Tumgik
#just like everyone else i keep on living and trying and growing. and it's enough
lovelettersfromluna · 17 hours
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Wasted Summers
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Summary: Yet another cliche store of a friends with benefits arrangement blossoming into something that is so much more.
an: this went from something that I wanted to make a Drabble about, to remembering an awesome request that someone sent in, to mixing them both?? To the sweet nony that sent this, I hope this lives up to your expectations of me, and I thank you (and everyone else) for trusting me with something you’d like to see written out! I tweaked a few things, so I hope that’s okay. The ending is sooo rushed on this bc I really wanted to get something out to you all as quickly as possible so I apologize! As always, I love you all so so much. (P.S chapter two of vampire!Ellie is on the way!)
Warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, smut, angst, Ellie is a giant fucking player and had no intentions of settling down (or does she? 😏), Ellie is extremely emotionally unavailable, scissoring, lots of making out, lots of pet names, reader catches a cold, mentions of headaches, medicine, and just your general cold symptoms tbh, please lmk if I missed anything!
You had only made the mistake of asking Ellie what you were to her one time in your friendship.
You couldn’t really help yourself either. She just looked so fucking pretty that night, praising you so well, saying all the right things. Could anyone really blame you for taking it the wrong way? Assuming that she was trying to send signals to you in the same way that you’d tried to send to her?
“Fuck…that’s it…always so fucking good for me, my good fucking girl” she panted out above you as she drilled her sopping wet pussy down onto yours, your head absolutely spinning with the feeling she gave you, the way your heart overflowed with the delicious feeling of euphoria.
You struggled to keep your eyes open, eyebrows furrowed as your fingers dug into the skin of Ellie’s thighs, your own legs trembling as you felt your orgasm growing closer and closer.
Ellie was quick to grab your cheeks, squishing them together and forcing you to form a pout as she tugged your face to look at her.
“No no no…look at me baby, keep your fucking eyes on me when you cum…that’s it…that’s a good girl” she groaned out through gritted teeth, always loving watching you struggle as you came undone at her doings.
“I’m…fuck Ellie…I’m…c-close” you stuttered out, back arching as your lips parted, glossy eyes staring up at the girl almost in awe as she drove you towards your third orgasm of the night, struggling to hang onto the very thin rope that was keeping you connected to this world.
She smirked down at you, giving you an encouraging nod as her tattooed hands gripped your thighs tightly, sure to leave marks in the morning.
“That’s my fuckin girl…come on baby…fuck…I’m…fuck!” She shouted out, her own back arching as her hips sputtered, her pussy gushing onto yours as she came hard with a strangled moan. The sound of her cumming alone was enough to make your own eyes flutter shut, hands flying down to your mattress as you gripped the sheets tightly, your knuckles aching as you screamed out Ellie’s name over and over again, tears threatening to spill out your eyes with the intensity of your orgasm.
“M-mm….fuck” you stuttered out, struggling to catch your breath as your naked chest rose and fell, trying to find a steady pace for yourself. Ellie gave a lazy chuckle as she stared down at you, her hand coming up to give your cheeks a quick squeeze.
“Did good for me princess..” she praised you, your heart swelling at her words.
Ellie’s words never failed to make your head spin.
She was quick to roll off of you, her back hitting your bed with a thud as she laid next to you, staring up at your ceiling as she tried to recollect herself.
And that’s what it usually was with you and Ellie. She’d come to your house, you guys would either play video games or watch a movie, she would get handsy and things would always end with her tugging you to your bedroom, either between your legs or on top of you. You loved every second of it, being with Ellie, feeling Ellie, it was all perfect all the time but…
You couldn’t help but want more.
Your heart felt empty every time she left, every time she jumped up from your bed, claiming that she either had to wake up early for work in the morning, or she had someone waiting for her in the city, leaving you alone in your apartment with nothing more than a quick squeeze on your hip, and the slamming of your door as she left. And maybe it was the fact that she didn’t immediately leave your bed that night that even prompted you to ask in the first place, a silent sign from the universe that this was your chance to understand where you stood with her.
“Ellie…” you called out her name softly, still staring at your ceiling before you turned on your side to look at her. She responded with a gentle hum, her arm bent and propped against the back of her head. Your heart is beating so fast now, staring at her pretty features, her profile was almost from that of a painting, or a sculpture. It made you wanna reach out and gently trace them, burning the feeling of her face into your memory.
You don’t realize you’re staring until she looks over at you, eyebrows furrowing for a minute before she gives a chuckle. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She questions, and you know she’s teasing you. You roll your eyes before giving her a soft, playful nudge.
A moment passes, and you’re simply staring at her, trying to find the words to say to her, how to properly ask her what you’ve been dying to ask her.
Her features soften, a soft pout on her lips as she turns to you more, her body facing yours entirely. “Hey…everything okay?” She asks gently, and her tone alone is making you want to pass out then and there, the care in her voice almost making you whine.
You take a deep inhale, before your mouth opens and you finally say it.
“What…what are we?” You mumble out, blinking a few times as you stare up at the girl, waiting for her to respond.
But it starts to feel like you’re waiting forever, because Ellie’s jaw goes slack as she stares at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked that you’d even think to ask her something like that. It puts your stomach in knots, and it makes you regret even asking in the first place, but before you can even retract fully, telling her some lame excuse about it being just a joke, or a dumb prank, she’s opening her mouth to respond.
“I…we’re friends…you know that, don’t you?” She asks carefully, eyeing you as if this should all be common knowledge to you, as if you’d always been on the same page to begin with.
You blink a few times at her, unable to respond to her or even agree with what she’s saying. You feel choked up, throat closing up as the inevitable tears threaten to spill past your cheeks, the girl of your dreams confirming that you two are in fact not on the same page.
“Don’t you?” She repeats, her voice growing worried as she stares down at you with her eyebrows furrowed, scared that she’s seeing things when she notices the way your eyes gloss over.
And it prompts you to quickly clear your throat, practically sucking the tears back into your body as you give her a quick nod, all while scooting away from her a bit. Because suddenly, it feels like Ellie is entirely too close to you in your bed.
“Yeah…yeah I do” you try to chirp out, putting on your best attempt at trying to sound like you weren’t completely dying inside.
Of course she can see right through it, the girl staring down at you wearily as she tries to read you. You almost hope she’ll speak up about it, comfort you and tell you that whatever you had going on was okay, and it was normal to not have a label on things.
But she doesn’t.
She gives you a quick nod before she awkwardly clears her own throat, the tension in your room thick as she reaches behind her on the ground for her t shirt, quickly pulling it on over her head before she scrambles out of your bed to search for her clothes. One by one, she silently dresses herself in her underwear, and her jeans, and soon, she looks exactly like the way she looked when she first got to your house.
You aren’t sure if Ellie’s ever been so eager to leave you before.
You inhale deeply as you sit up, tugging the blankets over your chest, suddenly scared to be bare in front of the girl, as if she wasn’t sucking on your tits mere moments ago. You can’t even find it in yourself to ask why she’s in such a hurry, the embarrassment from your first question eating you up to almost nothing as it is.
Ellie’s the one that breaks the silence first.
“Right…so…I gotta meet Jesse in town…I’ll uh…” she trails off as she trips over her own feet, walking backwards to quickly open your room door. It looks almost like she can’t leave quick enough, so you simply nod and give her a wave, with a half smile.
“Yeah…bye Ellie” your tone is dismissive, way too dismissive and you know that. But at this point, you want Ellie out of your apartment just as much as it seems like she wants to leave. It’s too awkward, to much of a grey area has covered the both of you that you desperately want to escape now, even if you were the one that brought it onto yourself.
She’s taken aback by the way you rush her out, regardless of the fact that she’s being just as dodgy as you are, if not more. She tries her best to ignore the way her heart aches at the way you’re dismissing her, avoiding the way it makes her feel like you’re kicking her out. Instead, she swallows thickly and gives a quick nod before she stutters over her own words, a sorry attempt at a goodbye, and leaves.
When she does leave, you’re left with a heavy feeling settled onto you. It makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, like you’ve ruined something by talking too much or opening your mouth. Things were fine between you and Ellie, a bit confusing, but if it wasn’t broken, why try to fix it?
That night, you could only lay in your bed that smelled too heavily of Ellie, and think of all the ways you could try to force not only her, but yourself to forget about the events that just took place, desperate to get back to the way things were.
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Waking up with a sore throat and a runny nose a few weeks after the incident with Ellie seemed to be just your luck.
Perhaps all of the stress and overthinking that you endured during the time weakened your immune system, the lack of sleep that you were getting not helping much either. You couldn’t really help it, not entirely at least. You should have seen it coming though, all the signs were right there in front of you.
Things had been fine with you and Ellie after everything happened that night, everything going back to normal almost too easily. You were both very much on the same page of pretending as though none of it happened, and Ellie only confirmed that when she texted you the morning after asking if you were going to attend some plans that your friend group had included you in a few days prior.
While the relief you felt alleviated a lot of the stress the situation brought on, you couldn’t avoid the nagging feeling that came with the unknown. Your overthinking was in overdrive of course, constantly wondering what Ellie was thinking, what she was going to do with your friendship, it was all too overwhelming.
Things that night with Ellie were fine, great even. You two were sat together in the booth of the lounge that you had all met up in, her hands dancing along your thighs, toying with the hem of your dress as you laughed at something Dina said. To your surprise, she even leaned into you towards the end of the night, whispering in your ear, asking if you wanted to get out of there, which was a telltale sign that Ellie wanted to get you alone.
You should’ve known you were coming down with something when you gave her a shy smile and politely declined, making up some excuse about being tired. Tired was an understatement, you were exhausted, and the worst part was, you couldn’t put your finger on what the hell was going on with you. Ellie could sense it to, frowning at the way you quickly brushed her off and scooted out of the booth, making you the first one to go home that night.
You thought it was just a lack of sleep, your body begging you to just relax and take care of yourself for once. Making a big cup of tea and giving yourself a warm bath would do just the trick, surly. You felt hopeful when tucking yourself into bed and drifting off to sleep almost instantly.
However, the next morning was brutal. Your throat felt like you’d been swallowing nails, your nose stuffy, head filled with so much pressure it felt as though it would pop at any time. Instantly, you knew you were sick, and as inconvenient as it was, you were due for it. You hadn’t gotten sick in who knows how long, so it almost felt like your body was forcing you to focus on yourself rather than Ellie for once.
You always wondered how people function properly when they were sick, getting things done, being productive, because you were the complete opposite. Being sick meant shutting down for approximately seven to nine business days until all of your symptoms were at least a tiny bit alleviated. You wouldn’t talk to anyone, or even tell anyone that you were sick, all you wanted was to sulk in bed and feel sorry for yourself until you got even remotely better.
You didn’t even text Ellie.
And your absence is what sends her into somewhat of a frenzy of anxiety. She’s so used to hearing from you almost every day, if not through text messages or calls, then through other apps where you two can send stupid memes and videos to each other. The first few days she rights off as you simply being busy, even if the entire situation at your house has her on edge and she’s thinking the absolute worst. But a day or two turns into a week, and it’s the longest Ellie has ever gone without hearing from you.
So now shes worried.
Because what happened to you? Are you angry with her? Have you finally realized that Ellie isn’t enough for you? That this awkward little game that you and her are playing is far too good for you? Because it is. Ellie knows deep in her bones that it is, she knows that she’s playing a dangerous game with you, dangling someone as fantastic as you by a thread, keeping you both separated by the whole friends with benefits facade that she knows is a load of bullshit.
