#if youre ever emotionally distraught please do not come to me and expect comfort
remembering the time my friend had a minor fight with her boyfriend and went out in the hallway to cool down and I was awkward and didn't know her boyfriend very well and wanted to cheer her up so I decided the best way to do that was to go out in the hallway with her and tell her the entire life story of u.s. presidential assassin charles j guiteau
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Winnie the Pooh Pajamas (Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)
Summary: You don’t see your body the way Maxwell does: you see it as undesirable, Maxwell sees it as the epitome of attractiveness. After a tough body image day, you ask Maxwell if he thinks you’re sexy.
W/C: 4k
Warnings: SMUT (18+), language, body dysmorphia, food, mentions of anxiety, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, brief joking mention of a daddy kink, rare soft Maxwell -> sarcastic asshole Maxwell again. reader is afab.
A/N: Well! This is inspired by feeling like shit after a long day, and wanting to get some much needed love and attention. Lots of love and thanks to @mandoalorian and @ilikechocolatemilkh for helping me with the ideas (and specifically, shout out to Rach for having Winnie the Pooh pajamas just like I do 🥰) Additionally, it’s only briefly mentioned but this is an AU where Maxwell’s company actually did find oil, and he’s successful and happy. I just think he deserves it.
Today was shit. Plain and simple. It all started when you picked out a shirt that didn’t cut like the normal things you wore to work. It was tight and you felt like it exposed your rolls, and the tight jeans you wore felt painfully confining. The coffee shop you work in was busy, leaving you frantically scrambling around. You were bent over a steaming espresso machine for half of the day, and running drinks around when you had a moment. Rude customers had abounded, enough that you ended up crying in the walk-in fridge for a while, sobbing amongst the rising dough. The coolness had only accentuated the heat of the coffee shop when you returned to the floor to finish your seemingly endless shift. Needless to say, you were hot and tired. When you got home, you immediately changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas and slid into your sheets, enjoying the coolness of the satin your boyfriend had gifted you.
Maxwell was a wonderful boyfriend, always showering you with gifts. He even told you that it was unnecessary for you to keep working at the coffee shop, that he’d take care of your bills and do anything you needed. He was the CEO of a newly successful oil company, after all. Money was not an object to him, and he wanted to do anything he could for you. As tempting as it was, you felt like it would be taking advantage. Hell, the two of you haven’t even slept together yet. Plus, something in you was determined not to be a housewife, to break the mold of the 1984 woman. More and more women were going to work, yes, but you were determined to be one of them.
Your messy hair is in a ponytail, and you feel bloated and disgusting as you look down at your body. Your pajamas hold nothing in, accentuate nothing, simply loosely sheathe your body. Your breasts feel ridiculously saggy, your stomach feels too thick, and everything else simply feels terrible too. The pajamas, patterned with Winnie the Pooh, make you feel childish and upset. That’s probably why Maxwell hasn’t slept with you yet, you tell yourself. You’re not attractive to him. He’s stringing you along for some emotionally manipulative fun and will probably dump you sooner rather than later. You’re a child to him, being a bit younger. He’s only doing this to be nice, to indulge your childish crush.
Normally, you are far from easily distraught. You’re sarcastic and witty, always teasing your millionaire boyfriend. Rare is the moment you feel the man’s power over you, always treating him like an equal, despite his wealth. That’s why he was drawn to you, your sass and spunk and spitfire attitude. You can face anything with a deadpan joke and power through, but the day you’ve had makes everything worse. Your eyes well with tears and you roll on your side, clinging to the sheets like you’re hugging them as you allow yourself to cry it out.
A few moments into your little pity-party, you hear something moving in the apartment. The jingle of keys. “Fuck,” you whimper as it hits you. Maxwell had planned on coming over tonight, bringing takeout for the two of you to eat while watching movies. Eating something was the last thing on your mind right now, wanting to stay far away from anything that could make your body feel as miserable as it does.
“Darling,” Maxwell calls as he opens the door to the apartment, his face falling a little as he doesn’t see you in the living room. You remain quiet, suddenly embarrassed by your state, and Maxwell closes the door behind him as he walks in. He spots your keys, knowing you’re home, and walks into the kitchen, not finding you there either. He sets the food on the counter and continues his little search. “Where are you?” He calls out, finally wandering towards your bedroom.
“In here,” you say weakly and peek up from your duvet. Your eyes, reddened and damp, meet his and his heart sinks.
“Oh, my dear, what is it?” He asks, coming to the side of your bed and sitting next to you on the edge. He pushes the covers back from your head and cups your face gently.
You try to speak but your voice chokes on tears, simply crying more and leaning into his hand. He pouts softly and caresses your hair with his other hand. “Talk to me, my love,” he says gently, his heart breaking for you.
Biting down on your lip, you swallow hard. “Just… shitty day,” you manage out before another sob comes out of your throat. Maxwell sits fully on your bed and pulls you up to sit next to him. You collapse into his chest, making his polo damp with your tears. He doesn’t seem to mind, just strokes your back and presses a kiss to your head.
“Can you tell me about it?” He asks gently, his lips still pressed into your hair, breathing in the scent of your perfume and the espresso of the shop. You shake your head, and he simply nods, holding you close. “Let it out, and I’ll be here to talk when you’re ready,” he murmurs, making his breathing purposely slow in hopes to calm you.
After a little bit, your sobbing does slow. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, lifting your head to look at him. You’re a complete mess, and you know it, tears and snot coating your face, but Maxwell simply wipes your cheeks with a tissue and smiles gently at you.
“What for?” He asks, tossing the tissue aside and grabbing another, allowing you to blow your nose into it.
“You brought food and it was supposed to be a date night and-“
“It still can, my dear,” he chuckles softly, pushing the stray hairs of your ponytail back down against your head. “Let’s get you to the couch and we’ll eat. We don’t even have to talk about whatever it is that’s upsetting you, okay?” He asks kindly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nod and that earns a small smile from him. “Good. You wipe your face down and meet me on the couch. I’ll grab the food,” he tells you and stands from your bed, squeezing your arm before retreating to the kitchen.
You look down at yourself and your lip quivers again. These are your favorite cozy pajamas, the furthest thing from sexy. You had been hoping to finally consummate your relationship with Maxwell tonight, and here you are, in your tattered and cozy pajamas. You bite back tears and wipe your face, taking some deep breaths and a sip from the glass of water on your nightstand.
You finally pad out to the living room, and Maxwell’s eyes light as he spots you. “There you are. Come here, my darling,” he offers, opening his arms. You gladly slide into them, sitting next to him, and he kisses your head. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.
You shake your head. “No. I just want to eat and be with you,” you tell him, making yourself smile. He smiles back and nods, handing you your container of takeout and a fork.
Even though it’s your favorite meal, it’s hard to eat tonight. You pick at your food, taking small bites, looking up at him every so often. It’s a comfortable silence for a while, before he interjects. “You’re not eating like normal,” he points out, noticing that your food is hardly touched. “It’s your favorite. What’s really wrong?” He asks, cupping your face and turning it to face his. He sets each of your meals aside on the coffee table, that signature little pout on his lips.
“It’s nothing, Maxie, please,” you shake your head, not wanting to meet his eyes. You know yours will start watering again.
“It isn’t. I know it’s not, so don’t tell me that. Talk to me,” he pleads, holding your face so that you have no option but to look at him.
You swallow hard before nodding. “I just… had a bad day at work,” you shrug and look into his eyes, but you can both tell it’s not true. He raises a brow and you sigh. “Just… tough day in general. I don’t like my body, and my shirt felt disgusting on me, and everything is gross about me and now I’m in front of you in my ugliest pajamas,” you start, face contorting as you hold back tears.
His heart is broken, truly. “What are you talking about, dearest?” He asks gently, his fingers toying with a loose strand of your hair. You bite your lip and look down, but he tilts your chin up to face him with one ring-clad finger. “You don’t ever need to doubt how beautiful I find you. You know that,” he tells you softly.
He sighs gently. “I have those issues myself. I don’t like the way I look on camera. I highlight my hair so their eyes are drawn to that, and not my stomach. I wear big suits to hide my rolls, to hide my arms. I don’t like them,” he admits, swallowing hard. “But this isn’t about me. You don’t need to worry about how beautiful I find you, ever. I think you’re the most beautiful creature to ever grace the earth.”
“Then why haven’t we done anything yet?” You finally blurt. He‘s taken aback. He didn’t expect that to come from you, most certainly not now. “Do you think I’m sexy, Maxwell?” You ask, your self-hatred evident in your eyes. “Because I don’t. I don’t see how any of this can be attractive, and I totally get it if that’s why we haven’t done it yet. Because I’m not anything special, I’m really not, I look like this in front of you, this powerful handsome man, and I’m just-,” you’re cut off by a hitch in your throat, hands covering your face as your rambling comes to a stop.
The tears are close to spilling from Maxwell‘s eyes as he calls your name gently, removing your hands from his face. His sadness is clear in those beautiful brown eyes of his. “Of course it isn’t, and of course I do,” he shakes his head, his eyes scanning your body.
“You’re probably just saying that because I’m crying in front of you, I put you on the spot with that, and that’s not fair, and I-,” you ramble again, rubbing your eyes and daring to look up at him.
Maxwell grips your arms, pulling you close to him. “Listen to me, my dear,” he commands you, still gentle yet demanding. “Do you want me to tell you how sexy I think you are?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s serious now.
You simply nod. You could use some reassurance right now, even if you probably aren’t going to believe it.
“Then I will. I think about you every night when I lie in bed. I touch myself to the thought of you. Is that enough?” He asks, his voice tinged with lust. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I picture you in those sheets I bought you, spread open for me. Do you touch yourself to me too? I wonder that every single night, those perfect lips against mine in my mind.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your fingers, his lacing between yours.
You gulp, but not from holding back tears this time. You nod softly, your eyes looking up at his and seeing how they’re almost hungry.
“I don’t care what you’re wearing. I don’t care if you’re wearing pajamas with Winnie the Pooh on them. I think about your body and your body alone. How good you’d feel around me. How perfect those tits would feel to squeeze while I’m eating you out.”
The thought of it makes you shudder. You flutter your lashes, his eyes never leaving yours as he tells you everything.
“There’s never a moment where the image of you fingering yourself is not in my head. I get hard during business meetings wondering if you’d call me Max, Maxie, or Maxwell in bed. Do you understand now?” He asks, and you nod again. “Do you need me to prove it to you?” He asks in a low voice, leaning in until his lips are just next to your ear.
You can’t help yourself: a small whimper slips from your lips. “Please,” you whine to him, removing your hands from his to cling at his shirt desperately.
He smiles softly, his chest already heaving as he pulls his head back to look at your stunned face before kissing you deeply, unlike he ever has before. It’s passionate and needy and you can’t get enough of it, pulling yourself closer to him by the polo. “Maxie,” you mumble into his lips, sending a rush of blood directly to his straining cock.
“You want me, my love? Because I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs for a moment between kisses, then kisses you again. Again and again, the harsh kisses grow even harsher until you’re practically smashing your faces together. He finally breaks away, panting. “Your room, my beautiful girl,” he nods, standing quickly and planting a kiss on your head.
You follow quickly, pulling him along to your room, a grin finally on your face. “That’s what I like to see,” he chuckles at your grin, stopping in the doorway to kiss you contently, undoing the buttons to his polo with one hand.
Breaking away, you look up again, into his eyes. “You meant everything you said?” You ask, the anxiety still lingering in the back of your mind.
Maxwell pouts. “I’d never lie to you, my dear. How could you break my heart by insinuating such a thing?” He asks, hands tracing your waist and sliding under the pajama shirt. “I have never wanted someone more than I want you right now, those pajamas and all,” he tells you, voice deeper, kissing you hungrily.
The passion and fervor of his lips are enough to convince you. You moan softly into his lips, the two of you finding your way to the bed. Maxwell pushes you down onto it, making you giggle, and gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. “I am going to make you feel so good that you’re going to forget anything negative you’ve ever felt about yourself,” he promises you, pulling down the elastic-waisted shorts and finding that you’re wearing no panties beneath them. “Power of positive thinking,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee.
“Maxie,” you whimper as he spreads your legs, pressing the softest of kisses up the inside of your thigh.
Before he reaches the top, he spreads your legs wider and sits back on his heels, simply enjoying the view. “You are magnificent,” he murmurs in a hushed voice before being drawn to your core like a starving man to a feast.
He treats you just like that: a feast. Maxwell slowly traces his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan helplessly and let your head fall back into your sheets. You grab at your breasts through the shirt and Maxwell breaks away for a moment. “Take that off and keep playing with them for me,” he chuckles darkly before going back at it, his tongue circling your clit in a deliciously slow motion.
You nod and peel off the shirt, tossing it aside. You grab at your breasts, toying with the nipples and sighing at how perfect Maxwell’s mouth feels against you. He slips in two fingers and you groan helplessly, one hand finding its way into his highlighted waves. The other grips your comforter even harder as he curls the fingers inside of you. “Oh fuck, Maxie,” you whimper helplessly, toes curling, one leg resting over his shoulder.
He continues his motions, everything slow and dragged out but perfectly teasing. He moans against you and you bite down on your lip to stifle a helplessly loud cry. “Feels so fucking good,” you whine, earning a content hum from the man between your legs.
Maxwell sucks on your clit gently, swirling it with his tongue again a moment later. It all feels so good, everything he does. Your eyes slip open in the lust and find his immediately. He looks so fulfilled and happy to be doing this, completely blissed out. “Oh fuck,” you shudder as he winks in time to a particularly hard curl of the fingers, hitting just the spot inside of you. “You cocky- ah,” you whine and your eyes slip shut again. “Gonna cum, baby,” you groan out.
Maxwell makes a noise of approval into you and the sensation is just enough to push you over the edge, crying out his name. “Maxie, Max, so good,” you whine, fingers gripping his hair tight. “Ah, oh shit,” you coo, coming down from your high.
When you’re finished, Maxwell pulls away with a shit-eating- well, pussy-eating- grin. “How was that?” He asks, pressing a gently kiss to the inside of your thigh. You laugh happily, your head spinning. He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I could spend hours doing that, darling. You just make me want to destroy you.”
The words are enough to immediately arouse you again. “Then come do it, please,” you giggle, looking down at him shyly and wiggling your eyebrows. He laughs and nods, standing. “Wait. Strip for me, give me a little show,” you tell him with a smile. “You told me everything you think about me. It’s my turn.”
He almost looks shy, a rare look on the man. “Well, it’s nothing impressive,” he chuckles, looking down at the ground.
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” you nod, smiling sweetly at him. “Come on, please, Maxie.”
That nickname drives him wild, increases the tenting in his pants. “Well, alright,” he chuckles, shaking his head and pulling his polo over his head. He’s not incredibly well sculpted, but it’s easy to tell he’s strong. He does have a little tummy, but it’s endearing. He pushes down his pants and steps out of them, and you raise an eyebrow at the outline of his hardened cock in his briefs. It’s large, you can clearly see, a little damp spot where his precum has leaked. “You are so fucking hot, Max,” you tell him, adoration in your voice.
He smiles softly at that, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “It’s much appreciated, my dear,” he shakes his head and smiles.
You grab a condom from your nightstand and toss it to him. He sheds his boxers and dear Lord, you are going to be destroyed in the morning. He’s slightly above average in length, but he’s thick as can be and you lick your lips in anticipation. He catches a glimpse of your look and smirks a little to himself. He rolls the condom on, tossing the wrapper on his discarded clothes.
You scoot back to be slightly propped up against the headboard and Max climbs over you, kissing you slowly and deeply. He’s a wonderful kisser, you’ve known that, but he’s even better when he’s consumed by the lust deep inside of him. Your hands cup his face as you open your mouth, allowing his tongue in.
He breaks away with a soft moan as you reach down to slowly stroke him. “My darling, are you ready?” He asks, your faces close together.
“So ready,” you nod in agreement, smiling softly. He smiles back at that and lines himself at your entrance, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes into you. His mouth falls slightly open at the feeling, and you moan back at the sensation.
“Oh god, you’re so thick,” you moan, picking your head up and kissing along his neck softly.
Everything about you is soft, he notices: your skin, your lips, your lush body, your perfect pussy. He groans at the feeling as he slowly bottoms out, and you match his noises and cry out gently.
“Please, Maxie,” you moan softly, your lips pressing gentle kisses behind his ear. He nods and pulls out just as slowly, almost all the way before he pushes back in. He isn’t gentle, but he takes his time, moving painfully slowly. “You feel so good, so so good,” you whimper, flicking your tongue across the shell of his ear.
Maxwell lets out a genuine moan, his hips speeding up ever so slightly. One of his hands moves to trace circles into your clit with two fingers, in time with the thrusts he pushes into you. It feels perfect, the man’s strength evident in how he thrusts.
