectionist, so apart from the occasional opinion needed he does basically everything! You do have to pull him away from everything just to let him enjoy the fact that you're engaged :(

The wedding is flawless, and goes unblemished by any snot nosed kids, mean and nosy relatives, or clumsy brothers. If you're going more human, everything is draped in pure white, with a classic ceremony, you both also in white, you exchange vows and kiss. However, if you decide to go the demon way and bind your souls together, Diavolo has to officiate, and it hurts a lot, very few people attend, at most it's Mams, Barb, and Simeon, but! a very large reception is thrown afterwards! You're glowing and in bliss throughout the entire party, people come up and congratulate you, with lots of food and drink!

Y'all do not move out of the house, you just can't, his brothers are not equipped for it and Lucifer doesn't want to leave them. However for a couple days after the honeymoon the brothers spilt so you can enjoy your time as a married couple.

You are expected to do most of the housework, and Lucifer prefers when you're at home (assuming we've graduated??? from RAD) instead of some job where he can't guarantee your safety. BUT you're basically excused from dinner duty, you have no obligation to feed anybody, or do any dishes!

You soon come to learn the you and Lucifer already acted like an old married couple, the soft good-morning kisses and the glasses of wine after a long day, but it's also a learning experience for both of you, Lucifer learns to sacrifice time for you, and you learn to trust that Lucifer won't make any life changing decisions without you!!

Mams is super happy for the both of you and is glad your now an in-law! Leviathan is a little jealous that Lucifer got married first. Satan is LIVID when you announce the engagement and feels very betrayed it's takes a while for him to come around... Asmo is very overjoyed about the whole ordeal and is very involved!! Beel is also really happy and is super happy to have you as an in-law!! Belphie feels a little apprehensive about it, none of them have ever been married and feels he is the only one worried about the dynamic :/

Mammon

It's sooo impulsive, i like to think he didn't propose with a ring, with maybe like a sword, or a crown, he is pretty non traditional and wants to pick something that means a lot to him, and it will probably be a treasure brought with them from the celestial realm. Mammon almost proposes a lot, he runs into asmo's room with a sigh "i almost proposed :("

You guys go out to Mams favourite casino, dressed to the nines, and ready to have a drink while Mammon wins some games! At the nights end, Mammon surprises you with a night away at a expensive hotel room. In that moment everything was right, you keeping him company while he smoked on the balcony, he pulled out the treasure.

"I want ya to be mine forever, not Lucifer's, not Levi's, not Asmo, mine! So please, let me make you mine.."

Mammon is such a good haggler and always knows the best vendors. The work load is pretty even, Mams has pretty hard opinions, and wants to help make the day special.

You guys have a demon wedding, when he said he wants to make you his, this is what he meant, to him human weddings are far too temporary, but if it means a lot to you, he will allow you two to also have a ceremony because he does think it's really romantic, at the demon ceremony, Lucifer, Asmo, Luke, Solomon come, and at the reception lots of demons are there, Mammons pretty connected so lots are his guests, though this also means there's lots of presents!

You definitely leave the house, into a smaller one near by, there's lots of tears from the other brothers. You're house is very suited to your tastes, and breakfast visits from the brothers at least happen once a week <3

Mams really falls into the 'wife' roll, his modeling gigs are pretty all over the place, so if you have a more stable schedule, Mammon does lots of the house work, while you cook/plan most meals!!

You and Mammon really fall into a cute routine, Mammons an early riser, so he's doing his skin care and getting dressed while your sleeping, then slipping back beside you to watch you sleep, when you wake up, you go make breakfast, while Mams definitely cuddles you from behind, things like that <3

Lucifer is really proud of how grown up Mammon has become and the partner he chose. Levi is probably not surprised and is only shocked that Mammon finally did it. Satan is touched at the pairing and like Lucifer is proud of Mammon. Asmo is once again through the roof just at the simple fact there will be a wedding. Beel while very happy is a little sad that it means Mammon will move out. While it takes Belphie a little while for the news to really sink in, is only a little salty of your choice in partner.

#creams fluff #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #creams headcannons #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #mammon x you #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x gender neutral reader #mammon x y/n #obey me luci x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer x mc #lucifer x you

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cowgurrrl · 3 months

Text

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her.

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her.

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love."

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out.

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours.

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints.

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive.

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know."

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything.

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute."

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler.

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall.

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face.

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room.

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful."

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself."

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird."

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself.

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place."

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass.

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable."

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track.

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this.

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his.

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up.

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college."

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look.

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls."

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly.

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'."

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety.

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me."

"Then, that's what I'll do."

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you.

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in.

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one.

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?"

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down.

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery.

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting.

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art.

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck.

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen.

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to."

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting.

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness.

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says.

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods.

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him.

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think.

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd.

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh.

"He is."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone."

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email."

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years."

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands.

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters.

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you.

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process.

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree.

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours.

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks."

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick.

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

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#hippies and cowboys #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #i fucking love this

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redclercs · 10 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

x. what a shame she's fucked in the head.

— the one where they tell you what your word is worth.

❝𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦❞ —𝘛𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵, 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵.

warnings: abuse downplay, bashing towards taylor swift (i obviously adore her pls don't come for me haha), online bullying, new york inaccuracies, corny taylor references per usual, etc. 2k words + articles

in my head there's a mix of begin again and cornelia street playing as background music.

masterlist ✢ next

NO one likes a mad woman, but not for the reasons Taylor Swift made you believe in the lyrics of her 2020 song. Although we are definitely afraid y/n might get 'more crazy'.

Honestly, who gave her the right to speak like that about Aidan Kim? As it turns out, the three-year relationships she willingly stayed on was a 'dead-end' one, and Aidan "abused" (and I cannot stress the quotations enough) her through several stages of their shared time.

Well, I call bullshit.

How is it that after Aidan Kim helped her build whatever she has going on that people call a 'career' she wasn't bothered about being told 'how to look and how to act' (direct quote from her own video, by the way).

Breaking up with your sneaky link and calling him your friend won't save what you did before, y/n, it's the oldes trick in the book. Everything she said in her Youtube video, one I regretfully watched despite the knowledge that I won't get those 45 minutes of my life back, is rehearsed and calculated and just tried to paint the real victims in a bad light.

Playing the victim worked for Taylor Swift in 2009, 2017, 2019... but we surely won't let it happen again, right folks? y/n needs a new tactic to crawl back from the hell, because we're not believing anything that comes out of her mouth anymore.

It's true what they say, an untalented actress makes an untalented liar.

By Lia Yim

Victoria Presley is worried about best friend's y/n y/ln's well-being after the actress 'completely ghosted her' since moving back to New York.

"One day we were fine and the next, she had packed her bags and left my house," Presley said in an exclusive interview with iNTouch. "I'm not going to lie, I was deeply hurt by her actions. I offered her my home as a safe haven and she left without explanation."

y/n had been living in Victorias Los Angeles home since mid-February until this month when she returned to her infamous SoHo apartment, one she shared with Aidan Kim until their breakup.

"I can find it in my heart to forgive her, of course," 'Vic', as she's known on social media, added. "Right now, I just want my best friend back. I want the y/n I've known for years and not this person she became since Matilde Bassi and Charles Leclerc inserted themselves in her life."

Victoria Presley, the founder and CEO of Presley Beauty, is the daughter of Luke Presley and Claire Walker and has been in the influencing business for a few years now.

"If y/n ends up reading this, I want her to know that I will support her decisions but not in the way her new 'friends' are doing. I just want what's best for her."