And why does she do it? The same reason why anyone does, of course.
Ellie is a coward.
She’s the biggest coward there ever was, terrified of commitment, scared that the second she makes you here’s entirely things will change, and she’ll be forced to lose the single best thing that’s ever happened to her.
That, and the fact that you and Ellie have been friends since you were kids.
You both happened to be the new kids at the school in town, and it’s what brought you two together. You found friends in one another, and you decided to tackle the cruel adolescent world of middle school together rather than on your own.
The friends with benefits thing didn’t start until college, when one drunk night together lead to you straddling Ellie in some gross frat bedroom, grinding down on her as you pushed your tongue down her throat. At that point, Ellie had experienced many different nights with many different girls, earning a bit of a reputation at your university as a player, which you were very aware of. But regardless of all the girls she’d fallen into bed with, no one ever made her feel the way you did, never even came close.
And Ellie knew she couldn’t let go of that.
It became her own personal addiction, the silent agreement of fucking her best friend becoming a very frequent occurrence. Sleepovers would turn into nights filled with kisses and bliss, study sessions would almost always end with Ellie hovering over you with her hand shoved between your legs, playing with your pussy as much as she wanted until you became a moaning mess for her.
You two never truly discussed what you were, not until that night at least.
Ellie always thanked her lucky stars over the fact that you simply went along with it, allowing her to play with your body whenever she wanted, and you with hers. It was like a blessing, her beautiful best friend that she’d been obsessed with since the first day of sixth grade, now letting her see her in a way that she knew many didn’t see you in.
She should’ve known it was too good to be true.
Because that look in your eyes that night made Ellie’s heart race, and while she’d dreamt of you asking her that more times than she could count, it suddenly became her biggest nightmare. She couldn’t leave your room fast enough, the look of want, need, love in your eyes, practically begging her to make you more than just her friend she occasionally fucked.
As much as she didn’t want them to, she knew things would change after that.
She saw it in the way you acted that night at the lounge, denying her of alone time with you, quickly scurrying out of the booth as if you couldn’t get further away from her. And now your absence was only further confirming Ellie’s worst nightmare. You were done with her, years of friendship flushed down the fucking toilet because she was too much of a fucking coward to…
To….
To tell you how in love with you she was.
For once, why couldn’t she suck up her pride and just admit that she was in love? Did love make her weak? Did it mean she had to leave behind a life she didn’t even enjoy that much? The girls were great, a fun way to pass the time, but none of them held a candle to you, and she knew that. She even tried hooking up with someone the night she left your apartment, and it made her feel fucking sick.
And now you were leaving, and she had no one to blame but herself.
In true Ellie fashion though, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
As much as she knew she didn’t deserve one, she wanted an explanation. You both had been friends for too fucking long for her to be thrown away like this, even if it was her fault.
So? A little over a week since that night at the lounge, Ellie is marching her way up to your apartment, and landing a hard knock on your familiar front door.
The noise makes you jolt out of your sleep, the sound of the harsh knocking echoing throughout your small apartment. It makes you whine, because after yet another miserable night with no sleep, you were finally able to knock yourself out with some cold medicine you had delivered to your house. The sleep was heavy and uncomfortable but it was the only way you were able to get even a little bit of shut eye. You hoped and prayed that whoever it was would get the memo that you wouldn’t come to the door, however another string of knocks made you groan loudly, your sore throat rattling as you did so.
Your bones ached as you tossed your blanket back and swung your legs over the bed. The cold wooden floor was unwelcoming to your feet, making you shiver as you pushed yourself off of the bed with weak arms, slowly trudging towards your door.
When you finally get to it, you try your best to clear your throat, knowing that it’s all in vain. Nothing was strong enough to bring back your voice from the raspy sound that it was now, all the coughing and sneezing making it so that you could barely get one syllable out let alone a full sentence.
“Yes?” You rasp out as you opened the door, pouting in annoyance as you rub your sleep filled eyes, arms wrapping around your body to stop the inevitable shiver that ran down your spine every second.
Ellie feels her heart break when she sees you. Your hair is messy, dark bags settled under your eyes, nose red, and skin lacking the usual radiance you always emitted. You didn’t even wear your usual cute matching pajama set, instead wearing a big t shirt that nearly swallowed you whole, and a pair of baggy sweatpants that were extremely faded.
You were sick.
And all the mean things she had planned to say to you suddenly disappear, now replaced with the urge to take care of you, and beg to understand why you didn’t call her when you started feeling this way.
“Baby…” she almost whines out, heart aching at the sight of you. You didn’t even realize who it was at first, your fever ridden brain having a hard time adjusting to the figure at the door. Her voice gives it away first.
“Ellie?” You croak out, and the sound is nearly enough to bring Ellie to tears.
Without another word, she’s gently pushing past you to get into your apartment, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes never lead your figure as she studies your face.
“Ellie…you shouldn’t be here, I’m really not-“ you try, because the last thing you want is to get Ellie sick, subjecting her to the hell that you’ve had to live through for the past week.
She quickly cuts you off, shaking her head as she grabs a hold of your wrist, tugging you to your room.
“When did you start feeling this way?” Her tone is stern, but soft, and it makes your heart melt.
A nasty cough rattles your chest, and you groan at the pain you feel in your tired lungs. You let her pull the sheets back and help you into bed, instantly sighing as the warmth wraps you up, making you feel a bit better.
You clear your throat before you respond. “The morning after the lounge…didn’t wanna bother anyone” you confess, now letting the girl tuck you into bed.
There’s a permanent frown on her face as she bring her palm to your head, which only deepens when she feels how warm you are. “You’re burning up…” she mumbles under her breath.
She looks around your room, only to see that your beside table is littered with tiny signs that you’d been trying to take care of yourself. There were cough drops, different bottles of medicine, a box of tissues and a small compress. She sighs as she grabs one of the bottles, reading the back before she speaks to you again.
“When’s the last time you took this?” She questions, another ugly cough rattling through your poor lungs, making you whine as you push your face into your pillow, feeling utterly fed up with the current condition of your body.
“Dunno…just been trying to sleep it off instead” your words make Ellie frown deeply, knowing how stubborn you’d always been with medicine, often times far too deep in felt pity to even bring yourself to take it.
“Well you’re going to take some now..come on, sit up” she urges you gently, her tattooed hand gently grabbing your arm and pulling you sit up. She shook out the correct dosage of medicine for you before she handed it to you with a bottle of water, her green eyes filled with worry and concern as she eyed you as you took it.
She felt her heart ache at the mere sight of you, a permanent pout on your lips, eyes drained of the familiar brightness she’d come to love oh so much. She could see how much it visibly pained you to even drink the water, your hand coming up to cup your throat as if to soothe the pain from the outside in.
“Hurts?” She questioned gently, her hand coming behind you to rub your back gently. You give her a slow nod, eyes closing as you lean into her and her touch, the feeling of her warm hands making the chill in your bones melt almost immediately.
She gives you a nod before she helps you lay back down. “Stay here…I know what’ll help, okay baby?” She reassures you. You’re too weak to even respond, a shaky sigh leaving your lips as you settle down against your pillow, the medicine already doing its work to give you a break from the intense cough your body had grown used to within the last few days.
Ellie is on her feet once she’s sure you’ve settled, walking out of your bedroom and into your kitchen where she grabs your little tea kettle, filling it up with water and putting the water to boil. She grabs your favorite mug while the water heats up, as well as some peppermint tea and some honey.
She finds herself deep in thought while she waits for the water to boil, a soft frown playing on her lips as her knuckle raps against your counter.
Ellie absolutely hates herself for not being more proactive with you. She should’ve known you were getting sick from the moment you weren’t responding to her text messages earlier in the week, it was a typical sign on your end that you weren’t feeling like yourself, something that you’d often do to not burden anyone with what you were feeling. But you were all alone, and it was Ellie’s job as your friend to take care of you when you needed her.
She sighs to herself as she finishes making up your tea, tapping the spoon on the edge of your mug before she brought it to her mouth, humming at the taste before she nodded to herself and brought it to your room.
The medicine must have knocked you out immediately, because your eyes are closed and your lips are parted in the slightest as soft snore escapes from your body. It makes Ellie groan to herself as she gently sits on your bed, hating the fact that she had to disturb your sleep.
“Baby?…come on pretty girl…wake up and drink a bit of this, then you can go back to bed” her soft voice reaches you in the depths of your fever ridden brain, and it makes you blink your eyes open to see if it’s another dream, or if she’s actually there.
Hazy eyes blink back at Ellie, a soft whine leaving your lips as you bring your hand up to rub your eyes, the nasty cough rattling through your chest as you promptly sit up for her, reaching out and taking the mug.
“You shouldn’t be here Ellie….what if I get you sick?” You croak out before bringing the mug to your lips, taking a sip of the warm drink, allowing it to soothe your aching throat.
Ellie watches you intently before she rolls her eyes playfully. “Jokes on you, getting sick would just mean you have to take care of me” she gives you a wink, and you groan softly, nudging her with your blanket clad foot before you take another sip and set the mug on your bedside table.
“Feels like my fever broke…I should be able to take care of myself now, El” you try, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against your pillow, tugging your blankets up to your chin.
Ellie watches you closely, you were clearly in need of sleep, exhaustion taking over your weak body the second your head hit the pillow. She simply hummed at your response before she pushed herself off the bed. You assumed this was here obeying, silently leaving because she assumed you were already fast asleep, however the girl was kicking off her shoes instead, leaving her only in her sweatpants and her t-shirt before she promptly crawled in next to you in your bed.
You whine softly, but still let her tug you closer. Her strong hands are like ice on your warm thigh, tugging it over her leg and pressing your body against hers. She’s so warm, and you can’t help but push your cold hands under her shirt, pressing against her warm stomach. She chuckles softly as it makes her shiver, keeping you close regardless.
“Might as well stay since I’m here now, yeah?” She hums out softly, earning only a weak hum from you in response.
Ellie isn’t sure if she’s ever seen anyone fall asleep so quickly, soft snores leaving your lips again as she holds you close, rubbing small shapes into your back as she simply lays there, holding you in your bed.
It makes her heart ache when she realizes this is the first time she’s back here with you since you asked her what you were to her that one night. It makes her wonder how much things would’ve changed up until now if she’d told you the truth, told you just how much she wanted you to be hers and only hers, dropping the stupid act of being single and being free for you would’ve been much smarter than what she did instead.
Seeing you sick, in bed and all alone made Ellie feel like she’d failed you, not only as someone who was madly in love with you, but as your friend. What kind of friend ignored the signs, forcing you to take care of yourself when you felt so poorly.
Watching you lay there, sleeping soundly as you so deserved in her arms made Ellie’s heart burst with a feeling she knew she’d had for you for such a long time, since she’d met you really. Taking care of you felt even better.
So that’s exactly what she was gonna do.
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Ellie doesn’t leave your side the entire time she’s there with you.
Which is about three days. You were already coming to the end of your cold when she had found you, and while it felt worse than when you first got sick, the end was near.
Your heart would flutter every time Ellie would wake you up for your medicine, or gently tug you out of bed for a warm bath, she’d even managed to run down to your favorite cafe for a bowl of soup in record breaking time to make sure you were getting something good to eat. She did everything in her power to nurse you back to health, never once agreeing with your many pleas to leave you there alone before you got her sick.