“I love your body, my dear,” he mumbles as he pushes in and out of you. “You are so beautiful. Not a single flaw on the entire thing. So tight around me, so soft,” he shudders as you unintentionally clench around him. “So tight,” he nearly hisses, his fingers working harder into your clit.
“You make me feel so good,” you nod frantically as his head drops to kiss along the curve of your neck. “You’re so strong, so good at this- fuck, so good,” you moan as he hits your g-spot perfectly in time with his fingers.
“Ah, right there, hm?” He chuckles breathlessly, thrusting at just the same angle and earning a strangled cry from you. “Right- there-,” he grunts with harder and harder thrusts, pushing harder and harder against that perfect spot.
“Maxie, please,” you cry now, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. “I’m gonna- fuck, I want you to come with me. Want you to feel what I feel,” you whine, frantically grabbing at his back.
“I’m close too, my love,” he murmurs, thrusting harder. “Come on, cum with me,” he nods.
His words are all you need, his tone triggering the release as your walls flutter around him. The sensation causes him to let go too, finally feeling the perfection of his orgasm. He keeps thrusting against the spot he knows makes you weak, shuddering as he feels you gushing around him.
Once you’ve both finished, he slows down and sighs, pulling out of you and lying next to you in your bed. He’s flushed and sweating, and he looks absolutely perfect. “Maxie,” you coo, resting your head on his chest and pressing a kiss to his warm skin. “That was… fantastic,” you admit, already missing the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you out.
Max smiles, eyes fluttering shut. “You, my dear, felt absolutely amazing,” he chuckles softly, wrapping an arm around you, the other going under his head. He presses a kiss to your hair, smiling softly. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet. I told you I was going to prove to you just how sexy I think you are, and we’re going through with it.”
You laugh a little, noticing how tired he already seems. “Okay, old man,” you tease, and he swats your ass lightly.
“Watch your words,” he laughs, kneading at the skin he just smacked. “I might have to get mean with you,” he half-teases, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.
“I wouldn’t mind being absolutely destroyed tonight,” you smile innocently, scrunching your nose and bringing your face close to his. “Daddy,” you say flirtatiously, wiggling your eyebrows.
Max’s smirk grows even wider. “Oh no, now you’re asking for it,” he chuckles, giving your ass another little slap and smiling at your reaction. “Careful, my dear,” he murmurs before bringing your face to his to kiss him deeply. He’s already deeply aroused again, you can tell from the way he’s kissing you, and you giggle as you break away.
“Mm, there’s your usual self,” he says with a grin and rubs your lower back. “I’m glad to see it. I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into you more often,” he winks, laughing at the fake gasp you give. “You asked me if you thought I was sexy, I gave you my answer,” he says defensively, smiling still. “Even in those Winnie the Pooh pajamas, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, darling,” he tells you earnestly before pressing one more kiss to your lips.
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Super Fanfic Rec List -- Iron Dad Edition (because I just wanna share the love)
I’ve had such a blast reading fanfic of the IronDad and SpiderSon variety over the last 6 months or so, and I thought I’d just make a rec list of some of my favorite stories. Most of them are angsty, with whump and hurt/comfort because that’s what I live for.
This is in no particular order or in any way complete because there’s just way too many amazing fics/authors in the Iron Dad fandom, but it will still be hella long, so....here goes!
First off, @yellowdistress:
What We Are series - Bio-dad Tony series that goes all the way through Infinity War. Endgame AU.
Someday I’ll Make it Out of Here series - Adoption AU! It’s so good.
The Missing 92 Days - A take on HYDRA Peter that destroyed me emotionally.
Reviving Peter Parker - This about killed me. Peter actually died during his fight with Toomes and SHIELD brings him back a la the TAHITI project like they did with Phil Coulson.
A Sailor Went to Sea - Gut-wrenching Endgame fix it.
Double, Double
@losingmymindtonight:
Webcams and Webshooters series
I Never Lived ‘Til I Lived In Your Light series - !!! TISSUE WARNING !!! Peter dies, but there’s another one shot with a happier ending if you need it.
And You’ll Blow Us All Away - Adoption fic! A lovely one at that.
5 Times Peter’s Mental Illness Made Him Stumble And The 1 Time He Refused To Falter - I really love a well-depicted take on mental illness, and losingmymindtonight delivered 100%.
If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest)
Cyanide? In My Shawarma?
@justme--emily:
The Guardian - Adoption AU with a lovely Loki and Peter friendship!
Radioactive - Peter endures the after effects of the spider bite, and scares bio-dad Tony to death. Lovely, lovely, lovely.
The Good Fight - Peter gets hurt at the airport in Germany instead of Rhodey.
@iron--spider:
ever in your favor - Hunger Games AU and an epic work of art!
Lazarus, come forth - The Endgame fix it before Endgame. Peter will break your heart.
dear mr. fantasy
this isn’t a game - Highly underrated fic based off the PS4 Spider-Man game. I’ve never even played the game, and I loved this story.
what if there is no tomorrow? - This story actually made me kinda like Justin Hammer, if you can believe it.
blindness
@tempestaurora:
hydra’s not a home series - HYDRA Peter, and also bio-dad Tony and bio-mom Pepper!
i’ll find you in the drift - Pacific Rim AU, and I have never seen PR, but I adored this so much.
it’s okay, we’re okay [whumpvember 2018] series
@jolinarjackson:
Lights To Guide You Home series - Another adoption AU. They are my weakness, and this is one of the best out there.
... and when you can’t crawl ...
Damaged At Best (Like You’ve Already Figured Out)
@blondsak:
No Life But This
come morning light (you and I’ll be safe and sound)
Burying Grounds - Eeeek! Tony has to choose between saving Peter or Pepper and it hurts.
hold on, hold on
Something the Soul Needs
@madasthesea:
turn back the clock (and I’ll try again in the morning)
when my body won’t hold me anymore (where will I go)
They have so many other lovely looking fics--including an adoption au series (which I, of course, love), but I just haven’t gotten around to reading them yet. I’m pretty sure anything they write is golden. :)
@signofuncertainty:
It’s Always the Little Things
I’m sure their other fic, The Third Option, is fantastic and I really, really wanna read it but I’m trying so hard to wait until it’s complete! It’s really difficult to wait, though, tbh....I may give in soon.
@upcamethesun:
Twelve Days Of Peter Parker - So cute and fluffy, and then it kills you at the end.
5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud
5 Times Tony Didn’t Need To Worry About Peter
5 Times Peter Pretended To Be Tougher Than He Was
@frostysunflowers:
Between how it is and how it should be - This story made me love a Peter and Bucky friendship.
@kitcat992:
Identity Theft - This was one of the very first Iron Dad fics I read, and it was a doozy. Full of whump, medical accuracy, and hurt/comfort! The author is posting a sequel now, too: Identity Crisis. :D
For Pete’s Sake!
@camelot-queen:
Goner - A perfectly heartbreaking kidnapping fic, but heed the warnings!
Who Saves The Hero
Never Meet Your Heroes
i’m the satellite (and you’re the sky) - Tony is Peter’s bio-dad but Peter doesn’t know it. I haven’t actually finished this yet, but it’s good. So, so good.
@peter-stank:
built from scraps - YOU GUYS, this is one of the best fics I’ve read on AO3. It’s a ‘Tony gets dusted instead of Peter’ AU, and it’s got such an amazing dynamic between Peter, Pepper, and Morgan. It’ll also make you tear up a few times, at least.
@geekymoviemom:
Sins of the Fathers - So, I’ve only read the first 5 chapters of this epic length (303k words@) adoption AU so far, but I’m LOVING it so I wanted to add it here. They also have an even longer bio-dad Tony with added Stony bonus series, Pieces of Echoes, that they’re posting the 3rd installment to right now. I’ll definitely be checking it out!
@too-many-bees:
let’s kick it
like a bridge over troubled water
@jbsforever:
it’ll be over (and I’ll still be asking when)
@tnyystark:
where the memories reside
@whumphoarder:
Quieting the Void series - Peter kinda has an eating disorder due to the spider bite, so take care if you read!
Poison Apple - Loved how medically accurate this was, and Ned’s reaction to Peter’s condition was heartbreaking.
@seek-rest:
It Hurts to Become
Someday We’ll Know - This is a Walk to Remember AU, so there’s MCD. I’ve gotten about halfway through, but I can only read it when I’m in the right mindset. But it’s lovely and so well done.
This author has so many fics that I’m sure are amazing, and they’re on my ‘to read’ list when I’m in the mood for beautiful Spideychelle stories.
@caraminha:
The Primary Reason Tony Stark Would Throw Down With an Anti-Vaxxer in the Street - Hella scary depiction of Peter with tetanus, and it’s SO GOOD.
@tonystarkstan:
it all comes back to this
skeletons series
to build a home series - I love recovery fics, and this was a beautiful story of Peter dealing with the aftermath of being snapped and coming back.
lay your weary head to rest
@foolscapper:
Exploding Head Syndrome - Everyone comes back when the snap is reversed, but Peter is sort of catatonic--stuck between the living world and the soul stone where he’s with Gamora. It’s such a lovely fic.
@alice-in-ink:
It’s a Little Bit We Do
Danger Pizza
@legalassie:
oh, darling - Peter’s kidnapped and Tony frantically searches for him--one of my favorite things. Peter uses his smarts to help him get out of the situation, too, which is also one of my favorite things.
don’t think about tomorrow.
@blackwatchandromeda:
Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything)
Leave Me to Dream
A Nightmare to Remember
@emma--anacortes:
Accepting the Tides - Here I am with another adoption AU. Can you see a pattern yet? I love them, and this one has danger and whump and comfort as well.
@ardenskyedarcy221b:
they are standing in the garden - This hurt. Several times the author had me tearing up and there’s a few lines that will stay with me forever. It was just immensely lovely to read.
@iamallyetnotatall:
At the Start of the Universe - This was so much better than I was expecting! Peter is an Angel, and he knows Tony from the very beginning of the universe. It’s different, but absolutely gorgeous.
@starktowr:
somewhere outside my life - I don’t wanna say too much, but just read this. It’ll break you and you’ll love it.
@jessicagoddamnjones:
too bad (but it’s the life you lead)
@silver-bubbles:
The Fire’s Out (But Still It Burns)
@day-dreamer176:
Like A Strike of Lightning - I kinda took this as a demonic possession a la Supernatural, but I don’t think it actually was. Either way, it was fantastic.
fifty-four
five, tops
The World Stopped
@ambivalentmarvel:
Into His Fold series - Where Thanos brings Peter back from the ashes to make him into his new son (a la Nebula and Gamora).
@notaparty-trick:
Doom and Gloom - A ‘Peter doesn’t get dusted’ AU, filled with whump and Iron Dad and an awesome Carol Danvers. Angst!!!
Dust and Blood - Peter is hurt much worse when Toomes drops the building on him. More angst!!!! This author does angst very well.
@ema--vee:
You don’t have to hold your head up high - Peter can’t thermoregulate! I love that trope.
@forensicleaf:
All the Things We’ve Lost (And All the Things We’ve Gained) - This one gutted me, and then made it better. But there’s pain to be had before the comfort!
They just posted the first chapter of a new WIP that looks AMAZING, too: Can’t Part the Sea, Can’t Reach the Shore.
@plnkblue:
foolish, fragile spine - Peter’s severely injured in his fight with Adrian Toomes and Tony finds him.
@helloitisiafellowgay:
god did not craft us as altars, but as dying gods - Okay, guys. This one is heavy. It deals with Skip coming back into Peter’s life, and it’s not pretty but it’s handled superbly. It’s a tough read, but one I definitely recommend if you can handle it. Take care of yourselves first and foremost, though. <3
~ ~ ~ I’m not sure if the following authors have a tumblr, so I just linked their AO3 pages ~ ~ ~
eccentric_artist_221b:
Only for a Little While - This is a Titanic AU, and it’s AMAZING. There’s several scenes that just took my breath away and brought me to tears (not an easy feat). They’re also working on a WWI sequel!!!!
tiaylasglass:
the one who made it out - Short, simple in a gorgeous way, and poignant.
And finally, I thought I’d humbly add my own little contribution to the fandom. So far, I’ve only written the one fic, but I hope to write more in the future!
@ghostinthebau:
For Want of a Dad (in need of a son) - There’s a bit of blood, and a very distraught Tony at one point, so warning for angst and injury!
Again, this list is probably severely lacking, and if someone has a rec that’s not on here please please please reblog this and let me know! I’m always in the mood for more fics.
And I hope anyone reading this finds something they enjoy!
I’m sure you will.
ilu 3,000
:)
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Part two of the Love Language miniseries!
Once again, I dedicate this to one of my favorite Shinran authors, @meitanteisachi
Part three might take a little while since I'm in my lazy mode. So please forgive me if the next part will be late 🤧
Warning: Probably my longest fic ever. So long that I need to divide into two parts. I kinda got carried away.
-
Receiving Gifts-You feel loved and appreciated when your partner or someone gives you a gift. It doesn't need to expensive, just something sentimental and thoughtful.
She was seven when Ran received her first memorable gift from Shinichi.
She remembered how It had been a month since her mother moved away, turning her life upside down. At a young age, Ran forced herself to be responsible; learning how to cook without burning the food, doing household chores that her father never knew how to do, and taking care of both a child who's too young and a grown man who's too immature and broken to live on his own.
It vastly made a growth and development in her character. Teachers and classmates alike noticed the way she had matured, from the way she handled her emotions—always putting on a smile and being the bigger one in the petty fights— to her mannerisms and gestures that resembled an older sister.
To them, her mother leaving became somewhat a good thing, with her maturity blooming early.
If only that were true.
No one knew that as soon as she opened the door of the empty detective office, Ran would be filled with her mother's presence; Hearing her voice, seeing her face, and even missing her scolding. Instead of saying anything to her father however, she brushes it off, puts on a facade, being a mother, a wife, and a daughter all at the same time to a drunk and emotionally unstable man.
But at the end of each day, entering her room and not crying was impossible. Her eyes watering at the sight of the empty bed that used to be filled with her mothers' scent, all gone. And like the child that she was—that she should be— she would sobbed and whimper silently, until exhausted enough to close her eyes and unaware that there's no one beside her just to sleep.
Ran was sure no one knew or was even remotely aware of her secret. After all, her smile shined and eyes glimmered in school so different from the distraught face she wears each night since last month.
But she had underestimated him.
On the day of her birthday, everyone greeted her with their own set of trinkets and gifts. Most were letters and drawings, filled with gratitude and love through the used of poorly executed writings and simple but meaningful pictures. Ran was happy to received all of them, whether they were small—like a piece of her favorite candy— or expensive and big, such as the dress given to her by Sonoko.
But unlike all her other birthdays, she didn't feel as contented and satisfied. There laid a gnawing feeling inside of her, aware that she'll never have what she truly wished for.
As they walked home from school, Ran expected Shinichi to give her at least some sweets. So, when he invited her to come by his house she agreed with a nod, genuinely having no idea.
So, she stood for a few minutes outside the mansions' gates, reading out some letters to pass time. She became so engrossed at reading that she didn't even notice him go outside until he was finally in front of her. Catching a set of feet just in front, she looked up. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw a fairly large and fluffy inanimate object in Shinichi's hands, holding it out to her.
"Here you go, Happy Birthday, Ran." he greeted, tilting his head on the side behind the cute teddy bear grinning from ear to ear. Instinctively, Ran accepted his gift and brought it close to her chest, feeling it's soft synthetic fur.
She slowly scrutinized it, it's features somewhat reminding her of...
"M-mom?" whispering incredulously, she glanced at Shinichi. Still wearing a smile, he nodded.
"That's right. Even if you don't talk about it, I know you miss your mom. You've been crying a lot too--"
"I wasn't crying!" she denied, but her mask slipped a little when he deadpanned.
"Yes you were," he stated calmly, as if he saw her doing so. She glared.
"How would you know? I never cried in school!"
"I'm sure before we go to school you do. Your eyes were always a little red and puffy when entering the class after all." he argued back. Instead of being embarrassed, Ran found something more important to point out.
"You were watching me?" she questioned, eyes curious. She didn't know why, but the thought of Shinichi watching and observing her made her smile(and a little nervous).
In an instant, gone was the confident and composed childhood friend of hers, image being ruined by his immediate coughing as if he swallowed a huge thing, cheeks flushed a healthy red, and a stuttering mess as he negated her claim.
"B-Barou! Those were just coincidences!!" then he slightly looked away, seemingly afraid to meet her violet orbs. Scratching his still blushing cheeks, he changed the topic.
"W-Well, Happy Birthday. You can use that stuff animal when you feel, you know, lonely." he dazed off, then glanced over her shoulder. As if realizing something significant, his eyes widened.