When you finally stopped asking her to leave you, you were left with the plaguing thoughts that you tried getting rid of, the ones filled with Ellie denying your question, denying you of the answer you wanted so badly when you asked her what you were to her. It made no sense to you, someone that used your body at their disposal, caring so much for your health and your wellbeing, you truly couldn’t outweigh the reasons as to why Ellie was suddenly here, when she wasn’t before.
It didn’t take long for your fever to break completely, and for the cough to subside to something that happened only once in a while rather than every minute or so. It was finally starting to look up for you.
Which meant Ellie had to leave soon.
You were sat up in your bed while Ellie was in your kitchen, washing up some of the dishes from when you and her had eaten together, a permanent frown on your lips as you toyed with the blanket draped over your legs.
Ellie returned, a soft smile on her face as she watched the way you were sat up, looking far more alert than a few days prior.
“You’re looking so much better, baby…that’s good to see” she hummed out as she moved to crawl into bed with you, taking her usual spot. She leaned in, wanting to press a kiss to your neck, she lets out a soft huff when you try to pull away.
“Hm? What’s the matter? I already told you I don’t care if I get sick…” you can hear the smirk in her voice as she leans in again, this time aiming for the corner of your lips.
You just couldn’t take it anymore.
You pressed your hand to her chest, finally looking into her eyes. She can tell by the look on your face that this is much more than you fussing over her getting sick.
“I can’t…what is this Ellie? I appreciate you taking care of me and helping me get better but…” your words trail off, a soft pout on your lips as you struggle with the words you want to say before you let out a gentle sigh, eyes dropping from Ellie’s, looking down at your lap instead.
“This feels too intimate…the kissing…the way touch me…” you explain, your voice falling to nothing but a small, hoarse sound.
“I want to respect what you said about us…but you’re making it really hard when you treat me like I’m your girlfriend” you sigh out, hating that you even had to explain any of this to Ellie in the first place.
She’s frowning at this point, eyebrows furrowed as she eyes you carefully. It feels like you’re practically twisting the knife that had been lodged into her heart from the moment you asked her what you were to her. She ignorantly wished you two could just ignore it all, let it blow over while she pretended she could have you in the way she wanted, all while hurting you at the same time.
“I think we just…shouldn’t do these things anymore…the kissing, the fucking….” Your words are shaky, and Ellie can hear that you’re at the brink of tears without even seeing your face.
And she knows this is it, she’s lost her chance.
You finally look up at her, your eyes red and filled with tears threatening to spill out onto your soft cheeks.
“I’m sorry…I appreciate you coming here and helping me but I can’t-“ your words are cut off by Ellie’s lips on yours. Both of her hands are cupping your face as she gives you a kiss so filled with passion, it’s nearly enough to make you whine. But as good as her lips feel, you’re quick to push her off.
“Ellie no! I told you, you’ll get sick” you complain, your hands wrapped around both of her wrists as you pull them away from your face.
A moment passes as she simply stares into your eyes, a pleading looking written on her face as if she’s silently begging you to hear her, to understand what she wants to convey all without saying a single word in the process.
But you don’t.
“I’m not like you, Ellie…I get attached, and I want more with you…more than you want with me and it just won’t-“ it’s the second time she’s cutting you off for the night, this time she speaks.
“And I love that!” she blurts out finally, her voice cracking with the amount of emotions that filled her up, from simply staring into your eyes.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you eye the girl closely, shaking your head as you try to understand. “But you said….” Your words trail off, because even recalling the words she’d said to you that night hurts.
Ellie sighs softly before she shakes her head. “I know what I said…and I’m an idiot for it” she groans out, knowing deep down this would always have been the outcome of her actions, whether she wanted it or not.
She reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before her hand dropped down to cup your cheek gently.
“I’ve wanted you…since the moment I laid eyes on you” she breaths out. You can practically hear the relief it brings her, just from admitting it to you. Ellie feels as though the weight of the world is lifted off of her shoulders when the words fall from the tip of her tongue.
You simply stare at her, eyes wide and eager to hear more, practically begging her to go on.
Her pink tongue darts from her behind her lips, thumb stroking your cheek gently before she continued to speak. “I felt like when we started doing this…it would be my ticket to finally telling you how much I love you…clearly I’m too much of a coward for that” she chuckles out, only half joking as the bitter words fall into the air of your room.
The moment of silence that falls between the two of you feels like an eternity, it feels too long since you’ve said something and it makes Ellie feel sick. She didn’t know what she was hoping for when she told you, it whatever was happening was far from it.
And so, she begins to panic.
“I’m sorry I ever said those things to you. I just didn’t know what to say when you asked and I panicked and it just-“ it’s your turn to cut her off, leaning in and pressing your lips to hers to shut her up. It makes Ellie melt as soon as you do, a soft whine leaving her lips as one of her hands falls down to your waist, wanting you as close as possible.
Your lips work against hers for a moment before you finally pull apart, a soft smile on your lips as you stare into her eyes.
“So you love me, hm?” You tease her, and it makes Ellie whine as she falls back to lay against your pillow, tugging you down with her by your waist as she pulls you to straddle her lower body.
“That’s all you gathered? Here I am confessing my undying love and apologizing at the same time and all you get is one thing” she smirks as she stares up at you, her hands caressing your bare thighs.
“You’re lucky I’m used to your idiotic tendencies…I don’t think anyone would deal with this behavior” you hear her again with a fake pout, which earns a fake groan from her end before she gives your thighs a firm squeeze.
“Good thing it’s you then, hm?” She mumbles out softly, making you giggle before you bend down to attach your lips to hers, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the girl now that feelings had been confessed.
After a moment of your lips against hers, you hear Ellie groan, which makes you frown as you pull away. “Everything okay baby?” You ask softly, only to see that Ellie is pouting childish up at you.
“My throat kinda hurts…”
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wlntrsldler · 3 days
Text
almost (sweet music) | luke castellan
synopsis: exbf! luke castellan goes on a date with another girl after your death. went back to my roots and wrote an aphrodite reader!
song: almost (sweet music) by hozier
it's been a year.
it's been a year since percy uttered the words, "we need a shroud, for the daughter of aphrodite." it's been a year since he survived the battle of manhattan and you didn't. it's been a year since hermes had to pull him off your dead body as he thrashed and mourned your death.
he's out of camp half blood now, which he thinks you'd be surprised to learn. you always joked that he'd end up taking over mr. d's position if he wasn't an immortal god. luke had a special relationship with chb, just like you did. back when he was sixteen, the first time he kissed you, he let himself think about growing old with you there.
maybe taking over the summer activities and planning. living in a small cabin just on the outskirts of camp. he thought about making it into a welcome center for new arrivals, somewhere where they could have a hot meal and have a room of their own before they inevitably ended up in the hermes cabin with his rowdy siblings.
those were the easy days. back when his biggest fear was losing his best friend if he told you how he truly felt about you. it seems silly and trivial now that he looks back at it. he wishes he told you how he felt sooner, just to get those extra years, extra days, extra seconds with you knowing that you were his and he was yours.
but now he's in his twenties and you were six feet under. it wasn't fair and he felt disgusted with himself as he prepared for his first date with a girl chris set him up with from his sociology class at nyu. he knew that you would've wanted him to move on, after all, you always said that your favorite version of him was when he was in love. something about how his eyes sparkle differently and how his voice turns softer, kinder, when he spoke, but luke didn't know how to tell you that he was only like that when it came to you.
the date was fine. the girl was pretty. she had the same hair color as you and same giggly laugh, and luke should be grateful that chris knew his type, but all luke could do was compare her to you. it wasn't fair to the girl. she was lovely and she deserved someone who didn't think about their ex-girlfriend every time they looked at her.
when she showed up to the mom and pops restaurant luke picked out for the date, she was listening to your favorite artist. luke almost felt like he was back in the aphrodite cabin, listening to the song on your record player, swaying you back and forth in a lousy attempt at slow dancing. if he tried hard enough, he swore he could feel the sound of your heartbeat pressed against his chest, reminding him that you were still there, still alive.
it made him so dizzy that his date had to ask him if he was okay. he turned pale, all the color draining from his face. luke meekly nodded and told her a half-truth. i haven't gone on a first date in a while.
the girl smiled at him kindly, just like how you did when you first met him, and told him she understood. she sat across from him and sipped on her water, trying her best to keep the conversation going, but luke could tell that she knew his mind was elsewhere.
his mind was at camp half blood, in the sheds by the strawberry fields. his lips were on yours, a smile grazing his face that you had to pull away to tease him. he was always so smiley with you, no facade of the brooding, tough as nails, hermes head counselor that everyone else got from him. with you, he was luke, young, naive, and helplessly in love. when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, cherry lip gloss teasing his tastebuds.
his date complimented his necklace and for the first time that night, luke gave her a genuine smile and a look of interest. it was the necklace you bought for him for his seventeenth birthday. you'd saved up all your money from your part-time job at the froyo shop in ohio during the year. it was a silver dog tag with an engraving of mercury and venus circling each other. he hasn't taken it off since you put the necklace on him years ago.
when she asked the story behind it, luke spoke your name for the first time in a year to a stranger. when he caught himself talking about you in the present tense, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth and he had to gulp down the rest of his water to wash it away. he flexed his hand, a nervous habit that he had. and when the girl leaned over to place her own hand over his to steady him, luke pulled away from her like she just burned him.
he apologized profusely and it became clear to the girl that luke was not ready to go on a date with anyone. luke saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes and he wondered if he'd looked like that the entire time, disappointed that it was her in front of him and not you. but then she tapped the back of his hand in a friendly way and leaned back in her chair and said, tell me about her.
you were his favorite topic of conversation. he recalled one too many conversations with chris and the stolls where they'd complain about how every conversation somehow ended up about you. so luke obliged and told her the story of how the two of you came to be. he kept the details vague, deciding that exposing olympus and the existence of the gods would be too much for a first date. maybe sixth, or seventh, but he doubts he'll get that far with her.
when the date was over, the girl gave luke a hug and whispered, i hope you guys get back together. it seems like you really love her.
luke wanted to tell her that if he had the power to be with you again, he would do it in a heartbeat, but that was beyond his control. luke thanked her and said, i hope so, too.
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thebettybook · 7 months
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I, Roronoa Zoro, have a crush
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Characters: OPLA (One Piece Live Action) Roronoa Zoro x Straw-Hat-Crew-Member!gn!reader
Summary: Fluff headcanons of OPLA Zoro developing a crush on you + mini fluff scenarios
Warnings: Some OPLA spoilers ahead! Other than that, all fluff
Strawbetty’s notes: Dipping my toes into the One Piece fandom to say hello and give you my contribution to OPLA Zoro content :). Mackenyu as Zoro is fiiiiine. I finished the live action and I NEED MORE :’0. Currently watching the anime rn
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💚 Zoro didn’t like you at first when Luffy recruited you to be a part of the Straw Hats.
💚 Like how Zoro felt when he first met Luffy, Zoro found you overly optimistic and chatty—the complete opposite of himself.
💚 Zoro’s also someone who, despite being really perceptive, has a bad habit of making snap judgments against people he doesn’t know well and prefers to keep them at a distance, and he made the poor assumption that you probably never went through anything difficult in life since you seemed so happy all the time.
💚 Thus, he didn’t really go out of his way to talk to you or get to know you at first, unlike the rest of the crew, but you also didn’t mind too much. You’d greet him with a “good morning” every morning, but he’d only give you a nod.
💚 “Don’t mind him, he’s like that with all new crew members,” Nami reassured you.
💚 It wasn’t until a few days later when the entire crew was having dinner on deck under the stars—and you opened up about your life (the losses and hardships you’ve experienced despite being just a young adult)—that made Zoro change his mind about you.
💚 He surprised himself when he volunteered to help you wash the dishes after dinner, and surprised himself even more when he muttered, “Sorry.”
💚 “For what?” You raised a brow, water dripping from your fingers as you reached for a hand towel to dry your hands.
💚 “For not being so…friendly when you first joined,” Zoro’s eyes flickered up from the plates to your face.
💚 He couldn’t help but be taken aback when you gave him a smile—a smile so bright and kind it almost took his breath away. Sure, you smiled a lot at everyone, but this was the first time your smile was directed at just him up close.
💚 “It’s alright,” you chuckled, taking a plate he handed to you and placing it onto the drying rack. “I’m used to people assuming things about me.”
💚 “How do you do it?” Zoro crossed his arms, though his relaxed stance conveyed his sincere curiosity. “Smile all the time?”
💚 “Because smiling makes me happy,” you didn’t miss a beat. “And if I can do that for myself and my smile ends up making someone else happy, that’s good enough for me.”
💚 A half-smile quirked on Zoro’s lips at your words. You were a good person, and he was sorry he didn’t see that sooner.
💚 “See, you’re smiling now,” you teased, your smile growing.
💚 “Nope,” Zoro turned his attention to the utensils he had to wash, but his smile didn’t falter one bit.
💚 After that day, a friendship blossomed between you two. Some nights you’d find Zoro sharpening his blades, other nights he’d find you on deck gazing up at the stars while the others were asleep. Whatever the reasons that kept the two of you awake at night, they helped bring you two closer together.
💚 You and Zoro began your late night talks by sharing stories with each other about your childhoods and the people who helped shape your lives for the better. The two of you would even exchange banter and develop inside jokes.
💚 Zoro grew to feel safe in confiding with you about his innermost thoughts and feelings, and he made you feel safe in doing the same as well.
💚 As the months went by, Zoro would look forward to every opportunity he had to talk with you, whether that be during the day with the rest of the crew or at night with just the two of you.
💚 He had no doubt by now that he could call you someone he deeply cared for, especially when his heart would try to jump out of his chest whenever your hand accidentally brushed against his or when his heart squeezed like a towel being rung dry any time you got hurt during battle.
💚 But as someone who’s never thought about romance or had any experience with romantic relationships, Zoro didn’t really consider the possibility that he was falling for you.
💚 It didn’t take long for some of the crew members to see and realize that Zoro cared for you in a special way, though, especially as Zoro’s romantic feelings for you became more and more evident to the others through his actions.
💚 For example, Zoro would tell Sanji not once, not twice, but thrice that you didn’t like a specific ingredient in your meals because of allergies or whatnot, even though Sanji knew that already. One morning, Sanji caught Zoro making a horrible yet endearing attempt to make your favorite breakfast for you. With an amused smirk, Sanji offered to teach Zoro how to make your favorite breakfast (only after Zoro made Sanji swear to never tell anyone about it).
💚 Nami realized Zoro had feelings for you when she saw the way Zoro would protectively stand in front of you in the face of danger, or check on you if you sustained even a minor injury (even though everyone in the crew knew you could protect yourself). Nami didn’t bring it up since she didn’t think it was any of her business, but she’d have a small smile on her face whenever she saw Zoro perk up even just a tiny bit whenever you called his name.
💚 Usopp and Luffy didn’t really pick up on anything until Sanji let out an offhand comment in the kitchen about Zoro being “smitten” with you (luckily, you and Zoro were on deck practicing your combat skills with Nami).
💚 Of course, Sanji’s comment blew Usopp’s mind. Luffy, on the other hand, didn’t really listen and had his full attention on whatever dish Sanji was making for lunch.
💚 “Zoro’s got a cruuush,” Usopp sang that afternoon, slinging an arm around Zoro’s shoulders while Luffy came up next to them.
💚 Zoro turned his head to the side to check if you were nearby. Thankfully, you were nowhere in sight.
💚 “I don’t do crushes,” Zoro shrugged Usopp off at the same time Luffy asked, “Who’s got a crush?”
💚 “Listen, if you need love advice, I’m your guy,” Usopp insisted, trying to catch up to Zoro as he left Usopp and Luffy behind to go to his room. “I’ve had tons of relationships, trust me.”
💚 “Having barely one relationship doesn’t make you qualified to give me love advice,” Zoro replied coolly, referencing Kaya to Usopp, as he strode to his berth.
💚 “Ouch!” Usopp dramatically brought a hand to his heart. “My offer still stands though!”
💚 Zoro made his way into his room and shut the door behind him. He eased himself onto his hammock and his eyes flitted up to the wooden ceiling.
💚 The ocean waves beneath the ship were calm this afternoon, and the soft golden rays of sunlight shimmered onto his body through his room’s tiny circular window. Usually Zoro would take a nap by now, but he couldn’t help but wonder what stories you were going to share with him tonight or what corny jokes you were going to crack at dinner that would make him laugh despite himself.
💚 But most of all, he couldn’t wait to see you smile again. A smile began to stretch across his face as he pictured your smile—
💚 —“I don’t have a crush,” Zoro stated out loud defensively even though no one was there. He tried to will his lips into a straight line as he ran a hand through the cropped moss-green tufts of his hair and shut his eyes to take a nap.
💚 Instead, his eyes found themselves opening and next thing Zoro knew, he was already out the door.
💚 Zoro was thankful no one was with him at the moment, or they would’ve seen a grin on his face as he made his way to wherever you were in hopes of seeing your smile.
💚 I, Roronoa Zoro, have a crush.
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Important:
🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.
🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.
🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Check out my OPLA Zoro fluff oneshot fic here
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spdrwdw · 20 days
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hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻
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Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k
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Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 
Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 
Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 
At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 
Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 
The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 
At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 
Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 
No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.
Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 
It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 
It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 
You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 
“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.
“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 
“I heard what you said! But, why?!”
“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”
“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 
Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”
“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”
You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 
Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 
“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”
You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.
Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.
Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 
After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 
When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 
“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 
You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 
He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 
You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 
Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 
Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 
One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.
Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 
You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 
Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 
Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 
Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 
Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 
The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 
Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 
“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.
Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 
He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 
“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”
Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 
Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.
"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.
Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 
Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 
Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 
Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 
“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”
”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 
“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 
The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 
Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”
The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 
Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 
“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 
“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 
He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 
No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 
But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.
You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.
It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 
You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 
Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 
—-
You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 
You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 
Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 
A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.
You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 
Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 
Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 
He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 
“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 
As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 
“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 
You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 
You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 
“What?” You questioned. 
“What are you wearing?” 
“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 
“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 
“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 
“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 
The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 
When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 
He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 
The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 
As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.
Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.
 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 
“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 
You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 
“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 
“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 
Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”
”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 
“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”
The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 
“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 
You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 
“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 
“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 
One day.
“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 
“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 
“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 
All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 
“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 
“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  
You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 
Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 
You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 
Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 
You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 
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readychilledwine · 1 month
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Small World Pt 2
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Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.
Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy
A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends
Peep Part 1 Here 💙
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Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.
His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.
He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.
7 siphons would not be enough.
And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.
He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"
Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."
A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"
Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."
"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."
"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."
Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."
Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.
You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.
You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.
Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.
Like they had with Nesta.
Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.
You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.
Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.
Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."
"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"
The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."
Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"
Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.
Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"
"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."
The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.
He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.
Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.
They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.
Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.
You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.
A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"
"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."
Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.
You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.
You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."
After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.
"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."
Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.
You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.
"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.
Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.
Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.
It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.
Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.
Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?
That you were afraid of storms?
That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?
You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.
If Rhysand would just believe in you.
Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.
Fuck expectations.
Fuck the rules.
Fuck your family.
Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.
He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.
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General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish
Azriel-
@elle4404
Small World Taglist-
@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce
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neteyamsoare · 2 months
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𐑺 nobody else / neteyam sully is now live. 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩
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𐚁̸ new message from;🕺anon. here’s another neteyam one 🙂from soft dominance prompts pt. 2: number 8. B leaving a mark on A's neck and breathing against A's ear: "So everyone knows you're mine." with fem!omatikaya!reader x neteyam. where neteyam and reader have been courting for a while and everyone knows they’re gonna mate soon, but some cocky, rude warrior just cannot get that through his thick skull ! and he keeps making moves on reader, flirting with her openly - even when neteyam is relatively nearby - and just pushing his luck by lowkey taunting neteyam….
𐚁̸ current game. neteyam makes his mark on you after one warrior can't get it through his thick skull that you were his and only his.
𐚁̸ game warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, aged up! neteyam, fem! omatikaya! reader, p in v, dom! neteyam, angry! neteyam, protective! neteyam, slight violence, breeding kink, praise kink, aftercare, fluff, use of ‘my sweet girl’ + degrading pet name (slut). length: 3.7k words.
𐚁̸ slang. kelku / home ; house, oare / moon, karyu / teacher, tiyawn / love, yawne / beloved + oeyä / my.
𐚁̸ things to note. nonnie, thank you for giving me this prompt, it was so much fun for me. i’m sorry tho, once i got done writing, i noticed i strayed away from what you wanted, you wanted teyam to kiss her right when he stopped but i forgot while i was writing, i hope you can still enjoy it. i’m so excited that this fic is the first to reach over 2k words. also if you want to send a prompt for the event, you still can! - masterlist / 2k masterlist / 2k prompt list / previous fic / taglist ⟡
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Your eyes flutter open once the sun shines through the gap in the entrance hitting you in your face and you groan as you roll to your stomach trying to avoid the light and try to go back to sleep. 
You almost succeed until you hear footsteps coming from outside your kelku. You didn’t have to turn to know exactly who it was as it has been a tradition ever since you were children to meet the other just as the sun of Pandora woke up. 
“I see you’re still asleep, oare,” Neteyam spoke as he walked inside, tying the flap so the sun could come in more and you prop yourself up onto your arms, looking back up at him as he strides over to where you were on your sleeping mat. 
“You can just allow me to sleep in, can you teyam?” you question as you pouted your lips to him, indicating that you wanted him to give you five more minutes but as much as he loves how cute you were, he couldn’t give you what you want.
“No can do, tiyawn, we got warriors to train,” he leaned down to where your lips were, stealing a kiss before standing back up with a smirk. “Is that enough to get you up, yawne?” he quired and a flustered expression appeared on your face as you got up, smiling more than ever. “Yes it is, it made my entire morning.” 
Your long nimble fingers didn’t waste any time untying the knots on both your top and loincloth, discarding them to the ground and all Neteyam could do was stare as you stood in front of him with your bare chest on display for him. 
You knew you had his attention clenching your thighs together to give some friction to your core that loved his gaze. With a smirk playing on your lips, you walk over to where you place your feather tops and loincloths, his gaze staying with you as you strode seductively before bending down slowly giving him a peak of your plump wet pussy, bouncing a bit to make your ass jiggle a bit. 
You chuckled as you straightened yourself knowing that you got to him as you put on your feather top first, tying it while you watched him approach you.
Once Neteyam is in front of you, he shakes his arm around your waist and immediately pulls you in closer to him, your lips so close that they are almost touching as you see him take a deep breath.
“Saw something you liked?” you taunt as you peek at the growing bulge in his tewng before making eye contact.
“You know you drive me crazy,” Neteyam breathed out, earning a snicker to leave your lips that he stared at them greedily. “That is my job,” you smirked as you caressed his chest.
“Maybe we can be late to training just this once,” he whispered in your ear as his hands traveled down your body to the swell of your curvaceous ass, rubbing it before squeezing it. 