"It's already sun down! You gotta go home now or Occhan is gonna scold me!"
Ran followed his advice right after. As soon as she arrived home, she found her father in a sober state, and was even the one who tried to cook dinner for the both of them. Eri called later that night, which made Ran happy. She still asked her mother when the woman will come home and Eri would always reply with a vague answer. She didn't pressure her mother anymore, not wanting to ruin both their day.
That night as she entered her room, strangely enough, Ran didn't feel lonely. She also didn't feel the need to exhaust herself, now having a sweet stuff animal to comfort and fill her warmth. She settled on her soft bed, hugging the teddy bear tightly. And for the first time since her mother's moving away, Ran didn't cry.
-
They were thirteen, she recalled, when she received her second most thoughtful gift from him.
"Hey Ran, did you find the kitten?" Ran glanced up, hearing her name from Sonoko. She shook her head as an answer.
"It's still missing. I tried asking around but they said they never saw it." her bestfriend looked at her worriedly, knowing what she was thinking.
A few days ago, her, Sonoko, and Shinichi found a little ball of fur on their way home from school. They all took pity, Ran specially. So, the three teenagers took upon themselves to look after it until just a week ago, it disappeared. They searched everywhere around the area, trying to spot a little black kitten with huge and round green eyes. Unfortunately, they never succeeded.
Seeing Ran's mood depleted, Sonoko patted her back as comfort, grinning.
"Don't worry about it! I'm sure it has found an owner by now." Ran smiled, being reassured but still a bit dissatisfied. She decided to adopt the kitten after all but it was still nowhere to be seen.
To lighten the mood, Sonoko changed the topic to new shops, magazine, and gossips. Since the teacher was late, the Suzuki Heiress was unstoppable.
Rans' attention was grabbed however, when a certain someone entered the classroom. He was yawning, not bothering to hide his sleepiness. Rubbing his blue eyes languidly, she noticed how the dark circles under them became even more pronounced than before. Her eyes also became aware that there were some lines seared into his skin—scratch marks.
As if conscious that someone was watching him, Shinichi turned his head around, meeting weary blue with observing violet. It only lasted for a second, with the former looking away and going straight to his desk.
Shinichi had been acting weird lately. It started a week before, with him telling Ran that he would be late and she can just go ahead without him. True enough, he always came late ever since, which normally rarely happens.
Another thing to note would be his physical state. He looked restless, eyebags so obvious along with the constant yawning and even sometimes sleeping through an entire period. The last part wasn't new, but Ran heeded how easily he fell asleep, unlike back then where he needed to toss and turn his head for a comfortable position.
The last thing to caught her eye would be the little scratch marks. She would've been convinced that it was another case but seeing the scrape from his arms threw her off guard. They were shallow, but it didn't wave off her suspicions any less.
So, Ran decided that after class, she would visit him, whether he liked it or not.
The day went by rough, with Ran not being able to focus thanks to a sleeping classmate who looked far too exhausted for a normal student. Sonoko, looking at her stressed friend, ask her out to eat that sounded too appealing but she had to refused, knowing that if she didn't find out the reason for her best friend's odd behavior, she'll be the one to act weird next.
Knowing Shinichi's detective instinct, Ran knew better than to follow him on the get go and get caught. She waited an hour around the area, before making her way to the Kudo Mansion. The only problem now was how to enter without being seen.
She treaded through the stone path, finding the gate unlock. The middle schooler shook her head, both thankful and a little scared. What could he be so busy about for him to forget closing the gate?
Once Ran reached the front door and checked, that's when the immense feeling of worry kicked in. Shinichi also forgot to close the front door!
'What's happening to him? Is a case stressing him this much? Did something terrible happened? Why isn't he telling me--'
Her thoughts were abruptly stopped when the sound that something metallic fell reached her ears, making her anxiety increased tenfold.
Wasting no time and completely losing her initial target, Ran rushed in like lightning, fear evident in every step.
Upon reaching the kitchen and thoughts of her bestfriend in danger flooding her senses, she barged in.
Only to find the great detective Kudo Shinichi rubbing his head, and a couple of pans and plastic bowls scattered around the tiled flooring.
They gaped at each other, unable to register the current scenario. Ran was broken out of her trance however, when she noticed a light bump growing on the top of his head, which he was rubbing a while ago before he froze.
Previous distress setting in once again, Ran hurried by her childhood friends' side, helping him to stand.
"What happened?" she asked, examining and touching the bump. As if electrified by their contact, he flinched and backed away slightly, eyes a bit hazy.
"R-Ran, what are you doing here?" he seemed more concern of her presence than his own well being which made her glare.
"You've been acting weird this past week!" she accused as he treaded away from her, a bit too cautious. She took note of how his left hand slid behind him, fully intending to hide something away from her sight.
"Weird what, me? Barou, I've been perfectly normal. You're just overacting." the response didn't sound so convincing when he was literally sweating and avoiding her scrutiny.
"Yeah, then why were you always late this week?" the interrogation began.
"I was busy with a case Megure-keibu presented me, that's why." gaining his composure, Shinichi answered in a confident manner but that didn't drop any of her suspicions.
"Then what about you being constantly tired these days?" Ran pressed on, ambulating near her suspect. he kept his ground, so sure she was the one who was weird, not him.
"The case was so hard that I couldn't find time to sleep." he casually said, looking bored and done with the questioning.
She kept on walking towards slowly and when she was finally in front of him, she smiled innocently.
"Okay then, I have one last question to ask," he smiled, thinking he won. Then, feigning obliviousness, he consented.
"Fire away."
With those words as her signal, Ran forcefully yanked his left arm that he had been so carefully shielding and him having no time to react, she succeeded, revealing the scratch marks as her last piece of evidence and a.... kitten!?
Silence ensued. Until a mewl came out fromm the little ball of fur. Ran examined the little thing, coming to her conclusion.
"Please don't tell me this was the little kitten that's been missing since last week." she quietly pleaded for him to deny, but all he offered was a gulp and a weary nod.
Anger and bewilderment filled Ran, as she shook her head as an attempt to calm, but seeing the kitten that she had been desperately looking for, for the past few weeks made her burst.
"Why didn't you tell me you had the cat!? You knew that I was looking all over the neighborhood! I even told you I was going to take care of it--"
"That's exactly why I took it!" he interrupted, his excuse perplexing her thoughts even more than before.
"What?" he sighed and put the little kitten down gently, moving to the counter and sitting on one of the tools.
"Well, remember when you first tried to take it home? It was really aggressive, wasn't it?"
She did remember her hand getting scratch and almost bitten when she endeavored to adopt it. So, she gave a nod.
"Well, knowing what you were planning to do, I decided to take it to a friend of mom's who happened to be a vet and get it checked just to make sure. She said it was fine but it seemed a bit violent to humans so she advised me to take care of it so that it will get used to the environment. Knowing you, you would've been dumb enough to just take it without any examination and might get yourself really injured." she tried to refute his last statement but decided against it, knowing he was probably right.
But there was one thing that didn't made sense. "Then why didn't you tell me about it? If I had known I wouldn't have wasted my time, you know." hearing her question made him clearly uncomfortable, eyes now travelling anywhere but hers and cheeks tainted a light pink. They kept quiet, him contemplating while Ran patiently waited.
Knowing his loss, the detective whispered but she still heard it. "I was planning to give it to you next week. I just wanted it to be a surprise."
For some really unexplainable reason, Ran felt her heart beating faster than normal that she might die, face heating up, and even having a stampeding elephant on the pit of her stomach.
"Shinichi..." she uttered, not knowing what to say. Still looking the other way, he misinterpreted her calling as scolding.
"I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that. I should've told you properly and you wouldn't have to put so much effort into finding--"
His next lines were suddenly gone when she wordlessly went in front of his sitting figure and patted his hair softly, just like petting a feline. He stammered and tried to speak but found himself to be voiceless by her next words.
"Thank you, I really appreciate it..." she wanted to say more but was being suffocated by the swarming butterflies in her stomach, not allowing her to do so.
"You better be..." he mused, trying to lighten the mood and to calm his racing heart. As if by magic, he felt a sudden urge to close his eyes and lean on her posture, loving the way she stroke his hair so gently. And so he did.
Ran was taken aback by the unforeseen intimacy but didn't complain. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she felt almost all of his weight on her, coupled with his heavy breathing that she concluded he fell asleep.
Slowly, she moved him to the sofa of the living room, all the while trying to not burst at the feeling of his breath on her neck. Succeeding, she grabbed a pillow and a blanket from his room, finally setting him down on the couch.
Ran couldn't help but feel guilty, finally figuring out that she was the reason of all his strange behavior all along. It explained his worn out expression throughout the entire week, having to take care of an aggressive kitten without having any prior experience must be exhausting, and it showed through his sleepless nights and lack of energy at everything in class.
Then, her eyes travelled to the little scratches and wounds all over his arms. They were nothing serious, but they must have at least sting. Wanting to at least alleviate the pain, Ran brought the first aid kid from his room and tenderly tended to all of the gashes and marks, and him not even flinching one bit despite being supposedly a heavy sleeper, became proof of how much time and effort he put for her surprise.
Ran went home that day, carrying his gift with her. She knew that he was supposedly giving this next week, but the teenager was pretty sure that Shinichi wouldn't be able to handle another week of torture like that. So, she left a note to make sure he didn't worry.
Years passes after that, but Ran would never forget the kitten he gave her, and the inexplicable giddy feeling with it. Sonoko would remind her how happy she was that she couldn't physically stop smiling for a while that it weirded many out but personally for Ran, it was worth it.
-
(Has a part 2 because it's so unnecessary long)
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Yandere Life Ship
Can I have a yandere life ship plz? ^^~ ok so! I’m really awkward, shy, and introverted! I’m open and accepting to everything! I cant be around people who aren’t 😅 I like time to myself and I have social anxiety but! When I’m close to someone I literally give my everything its all or nothing with me. I’m kind of clingy. I’m quick to cry and be manipulated. But once you piss me off all that goes away lmao I can be really smart mouthed and say cruel shit in the blink of an eye Part 1/3
and not care for the persons feelings at all. And with that being said it doesn’t take much to piss me off lol and I can’t be silenced like... at all unless you’ve completely broken me but even then I’ll probably still try you... if you try to silence me before breaking me then you’re in for me mouthing off at you and I’m brat for a reason you know lol Part 2/3
I love music, alternative(Lolita,yume/yami kawaii,e-girl,kawaii,etc. /mainstream fashion(“baddie” fashion) my fashion depends on how I feel, I have A L O T of kinks so I wouldn’t do well with someone vanilla 💀 I’m not sure if that’s enough but here it is! Part 3/3 -MILLI
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Yandere 1: (Main yandere)- Jay Park
Jay is a top dog when it comes to yanderes, he doesn’t mess around and what he wants, he gets no matter what. No one knows exactly how or when Jay became infatuated with you but you do quickly find out why; he likes someone who can put up a fight whether it be verbally or physically and you can do exactly that. This yandere makes it evident from the get go that he’ll let you yell and talk, hell, he’ll even let you punch him and try to knock him down all the while smiling at your futile attempts but, in the end, you’ll always learn your place after he’s put you through what he deems as a “reward” for your attitude. Your life with him is going to be interesting because he’s going to do every to brake you down into becoming a submissive victim but, unlike other yanderes and their victims, he’s also going to simultaneously mold you into a powerful “sidekick” that everyone will love and fear just as much as they love and fear him once he’s deemed you well-behaved enough to go public with him.
your friend that is victimized by yandere one: Mint
Mint is a supportive friend who is quick to dry those tears when you come to her in an upset state of mind. She doesn’t fool around when it comes to her friends feelings which means that if she learns that someone is hurting you in any way then she’ll doing everything in her power to bring that to an end. She may not be able to do much but she knows that sometimes all a person needs to feel better is some time out with friends or some time away from everyone, which she is more than willing to let you spend time at the extra house her parents bought for her. What drew you to together as such close friends was actually that facts that you two are nearly polar opposites from each other, she’s more outgoing and isn’t quick to start confrontation or talk back while you are, but you two did share commonality in being open with everything, loving the kawaii style of cutsey things, and with being emotional. Jay won’t like this one bit. He hates the thought of some tiny, 4′11 chick being an emotional support buddy who can clear your mind and has the resources to give you time away from him. Although she can’t do much else, he still hates her guts with every nerve in his body, just the sight of her or mention of her name can bring his blood to a raging boil. Although she isn’t much of a threat, except when she sends you away for some private time in her other house, Jay quickly writes her off as someone who needs to vanish from your life and he can think of many different ways to make that happen but his two favorite options are that he can either snap her like a twig and hide her body somewhere or he can have his shady friends take her and do with her what they please. Either way, Mint with disappear at some point and the likelihood that anyone, especially you, will ever see her again alive is less of a chance than a snowball has at surviving a trip through hell.
where they’d keep you: the studio
Jay is constantly working on new music whether it be for himself or for other artists so the best place to keep you is where he spends his time most often. Jay loves this option not just because he’s around you often but because this gives him a chance to have more ‘lively, productive’ breaks when he needs a break from pressing keys, strumming strings, recording or mixing. It’s also a good place to keep you because it limits the space you have when trying to be away from him and you have no option but to beg him to get you food or water or to let you out whenever you need to use the restroom.
your chances of survival/escape: survival: 5/10, escape: 2/10
Jay may enjoy that fiery passion that you have to not be controlled/manipulated or abused but he does have a point in time where he’ll get tired of it and, if you don’t brake and bow down to him at some point, then he will consider killing you eventually. Jay isn’t afraid to use his strength to get what he wants from you so you’ll not only deal with him mentally destroying you piece by piece but also doing that with you physically as well. The best thing you can do to survive with this yandere is by swallowing your pride from time to time (at the very least) if not completely and letting him say and do to you what he pleases without any interruptions from you. By doing so you’ll ensure less punishments, which are both immensely emotionally and physically straining to your body and mind.
As for escape, he may keep you in a small studio so it would seem as though it should be relatively easy for you to get away from him but what you’ll fail to realize until you make any attempts is that smaller spaces severally limit your sources of hiding or dodging his advances towards you when he arrives to check up on you and/or work. It’s also hard to escape the studio because you only have one means of escape, which is through the single door that he enters which is kept locked with many different dead bolts and locks.
Yandere 2: (yandere that wants to steal you from yandere 1)- Haechan
Haechan actually gets to know you before Jay even knows of your existence because he knows you through his connection to Mint. Just as you are close friends to Mint, you easily become close friends with the boy who shares common ground with you when it comes to mouthing off. The both of you enjoy having competitions to see who can be the most sassy and, sometimes you both reach the point where you actually hurt each others feeling because of what you say in an attempt to one-up each other during the playful fights. You both end up forgiving each other by giving one another backhanded compliments then move on to conversations about fashion, even though his sense is far different than yours. Haechan is a clingy person so to have someone who can be equally so once they’re comfortable around him will be something that he enjoys whenever he gets to hang out with you.
When you go missing after Jay takes you, Haechan will be distraught and will use his detective stalking abilities to try to find you and bring you back to safety. He knows that you’re not the type of person to just up and leave without saying something first so he knows immediately that someone else is involved and he’ll go through the list of people that you know well or only met even just once to try and find you. If Haechan ever finds you after being taken by Jay then expect him to be 20000000000000000000x more clingy and obsessive with you. You’ll quickly learn that you may no longer be with Jay (if Haechan is successful at helping you escape, which isn’t a likely case) but you’ve landed in the hands of yet another yandere, one who used to be (and apparently still is) your friend.
why yandere 1 & 2 fell for you:
What draws these two men to you is your ability to switch from a quiet, shy introverted girl to a smart mouthed, tough girl within a blink of an eye who also has the ability to not back down easily. Jay , especially, loves brats! so he sees braking you as a challenge that he is faaaaar too willing to take on, and to say that he’ll love every moment of braking you and molding you into the badass, “ride or die” but submissive victim that he wants is an understatement. He loves seeing you cry but he loves that fire in your eyes and the silver tongue that you use when you step up to fight back against his abusive advances. For both of these yanderes, the more you talk back, the more excited they become for the punishments they will dish out to you once they’ve had enough of letting you speak your mind before taking back the control and getting the final word in.
Oh, another thing that they enjoy, (again, especially Jay) is the sex life that you two will have. Jay is a very adventurous, kinky, thirsty man so knowing that he’s got a victim who has claimed that they aren’t up for that vanilla shit (whether they’ve taken that back or not since becoming his ‘puppet’) will definitely send his non-vanilla sex drive overboard. He’ll enjoy putting you in positions that you’ve never even heard of, he’ll enjoy seeing just how kinky you can be and how far he can push you overboard with his endless sex-capades.