“Although, I’m not opposed to that idea… no like you said we can’t be late,” you pull away from him leaving him shocked as you finish getting ready.
‘Me and my big mouth, fuck…’ Neteyam cursed under his breath as he watched you pick up your quiver of arrows, sling it over your body, pick up your bow that laid against the wall at the entrance.
“Are you gonna stand there all day or are you coming?” Neteyam huffs before following you out of your home and locking the flap behind him. 
On the way to the training grounds, the two of you played around each other, Neteyam chasing behind you trying to grab hold of your tail that swung side by side in excitement, you looked back with a smile on your face as you continued to run taking a peek at the playful smile he had on his face.
There was never a dull moment between the two of you, members of the clan that were in a distance of you two grew smiles on their faces as they watched the two of you go at it. 
They knew just how much the two of you were fit for each other, you two were each other’s soulmate and it wasn’t hard to figure out that you would end up as mates one day.
Neteyam has been giving you gifts with his colors as his courting gifts to show other warriors that you would be his and only his.
Pretty much everyone got the memo, all except one.
Once you made it to the training grounds, all the warriors were already there waiting for you two in conversation with each other.
Neteyam clears his throat so he can get their attention as you feel a pair of eyes on you, you could already tell who it was.
Marek harbored his feelings for you from when you were growing up, no matter how many times you told him you didn’t feel the same way for him, he still pursued you.
It drove Neteyam mad that Marek couldn't care less if he was courting you, he just wanted you to be his and he wasn’t letting Neteyam get in his way. You ignored him and kept your eyes on your future mate as he talked about what we would cover today. 
A huge war is coming and Jake wants to make sure everyone in the war party is ready for whatever the RDA throws at them, so he assigns his two best warriors up to train the rest of the warriors.
“Alright, you know what to do, get in position, let’s see what you can do,” Neteyam commanded as he watched the warriors do as he said, going around to check their posture as they drew their arrows, making sure each had a perfect stance. 
As you were walking around correcting some of their elbows to be slightly upwards, you reached the one person you have been avoiding since it started. “Um… karyu, I think I need some help,” Marek called out as you rolled your eyes, dragging your feet as you made your way to him. 
“What do you want?” you blurt out once you’re in front of him, looking anywhere but directly at him. Neteyam who's helping out another warrior, takes his eyes off for a second as he looks around to where you could be and once he finds you, he stifles a growl that wants to escape his throat as he sees you talking to the one person he couldn’t stand. 
Neteyam thought to make his way over there and give Marek what he was asking for but he didn’t want to start any trouble so he focused his attention on the warrior in front of him promising to himself that if Marek tried anything then he could do something.
“My aim is a bit off, I can’t seem to get the arrow anywhere near the target, can you help?” He questioned as you let out a groan, stepping closer to him, straightening his back, and then stepping in front of him to position his arms to where they needed to be. 
You hated every part of this, you were too close to him, you never wanted to give him any indicator that you were even in the slightest attracted to him, and you only had eyes for one male and that was Neteyam.
As you focused on helping him, you missed how his lips tugged upwards into a smirk as he wrapped his tail around your left leg making a gasp leave your mouth, he dropped his hand from his bow letting the arrow fall to the ground, placing his hand on your lower back, itching to get lower.
“Marek… I’m going to tell you this once, let me go,” you finally made eye contact with him to glare upwards at him, wanting nothing but to smack the smirk off his face. 
“Oh come on tiyawn, I know you’re into me just as much as I’m into you,” he spoke as you struggled to release yourself from his hold. “I will never like you, get that through your head, let me go!” You fire back as he lets out a growl and you counteract with a fierce hiss. 
“Perfect stance, Takuk,” Neteyam instructed as he thought how badly he wanted training to end so he could spend the rest of the day with you. His ears perk up at the sound of your raised voice followed by a hiss and he turns around quickly to see the sight that is happening.
Marek has always gotten under his skin with his lack of respect for his relationship, the fact that he would even stoop this low made him see red. Neteyam makes his way over to where you stood, braids swinging side to side as a scowl forms on his face and his hands clenched into fists.
Neteyam grabs his hand from your back, twisting it a bit earning a pained hiss to leave Marek’s mouth. “I don’t know how much time this has to be mentioned to you, keep your dirty hands away from my mate!” Neteyam growled as he shoved Marek, making his back hit the bark of the tree behind him.
Marek’s nose scrunches up from the pain, causing all the other warriors to crowd around to see what was happening. Neteyam didn’t waste any second as his fist connected with Marek’s jaw knocking him to the ground. “How many times do I gotta make it clear to you?!” Neteyam snarled as he landed another punch. 
“She would look way much better by my side than yours!” Marek spat, trying to gain control over Neteyam but failed to do so when he felt a strong kick to his ribs and you swear you heard a cracking sound. You stood in shock as you watched everything unfold before you, Neteyam had a different look in his eyes than his regular golden orbs you loved staring into. 
You knew you had to stop the fight before it got worse than it already was but the more you watched, the more you realized how much you liked seeing Neteyam in this state, his angry side as he fought to protect what’s his. A flame lighted inside of you making you feel all warm at the way he was so possessive of you, wanting you all to himself.
Once Neteyam’s hand reached for the knife that lay in his sheath like he was stalking his prey, you clenched your thighs together at the sight, feeling a pool form in your loincloth. All you wished for at this moment was for him to take you somewhere private and have his way with you.
You snap out of your lewd thoughts as you hear Neteyam let out another fierce growl, ready to strike, your eyes widen as you move closer to him and place your hand over his, making him turn his head to look at you. “Ma Teyam, he is not worth it,” you softly pleaded while you rubbed the back of his palm and watched how his chest went up and down as he huffed. 
Marek was lucky that you were able to calm him down with one look and a touch or else he would have been a dead ‘evan. “This is a warning that I won’t repeat next time you step out of line,” he grunted as he glared down at Marek who covered his abdomen with his hands, groaning in pain.
“Stay far away from her, don’t even look at her 'cause if I have to deal with you one more time, eywa will have to have mercy on your soul.” Neteyam takes his eyes from Marek to meet yours as he gently grabs a hold of your wrist, leading the two away from the wandering eyes of the crowd and making his way deeper into the forest to where the special spot you two found just for yourselves and you couldn’t help but get lost into his broad back. 
Once you two made it to the spot, you noticed how Neteyam was still angry based on how hard he was breathing and the way his tail thrashed about angrily and you thought of a good way to calm him by pulling him closer to you snaking an arm around his waist to feel up his back and you make eye contact with him. 
“Thank you for stepping in tiyawn,” you praised with a smile. “Of course, you know I’d do anything to keep you safe,” he replied as he watched your movements. “Hmm, you deserve a reward, you know that thing you wanted to do this morning?” you softly spoke as you saw his ears perk up at the offer.
You stood on your tippy toes for your lips to latch onto his, you would always swoon whenever you and him shared a kiss, this particular kiss was rough and sloppy not like your other kisses that were soft and tender but you loved it all the same. 
Your hand roamed his body until it found the bulge pent up in his loincloth, rubbing it before your fingers went to untie the string that held it up, dropping it to the ground. You pull away from the kiss to watch as his half-hard cock raise at the attention, drool already filling your mouth at the sight. “Like what you see?” Neteyam smirked recalling the line you used on him earlier. 
Neteyam doesn’t waste any time in picking you up, having you wrap your arms and legs around him as he walks towards a tree so you can have something to lean against. “You’re so fucking lor, you know that right?” he smiled as never broke eye contact with you.
“I know, I get reminded every time you tell me,” you responded smugly and he only chuckled. “Well it’s the truth and you’re all mine,” he smirked as he pushed your tewng aside, swiping one of his fingers through your folds, lathering it in your sweet juices. 
“Hmm, that show got you wet, huh?” Neteyam questioned as he sucked on the finger, groaning as he does. “I couldn’t help myself, y’so hot when you’re mad.”
Neteyam takes his length and rubs it through your pussy lips to get it all nice and wet before lining up his tip with your entrance that was aching to be filled. A sweet moan escapes your lips as he teases your hole, you gripped onto his shoulder as he begins to push his cock inside you, and you feel his head stretch you open.
A soft breathy sigh leaves your lips once he bottoms out inside you making you feel just how much it filled you up, your gummy walls clenched around his length and Neteyam lets out a groan in response. “Ahh… fuck yawne, so tight.”
Neteyam started with slow sensual strokes as he loved how his dick disappeared deep inside of you and reappeared drenched in your slick, it was like a bitch in heat, the way you were so wet, it lit a fire inside him to see you so horny and needy for him. The sweet sounds that flew out of your mouth filled his ears as you dug your fingernails into his shoulder as he began to thrust even deeper making you feel every inch. 
“Teyam… please..” you whined as every thrust he gave knocked the wind out of you. “Please what?” Neteyam taunted as he made eye contact with you, watching the way you looked at him through your half-lidded eyelids, giving your thigh a light tap as a warning. “Tiyawn, you know to get what you want, you must use your words.”
“Please… fuck me harder, fill me to the brim…” you moaned out while his lips turned into a smirk at your response. “My little slut wants to get stuffed?” Neteyam said with a little smirk while tilting his head to the side, wanting to make sure he’s hearing you correctly. “You want daddy to rough you up a little?”
You go to nod your head but catch yourself knowing that he wouldn’t accept that as an answer. “Yes..” you mewled and he let out a deep chuckle as he increased the tempo of his thrusts. Bringing you closer to the tree behind you so he could properly pound into your sweet little pussy.
“Teyam… f-feel s’good…” you mewled, trying to catch your breath in between each thrust, just for him to fuck it out of you again as he continued his relentless torture. “Ahh fuck… oare, you feel so good, your pussy is clenching around my dick,” he groaned as he loved the fucked out expression you had on your face. “The way your pussy molds to my dick, you can tell we were meant for each other.” 
The coil that was building up in your stomach snapped and your gummy walls started to flutter around his cock. “Shit… I-I’m cumming!” you cried out, letting out a pornographic moan as you painted his pelvis with your release. 
Neteyam pulls out of your soaked cunt, carefully setting you on your feet before turning you around, bending you over so that your ass was in the air and the perfect arch. He placed his cock in between your cheek, he started rubbing your ass softly before landing hard smacks on both cheeks making you yelp as some of your slick dribbled down his shaft. 
“Your body reacts so perfectly for me, Marek would never know how to handle all of this,” Neteyam grunted as he lines his cock back up to your needy hole, with one thrust he slides his whole length inside of you making you gasp, holding on tight to the tree as he thrusts in and out of you, loving the way your ass bounce every time it makes contact with his pelvis. 
Neteyam untied your top, freeing your breasts, he fondled them before rolling your nipples with his thumb as he plunged in and out of your aching hole. The sounds of your moans, his grunts, and skin slapping filled the forest and if anyone walked by, it wouldn’t take a second guess of what was happening. 
Neteyam stopped thrusting into you as he bends down to meet your neck, sniffing in your lovely scent before sinking his teeth down, not as hard to draw blood but to leave a mark, you whimper at the feeling while your pussy clenched around his length, you always found it hot whenever he would mark you. 
Neteyam released from your ear as he moved close enough to your ear. “So everyone knows you're mine,” he spoke as he breathed against your ear before straightening himself back up so he could continue giving you backshots more relentlessly than before he felt his cock twitch inside of you, knowing he was close to cumming. 