~Savie
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The Couple Next Door VIII (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)
Find Part Seven Here
A/N: Honestly, I never expected this fic to get to 8 chapters, but here we are!
Summary: Roger and Y/n babysit for John and Veronica
(You can imagine the canon or Hardy!Roger; whatever bohemians your rhapsody)
WARNINGS: Self-doubt, swearing maybe(?), mentions of sex (like... once)
This chapter will be rated as a T. Enjoy!
"If you need anything, literally anything, please call us. We know where everything is, and--"
"John, I promise I'll call if we need to. Roger and I will be fine," you tried to assure the bassist, giving his shoulder a pat as he took a breath.
"Okay, okay." He smiled, though it was a sad-looking one. You knew being away from Bobby was going to be difficult for him, and you tried your best to keep him calm, and ensure him not to worry a bit.
"Y/n is very responsible," Roger, who was standing next to you, reminded John. He knew John was aware of that, but Roger didn't like seeing John emotionally distraught. He saw John cry once so far in his life, and it was so heartbreaking that he decided he never wanted to see him cry ever again.
Veronica walked through the door into the nursery with Bobby in her arms.
"Let's say goodbye to Daddy," she cooed as she handed him over to John, who repeatedly kissed the infant's head over and over again, whispering to him how much he loves him, and how he was gonna be right back.
You watched with sad eyes and a pouty lip as John and his son interacted, Bobby reaching up to grab John's finger with his tiny hands. Roger gauged your reaction, taking quick mental notes of how John was acting so he could mimic his behaviour with Bobby later.
Veronica eventually had to tell John that they were going to be stuck in traffic if they spent any longer at home, so John placed Bobby in your embrace before blowing him a kiss.
"Uncle Roger will take good care of you, Bub. I love you," he whispered once more before thanking you again, and leaving the three of you in the nursery, though Roger followed them out and locked the door behind them.
You moved into the living room with Bobby in your arms, taking a seat on the sofa. Roger watched John and Veronica leave the driveway through the window, and you were saying inaudible, silly things to Bobby as he happily smiled at the faces you were also making.
Roger looked over his shoulder to you, and your eyes flitted to him. "Rog, d'ja think you could get me a bottle from the refrigerator, please?"
He nodded quickly, and rushed out of the room, returning only moments later with a bottle.
"Thanks, Love," you took the bottle from him, completely missing the look of pride sporting his face, but it didn't matter. You flipped the bottle, and Bobby, on instinct, reached out for it. You helped him hold it up, cooing about how hungry he was as he sucked the bottle non-stop.
Roger watched you intently from the other side of the coffee-table, biting the nail of his thumb as he took note on how to feed Bobby. Or... how you were feeding him.
Your eyes moved up to him again, catching notice of his intense stare. "... D'ja wanna feed him?" You asked Roger gently.
He froze up for a moment, pointing to himself in silent questioning. You nodded, and Roger's cheeks darkened a few shades.
"Come over. He won't bite," you teased, tilting your head in the direction of the empty cushion next to you, which Roger occupied not moments later.
He reached out to balance the bottle for Bobby now, and you let go of it. Roger grinned airily when he realized he was doing it. You smiled warmly at how proud Roger looked.
"Here," you reached one of your hands out to grab the wrist of his free hand. You pulled his arm over, and Roger watched you closely as you slowly put Bobby in his grasp. You adjusted his posture a little bit, putting a hand over your heart.
"You're both adorable," you sighed, rising to your feet and slipping into the kitchen for a moment. Roger looked down at Bobby, smiling a little as the baby stared at him with his big round eyes as he continued to suck the milk from his bottle.
"Auntie Y/n was right, wasn't she? You are very hungry," Roger let a chuckle pass his lips as he watched this kid in astonishment. He was so small. How could someone so small eat seemingly so much?
When you returned, Bobby was nearly done with his bottle. "What a good boy! You ate all your food! Good job!" Bobby smiled at your praise, and Roger's expression matched.
"I can take him now, if you'd like. I know he may be a little heavy, and your arm'll fall asleep at some point." Roger kept silent until Bobby was completely done the bottle, who'd pulled away from it entirely.
You scooped Bobby up and burped him, to which you responded "ooh, big burp," and you took this moment to eye the clock on the wall.
"Nine o'clock?! You still have a whole hour to be up, Honey Bear," you gasped, earning a happy squeal from the baby. "Maybe some Play Time would be good to tucker you out, huh?"
"Play Time?" Roger asked rather excitedly. You laughed at his enthuisasm, nodding at his question.
"Can I play with him?"
"Well what are you gonna play?"
"Peek-a-Boo, probably," he admitted lamely. You just shook your head with a smile, shifting to sit cross-legged and facing Roger. You set Bobby on your lap so he was also facing him.
Roger's smile widened so much he could barely keep his eyes open. He also sat cross-legged, facing you and Bobby.
He put Bobby's empty bottle on the coffee table, rubbing his hands together in an epic preparation to play the most intense game of Peek-a-Boo known to man...
He pressed his hands over his face, and you gasped playfully. "Bobby! Oh my goodness! Uncle Roger's Gone!"
"Peek-a-Boo!" Roger exclaimed as he parted his hands from his face, Bobby's eyes widening, as well as his toothless grin. He giggled, though it was short-lived, for when Roger put his hands over his face again, Bobby fell silent. That is, until--
"Peek-a-Boo!"
The child's laughs were contagious. Your head was thrown back as you laughed uncontrollably at the high giggles, and Roger took this time to just drink in how you looked when you weren't paying any mind to your surroundings.
The more of this situation he let himself become aware of, the easier it was for him to imagine the both of you in a place like this in the future, near or far. He was finally understanding why John loved being home so much.
Roger wouldn't admit it then, but he would give anything to be able to come home from work to this: a baby, and you.
You tilted your head back down, and before you could catch Roger staring right through you, he hid himself behind his hands again.
Peek-a-Boo lasted a little bit longer, but you and Roger eventually brought Bobby upstairs after he'd nearly fallen asleep in your lap.
How a baby could have fallen asleep during Peek-A-Boo, you didn’t know.
You set him down in his cradle, and rocked it slowly as Bobby drifted off to bed. You couldn't believe how well-behaved and quiet Bobby was, but you were not complaining; No, Sir.
Roger watched the both of you from the dresser, thumbnail between his teeth like earlier.
When you were sure Bobby was asleep, you caressed his soft pale cheeks with the back of your index finger before standing and tiptoeing away from the cradle. Roger got the door for you, and the both of you watched through the crack in the door for a moment or two before closing it completely.
"What now?" Roger asked gently. You shrugged before whispering, "Anything you want, really. Think of this time as a break." Roger nodded slowly, but made no move to leave his spot in front of the door.
"What will you be doing?" He asked after a moment. "Probably preparing for bed. We only have about seven hours of sleep if we're lucky, but he'll probably need to be taken care of in the middle of the night."
You pursed your lips in thought. "Let's just head to bed, Rog, get as much sleep as we can." He only responded with a nod. You followed him down the hall, but disbanded to your separate rooms. You were taking John and Veronica's room, while Roger was occupying the bed in the spare room.
You turned at the threshold of the door, as did Roger. You looked at him wordlessly, as did he to you.
"G'night, Roger," you yawned gently into your hand.
"G'night, Y/n," Roger whispered back as you both inched your doors shut.
Roger leaned up against the door as soon as it closed, and he let out a deep breath.
You both had to be here for two days, and not even two hours in, Roger was fuelling this domestic fantasy of his rather than fulfilling it.
He enjoyed every single minute of this, but with each passing second, Roger became increasingly aware of how much time was running out for the both of you to achieve this dream.
It stung, because Roger wasn't even sure if you wanted this. Of course you'd shown distaste for having children at this age, but even looking passed that, would you really want the father of your kids to be Roger Meddows Taylor, of all people?
The Sex Symbol, Roger Taylor? The sarcastic prick, Roger Taylor? The fuck-friend, Roger Taylor?
Roger's chest ached as he pushed himself off the door and towards his bed.
Of course you wouldn't.
You could do so much better.
You sat up abruptly when you heard it.
Crying.
You tossed the comforter off your body and threw your robe on, which was lying at the end of the bed. You opened your door, making your way to the nursery, silently hoping he hadn't been crying for too long.
You yawned weakly into your hand before opening the door. When you stepped into the nursery, you didn't expect Roger to be there, in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, Bobby in his arms as he fed him another bottle....
But there he was.
"Needed a changin', and then he was hungry," he explained quietly. You crossed your arms over your chest, observing how Roger held Bobby comfortably, and perfectly.
"Thought you didn't know how to take care of children, yet here you are changing and feeding him without my help."
"I never said I didn't know how to care for them, I said I was iffy with them," he corrected softly, never taking his eyes off the featherlight hairs on Bobby's head.
You raised an eyebrow, though Roger was focused on the child in his arms.
You couldn't even feed him on his own earlier, and now you're the Nappy Master? Yeah. Alright.
"That's not what you told me on the lift earlier today," you argued lightly, hands on your hips.
Roger sighed, crossing one leg over the other as he rocked slowly in the chair. "Maybe I wanted you to help me, alright?" You offered a sad smile, and he accepted it as a gentle apology.
The corners of his lips twitched upward as his eyes fell back to Bobby. "'N fact, the more I spend with this little guy, the more I wish I had a kid." He looked up to you.
"Crazy to think, huh? Once the King of One-Night Stands wanting a family," he spoke as if the concept were a funny joke; a paradox, even.
It was your turn to stare from the bookshelf on the other side of the nursery.
"... I know we have this arrangement and everything, and this was supposed to work out because neither of us wanted families of our own," you tensed at his words, but your shoulders fell when he said, "... and don't fret, I'm not gonna leave you."
"... But," you started for him.
"But," he paused.
"... I'm starting to understand what I'll be missing out on. Just makes me sad, is all." You pushed off the bookshelf and took a seat on the floor in front of Roger, the bright moon casting almost an ethereal glow along the side of his pale, sleepy face.
"What would you cherish about it if you had a family, Rog?"
"The fact that I'm being loved for more than my body would be a start," he said. You felt your stomach drop at that.
"Rich coming from a guy like me, I know," he sighed. "The idea of settling down, having constants in my life.... I'm craving that. I know I'm young, and I'm not tied down in a committed relationship, and I should be cherishing this freedom but..."
You tilted your head a little as he tried to piece together what he was about to say next. He swallowed, eyes falling to your face.
You looked so pretty...
"... What if I don't wanna be alone anymore, Y/n?"
You hadn't expected that, but it did explain the constant one-night stands he had with groupies: He was in search of validation; and what better way than to take a girl to bed and love on her all night?
"I... I have so much love to give, and no one to give it to." His voice sounded weak, and he looked helplessly at Bobby, who was still suckling away at the milk in his bottle.
"... What if he was right...?" You frowned a little as Roger lifted his gaze to you again.
"Mr. Garrison. I mean, what if having children is just as rewarding as he says it is?" You hadn't noticed you'd been crying until you could taste your salty tears on your lips. You'd been reminded of your conversation with Bethany a few weeks prior, and now you were asking yourself all the same questions.
"We'd be missing out on a good life," you laughed upsettingly, rubbing your eyes dry with the sleeve of your robe.
Roger didn't say much after that. After Bobby finished eating, Roger burped him and put him back to bed. Like before, Bobby fell right to sleep.
Roger rose to his feet, and then helped you up gently by your elbows. You followed him out of the room, and closed the door behind you.
Roger slid his arm around your back and slowly walked you down to your room. You took a step through the door, and when you felt his arm fall from your body as he began mumbling his "goodnight"s, you immediately turned back and caught him by his wrist.
He didn't say anything, and you rushed through your head for something to say.
"Stay," You said after another second of silence.
Roger's confused look melted into one of adoration, lips parted and eyebrows lifted.
"... Roger, I don't wanna be alone either."
And that did it.
Without another word, Roger had stepped into the room with you, and he shut the door behind him. You untied your robe, and Roger watched from where he was standing as you let it drop to the floor.
It's not like you were wearing nothing, but a long shirt and your underwear was pretty close to nothing.
He scooped you up in his arms silently, catching the light switch with his elbow as he slid the both of you into bed.
You expected him to just roll back over, but when one of his palms fell to rest at your hip, head on top of yours, you couldn't help but hold your breath.
At this point you and Roger'd had a fair amount of sex, but being wrapped up in his arms like that; his thumbs dragging down your bare skin in lazy, invisible patterns... it was the most intimate thing you'd done with him ever.
You only pushed yourself closer to Roger, and as you drifted off, basking in the warmth of his body heat, and drowning in the smell of his body wash, you heard him mumble, "you're not alone anymore, Doll."
_____________________________
A/A/N: Guys, the amount of notes I’ve been getting for these fics recently are blowing me out of the water! I want to thank all of you for your support by liking, reblogging, and leaving me replies. It really means a lot to me, and inspires me to go on doing what I love most: Producing these stories for you guys! I hope you all enjoyed this one. Things are only gonna get better from here! <3
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Into the Dark (4/?)
A/N: More Angst ahead. No smut or implied smut really. Character Deaths mentioned for the sake of length they’re not described. This chapter is long as hell. Sorry.
“You’re pregnant,” Thor says, early one morning. He’s blinking at you in surprise. Almost as if he didn’t expect it. You feel your heart drop to somewhere around your feet. It doesn’t take much to avoid looking at him. He never expects you to look at him. He doesn’t expect you to flinch away from him when he reaches for your hand. His own hand drops and he nods to himself. You never really want him to touch you if you can avoid it. But some of the hardness in his face softens as he looks at you now.
“Go see mother,” he says quietly. An order. You swallow back telling him to go fuck himself. Your last hope was to be barren and then maybe you could end this farce. But scarcely a month into marriage and a handful of couplings later, clearly that is not the case. “I will,” you say flatly. You want to ask him if he’s off to see Sif this morning but you already know. They may be forbidden from being alone together but that doesn’t mean they avoid each other. You stand up from the table and start to leave but Thor catches your hand making you freeze.
You’re so touch starved you don’t care who’s touching you. You just need someone to hold you and tell you it’ll be okay. “Yes, husband?” you ask your voice still toneless in your shock. He wants to tell you he’s pleased with you but instead, he drops your hand. “Nothing,” he says turning back to his breakfast. Your face tells him you feel nothing about this news. He can count on one hand the number of times you’ve even spoken more than a few words to him since the wedding. He’d thought that preferable. But in bed, as he looks at your back, as you move as far from him as you can after he’s found release, he can count your ribs. He looks down at the plate you left behind, where there’s hardly anything eaten and glances back up to see you already gone. Away from him to find whatever comfort you can.
Guilt gnaws at him again and he hates you for it. He wants you to be mean. He wants you to be angry. He doesn’t want you to make sure that the breakfast table has his favorite things on it. That his armor is polished to a mirror finish, that everything in your shared chamber is arranged to his liking. You’re the mother of his child now, he tells himself, he needs to be a better husband. And he means to. He doesn’t know anything about you because he never bothered to ask. But he goes in search of a peace offering. Something that might at least remind you that this is his child too.
Alone, far from everyone as you can get, you cry. You’d give anything to be at home with someone who’d dry your tears and hand you a cup of tea. It’s Frigga who finds you. She’d been searching for you, needing to show you something about her healing wing. You try and stop crying, still considering anyone on Asgard to be “public” instead of family. She pulls you into her arms gently and holds you. She doesn’t know what her son had done to you to make you this distraught but she intended to have words with him. She was over his stolen moments with Sif as if he were a schoolboy instead of a man with a wife. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, wiping your face with your sleeve and trying to adjust yourself clumsily. “What happened, darling?” she asks gently. You smile a little. You can’t bring yourself to tell her you’re with child. You simply can’t. Besides. Thor didn’t order you to tell her. He only ordered you to see her. And you had.
“Nothing,” you say, “Really, a misunderstanding I am sure.” It’s not a lie. Nothing had happened that you considered important so the rules that disallowed you lying didn’t make you choke. She doesn’t believe you, you know but she doesn’t press. You follow her to the healing wing and learn what she has to show you, grateful for the distraction for a little while but your trembling hands and pale skin have Frigga putting you on a table to examine you just as Thor comes crashing through the door.
She frowns at him, stopping him dead as she runs practiced hands over your body. You’re more emotionally distressed than she realized. She can feel how thin you are and now that she’s examining you she can feel the new life starting to grow inside you. The dull hollow feeling in your chest makes her eyes sting. There is nothing you’ve felt that isn’t exposed to her and she kisses your forehead gently. You’ve been in misery. She knows that’s not a natural state for you. Your natural state is joy. You were made to walk in the sunshine. Hopeful optimism and kindness are the traits she wanted you for. But now? You’re hollow and wrung out. The few times you are content you’ve bespelled yourself just to make it through the day. She keeps a hand on your cheek, gently rubbing your cheekbone as she whispers instructions to one of her ladies to escort you back to your bedchamber and let you lie down.
You go, a Lady in waiting to support you, holding your arm. You don’t even look at Thor. You don’t bother. It’s not as if anything that happens to you actually matters. Once you've been helped into night clothes and put to bed, Thor dismisses the ladies and brings you the goblet his mother handed him. Her warnings and her scolding still ringing in his ears. He’s not to so much as look at Sif again or she’ll have her banished. He’s to be a model husband and treat you with dignity. If he does all of that she’ll consider letting him live to see his next birthday. “Mother bids you drink this,” he said. He didn’t know what it was but he assumed it was for the baby. “She said it would help you feel better,” he said shrugging when you look at him in askance. You take it wordlessly and take a cautious sip before crinkling your nose slightly. Thor sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed and you scoot away from him slightly. The silence stretches on. Thor seems to prefer when you don’t speak in his presence so you restrict your remarks to short replies out of habit. “How do you like Asgard?” he asks after a moment. “It’s fine, the architecture is beautiful.” The only thing you can say that isn’t a lie. Thor glances at you, all these wonders and all you care about is buildings? “How are you feeling? Mother said you were unwell,” he tries again. “I’ll be fine, your highness,” you say, “I think I am only overtired.” You feel exhausted so it isn’t a lie. Thor doesn’t miss that you use his title or call him husband when you address him at all. He hates it and he’s pretty sure that’s why you do it. He’s right. “Conversations are easier to have when everyone contributes,” he huffs out, frustrated that you don’t seem to care if he’s speaking to you or not.
“Conversations are easier to have when you want to have them,” you reply, “Please, husband. It’s bad enough that I’m married to someone who is at best apathetic towards me. Don’t make me make small talk with you too.” Thor winces at that. You’re not wrong. His feelings towards you do tend towards apathetic these days. “Mother said you were lonely,” he said, “She said that was bad for the baby. That your emotions are making you sick.” You snort, “And forced small talk is the way to fix that, hm?” you ask bitterly. How fucking dare he force this on you? How dare he even pretend? After all the times he’s come home lips kiss swollen and reeking of Sif’s perfume. After all the times he’s barked at you as if you were an unruly soldier and not his wife. He reaches for your hand and you pull it away, “Don’t. touch. me.” you say warningly. You are tired and sad and all you want is sleep. Sleep is the only respite you get. Anger flashes in Thor’s face and you meet his eyes for the first time in days. When he sees that there is nothing there. Nothing. You face is blank as if you have nothing left to feel but pain, he moves away from you. “Fine,” he bites out. He leaves you then and you hurl the goblet and it’s contents at the wall as the door slams shut.
2024
“Where is my wife?” Thor asks Brunhilde as she orders herself another drink. The Valkyrie shrugs, “She left here about 10 minutes ago. Got on her motorcycle and just fucked off... She does that.” Thor pinched the bridge of his nose, “Where did she go?” Brunhilde shrugs again, “Probably the woods somewhere. I know she has a garden someplace where she grows the healing herbs we use. Loki probably knows where it is.” Thor nods and trudges off to find Loki. The trickster is similarly tight-lipped about where you’ve gone, “Thor, she doesn’t want to see you,” he said, “After so many years, I don’t blame her.” The blonde winces, “I want to make things right with her,” he said. Loki barked a laugh, “That implies you had a relationship with her before,” he said, “You never wanted her. You wanted Sif. And then Jane, but nowhere in any of that did you want your wife. She spent years hoping you’d come to at least value her... Mother. It broke Mother’s heart. And it was only that girl, the one you refused to pay attention to that kept us from war with the fey. If she had ever told them anything, they would have been honor bound to storm the palace and bring her home.”
Loki thrusts a small stack of leather-bound journals into Thor’s hands, “If you ever tell her I gave you these, I’ll deny it... She told me to burn them but I thought that if she were to ever kill herself, you should know what your part in it was.” Thor takes them carefully as if they might bite. Loki considered you a friend. One of his only friends and he didn’t take your mistreatment lightly. Not even coming from Thor whom he also loved. As Thor ambles away, Loki prays to the gods that this might just give you some peace. That it might help Thor foster an understanding of you. He also prays that if you ever find out he disobeyed your request that you wouldn’t be angry long.
Thor takes the journals back to his tower, ignoring Korg as he calls out to Thor to play more Fortnite. They are bound together with a piece of leather cord. About 8 or 10 slim volumes. Easily concealed in your jewelry box or any other small crevice in your room where you could secret them away. He’d seen you writing in books like this before. He assumed it was just a way for you to record your days. But they feel heavy. They hold the weight of sleepless nights and countless disappointments. The weight of a rebellion. The pressure of being where no one wanted you. They smell of pain and fear and hopelessness. He holds them for a long time. He knows this is intensely private. You’d asked Loki to burn them so no one else might ever see what you’d had to say. Carefully, with a prayer for forgiveness, he opens the first volume.
Earlier
You stand in the crowd. Watching Thor be named Odin’s heir. At 20 weeks pregnant you’re starting to show and nothing you can do makes you happy about that fact. You’re too tired to keep yourself bespelled and have to force yourself into a calm smiling composure. You feel Sif glaring at you but you ignore her. The Warriors three are watching Thor. Sif is watching you, her stare would burn your skin from your bones if she had her way. Since Thor is forbidden to even speak with her, his ardor for her has seemingly cooled. And recently he’s been at the very least, less curt. It isn't loving but at least with his hatred of you turned down to a simmer in front of the court, some of the whisperings have stopped. It’s small relief and you welcome it with the growing amount of stress the pregnancy puts on your body.
The aftermath of the Frost Giant attack and Thor’s banishment leaves you again in Limbo. Though strangely, you don’t care that he’s gone. Loki promises you quietly that he won’t let you be hurt. That you’re safe with him on the throne. You apply yourself to supporting Frigga and tune out all the other court intrigues. The Queen is terrified for her husband who may never wake up. You hold her hand and do whatever she asks without question.
Heimdall visits you often. He tells you Thor is safe. He tells you of things in Faery. Things that often don’t get put in letters. Little cousins losing teeth, jousts, and picnics. Things you miss so much your heart aches. Heimdall does not approve of the way Thor treats you but a prince will do as a prince will do. Heimdall is bound to protect the Bifrost and obey orders. He was ordered not to allow you to return home unaccompanied. He was not ordered not to tell you of home. Heimdall does not tell you of Jane. You do not ask.
When Thor returns, a triumphant hero and Loki is gone, your heart shatters again. Loki was your friend. Your only friend in this place. His loss is one thing too many. The stress and strain cause you to lose the child. Frigga stays near you, holding your hand and directing the healers as they hurry to save your life. You’re in pain, half in and out of fever dreams crying for your mother, your cousins, your music tutor, any familiar anchor to this life. Never Thor. You don’t ask for him once. The small part of your brain that is still lucid tells you that even if you did call, he wouldn’t come.
Thor sits with the warriors three, drinking. He misses Jane. His child is dead, and for all he knows you still might die. Loki is gone. Nothing is right.
When Frigga is finally sure that you’re not going to die on her healing table, she has you put into a comfortable bed to rest and goes in search of her son. “Thor,” she says, standing in the door way, beckoning to him. He stands, staggering slightly, “Is she dead?” he asks hazily. Frigga itched to slap him, “No, thank the gods, she is not. She is alive. We only lost the child.” Thor nods, “What was it?” he asks, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “A girl,” Frigga answers softly. She hadn’t wanted to tell you when you asked. She didn’t want to cause you further distress but your pleading had torn her heart in two. Thor eases himself into a chair with a groan and Frigga puts a hand on his shoulder, “Y/N is asleep now. Resting. It will take her body some time to heal.” Thor nods, “Will she see me?” he asked. He felt responsible for your current state. His actions had lead to the stress that caused your pain. Frigga shook her head, “She won’t see anyone right now. I think Loki is the only one she’d admit to her room and he isn’t here.” Thor nods and sighs, “Perhaps... perhaps in a few days. When the pain isn’t so new,” Frigga says bracingly. She wants to be more sympathetic and she wants to punch him in the mouth. A mother always loves her children. That doesn’t mean she likes them.
Thor tries to be admitted to your room every day. Every day one of your ladies politely sends him away. For four days. He comes each day to talk to you. On the 5th day, when they let him inside the room, guilt gnaws at him. You’re still too thin and too pale. You look ill and tired. You look sad and scared. Then he reaches for your hand, you don’t pull away you let him hold it. Your skin is cold.
He doesn’t say anything. Not a word. Until the silence makes him uncomfortable. “We can try again,” he says.
You look up at him slowly, pulling your hand away from his like he shocked you. “Get out,” you say quietly. He starts to stammer out an apology but the tears are flowing and you’re louder, screaming at him, “Get out, get the fuck out!” The god scrambles backward. For all the times you’ve just taken his insults with a blank stare, he didn’t even know you could scream. He didn’t know you even had the lung capacity to do it. You sound like a banshee. Your sudden rage shakes him to his core and he just barely managed to get out of the way as you hurl a stone vase at the wall where he stands. It shatters on the floor and he ducks out the door. Your screams and heartbroken sobs still echoing in his ears. Frigga half shoves him out of the way and gathers you into her arms, rocking you gently. A week of silence and trying to accept things undone in a matter of a few moments. She says a prayer for patience and kisses your head, “Sweetheart,” she soothes, “It’s alright. Whatever he said, it’s okay. It’ll all be okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was the shock of everything.”
“I want to go home,” you say softly, “Please just let me go home.” Frigga gently settles you back in bed, pushing a potion to your lips to help you sleep, “As soon as I can sweetheart. We’ll send you for a visit.” She knows. She knows you mean forever. But that cannot be. Marriage vows are forever. And vows cannot simply be broken.
When Thor returns to Midgard, he will not take you. He forbids you to go. Leaves you on Asgard saying that it isn’t safe. He really doesn’t want you to see Loki this way. You’ve reached a fragile peace. Thor lets you do whatever you please, you don’t ask him about Jane. He dotes on you in front of his mother. He does not come to your bed at night.
When he leads Loki back in chains, you and Frigga both plead with Odin to spare him. Odin listens only because he cannot bear to see either of you cry.
When he returns to Midgard again, he doesn’t take you with him. Instead, he braves bringing back Jane. She’s in danger and he cannot just let her die. “Husband,” you say, aloof politeness in your voice, “Who is your friend?” You know who it is. You aren’t stupid. Thor can’t look at you and leads Jane away. Loki sees the tear tracks on your cheeks when you bring him books and smiles sadly, “Little sister,” he says gently, “why do you let him do this to you?” You sigh, “Because. I’m a fucking idiot and some small, broken piece of my heart is still waiting for my fairy tale. I didn’t choose him but he’s my only chance.”
Loki wants to reach out and wipe your tear away. Instead, he tries to make you laugh, anything to quell the pain for a moment. He does. You laugh. It’s a rare sound these days but it reminds him of the comfort he felt in your mother’s court. Reminds him of the Fairy Princess who rode horseback with no saddle and wove spells that gave him chills to watch the artistry. His friend. The only person who had never commented on how cold his skin felt to the touch. The one person who liked him because of who he was, not just that he was a princeling.
With Frigga’s death, you push your own pain aside to hold your husband and brother in law together. You pray she taught you enough. That you learned enough. And you try not to blame the Mortal girl who had brought her end.
The Third time he goes to Midgard, you force him to take you. You tell him that you don’t even want to meet his Earth friends. You just want to go home. You just want to eat food that doesn’t repulse you and hug your mother. Thor has no choice. But when you get there, you don’t get to go Home. Thor needs to be protected. Mostly from himself.
So you stay at his side. You can see the awkward flurry of emotions as he introduces you as his wife. The questions. When they ask what planet you’re from, it is immensely satisfying to say “Connecticut” and watch it process through. When you pick up a sword and dress for a fight, Thor looks at you side ways, “I didn’t know you knew how to fight,” he says quietly. Not without Tony hearing. You shrug, “You never asked. I am a princess of Faery. I was taught to protect my house.”
“Nice one, Pointbreak,” Tony said, slapping his shoulder, “How long have you been married? Two minutes?” Thor has the grace to look embarrassed, “Three years,” he says.
“Very nice,” he said. He was idly admiring your body in your fighting gear. It was not of Asgard. Fitted close. Made for speed and stealth. “She’s gorgeous,” Bruce says, “You’re lucky.” Thor makes a noncommittal noise and folds his arms. He’d learned long ago that he might be the only man in a room that didn’t find you beautiful. But you weren’t unfortunate, he supposed. Tony and Bruce trade looks but say nothing. You talk with Steve and Natasha, getting a feel for them. Barton gives Thor a thumbs up and mimes a soft whistle. Fey have that effect on humans, he supposes. He wonders if you’re aware of it. You don’t seem to be.
You hold your own in battle. You’re quick and fierce, darting hither and yon with feet so fast that he often only sees the back of you as you rush forward. He vaguely recognizes that you probably could, in fact, kill him if you wanted to. And he’s impressed. After the battle he goes to pull you to him and you freeze, “Please don’t touch me,” you say quietly. You want to imagine that this might be love. But it’s only the heat of battle and you’re the closest available woman. You can’t. You just can’t deal with him rutting away on top of you pretending you’re anyone else.
When you return to Asgard, Thor is slightly kinder. He bothers to offer you his arm and ask you how your day is. It softens you towards him a little. You go back to trying to be a good wife. Doing little things he doesn’t notice to ease his way.
It’s all fine. Until Ragnarok. Until Thor and Loki are both gone doing gods only know what. Until you start the rebellion. Until you lead the people.
But after Thanos. You’re back to square one. Thor hates you. He hates everything about you. And you have no choice. As he slides into the dark. Into a depressive spiral, you lead. You and Brunhilde and Loki. You run New Asgard and they carry out your wishes. You integrate the Asgardians with Midgard. You set up schools and healers and libraries. You make them a comfortable place to be in the world. They love you for it. The whispers stop. You are Queen. You are her Majesty. Aided and abetted by Loki deferring to you and no one else. Not even Thor who in his drunken state cannot even rule a teapot.
Thor roars at you. He orders you from his tower and you tell him to sit the fuck down and eat the meal you brought. You clean as best you can. You’re a solid, stable presence, even though he doesn’t want you. Even though he leaves you cold and lonely. When the Avengers show up, you bring them to him. Quietly watching. Not drawing attention to yourself. He scurries off when the Raccoon mentions beer. Banner looks at you with pity on his face and you shrug. You stopped feeling long before now. A decade of his apathy has worn you down to numb.
After the Second snap, you scramble to house the people. Thor is the hero while you struggle to manage the influx. 11 years. Married 11 years with no children. Married 11 years and for most of that, your husband has loved someone else. All you know is work. All you know is that you are Queen and Queens suffer silently.
2024
Thor sits on his bed in the tower. Surrounded by pages of your private writings. His heart is broken. He wants to find you and kiss you and tell you that he’s sorry. He knows it isn’t enough. He found suicide notes you started so many times in the depths of your pain. He saw the notes from the rebellion. The entries after you lost the child. Your agony at not being anything he wanted.
He thinks of how long it’s been since he’s seen you. Since he’s been close enough to touch you. You’re still young and fresh, forever 22. But your hands are work calloused and your eyes are older. He thinks of the sound of your laugh and how he hated it. How he misses it now when he can’t hear you playing with the Asgardian children in the street. He wipes tears away and gathers up the pages carefully. He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.
But his parents were right. He had needed you. More than you will ever need him. The times when you needed him are passed, he knows and he wasn’t there to catch you. He hides the journals away and watches out the kitchen window. There’s a pack of Children marching, laughing down the street.
The Children. He smacks his forehead gently. If you were anything like his mother, the Children of Asgard would always know how to find you. They were always the best way to find Frigga in a hurry.
Thor pulls on his jacket and simply follows them. Sure enough, they lead him straight to you. You’re sitting on some cliffs, idly scribbling in a notebook and munching on your lunch. It was supposed to be a break from it all but when the Children find you, giggling and running at you, you laugh. “Oh no, I’ve been found,” you say, picking them up to cuddle the little ones, “Wherever will I eat my lunch now.” They want a story and they’ll not be dissuaded. So you tell them. You spin out a tale easily and send them all away chattering and acting things out. Thor keeps his distance. You’re happy. And you’re not bespelled. He honestly can’t remember the last time he saw that.