Neteyam brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing it in circles, feeling your walls clench around him again as you release your juices on him once again, this time releasing his own release deep inside your cunt. “Ahh.. fuck..” he groaned as your legs give out, he catches you in the nick of time. 
Neteyam laid you on your back, bringing your legs up. “Hold them f’me, my sweet girl,” he softly spoke as you held your legs up while he mounted you again, starting at a slow steady pace. This round was different than the last, it was softer. Neteyam rolled his hips into you, flushing his pelvis against yours as he made eye contact with you.
“I love this sweet pussy and I love you, my sweet oare,” Neteyam began as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I love you too,” you mumbled out of breath, not wanting him to stop giving you exactly what you wanted and that was to be stuffed to the brim with his delightful cock. 
If you didn’t have important things to do like tsakarem work, eating, and the need to interact  with other people, you would be glued to his pelvis and never leave.
“I can’t wait until we're finally mated,” Neteyam exclaimed as he made you let go of your legs and he moved closer down to you, lips an inch away from touching. “We would have our own little family and you would be such a good mom.” 
You couldn’t help but imagine having a family with him, it would be so cute and you wouldn’t want it to be with any other person but him. “My future will always be with you,” he groaned as you flashed a smile at him. “You’re mine too,” you happily replied before your lips smashed together.
You felt the coil in your stomach snap again as he drew yet another orgasm out of you and he wasn’t that far along once your velvety walls clenched tight around him, he emptied his load deep inside of you, imagining the picture of you round with his baby. 
Once the two of you pulled for air, Neteyam stayed connected to you so his cum wouldn’t leak out. “You did s’good for me, yawne,” he praised as he laid on top of you, putting a braid behind your ear. 
“I won’t let anyone put you in danger, they would have to deal with me personally,” you let out a chuckle, heartwarming as you knew you were with the right person. “I see you, Neteyam.” 
Neteyam's ears perked up at your response, of course, this wasn’t the first time you said but every time he can’t help himself but gets excited when he hears the words come out of your mouth.
“I see you, oeyä tiyawn,” Neteyam smiled as he pecked your lips. He gets up with you in his arms, you hold onto him tightly, wrapping your tail around his leg. “Let’s go clean you up.” he smirked as he made his way in the direction of the lake, pictures of your future flashing into his mind, a big smile formed on his face as you snuggled closer to him, sniffing his scent, a scent you could never get tired of.
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꒰ stream has ended. — all rights reserved © neteyamsoare 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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beggars-opera · 4 months
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Hey, so we don't talk enough about A Christmas Carol as being at least a little bit about not continuing a cycle of abuse and neglect, both against others and yourself.
In the book little Scrooge is left languishing over the holidays in a boarding school for some never-explained reason, but it is made very clear that this is miserable and unfair, and that his father is doing this on purpose. His sister specifically comes to tell him that "father is so much kinder now than he used to be, that home's like heaven." This also reflects a bit of Dickens's own childhood when his father went into debtor's prison and little Charlie was forced to support his family working full time in a shoe-blacking factory at the age of 12 (which is also why so many of his books seem to have a moral of "hey, kids are people too and maybe we shouldn't make them work in the mines.")
Whatever family reunion happened after didn't work out, because Scrooge continues believing that no one is coming to save him and pulling himself up by his bootstraps at the detriment of all other social relationships is the only way forward. And the more he lives by that philosophy, the more miserable he gets, because obviously he pushes away anyone who has that hope that he lost. They threaten to break down the walls he's built and teach him that a big pile of money doesn't have to be the only thing that he can rely on, if he'd just let himself be vulnerable and have a relationship with people who care about him, because they're out there even if he's ignoring them.
There is a certain type of person still very much out there who thinks this way. "I've never been happy in my life, so no one else has a right to be either. I was abused in my childhood so it's only fair that everyone else suffer as well." We see this in parents who still try to use corporal punishment, and in wealthy people who ignore the social factors keeping others down and scream that everyone else is just entitled, that only those who suffer and scrape deserve happiness. And they especially hate the people like Fred who represent the past that could have been, who have maintained hope for the future, and seem to be rubbing their optimism in your face, when in reality they're just maintaining hope because it's the only way you can survive.
It's so important for Scrooge to actually see the impact this thinking has on both himself and multiple generations. Rich people have this weird hangup about this story because they think Scrooge is bad because he's rich. He's not, he's bad because he's a horrible person and a miser - he doesn't use his money to better anything, including himself. Salting the earth, everyone suffers here, including him. And he learns that he's going to die old and alone without ever having spent or enjoyed his money, and that his family feels sorry for him, and that the nameless masses of poor people out there that he decries so much are in fact living, breathing people, including tiny disabled kids who don't deserve to suffer just because you decided life isn't fair.
In the end he takes responsibility for actually uplifting the people in the next generation who are trying to make the world a better place and no longer punching down, because it doesn't have to be this way. So many people out there just give up hope because things are hard and they think trying to improve things is a pointless exercise that makes them look dumb. How dare you grow a year older and not an hour richer! How dare you marry for love! That's the only thing more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas! When in reality, there are plenty of people who would love to see them happy if they just had a chance.
It's really sad that, while the language used to describe it has changed, these problems still persist. That people feel so wronged and isolated that they spend their days ensuring everyone else will be as well. That they fail to see their fellow humans as fellow humans who are just as deserving of love and kindness and a roof over their heads. I don't care what time of year it is, we should all be lifting each other up rather than tearing each other down.
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 4 months
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How To Adapt To Fire (II)
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AU MASTERLIST || PART III
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PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 5.6k
WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, fade-to-black, nudity, suggestive descriptions, dirty jokes, etc.
A/N: Taglist is full.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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Johnny watches you slap another news clipping to the board he’d bought you for thirty-two dollars and twenty-three cents, tired eyes blinking slowly. Standing in his apartment’s living room in his boxers and an oversized shirt, he’d woken up to the sound of muttering, and it had been just that for the last week. 
When he’d allowed you to live in his spare room until you could find a new apartment building to call your own, he didn’t expect you there to be so much grumbling. Like a little bug in his ear—not that he minded all that much. At least, if you were that bug.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you groan, running a hand down your face. “How did he find me? How did he know I already knew so much about the case?”
He, the arsonist.
Your entire building had been a total loss—and, sure enough, the lock had been busted off of your apartment door just like the scene of the fires that resulted in casualties. You had been targeted, and it wasn’t just an accident. There was intent there; a threat. 
Stay away from me, or else. 
Johnny had sighed long when he read that in the report he’d gotten his hands on—there was no way in hell anything was stopping you except…well, except yourself.
While he had envisioned one day potentially asking you to move in with him, he hadn’t expected that to happen so soon. Certainly not before the first fucking date. He hadn’t even gained the courage to ask you out yet, and here you were—pajama pants polling at your ankles and Johnny’s baggy sweatshirt loose around your shoulders. The Scot stands with the heat of sleep and attraction on his skin. 
He tried not to stare, really he did, but the way you looked in his clothes was too much of a distraction for his own good. 
The man clears his throat, face burning. 
“I’m beggin’ you to give it a rest, Dearie. At least five minutes.” Johnny sighs. “It’s not healthy.”
He doesn’t think he’s seen you shed a tear over your apartment—about your belongings. In reality, he was taken aback by it. Soap wouldn’t have blamed you at all…but you just seemed angry. It worried him, but the emotion was well within your right to hold. Just as it was within his right to try and keep you from rushing into danger.
“Not now,” you grumble. “Not until I know how he found out my room number.” 
“You aren’t exactly unknown.” The fireman walks closer to your standing form, hand moving up to scratch at his back as he gunts. “Mostly everyone who would care to look into your career knows about you. It wouldn’t be hard.” 
Johnny moves his vision over the board, pausing before he licks his lips.
“...They’ll be needing me in today, Hen,” he breathes. 
Your lips tighten, and you glance over quickly to find blue eyes already looking. Snapping your attention back to the board, you push back against the burn of your face.
“It’s your job, I’m not going to tell you not to go in.”
“If you need me here, then I can—”
“John,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a heavy frown and turning his way. “No way. Go in.”
Johnny’s serious face doesn’t lessen, and you’re struck with how often those lines on his face are becoming commonplace.
You wouldn’t say that you were taking this well. 
Forcing yourself to work; making your mind push back at the deep pit that seemed to be growing. Everything you’d worked for—everything you’d had. Gone. Up in smoke.
Two people had died in that inferno, and you can’t help but put that on yourself. 
Fingers going up to tap at your chin, your attention goes back to the board, the heavy weight of bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. You’d tried to re-write what you had in your notes as well as you were able, but there had been a reason for making a physical board in the first place. 
Johnny watches you, his brows tight and his fingers twitching. Sighing, he fixes his feet and lightly places a hand on the back of your spine, blinking quickly your eyes dart over before the tension begins to bleed from your muscles. 
Your gaze begins to soften, but your voice is still a light firmness. “Stop that.”
The man blinks. “Stop what?”
“Stop being all…” You huff, sagging into his hand. “You.” 
Johnny pushes a chuckle, shifting to stare at you fully and letting the smirk move over his lips. His fingers move along your back, rubbing tiny circles as the room goes airy—how quick it was that you could fall into this sense of attachment. To anyone outside of the apartment, it would seem the two of you were in a strange relationship, and that would be true to some extent. 
Your face heats up, and Johnny’s large palm flattens. He moves and presses his nose into your hair.  
“Now what’s that supposed to mean, then?” He grunts, and you can feel his flickering smirk as clear as day. 
Leaning over into him, you sigh, glaring at the board as your heart patters. 
“It means you’re distracting me.”
Johnny hums, thumb moving up and down over the knob of your spine.  “Talk to me,” he mutters. “Let me help, aye?” He blinks slowly, face hot and his lungs palpitating in his chest. The man cared about you so much—his heart ached for what you’d been put through. Losing a home like that. 
Your lashes flutter, a near purr emitting from your throat at the hypnotic movements of Johnny’s grip. Like a damn harpy, he was digging his claws into you; it had been happening for months. Of course, you’d let him touch you—how could you not? Even his sense of courage and justice was something that let you know his character, his honor. 
This case was just as important to him as it was to you. 
“Go,” you mutter, shifting your head so that you can stare at him. Johnny’s visage pulls back, his stubble moving with the worried angle of his lips; his skull tilts, almost like a dog cocking its snout. “We can figure something out later—if I get you fired I’d finally gain a conscious.” 
Johnny sighs, looking you up and down. “...I’ll be making dinner tonight. Just,” he breathes, and as his hand leaves you, your body fights the instinct to shiver. “Wait for me, Bonnie.” 
You take in the closeness between the two of you—how your bodies melt into one another as if on instinct. Something was startling about how easy it was to live in the same apartment as Johnny. It had almost been too easy. Sharing food, blankets, and looks.
Your eyes follow after Soap as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand before turning and walking back to his room, bare feet padding over the floor. His legs move, small burns and scars all over before your vision travels up the broadness of his back; the stretch of his arms as he brings them up with a groan to itch at his head.
Licking your lips, the sight is enough to quiet your mind. Seeing how, like water, his clothes morph into the swell of his thighs and the…your face bursts into fire, and your head snaps away. 
Clearing your throat, you blink quickly and try to re-focus on your board of suspects.
Johnny tightens the belt over his waist, huffing softly as he walks into the fire department’s bay door—passing the red trucks and patting the dogs as they come up to mob him. 
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, the clicking of little claws tapping over the concrete floors and the panting of hot breath. “Good to see you too, little rascals.” 