When the last of the children have scampered out of earshot, he approaches. “Y/N,” he says softly. You don’t turn to look at him, “Your majesty,” you reply, “How can I help you?” He winces at the formal tone of your voice. “I need to speak with you,” he said. You check your watch, “It will have to wait. I have a budget meeting in a few minutes.” You pack your lunch away uneaten and stand, going to walk past him. He catches your wrist and squeezes gently, “Please,” he said. There’s a tricky little maneuver and your wrist is easily out of his grasp as you walk forward. “Do you hate me then?” he asks after you.
You turn slightly to look at him, “No, husband. That would require me to feel anything for you at all.” You walk away from him, headed back towards the town. Leaving him on the windswept cliffs alone.
Tags:
@lancsnerd @innerpaperexpertcloud @stevieang@peachykeen3502 @vxidnik, @past-perfect-future-tense, @trumpettay, @buckysblondie,
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“Stay the night. Please.” And “Please dont die you can’t die” with Aizawa please? Lots of feels *braces self*
Ask and you shall receive! The response to “Stay the night. Please” has already been posted under Cross His Heart. I hope that one gave you lots of good and happy feels!
…because I have a serving of angst for you now.
Summary: The transition of moving into Heights Alliance was supposed to be a fresh start- a new start, without all the old memories and baggage of the past from his apartment. But for Aizawa, it was just another reminder of what was left behind. Even with Yamada there to comfort him, the pain still wracked his body, and he couldn’t control his mind or tears.
Note: Expect angst. This is the reader insert version of the first one-shot I’ve ever written for my OC, Hatsuki Yamada! You can find the original version on Ao3 here. This f!reader is both Hizashi’s sister and Aizawa’s partner.
Song Inspiration: Never Forget You -
Zara Larsson, MNEK
Reader: Female; reference note above.
Words: 2350
‘Cause once upon a time you were my everything…
While it didn’t take Aizawa long to get set up in his room at Heights Alliance, it was still up to him to make his space feel more like home- and that was a challenge he did not rise up to. It was something he tried to do in his last place, but utterly failed at, and as more and more time passed, he forgot what that feeling was even like. In truth, when he was packing up, he struggled with deciding what to take with him. There was so much left in that place he didn’t know how to handle, and by the time the deadline rolled around, he only had the essentials packed, marked, and ready to go.
But maybe that was for the better. No matter how hard he tried to make a place feel like home, all he felt was emptiness. Home wasn’t a couch and TV in the living room- it wasn’t a fully stocked kitchen or bathroom with matching décor. To him, home was the sound of your voice when you said “Welcome back,” or “I missed you!” It was in your arms as you practically jumped on him when he arrived, or even encompassed entirely around you. Home was the light scent of jasmine and rose that stained the pillows from all the times he pinned you down after you spritzed your perfume, and it was the warmth he felt in your hands, your kiss, and your entirety.
Without you, home was simply an impossible place to find. It may as well have turned into a myth by now.
A knock on his door interrupted his ruminations.
“Shouta-kun!” an excited voice called out as the door slid open. He didn’t even have to look- that voice and excitement unmistakably belonged to the Voice Hero. “Aren’t you excited to be neighbors?~” the blond sang with a bright smile, his fingers lacing together under his chin as he fluttered his eyelashes at the 1-A homeroom teacher.
“You’re acting like it’s something new.”
“Well, being this close of neighbors is new! Hey, did you get all unpacked?” Without waiting to be invited in, Yamada brushed past the man he was all too familiar with and stepped into his room. He comically looked around, brows knitted together and a confused scowl on his face. “Eh? Is.. is this it?”
The room was as barren as possible. In the corner opposite of the door was his desk and office set up, and against the wall was a plain wardrobe. Tucked away in the corner adjacent to the door was a simple, small bed that was never meant to be shared, complete with a bedside table. Everything was minimalistically black and white, and there wasn’t anything beyond the bare necessities that he could see. It was almost unsettlingly empty. Hell, even hotel rooms were more welcoming and homier than Aizawa’s.
“…Is there something wrong with this?”
Yamada turned around to see a stare as flat and cold as the man’s voice. Void of animosity, it still lacked the subtle friendliness that he was used to seeing. Really, it was as empty as the room he stood in. Only silence filled the space inside as Aizawa closed the door behind him since it didn’t seem like his new neighbor had any intention of quickly leaving.
“Did you need something, Hizashi?”
“I was gonna ask you to help me with something, but…” The blond sighed, walking over to the bed and taking a seat on it. When he sat down, he noticed the one piece of this room that had any real character and significance: a pair of sunglasses with a white frame and holographic orange lenses- a pair identical to his, save for the optic finish. Aizawa watched him sit down and followed his gaze to the bright accessory, seating himself at his desk after turning the computer chair to face his guest. The silence only seemed to grow until he finally broke it.
“But what?”
Yamada finally tore his eyes from the sunglasses and looked across the room at his friend. “I didn’t expect your room to be so empty,” he admitted, pausing for a moment to evaluate his next words. “…Did you really say goodbye to it all?”
Aizawa’s chest tightened as he closed his eyes with a sigh. Did he really have to say it like that? It was something he was still processing and adjusting to, especially with this being their first day living inside the protection of U.A. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer that. Did he really say goodbye to all those things he left behind- that you left behind first? Or had he simply abandoned them and hoped they wouldn’t come back to haunt him?
For the first time in over ten years, his space wasn’t surrounded with traces of you. Here, he wouldn’t turn around and see your favorite stuffed animal on his bed- the one he won for you before ever sharing your first kiss. He wouldn’t glance at an open seat and remember you sitting there, smiling over dinner or engrossed in a book. There wasn’t a single spot in this room that you ever stood, so he wouldn’t look around and remember what it was like to hug you over there or in front of your bedroom window, watching the sunrise together. He wouldn’t have to remember how he used to press you into that spot against the wall between two hanging pictures of you both taken a year apart, and steal your kisses as you laughed and pretended to push him away. Nothing in this room was supposed to remind him of you, save for those sunglasses.
But everything still did.
“Shouta…?”
Yamada’s voice seemed so far off that it couldn’t pull him back. He was already hunched over in his seat, his head bowed and held in his hands as his elbows dug into his thighs. His body trembled as he choked back the gasps that started to shake his chest, palms wet from tears he couldn’t control. I must be so pathetic, he thought to himself, to still be crying over you, (Y/N). Yet, he couldn’t stop. The more his thoughts raced between memories he desperately clung to- memories of your voice, of your scent, and your warmth and smile and every little detail from the curl of your hair to the way you wore your makeup- the deeper he ached and the harder he sobbed.
Aizawa couldn’t stop his memories from taking the inevitable turn for the worst. Always, he was brought back to those scenes that played out in the same exact order without fail. Every detail from those moments was still carved into his mind's’ eye, painfully fresh despite how many years had passed. You gave him that bold, bright, and broad smile that everyone could put their faith in before turning around, your hair catching the air and then falling back against your studded leather jacket. He watched as you ran ahead, your footsteps masterfully silent- the very reason why you had to be the one to go first. Your stealth was second to none- not even to him.
That smile was the painful marker of the end of the good memories.
In a wet and blurry blink of his eyes, he was back in the scene that was the gateway to his own personal hell. That moment- that one moment- when he wasn’t good enough was the one that mattered the most. If he had just considered how his emotions would impact his ability to activate, maintain, and focus on his quirk and the connection between it and the scarf, he would have been prepared. He wouldn’t have fallen short, he wouldn’t have missed, and you would still be here.
But he did.
Aizawa watched as it all replayed through his head again: he threw out the end of the gray scarf- it was on the perfect trajectory to entangle the villain’s legs- and then it came flying back to him. It was so close. It was so fucking close. But, close only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades, and he watched as you disappeared through a portal, unconscious and slung over someone’s shoulder like a bag of sand, leaving your signature sunglasses behind on the ground. Why did he have to blink just then? Why couldn’t he just stare that extra second? By now, he knew why. He blinked because he couldn’t control his emotions at that time; he was so distraught by the sight of you captured and unconscious, being just out of reach, and your brother beaten and left behind- possibly dead- that he couldn’t control himself, and he blinked.
And when he blinked again, sobbing in his empty room, he felt your brother’s hand on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to react- as much as he wanted to stop the memories from flooding his mind and come back to the present reality- he couldn’t. He was long gone again, leaving an emotionally crippled mess in front of Hizashi’s eyes.
After intense and fruitful research into where you could have been taken, and with your brother’s recounts of the villains, they were able to get the upper hand and corner them. He remembered how intensely his heart was beating when they breached the warehouse and raced against time itself, Present Mic right on his heels as they went to save you. As the special forces went in and apprehended the villains, the pro heroes only had one goal in mind: rescue. They found you tied to a chair, chest rising and dropping with small breaths as you hunched forward, out cold. He took out the knife he always had on him to cut his scarf when needed and slashed through the ropes while your brother shook you and gently slapped your cheeks, trying to wake you up, but to no avail. Hizashi caught you as you fell forward when the last of the rope keeping you up gave away, letting your partner take over and pick you up to carry you as they walked out of the warehouse.
Aizawa remembered the indescribable amount of relief he felt as he carried you, feeling your warmth and breaths. He remembered thinking to himself that carrying you like this was practice for carrying you bridal style, silently promising you that the day would come sooner rather than later. Just as he was thinking about spending the rest of his life with you for the first time, he had it all stripped away. These memories pierced through his heart as he sobbed, just barely feeling Hizashi’s hand rubbing his back as the scene continued with no way to stop it.
As soon as they stepped out of the warehouse, everything changed.
Your breathing stopped.
Immediately your body went cold, as if you hadn’t taken a breath in hours- possibly even days. You were stiff, the rigor mortis setting in within seconds instead of the hours it should normally take for someone who just passed away. Your chest stopped lifting and dropping with breaths of dead air, and it was like you were frozen in time. As he felt the changes in your body, he stopped in his tracks, Present Mic pausing a few paces ahead and looking over his shoulder to see what was wrong. He would never forget the expression on Yamada’s face as his eyes lowered to see his sister’s pale body, the vital and vibrant glow of your skin nowhere to be found.
Reliving the memory, Aizawa trembled, clutching his chest as the tears started to sting from how frantically he cried. It was just like that day, when he felt your life slip out of his reach. He dropped to his knees letting go of your legs to pat your cheek as he supported your back with his arm. His heart beat even faster than it did when they broke through the warehouse, the onset of his panic fierce and debilitating.
“(Y/N).” Nothing.
“(Y/N), please.” Your rigid body absorbed his cries and tears, giving him silence and coldness in return. Within seconds, Hizashi was on the other side of you, his hand coming to your back as well as they both began to shake your body, their desperate begging met with deafness.
“(Y/N), please- please, you can’t…” your lover gasped, clutching you tight and holding your head to his chest. “Please don’t die… You can’t die…” The words were sobbed into your hair as he pressed a broken kiss to the top of your head. “Please… You can’t just… you can’t die, please.” Even though he knew it was impossible- even though he knew it was already too late- Aizawa begged for you. He didn’t care that the medical personnel came over and needed him to let go of you, and not even your brother could tear him away.
The memories always ended that way.
“Shouta, it’s okay…”
Yamada’s voice began to reach him again as the memories began to recede. He could hear himself sob, choking on his breaths, the blackness behind his eyelids taking him back to the dorm room.
“Even with nothing here,” Aizawa gasped, “I can’t stop remembering her, Hizashi.” He lifted his head from hands, finally looking to the man who suffered just as much that day. “Everything- everything- reminds me of her. I can’t… I can’t keep it all anymore.”
The blond took a deep breath and pulled his friend into a hug. He brushed his fingers through the mess of black hair, gently shh’ing him as he rocked them back and forth. Tears immediately bled into his shirt as he offered his shoulder, quietly beginning to cry himself.
They both shared a deep loss that day- one a lover, the other a sister. And even though they shared the bond of brothers, knowing they’d never be in-laws still broke their hearts.
…It’s clear to see that time hasn’t changed a thing.
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If After All These Years, You’d Like to Meet
Master list - AO3
Chapter Fourteen
Dating Jamie hadn’t really changed much for Claire. He still came to have lunch with her at least once during the week. They still hung out with their friends. Jamie was still the first person Claire would call if she needed something or needed to share something. He was still her best friend. Now, she just could actually tell him the full extent of her feelings for him. Well that, and they could have sex. It was only pleasant additions to her life.
Claire had been at work for an hour when she was stopped by one of the nurses. “So what time are you heading to the gala?”
“I should be out of surgery by noon,” Claire replied. “And since they’ve said only emergency surgeries are happening today, it looks like I’ll have to be there. Dr. Harris said I’m not allowed near the A&E.”
“Well just don’t forget to change. I can’t believe the won’t let us wear scrubs.”
Claire gasped. “Oh God.”
“Did you forget?”
“No, I knew that was the rule. I just...forgot the dress I was planning to wear,” Claire explained, turning from the nurse and waving in apology. Her surgery was in thirty minutes. There was no way she could get home and back before she had to start prepping. What was she going to do? In a flash, she knew what she could do. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Claire urged as the phone rang in her ear.
“Hey, Sassenach,” Jamie greeted.
“Are you going to have a lunch break today?” Claire asked without preamble.
“Yes.”
“Do you remember that dress that I said I was going to wear to the gala?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember where it was hanging on my closet door?” Claire continued with her interrogation.
“Aye, I do.”
“Do you think you could bring it to me at the hospital? I walked out without it today and I have to have it for that stupid gala this afternoon. I don’t even know why they’d have a gala in the afternoon and not the evening. And more than that, I don’t know why they won’t just let us wear our scrubs. But either way, I have a surgery in about a half hour and I’m going to get out right before I have to be at the gala and I won’t be able to get back to get it. Please tell me if I’m asking too much of you.” She took a deep breath as she finished ranting.
Jamie chuckled on the other end of the line. “Claire, it’s fine. I can absolutely get that to ye. It’s no’ too much to ask. I promise. I can take an early lunch to make sure I get it to ye in time.”
“You are the absolute best,” Claire sighed into the phone. “Thank you so, so much, Jamie!”
“Tis no’ a problem, Sassenach. I’ll see ye later. Good luck wi’ your surgery.”
“Thank you! Bye!” Claire hung up quickly, feeling instantly relieved.
Even though the surgery lasted a few hours, it went by quickly. Claire was antsy for Jamie to show up. She felt guilty making him waste his break to go fetch something for her, but she trusted him when he said it wasn’t a problem. Once the patient was safely in recovery, Claire walked out into the hallway and pulled out her phone. She had a text from Jamie telling her that he was there. Frantically, she checked the time of the message. It had only been a couple of minutes before. Breathing a sigh of relief, she wandered down to the lobby where he was waiting.
Jamie smiled as he saw her approach, standing up to greet her. Claire ran to him, kissing him quickly. “Thank you so much!” She took the dress bag out of his hands. “Seriously, I will make this up to you, in the best way I know how.”
“That sounds rather inappropriate,” he replied with a grin, leaning back in to kiss her again.
“It was supposed to. That’s how serious I am,” she confirmed. Claire sighed. “I’m sorry, I have to run. They’ll expect me to be prompt. This gala is -”
“With a bunch of board members and donors, aye, I remember,” Jamie finished for her with a grin. “It’s all ye’ve talked about for the last couple of weeks. And yet somehow ye couldna remember the dress,” he teased.
Claire shook her head at him. “Maybe I forgot it on purpose so that I could see you today. Ever think about that?”
“I did for a brief second when ye called me, but I figured ye wouldna give yerself tha’ much stress just to see me,” Jamie answered. “Besides, ye see me basically every day anyway.”
“True. Well anyway, I have to go,” she repeated. After giving him another kiss, she started walking off toward the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, she turned back and called to him, “Thanks again! I love you!” Suddenly, she froze. Her eyes widened and she stared at him. It was the first time she’d ever said it. He tilted his head, looking a bit shocked. “Bye!” she yelled and took off running.
Claire ran a hand down the front of the green dress she’d put on. It would have to do. Her hair was up in what she hoped look like an updo and not bundle of snakes all trying to escape. She was still beating herself up for what she’d said. How could she have said it for the first time like that? Jamie deserved better than that but she couldn’t take it back. Trying to put it out of her mind, she wandered down to the gala.
She immediately helped herself to a glass of champagne, even before she’d introduced herself to the important people. Her boss found her and dragged her over to schmooze with people he thought she should know. After a bit of chatting, she excused herself. Finding another glass of champagne was first on her list. Avoiding conversations was second on her list. Suddenly, she wished there was an open bar and not just champagne being served. It wasn’t nearly strong enough.
“Ye look terrible.” Claire looked over and saw Geillis approaching her. “Not yer appearance, yer face.” She waved a hand in front of Claire. “It’s just this whole vibe ye’re giving off. Ye look hot, but emotionally distraught. What’s going on?”
Claire sighed and took a long drink. She explained the events that led to Jamie’s appearance at the hospital. “And then as I was running away, I said “Thank you. I love you.” And then I just left.”
“So?”
“So? It was the first time I said it!” Claire cried.
“Oh shit,” Geillis whispered. “I can see why you’re freaking out then.”
“You think he’s going to be mad at me that I did it like that?” Claire asked, panic starting to course through her.
“Has he said it to you?”
“No.”
Geillis inhaled sharply. “If I had to guess, I’d be willing to bet Jamie was waiting for a good opportunity and didn’t want to just blurt it out.”
“You mean like I did?” Claire reminded.
“Aye.” Geillis looked at her critically. “Well...did ye mean it?”
Claire paused for a moment before answering. “Of course I meant it. I do love him. I just...I don’t know. I’m not good at these things. I don’t know when I would have said it otherwise. I’ve never sat there and wondered “Am I there yet? Do I love him? Hmm? Should I say something?” You know? I didn’t really think about it until after I’d yelled it and run away awkwardly. Then I berated myself and wondered “Did I really mean it?” And I came to the conclusion that yes, of course I meant it. I do love him. I love him so much. I just wish I was better at articulating it for the first time.”
“Well I dinna ken what to tell ye, Claire. I mean it’s no’ like ye can take it back,” Geillis replied, being completely unhelpful.
“Gee, thanks Geillis.”
Claire walked away from her friend, actually willing to engage in conversations with strangers now. Perhaps talking about her job would actually take her mind off her current dilemma. She would accept any distraction from the ball of doubt sitting in her stomach.
As she gathered up her things, she noted the fact that she hadn’t heard from Jamie the rest of the day. “He’s probably just working,” she muttered to herself. She was walking out the door when her phone started ringing. Expecting Jamie, she was surprised when it was Joe calling.
“Joe? How the bloody hell are you?” She asked, happy to hear from her friend.
“Doing pretty well! How are you? How are things with the Scot?” he finished with a tease. Claire smiled. She decided not to mention her current debacle and instead just tell him how well things had been going. They chatted and caught up on each other’s lives for her entire commute home. She hung up her phone as she walked up to her door. There was a big part of her that hoped Jamie would be there. Opening the door left her crushed at the sight of her dark home. Sighing, she walked in and set her things down before she looked back at her phone. There was a text from Jamie that must have come in when she was talking to Joe.
Working late tonight. Sorry I’ll miss dinner.
Claire stared at it for a long time. What did it really mean? Was he avoiding her or was he really just working late? She wondered if she went over to his flat if she’d find him there, hiding away from his disastrous girlfriend. Or perhaps he was actually working late. Claire looked down at the dress she was still wearing. She ran back to her room and changed into something a bit more comfortable. Grabbing her purse, she left her flat, deciding to go find Jamie.
As Claire walked onto his floor, she knew where he was because it was the only office that was still lit. A feeling of relief swept through her. He hadn’t been lying. She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and walked off toward his office. A knock on the door grabbed his attention. She smiled. “Well this is certainly a role reversal,” she mused. “You working late and me bringing you food.”
He smiled and turned in his chair toward her. “What are ye doing here?”
“Well you said you were working late. I was worried you wouldn’t eat dinner.” She held up a bag of takeout for emphasis.
“Ah, thank ye. I hadn’t, actually.”
Claire walked over towards his desk, handing the bag over to him. She sat against the edge of the desk. “I also, uh, wanted to make sure you weren’t avoiding me.”
He looked up at her, confusion plain on his face. “Why would I be avoiding ye?”
She sighed deeply and looked down at her feet. “I don’t know if it was because my formative years were shaped by Uncle Lamb who was never married, except to his job. I don’t know if that’s why I’m so terrible at expressing my feelings. I know that I’m a mess at...this and I’m sorry.”
Jamie opened his mouth but Claire waved a hand to stop him.
“No, wait. This time I actually want to express myself.” She took a pause and looked at him. “I meant what I said. I wish that I’d said it differently and better. But I did mean it. I...I do love you. I think I’m just a bit scared by it.”
“Scared?” Jamie asked, his brow furrowing.
“We’ve only been together for two months,” she explained. “I’ve never felt this way about someone that fast.”
Jamie nodded, seemingly in understanding. He set the food down on the desk and scooted his chair closer to her. Almost hesitantly, he reached his hands out and laid them on either side of her knees. But he was silent, waiting for her to keep talking.
“For that matter,” she continued, “I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. It’s not even the fact that it’s this fast. Never in a relationship have I felt this happy, or this safe, or this cared for. And that includes the entirety of my three year relationship with Frank. And we’re only two months in. So I was scared that it was too fast and I was feeling this way already. And God, if I’m messing this up or freaking you out, please tell me. Maybe I didn’t mean it,” she finished, throwing her hands in the air. After confessing that much, she couldn’t look at him. Instead she covered her face with her hands.
Claire could feel his hands squeeze slightly on her legs. “Claire,” he said in a soft voice. She slowly removed her hands and looked down at him. His eyes were bright, staring at her with an intense look in his eyes. “Ye’re no’ messing anything up. I ken that it’s early for most people to say it.” She took a deep breath and held it. “But the fact is, I love ye, too.” He reached up and took her hands in his.
She let go of the breath she was holding, squeezing his hands. “You do?”
“Oh aye. I really do,” he reassured with a smile. “I realized it well before it was acceptable for me to say it.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh really? Well now you have to tell me when it was.”
“No, I dinna think I can,” he said, rebuffing her. He rolled his chair back to the center of his desk and opened the bag of food.
“Oh come on,” she cried. She jumped up and sat down in his lap, lacing her arms around his neck. “Please tell me,” she pleaded as she laid her head on his shoulder. “It might make me feel better after I spent all day agonizing over the fact that I yelled it at you and then ran away.” She felt Jamie laughing as his arms closed around her.
“That was quite special,” he teased.
“It’s too soon to tease me,” she warned, lifting up her head to look at him. “I’ve felt terrible about it all day.”
“What, ye didna think I’d return the sentiment?”
“It wasn’t that. I mean, it was partly that, but not entirely,” she began. “I think I was just mad because I wanted to do it better.” She looked up and met his gaze. “I love you,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss him. They sat there for a moment, just holding each other.
“I love ye, too, mo nighean donn,” he whispered back to her. After a long moment, he pulled back and grabbed the food on his desk. “However, I am quite hungry.”
Claire laughed as she stood up and walked over to his couch. Jamie brought over the food and sat down next to her. They had been sitting there eating silently when Claire brought it up again. “So really, when did you know?” Jamie looked over at her with a groan. “Come on, did you actually think I’d drop it?”
Jamie sat back against the couch, looking at her with pleading eyes. She held firm and stared at him. Jamie sighed. “Well which were ye wanting to know? When I kent I wanted ye or when I kent I loved ye?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize there were two separate things here we were talking about,” Claire said almost gleefully. “Why not say both?” She laughed deviously at the look on his face.
“Fine.” He took a bite of his dinner and continued staring down at his takeout dish. “I kent I wanted ye more or less the first night I saw ye again. Ye walked into the bar behind Geillis and I thought ye were the bonniest lass I’d ever seen. Then she introduced ye as Claire Beauchamp and I thought surely it wasna possible that ye were the same Claire Beauchamp I’d grown up with.” Claire watched him as he kept his eyes on his food. She felt almost powerful knowing that he’d wanted her all this time. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t found him incredibly attractive from the get go. “But it was a bit later when I kent I loved ye.”
“Well when was it?”
“I didna really ken that what I was feeling was love until ye froze us out,” Jamie admitted. Claire felt a stab of guilt at his mention of the weeks she’d avoided all her friends. “But thinking back on it, I’d noticed a change in the way I felt even before then.” She stared at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Do ye recall the night ye met John? When ye came over to my flat to talk yer feelings out?”
“That was when it was?” she asked, horrified at his revelation.
“Aye, that was when it all changed for me,” he revealed.
“Good God, why? I was there bitching about another man,” she reminded him. “What was attractive about that?”
He laughed. “I canna say exactly. I think it was the fact that ye trusted me wi’ yer feelings and yer doubts. Ye came to me because ye kent I’d be there for ye. It doesna exactly make sense to me either, but I remember feeling grateful that John had arrived.”
“Why?”
“Because the longer you went on about your relationship issues, the stronger the urge to change my tactic became. But I’d promised myself that I wouldna ever tell ye to dump the man, even when I wanted to,” Jamie confessed.
Claire laughed and shook her head. “You certainly kept that promise. Even with that damn intervention.”
“I’m a man of my word, Sassenach,” he said with a laugh. “Even to myself.”
Claire took a bite of her food after she stopped laughing. “For me, I think it was the day you brought me coffee at the hospital because you felt guilty that you’d kept me up all night.” She giggled at the memory. “And then you made inappropriate comments at my work and the nurses shunned me. Granted, that was because they were single and were mad that I’d ditched the singles’ club at the hospital.” She looked over at him with a grin. “But it was that little gesture of you trying to take care of me that just tipped me over the edge.”
He smiled fondly at the memory. “That’s funny because that seemed like a non-event for me.”
“I guess we can’t choose when it happens, huh,” she mused.
“I suppose not.”
Jamie set his food down on the table in front of them and leaned over to kiss her. Claire quickly set her food down too, reaching up to pull him closer. His hands pulled at her waist as their kiss grew heated. She cupped his face with her hands, keeping him from breaking away. Her hands began to roam, touching everywhere. He stayed constant, just holding her close to him. She pulled away, panting.
“Have you ever had sex in your office?” she joked. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
Jamie laughed. “No, actually I havena. And frankly, I dinna want to. Sorry, lass.”
Claire pouted. “Well that’s a buzzkill. Why not?”
Jamie raised a brow at her. “Do ye think I want to be in a meeting in here, looking at someone sitting here on the couch and then have my mind stray to things I’ve done to ye on here? That would no’ be good.”
Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I suppose I understand that.” She leaned back in and kissed him softly. “I can still kiss you, right?”
Jamie laughed against her lips. “Aye,” he breathed before pulling her back in. They shared a long and languid kiss before Jamie broke away with a sigh. He kissed her forehead before he stood up to sit back in his desk chair. Claire picked her food up again and kept eating. She felt no rush to leave, knowing she’d go home to an empty flat. Jamie got back to work and Claire pulled out her phone to catch up on the news of the day.
She had no idea how much later it was when she felt Jamie kiss her forehead and brush her hair away. Opening her eyes, she saw him staring down at her with a gentle smile. “Did I fall asleep?”
He nodded. “Come on, why don’t we get you home?”
“Are you finished with everything you needed to work on?”
“Not really, but I canna just leave ye here sleeping on my couch. I ken that’s no’ a very comfortable couch.”
“It’s just fine,” she insisted, closing her eyes again. “I’m just tired because I worked a lot this week. I’m fine. Keep working if you need to.”
Jamie grabbed her wrists and pulled her into a sitting position. He reached out and cupped her cheek. “Let’s go home, Sassenach.” Knowing he wouldn’t give up and go back to work, she let him help her stand so they could leave. They cleaned up his office and turned out the lights before making their way out of the building. “I meant to ask ye, how did ye get up here earlier?”
Claire grinned. “I may have flirted with the security guard a bit.”
“Well that makes me feel verra safe,” Jamie joked.
On their way back home, Claire realized just how tired she was. The anxiety that had kept her going all afternoon had abated the moment Jamie had said he loved her too. Her inevitable crash from a lack of sleep all week and a spike of anxiety could not be far off. Jamie had directed them back to her flat. She made her apologies and quickly went about her nightly routine. Once in bed, she could feel sleep pulling her under quickly. A movement next to her signalled that Jamie had gotten in bed as well. She reached out to curl her arm around him when she met a hard surface. Opening her eyes, she saw him sitting up with a laptop on his lap. “Are you doing more work?” she asked through her sleepiness.
“Aye. Quite a wild Friday night.”
“Well why did you make us leave your office?”
“Because I can work just as easily here but ye must be far more comfortable sleeping here,” he replied as he rubbed a hand along her hair.
She sighed. “Okay. Goodnight.”
“Night, Sassenach.”
Claire put her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. She pried her eyes open and reached out to grab his hand. “I love you,” she whispered.
Jamie leaned down and kissed her head. “And I love ye.”
Claire woke the next morning feeling rested and happy. It took a few moments to remember why she had this relentless feeling of happiness. Looking over, Jamie was asleep next to her, a smile on his face. She would have to go into the hospital today, but the timing of it was flexible. Rather than getting up, she curled in against Jamie and let sleep pull her back under. She felt his arms closing around her as she fell back asleep.
It was nearly noon when she was wandering around her home, gathering the things she needed for the day. Jamie stood in her kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee as he watched her run around. Once she had everything she needed, she joined him in the kitchen. Rather than sipping like him, Claire chugged her cup, despite it burning her tongue. “Thanks for the coffee,” she said quickly, leaning in to kiss him before turning back to leave.
“Hey, ye shouldna be there long, right?” Jamie asked. “It’s no’ a full day at the hospital?”
“That’s right. I just have to check on a few patients and probably do a bit of paperwork.”
“Alright. Well what if when ye get home, I cook ye dinner this evening?”
Claire smiled and walked back to him. “I think that sounds wonderful.” She kissed him again, lingering a bit this time, before she had to leave. “I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll be here,” he assured her.
“Perfect.” She shot him a smile before closing the door behind her.
After she left, Jamie sat down and thought through the recipes he knew best. He figured he had at least a few hours before she’d be back. The meal didn’t have to be cooked, but he could at least have all the things he needed. He spent the next few hours getting groceries and doing a bit more work before he started to prep for the meal he’d promised.
He’d spent plenty of time at Claire’s flat, but there was a part of him that wished he was using his own kitchen. His search for her dish soap had taken him to nearly every cabinet in her kitchen. He had just opened the cabinet under her sink when he heard a knock at the door. As he walked over to the door, he wondered who would be stopping by Claire’s home. The only person he thought of was John. He opened the door and found that it was definitely not John.
“Frank?” Jamie asked, stunned at the sight of her ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, he felt like he shouldn’t be in Claire’s home by himself. He cleared his throat. “What are ye doing here?”
Next chapter
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IX of pentacles
again, another cryptic title...but i promise, it’s relevant.
ever since my third or fourth day being back “home”, i’ve been reading my daily tarot reading on my phone. i’m not much of a believer in that stuff but it’s kept me in a state of wonder and it gives me something to expect. the IX of pentacles states: “after much hard work, this card indicates a time of opulence and luxury, all resulting in a feeling of satisfaction, emotional comfort, and peace. all of this is due to one’s intelligence and self-control and represents an achievement that has lasted over a lifetime.”
i’m hoping this reigns true in some sort of way. i feel like my life so far has just been bad luck back to back. it seems like i can’t even get a glimmer of hope of something stable and that positively affects me without getting let down soon after. even with the whole job offer thing -- i had my fingers crossed -- i was like, “please please please just give me this. just give me something to work hard on. give me a platform to fuel my career...” but no.
i’m not even sure what this post is about really, i think it’s just me reflecting on how distraught i am and how hopeless i feel once again.
i got back from the studio not too long ago and the journey back home can be quite difficult yet reflective. i always listen to music my entire journey, so it’s nice, but it also forces me to be sort of alone with my thoughts and feelings. sometimes i think about how hurt i feel, how sad i feel, how much i wish things would just work and all the things that happened. sometimes i’m typing or thinking or on a train of thought and it just all short circuits. i’m not sure if it’s because i genuinely forget or that my brain is choosing to:
avoid avoid avoid.
right now just writing about stuff and putting myself in this position is making my jaw ache and clench up. my body constantly feels like i’ve been hit by a truck, especially when i wake up first thing. recently i’ve been having some stomach pains and i’m not sure if its the post traumatic stress or nothing.
but yeah, im lost. i just wish i was happy.
despite everything, i’m still sticking with what i’ve always believed to be true: everything happens for a reason. i know that although me and no. 3 had so much compatibility in terms of interests and the way we view many things/our opinions, he wasn’t a good partner emotionally nor in a true love sort of sense.
i actually saw something today or last night that spoke on abusive relationships - an infographic that displayed it all. the title is: quick telltale signs of an abusive relationship. the text reads:
- the relationship progressed very quickly
- you’re always looking for signs your partner is about to get angry
- you often feel like you’re walking on eggshells
- you sometimes feel afraid of your partner’s reaction to something
- you see friends or family behind your partner’s back
- deleting innocent emails and messages as you don’t want your partner to get the wrong idea
- you feel responsible for your partner’s feelings or actions
- you do things you don’t want to do to keep the peace
- your partner often overrides your feelings or wishes when making decisions
- you avoid bringing up subjects that may set your partner off
- you feel that you are worthless and that no one else would want you
- you feel like you can’t do anything right
AND ALL OF THESE WERE TRUE.
honestly, i’ve written several posts on this blog but i haven’t felt as distressed as i do right now thinking and feeling and talking about it all. i feel as though i’ve also become a lot more irritable - not only around family but around friends too. i don’t want to be that way and that’s certainly not what i’m like, but the high stress, tension, and trauma kill me inside and i guess that’s how it manifests.
i think i also dissociated for the first time today. i was sitting in the studio creating music with the group and i just started drifting away, eyes glazed over, kinda stepped outside of my body for a bit.
these are reasons why i think things are getting worse in a way. in a way they are also not as i am not in quarantine like i was when i first arrived -- i have less of a schedule (aka stay home and watch youtube, make food, work, or do my embroidery stuff), i don’t cry every day, i don’t wake up at 4, i’m not sleeping on a couch, i’m not as heartbroken in the way i was (it’s a different sort of “hurt”), i’m not having serious suicidal thoughts like i was, i’m able to scroll on reddit (after unfollowing MANY subreddits), i’m not intruded CONSTANTLY with TERRIBLE thoughts where i have to distract myself so intensely that i can’t even take a shower....so, in many ways it’s gonna better when it comes to the day to day...
but in terms of the lasting effects and the PTS, i don’t believe so. it’s in fact the opposite.