The fireman looks around the area, seeing some of the boys mulling about doing repairs or fixing up the slight mess. Johnny motions a hand when he’s greeted, and before long he’s entering the main hub of where he wants to go—the kitchen. 
Grabbing a cup, the Scot’s intention is to get some water before settling into his desk and diving into something that can take his mind off the woman living in his apartment. Licking his lips, Johnny gets momentarily lost in the remembrance of your skin—your determination. 
He’s angry. Angry that someone’s done this to you; had disrupted your life so violently. A question was stuck swirling in his head as he began hearing the murmuring from the walk-in pantry. 
What would have happened if you hadn’t been with him that morning? 
“What do you mean ‘that was you?’” Johnny’s fingers freeze around the rim of a glass, blinking into his own smaller reflection. Brows furrowing, the Scot’s head swivels to the kitchen pantry and the barely cracked open door and the voice that emanates from it.
For some reason, the stagnant air after that sentence makes Johnny’s spine straighten. Blue eyes stare blankly, and fingers twitch as the same voice starts again.
“I thought you said it was over?! That the last one was,” a strangled word, a fast inhale. “We had a fucking deal.” 
Heart slow in his chest, Soap stares the longer this seemingly one-sided conversation goes on. There was something off—the words seemed hurried; panicked, even. It wasn’t the usual emotions you had when having a talk with someone. 
Taking a steady step back, the Scot remembered how fast your pulse had run when he had you at his chest a week ago—the fast slam and the whites of your eyes on full display. Even if you didn’t confess it to him, Johnny knew you’d been afraid of the fire. Fearful. He knew you weren’t sleeping. 
Maybe the fireman was being paranoid, but anything that he didn’t understand made his hackles rise like a feral dog—certainly with you, technically, under his watch now. Everyone was a potential threat. Face stiff, Johnny begins walking over to the pantry with nearly silent feet, boots softly flattening to the tile floor.
Stopping outside of the door, his ears hone in. 
“This isn’t right! There’s a difference between what you do and what I do! We stuck together, but this is it. I’ve covered for you—I’ve tried to smooth everything out, but this isn’t something that I can look past anymore. She wasn’t even involved yet!”
Johnny’s lips tighten, his eyes burning through the barrier until he lifts his hand and settles it loosely on the doorknob, not pushing even as the thin material shifts minutely. The alarms in his head were going off, and he didn’t like that. 
Muscles tight, the Scot moves a bit closer, shoulder just beginning to touch the wood before—
Kurt Matthews, one of the rookie firefighters, shoves himself through. 
Johnny strangles a gasp as the two men nearly collide with one another, only shoving out, what he hopes to be, a casual call of, “Hell’s bells. Careful there, Kid.”
The man’s wild eyes lock on him, stumbling back before Soap’s hands move to grasp his arm, a dark phone held lightly in Kurt’s hand. Johnny looks at it silently before he forces a blank chuckle. “Sorry, then. Was going to get some bread—you know how it is, eh?” Kurt looks frazzled, a sheen of sweat over his face; eyes tiny. “The boys never fill up the bread box after they finish a loaf.”
“What?” Matthews quickly mutters, before shaking his head and waving a hand. “Yeah, right, whatever.”
He swiftly moves past the Scot, brushing shoulders. The mohawked man’s nose pulls in, and blue eyes watch the disappearing individual. 
Johnny’s throat swallows down saliva. 
Kurt Matthews smells like gasoline.
You hear the sound of the TV and sniffle, pushing the heels of your hands into your stinging eyes. 
It wasn’t a question as to why you had waited until Johnny left to let yourself feel the hopelessness that was sinking into your chest—you were surprised you lasted that long, though. Tiny tears dribble out over your cheeks, but you fight them with a growl. 
“Keep it together,” you sigh harshly. “C’mon, keep it together.” 
Your heart jerks when the front door of the apartment opens, and you’re quick to stand up from the couch where you had been sitting, clearing your throat as Johnny’s call echoes. 
“Just me!��� 
You divulge immediately into your hurried sentences, waving a hand. The shake in your voice is obvious. “I have some of the names I remember writing down—it isn’t much but I—”
“What happened?” Johnny’s hands capture your face in a swift second; he isn’t even out of his work clothes before he’s over and touching you. It’s like he teleported over at the slightest hint of distress, not even a moment of hesitation. “Whoa, hey, hey,” he breathes a bit slower, softer. “What’s this then, Bonnie?” 
Delicate movements of his fingers scrape your flesh, thumb running as blue eyes come into focus. Your lungs tighten up again at the sight of tense worry—Johnny’s face all hard with the lines of his forehead and the narrowing of his eyelids.
“Let me see,” he utters, tilting your head up so the brightness of your eyes is visible to him; the wetness of your flesh. “Hey, now.” 
The man’s attention goes up and down on the off chance this is physical pain instead of the internal kind. But he knows better than that. So, Johnny stuffs down the hunch he had about the man in his own ranks and places all of his concern on you and your bitter tears. 
Even when you try to grumble his worry away.
“It’s just stupid tears, MacTavish,” your voice cracks as he drags you to him, curling his arm behind the stretch of your shoulder blades in an addictive display that leaves your nose sniffling again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Quit it,” the Scot pleads. “Jesus, Pencils,” he sighs, arms trapping you in just like before. “Just let me hold you, yeah? I swear, you’ll make my heart burst ‘fore I get you to admit you’re feeling something.”
Your glossy eyes flinch into a weak glare. “I’m not that emotionally constipated, jackass.” 
Johnny’s breath moves over your scalp.
“You sure about that?” Your face goes to an annoyed sheen, and from the soft rest of Johnny’s chest, you look over at him. He’s trying a light smirk, but his eyes are still serious. 
Letting yourself melt into him, you take in his scent and the heat he offers you, surrounded by the remnants of his life and future—this apartment that offers you a reprieve. 
You close your eyes and let your hands shift up to grab at Johnny’s shirt slowly, your heart gradually easing. Unaware of the soft gaze watching every second; his own grip tightening.
“...You’re like a dog,” you whisper, tears drying. “Always running over.” Your pause lays out a beautiful scene. “I like it.”
Johnny’s cheeks flare to a bright red. He clears his throat, glancing away from your face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”
“Hm,” you hum, shrugging and nuzzling your nose into his pulse. You hear it racing. “Up to you, I suppose.” 
The man laughs, chest jerking. 
The silence that falls after is like a blanket—settling thickly over the space as the last of your sniffles finally halt. You didn’t like crying; not in front of others. It was easier to just push through it, but Johnny’s presence made you soft, at the same time you can’t tell if that’s good or bad. But it did make your fear lessen, and maybe that was something you couldn’t overlook. 
You tighten your hold on his waist, and he grunts, glancing down at you as his gut swirls. The man’s half-lidded eyes flutter, fingers flinching along your clothes. The room gets warmer, or maybe it’s just him. 
“I guess,” you begin under your breath, voice muffled by his skin. “I could use your help. Officially.”  
“Ooo,” the Scot whispers. “‘Officially’—look at that.”
You huff, lips pulling up. 
“Well,” the man mutters, chin resting on top of your head as the sun outside begins to dip lower. “‘Officially’ I have some information that my Bonnie little boss might like to hear.”
Your smirk grows wider, your heart hammering faster as your pulse moves with fire. 
“Oh?” Your nails drag his sides, and you feel Johnny’s breath hitch, a low purr emanating from his chest. 
“Oh, aye,” a hand grips your chin, dragging you back until you’re once more blinking into his gaze head-on. His finger pets your flesh, your breath puffing out as he stares down at you. He swallows down the nervousness in the back of his throat, the urgency that instinct pushes away in this moment of anticipation as he watches your face. “But I’m having a moment, it seems—can’t think straight.”
“Why’s that?” You lick your lips and see cobalt blue follow them.
“Because this Hen in front of me has been a damn tease since I’ve met ‘er.” 
Any snappy reply is cut short before it even can fully register in your head, and all thoughts halt the second his firm mouth is on your own. 
You gasp, but there isn’t an ounce of yourself that pulls back, not when Johnny’s fingers play at your shirt-hem, or even when your own slide under his clothes. You don’t pull back when they hit the floor—don’t pull back when your bodies follow suit. 
A dance of fire and ice moves with the writhing of flesh and the passing of heavy kisses; panting breath. Grunts and groans as if every pass of lips and teeth is a knife into supple skin. Tense legs and flexing arms—dragging fingertips digging into every latchable dip even as the dead of night grows longer. 
It’s only after every desire has been satiated that you finally utter about the finer details of this mess. 
Johnny’s hands move down your bare back, slipping to grip your waist and drag you into him as you sigh. Your thigh lifts to rest over his hip, leg hanging uselessly over as it brushes the ruffled sheets as lips find your neck, tiny nips and passes of skin mixing as your eyes flutter. 
The fireman makes a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat, hand sliding to hook under your kneecap, caressing. 
“So attentive,” you murmur, and your fingers run through his hair, itching at his mohawk as the longer strands slip through. Johnny burrows closer, nose pushing your head upwards as he kisses the space where your neck connects to the underside of your chin. 
He chuckles smoothly, stubble scraping along as you shiver at the sensation. The hard press of his pecs shove into you, and you lightly breathe; fingers twitching.
“How are we feeling?” Johnny grunts in between his worship.
“Energized,” you grin, half-closed eyes shimmering. 
The man smiles widely, grip sliding downward slowly as he chuckles. “Yeah?”
“Not like that,” you groan, shoving his hand away as he laughs, rolling onto his back and folding his arm over his eyes. 
“Ah,” Johnny’s chest jumps with his amusement, itching at his bare abdomen for a moment. “Worth a try, then.”
“Dog,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve had enough of a fill.”
“That’s all up to opinion, Dearie.” He smirks, peeking at you as your face heats up.
Shoving at his shoulder, he laughs again and pushes up, hands melting into the mattress beside your head as he looms above you as a large wall. 
“I’ll never have enough of a fill when it comes to you and your wet c-”
You snap a hand to his mouth, covering it as you glare openly, sneering. “Finish that sentence and you’ll never have me in this bed again.”
Johnny’s glinting eyes stare from above your hand, and you feel his smile as clear as day as his face stays stuck close to yours. 
A teasing kiss is leveled on your palm and you roll your eyes, pulling away to lightly push at his forehead. The Scot lets you shove at him, and you sit up fully as he grunts and rests his back on the headboard. 
Shifting your body, you straddle his lap and grasp his chin.
“A few hours ago,” Johnny’s eyes are blown, and you feel his touch on your hips. He hums in question, barely listening above the squeeze of your legs. “You were going to tell me something—a lead.”
“Was I?” The fireman breathes, licking at your finger as it goes to rest on his bottom lip. 
You cock your head with seriousness and a level of amusement in your gaze. “You were. Tell me.”
“You need to work on your pillow talk, Pencils.” Johnny sets a sloppy kiss on your collarbone and sighs. 
There’s a moment where you both stare into one another, and the gravity of this begins to set in once more. Carnal desire and feelings aside, there was always an edge to the both of you—this need to be seen through whether for some sense of justice or care. 
“Kurt Matthews—rookie fireman,” Johnny grunts, looking away for a quick moment. “Heard him speaking on the phone, got a bad feeling ‘bout it that I can’t place. Might be nothing, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell you.” 
“Kurt,” you breathe, brows pulling in. There’s a long pause. “Kurt Matthews…that sounds familiar.” 