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Can we request headcanons? If so, can you please do one wherein MC catches the boys (Sherlock, John, James, Sebastian, and maybe Mycroft) kissing another girl and about the angst/drama that would ensue? I love angst hahah! Thanks for all your hard work!
Okay so I was torn on how to answer headcanons like this. But I think I got it.
Iapologize anon for taking forever and a half to answer this (which Iknow means that the last part about my hard work is null and void). Like seriously this has been sitting here staring at me from my inbox for a long time. I just wasn’t sure how to proceed.
When it comes to the guys they are all possessive. It makes it hard to imagine them even glancing at another woman besides MC. But I will give this my best. Honestly though this one had me stumped.
Please bare in mind these are just what would happen in my opinion.
Sherlock Holmes
This could’ve come about many ways. A woman who is smitten by the detective she’s read about, someone hired to get between Sherlock and MC, or some really really bad advice that Sherlock has taken. Either case he doesn’t hear her as she walks in, gasps and there’s a moment of confusion before she runs. Embarassed and emotionally distraught. Probably goes to Simon cause who else will she turn to? Sherlock tries calling her, and she ignores his calls. Finally it’s John’s phone calling her, she answers but it’s Sherlock and he barely starts to apologize when she hangs up.
Mikah is the one that MC contacts so he can go and get her things as it’s hopeful that Sherlock wouldn’t put in as much effort to stop him and he would to stop John.
Even when Sherlock goes out of his way to express his apology he doesn’t seem to fully understand how deeply it hurt her. Simon is the one to answer the door and when Sherlock shows up she slams the door in his face.
It takes Sherlock breaking in to a rehearsal disguised as someone to get MC alone so they can talk.
John Watson
He is kissing someone, for a reason I can’t even begin to fathom, and Sherlock bursts in in the usual fashion thinking he’s with MC, cause who else could he be with? He sees what’s going on and the girl runs out flustered and past MC who goes upstairs confused. John accuses Sherlock of being mean to a potential client and MC asks if they should go after her to make sure she’s alright.
Sherlock walks out of the room not saying anything. John tells MC he’ll be right back and he goes to ask Sherlock if he won’t say anything. That he just needs to get things fixed and figured out (possibly an old girlfriend that he never officially broke up with before and he doesn’t want to hurt). Sherlock doesn’t understand but begrudgingly agrees to avoid hurting MC.
John’s hand fell on Sherlock’s shoulder, “hey thanks for not, you know.” Sherlock turns, a look of contempt usually saved only for the lowest of low criminals when he and Sherlock are out on a case, “do not thank me. I am still uncertain that I won’t go up there and tell her what has happened. But-” He looked away, “it would break her heart. I do not wish to hurt MC. But you should tell her right now John.”“You’re right though it would hurt her… I can’t tell her that-”“Oh yes you can! You go tell her right now, and I can comfort her once you’ve done the right thing and confessed your sins.”“But I thought you didn’t want to see her hurt.”“I do not wish to see her hurt, and I do not wish to hurt her, but I also do not wish to see her played by someone like you.”“Sherlock you don’t even know what happened.” John hissed through his teeth pulling Sherlock further away from the study door, hoping to avoid MC over hearing.“She’s an exgirlfriend of sorts who is shy and doesn’t seem to know that things are over between the two of you.”“I mean I would tell MC about this, but after she kissed me…”“The ladies all think they’re special to you, and you always continue to treat them as such. But John you need to tell MC, or I won’t hold myself back from doing so.”“Just give me time to get this all sorted out, please Sherlock.”“…. make it quick.”
However she does finds out later that they were both lying to her.
James Moriarty
When you’re a wealthy man, as also proposed in the story in Seductively Glamorous. Sometimes other families try to get you to be in a relationship with their daughters. When you’re a criminal consultant you don’t really want people to know you have relationship ties. So when James was dealing with a very determined and pretty young lady he had Jack and Sebastian try to keep her occupied out on the town. But he had not finished getting it through to her that he wasn’t interested when they came back home.
They tried to show MC to other parts of the estate and keep her away from James and this young lady, however she got curious and opened this one door leading to a security room where she was able to see that they did have cameras set up around the place recording certain rooms. One of which had a young lady straddling James, planting kiss after kiss on him. Jack and Sebastian weren’t sure what she had seen when they went to find her and she was running down the hallway. Though one peek at the monitors in the security room was enough to make them wonder exactly how James Moriarty was going to make them pay.
Mycroft Holmes
MC walks in and he has his hand under his other woman’s chin, tilting her face up as he is gently demanding her to kiss him back. MC yells “What’s going on here.”
The poor woman is just surprised and Mycroft has an arm around her holding her still while he faces MC, “this is my girlfriend.”
"But I thought I was-“
"You were mistaken, don’t worry, it’s an honest mistake.” He gives her a smirk before she takes off and heads to the only people she knows of as friends John Watson, but she hesitates in front of the house because of Sherlock. He’s Mycroft’s brother, even if they don’t get along, he would’ve known wouldn’t he?
Sherlock rushes out to meet her because he saw her through the window. He is able to get her to spill the beans and leaves her crying in John’s care while he goes and takes care of his need to punch his brother.
They do what they can to get her to feel better. Simon coming back and picking her up and keeping MC with her for a bit. It’s a few weeks of hell on MC when suddenly Mycroft shows up with a shrug, “he’s come to take MC back home with him.” MC refuses. Mycroft won’t tell her what’s going on, but is just trying to get her to go along with it. That’s not going to work and he needs to try to woo her all over again while Sherlock tries to figure out what his brother did to explain to MC why she can’t forgive him.
Jack Stillman
MC walks in on him and another woman, maybe not kissing, but looking like they’re about to. She gives Jack the run around in the Moriarty Estate while she messages John and Sherlock to come pick her up. She can’t think clearly. She isn’t sure how to handle this. After all they went through together.
Jack begs her to come out and talk to him, thinking he can reason with her. She still doesn’t come out to talk. She’s hiding in the closet waiting for a message from John to let her know they’re there for her, when the doors fly open.
Sherlock and John show up and rush to the door to help MC, but she opens it cheerfully. Not understanding why they’re there. They try to talk to her about it.
Days later the woman is reported missing.
Sebastian Moran
MC hears Sebastian complimenting a woman in their room, his voice full of warmth and love. She starts to hear him talk about how he just wants to keep kissing her little face so much. This is the last straw and she bursts in, tears in her eyes, ready to yell at him. He drops the cat he was talking to.
(I’m sorry I just can’t imagine it, like…. if he did kiss someone else after finally struggling to get James’s approval? It would be so far out of character that he would’ve… had… to have been…. DAMMIT JACK GIVE ME THE FREAKING COIN AND STOP HYPNOTIZING PEOPLE)
Jeremy Cassell
It isn’t that MC hasn’t had to kiss people while acting. It’s acting. She always appreciated that Jeremy could respect that and even help her with practicing getting a character down. Though to Jeremy there was only one person who could see through his disguise no matter how well he did it. So when he was disguised and working as Lupin and had to kiss the sweetheart of who he was pretending to be and MC had seen it? He wasn’t so sure what to expect.
MC started to avoid him and when he did finally get her alone with him she tried to avoid looking at him or talking about what had happened. Finally he was able to confront her, he knew she had no where else to be. It was then that she asked for a break. What was the big deal? It was just an actors kiss. “No.” MC looked away, her eyes welling up in tears. Not to that lady.
She left while he was stunned. The romance he put on was an act, MC understood, but she was sympathizing with that woman and how it was real for her. Jeremy would have to figure out a way to apologize and get MC back.
Hercule Poirot
This man won’t let drama anywhere near him. As soon as that woman started kissing him he would push her away. Trying to be as nice and calm to her as possible, stating that while he is flattered there is only one woman in his heart who would ever be allowed to kiss his lips. MC who probably could’ve walked in on a bad scene is confused with how Hercule has an apologetic look on his face and how the woman in question looks a little heart broken.“This,” Hercule indicates towards MC, “is my girlfriend. The only one who can light up my life. If you are in need of detectives she and I will be more than willing to help you. For her heart is as big as her beauty.”
Another shout out to @cinnamonteaandbiscuits for proof reading this all day with me
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I’mlateateverythingIdo Part 2! The Askening!!
I am SO sorry!
He’d prolly pretend he didn’t know.
But trust me, he’s well aware.
Well, it was LIGHTLY (emphasis on lightly!) mentioned/hinted at a few times, but all of them hold a sentry station except for Black, who is second in command of the Royal Guard in a town that holds most of underfell’s inhabitants, just like underground. The Royal Guard was picked back up after monsters realized that some humans wouldn’t accept them, so they needed to form the RG again to protect their cities. Except for the city that holds underfell’s inhabitants, they had planned to keep the RG from the beginning.
Though, their jobs aren’t the reason why they are rich (though, Black does bring home a considerable amount of money from unfair taxes to him and the other RG, but he still doesn’t make as much as Sans who’s multiple jobs and hotdog stands somehow make almost twice as much as Black). It was also hinted at that the reason why they were rich was because Monster currency was straight up gold, and that’s valuable to humans. Though, monsters and humans don’t usually trade often, but Sans has his ways of making transactions.
91251!! GOING ON 10,000 THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!
I honestly didn’t think my crappy fic would get past 100 when I first started!
Okay, either you keep sending me messages like this, or four of you are, like, super thirsty for some bloodorange.
Which is entirely valid, and you don’t have to worry b/c I’m working on something special for some lovely bloodorange.
The reason why this fic is so long is because YOU GUYS KEEP SENDING ME REALLY GOOD PROMPTS, I’LL BE SAVING THIS ONE TO MY LIST THANK YOU VERY MUCH!
It’s just UF!Sans, that wasn’t from my fanfiction, but thank you tho <3
Scarlet is for anger, deep red is for lust, and pink is for love.
(It was supposed to be a mix between deep red and pink, because it was his fantasy)
This goes the same for UF!Papyrus!
Master Black stopped. He let go of the humans limp neck, his breath heaving. But hers... wasn’t anymore.
“...SLAVE.”
He experimentally poked at the motionless body. Nothing happened.
“HUMAN, WAKE UP.” He shook her this time. No response.
“HUMAN!” Violently shaking her, he tried to wake her from her slumber, but to no avail.
Master Black started to panic. He was furious with the girl, livid beyond all imagination. He wanted to see her suffer, take back the biting words that stung his insecurities more than she would ever know, falling terrified of him so she would never fight him like that again.
But he didn’t want to... He didn’t want...
Master Black ran to the kitchen grabbing a bucket and filling it with water. He returned with record timing, dumping the freezing contents on the girl.
Nothing.
Master Black did it again and again and again, before eventually giving up and going back to shaking her. She can’t be dead, she can’t be dead, she can’t be dead! He had seen too much death in his life, but this was one he could not handle! She had to be fine, she had to be fine, she HAD TO BE FINE!!
Master Black scooped up the corpse in his arms and ran to the one place that wouldn’t make him feel like throwing up.
“SANS!!” He banged on the fourth door to the second door, right next to his. “SANS! SANS OPEN UP NOW!!”
Master Red opened the door slowly, before all at once at the sight of Master Black. “b-boss? are you alright, why are you crying?”
Crying? Master Black didn’t even notice the thick, red globs of magic welling up down his eyesockets.
“SANS, THE HUMAN WON’T WAKE UP! FIX THIS!!” Master Black almost threw the human girl at Master Red, who stared at the limp body in confusion.
But confusion soon turned into horror.
“oh stars, papyrus...” Master Red gently tucked a strand of hair behind the lifeless body’s ear. “you...”
“I-I DIDN’T MEAN IT!! I DIDN’T WANT-T TO! THE H-HUMAN-!!” Master Black started to hiccup as he fell knelt down next to your body. “I-I-IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”
“i know, paps. i know.” Master Red soothingly rubbed Master Black’s cheek, comforting the emotionally distraught monster. “it wasn’t your fault, it’s okay.”
This consoled Master Black, his voice going silent and the only noise coming from him being his hiccups.
Master Red’s mind seemed to be on other matters. “but if sans or the others find out... we’ll end up like fell and raspberry.”
“NO-!”
“don’t worry, paps. i’ll take care of this.” Master Black leaned into his brother’s touch as he rubbed his cheek. “just remember, y/n ran away and nothing happened between you too. can you remember that for me, bro?”
Master Black nodded, timidly.
“you’re so good, paps.” Master Red kissed his brothers forehead. “don’t worry, this will all be taken care of in the morning. promise. it’ll be o-!!”
Suddenly, the door was slammed open, revealing Prince Papyrus on a majestic white steed and a sword on his hip.
“OUT OF THE WAY, FOOLS!” He jumped off his horse, and tossed the two devils into the trash.
Prince Papyrus smooched the lifeless body with the passion of a thousand fairytales, causing her to wake!!
“Gasp!” The human princess batted her eyelashes, “Prince Papyrus, you saved me! I was under the awful curse by that horrid, spiky villain!! Thank you!”
“ALL IN A DAYS WORK, PRINCESS!” He posed dramatically.
“Come! Let us wed!” The princess jumped into the princes arms and they rode away in the sunset to live happily ever after.
...
Master Black blinked. “WHAT THE F
*sweats* time to catch up on my classics brb.
I love the idea, but I can’t imagine anyone asking “What’s the most pathetic thing you’ve seen.” in a game of truth or dare, it’s a little obscure. But I like the thought of them being called out on their patheticness.
WELP SAVING THIS ONE TO THE LIST
At some point, hopefully!
That just happened in the nightmare chapters, but here’s some food for thought:
If Master Sans were to find out that Ms. Y/n was coming to the end of her dept and would be leaving them sooner than expected, could his disgusting and horrid side force him to pay her family less and less so that Y/n could stay longer?
Sans: please stop making me the scum of the earth.
Yes, but it doesn’t have Undertale stuff, just Pretty Cure and other magical girl stuff.
I don’t take bribes!!! But if you enjoy my stuff enough that you’d like to make me fanart, then I’d be honored! <3 PS Your awesome too.
I won’t be doing Mafiatale, since that’s set in the 20s in my headcanon, but I have something that you may be looking for coming up.
*sweats* time to catch up on the musicals!
Contact me! I don’t have an email or google+ that I’m willing to share, but if you just submit it to me, I can read it and I won’t post it!! Go to my @raccoonsinqueen-taxes blog to submit it to me, thank you SO much!!
No, your just a really great person.
Me too, but really the only person MC could talk to would be herself. So here are my headcanon designs for the MC that works for US only and the MC that works for UF only in Fluff: Part 3. USMC in the blue is always tired and submissive, while UFMC in the red is much more strongwilled and defiant. But they both understand eachothers hardships, and put their differences aside for the sake of friendship!!
Sorry, my magical girl is showing.
Everything you stand for is a blessing on this sin forsaken website!!
Yes, good eye there champ! *swings basketball bat into the touchdown*
I’m actually going to come back to this one because it’s 3 AM, BUT I WON’T FORGET!!
You don’t have bad english, your english is just fine! And yes, I’m definitely going to write your idea it may take a while, because I have a bunch of ideas lined up, but I’ll get to it!
I’ve thought about that, but I don’t think so. I do have the headcanon that they have a cat outside of my fanfiction, but inside my fanfiction if anyone were to get a pet it would be Y/n and probably a cat or maybe a spider.
Side note, I have a pet spider. She’s super cute and I named her after Muffet. She’s a tarantula <3
ALSO! Super special shoutout to that one anon who messaged me like every chapter they read!!
YOU ROCK!!
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