Hopping off Johnny, the man groans softly, a slightly needy look following after as your bare body slips away. He knocks his skull against the headboard, side-eyeing your backside as you hurry off to your board. A light smirk makes itself known before your voice snaps him out of his memories. “Stop looking at my ass, MacTavish!”
His face goes beet red as he grunts, quickly snapping his eyes away. 
You wrap yourself into one of the blankets that was on the couch, letting it hang off of your shoulders as you snatch one of the papers on your mess of information. 
“A fireman,” you mutter to yourself, finger running down names and brief descriptions. “An inside job? No, that would be…” Your eyes spark to life as Soap shuffles in, running through his hair. “That would be one hell of a story.” 
Attention locked in, your eyes instantly stop on your own chicken scratch—the name at the bottom of the page. 
Kurt Matthews. Witness to fire on the fifth; one dead. 
“Off duty? Or not hired yet?” You ask, lips tightening. “Why was he at the scene? Johnny,” your curious voice calls to him, and he slips up behind you, flattening his front to your back. You lean into him, showing him the paper. “When did he get taken on into the department?”
“Month ago,” Johnny’s face pulls, frowning. A name catches his attention, and he tilts his head. “Why’s Duncan on there?”
Your attention moves to the scribbled title. Johnny continues as you read, your stomach sinking. 
Duncan Ballard. Employee of Warren Electrical. No involvement.
You wave a hand. “He has nothing to do with this case. That was back when I was looking into the money laundering—”
“They’re cousins.” 
Your body twists, face confused. “What…?”
Johnny blinks, glancing at you and then back to the paper, he vaguely gestures to the two names. “Duncan and Kurt—they’re cousins. Met him at one of the department cookouts. Strange bloke, but I never thought much about it. Just thought he liked the profession a bit because Kurt was getting involved.” 
You stare at him, a million thoughts dashing from behind your eyes. “Duncan was the man I interviewed about the Warren Electrical case. He was cleared by the police,” you stutter, looking to the side. “He was the only employee of the company that didn’t confess or implicate someone else. There was no evidence to…”
You trail off before your spine tightens. Your body pushes itself out of Johnny’s hold, rushing to his computer and opening it like a bat out of hell. 
“Give me the name of one of the fire victims.”
The Scot watches after, hurriedly forcing out, “Mike Lane.”
An article pops up—one that you hadn’t written but that another journalist had. Warren Electrical Employee Exposes All. 
“Another,” you breathe, eyes stuck on the screen.
“Kit Cannon.”
Warren Electrical Employee—
“Johnny, one more.”
“Hadden Taylor.”
Warren Electrical Employee—
Your throat closes for a moment before you force out in the middle of Soap easing out another name, still not sure where you’re going with this. “He’s trying to kill off anyone who snitched.”
Johnny pauses, coming over to look as he thinks—as he looks over the articles you show him with a grim face, he tilts his head.
“Even then, why were you a target? All you did was interview him. And why now?” 
“He knows I have all of the resources,” you begin. “If anyone can catch him, it would be me—I interviewed him when he was in temporary custody. It would have seemed like he didn’t have a choice unless he wanted to keep his appearance of innocence.” 
Your mind struggles through the potential answers. “But you’re right—why now? Is it because of the trial coming up? And how does this connect with Kurt?”
“He smelled like Gasoline when he walked past me,” Johnny adds, rubbing at his chin; itching at his scar. He spares you a look, mulling over the words that he’d heard in the pantry. “...I think he’s trying to cover his cousin’s crimes with his own. Make it seem like they’re all a part of one damn scheme.” 
“He’s the one going for the abandoned buildings,” you agree, nodding a few times, looking over into Johnny’s eyes. “Kurt Matthews and Duncan Ballard. Okay. We have our leads.”
Before the Scot can speak on it, you’re rushing past, grabbing clothes from the floor and shoving them on. His face moves in, confusion overtaking his building shock. 
“What are you doing?” You shove into your pants, not sparing a look before you button them. 
“Get dressed, we’re going out.”
Johnny’s left in the middle of the room, naked, watching after you with a slack-jawed expression of disbelief. 
“...What?”
You hang up your phone with one of the many people you know in the city, dropping it to your side as you and the fireman stand in front of your car. You have an address for Kurt’s home—not one for Duncan, but that can happen later. With what Johnny had said not moments before, Matthews was expressing hesitation. Go for the weaker link first. 
The streets are lit up. It’s still night out but the long hours are beginning to thin into morning; it can’t be later than three AM. Vehicles rush past, and, occasionally, people walk to wherever they are off to. The city never sleeps, just as you don’t. 
“Woah,” Johnny grabs onto you before your hand can latch onto the driver’s seat door. He waves his other hand and stares at you heavily. “We can’t just go into this with our dicks in our hands, Bonnie.”
“Thankfully, I don’t have one of those,” you huff. “That’s why I keep you around.”
“That isn’t,” Johnny sighs aggressively, shaking his head. “I’ll not have you in danger. We need to pass this along the chain.”
“The chain,” you grumble, “hates me. We’re the best bet right now.” Raising a brow you point a finger under his nose. “If I recall, you asked to be involved.”
Johnny frowns heavily, looking unimpressed until he takes a deep breath. He rasps out, “You’re lucky you’re damn near a goddess—”
His phone goes off in his pocket, and not a second later, he’s answering as you mess with your satchel. Taking out a piece of paper, you try not to show how much his little comment made you want to float into the air, giddy, nearly, as you write down Kurt’s address sloppily. 
“MacTavish,” Johnny grunts out, turning slightly away. 
You open your car door, but a hand moves out and keeps it closed enough to a point where you can’t slip inside, you pout and Johnny raises a brow as he listens. Your eyes notice how his jaw clenches, and he lets off an aggressive sigh like a boar when he registers the words being said from over the line. 
Your heart drops when you watch his shoulders sag, hips moving as they situate themselves.
“Right. I’ll be over.” Cobalt eyes snap to yours when the call ends, deathly serious. “One of the boys had to run out tonight during his twenty-four-hour—family emergency. I was on call for him.” 
You open your mouth to speak. 
“No,” Johnny points at you, digging out his own keys from his pants as he backs up. He shakes his head. “No—you’re not going alone. Don’t even ask it, Pencils.”
Your loud scoff echoes. “I didn’t even mention it!”
“You fucking thought it,” he grunts, glaring. “Get your pretty arse back inside the apartment and we do this together tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes,” you wave a hand, stepping back onto the sidewalk as the Scot moves to his vehicle only two cars down, sarcastically monologuing. “All naked and waiting to be ravished by your brutish body. Whatever will I do without you, my brave firefighter?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Soap mutters to himself, and just as he unlocks his car and opens the door, you’re there at his side. A light kiss is pressed into his flesh, and he freezes. 
“Be safe,” you mutter, and he melts—tension loosening. He smirks and glances over, carefully grabbing your face before connecting his lips to yours with a low groan.
“Maybe you should be naked and waiting for me—”
“Go!”
Johnny chuckles against your lips. “Keep your head on for me, Pencils. I’ll be back soon, and we can find the fucker that did this, eh?”
As he gets into his car and drives away, you watch after him and bite at your lips. And then as he turns the street corner, you jog over to your car and slip inside.
The home was run down.
It wasn’t a place where you would want to raise a family, and neither was the neighborhood. In fact, barely anyone seemed to live on this street, and even if there were entire rows of houses, there weren’t even any lights on—nothing illuminated the streets except the lamps, and you were parked under one with your satchel in your lap. 
Experience didn’t mean you never get nervous.
You feel the clamminess of your palms as you flex them, replaying Johnny’s words in your head over and over. You knew the house was here, so, you could always just…come back later. There was no harm in it. 
Yet, your eyes narrow, and your rage builds. 
This fucker was related to the man that burned down your apartment building—was potentially covering for him so you wouldn’t break the case on Duncan killing off the snitches for Warren Electrical’s schemes. But all because of an interview with him? All you’d done was sit down with the guy; why did he feel the need to track you down? Breaking into someone's house and lighting it up with matches was personal—incredibly personal. 
Duncan had given you a warning to keep away, and you hated warnings with a fiery passion. If anything, it had just set you on his ass more. 
“Okay,” you huff, and reach inside of your satchel, flicking on the recorder you stuffed inside and stating your name, age, and important information. 
And then you open the car door and exit. 
Speed walking to the door, you look down the dark streets and hunch into yourself, the calls of crows and the wind moving the overgrown grass. Cracked concrete hits the ground as you kick pieces away, and at the two steps leading to the front door, you think that perhaps this might be a bad idea.
Bad ideas are what make good articles.
You hum, face innocent. “Johnny’s gonna fucking kill me.”
Knuckles raising, you send three firm knocks into the paint-speckled wood, and wait. And wait.
And wait. 
Your face tightens, your legs shifting minutely as the seconds draw long. A part of you is somewhat relieved until you hear a small creak just when you’re about to walk away. You freeze, and your eyes move slowly to the glass of the side window in a gradual glance. 
Your eyes lock onto a face staring back. 
Gasping, your foot takes a rapid step backward, but before you can rush away, Kurt rips open the door and pleads in a tiny voice as he grabs your arm. You flinch, raising up a heavy fist. But his words stop you from sending it forward.
“No! No, you can’t be here!” Your eyes blink rapidly, stuttering through your initial panic.
“What?”
“Leave!” Kurt snaps, eyes wild. “While he’s still asleep—he can’t see you here or he’ll—” There’s a splash of liquid and you shout. Kurt lets go of you quickly as he looks down at himself as his clothes get flooded from behind. 
The sharp smell hits you before your ears twitch to the sound of a lighting match. 
Kurt screams, snapping around as you fall backward off the steps, slamming into the ground with a panicked flinching in your lungs. A large shadow stands in the doorway. “I didn’t say anything—I didn’t—!”
Kurt Matthews goes up in flames, and in the fire and the rabid screams of sizzling flesh, you’re left shouting in pure fear. Duncan’s familiar face was illuminated by an orange and red inferno and he watches you blankly with a box of matches in his right hand.
You run off so fast, your heels get kicked off in a flurry of a chase.
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lovelybrooke · 9 months
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The way things were before (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader)
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This was inspired by the last episode of the latest season where we get some Muzan lore. This is kinda my first time writing real angst so tell me what you think. Keep in mind this is based on the anime and I haven't actually read the manga.
Pt.2
Check out my other works here: Masterlist.
Anger.
Ever since Muzan was young, one emotion he always felt was anger. It stuck to him like a tumor, destroying him from the inside out.
He felt anger for his illness that prevented him from having a real life. He felt anger for having to be tested on by doctors nearly daily. He felt anger that people looked down upon him as he grew weaker and weaker. But more importantly, he felt anger that nothing changed. He never got better, he never got stronger, no matter how much time went by.
As he aged, and his illness got worse, Muzan accepted the fact that his anger, his hatred for everyone would never leave him.
That was, until he found you. His beautiful, wonderful child, the only thing that could quell the rage inside of him.
You weren't his biologically, no, but that didn't matter to him. Before he was too sick to leave his bed, Muzan found you orphaned living on the streets and took you in. Ever since, you've been repaying him by taking care of him.
"Father, it is time to take you medicine." There you were, right on time. Muzan refused to take his medicine from anyone else, even his most notable doctors.
He was too weak to sit up, simply moving his head to acknowledge you, watching as you sat down in front of him. Muzan didn't complain as you moved his head so the medicine could travel done his throat more smoothly.
Once done, you lay his head back down, putting the small bowl down next to you, blessing him with a kind smile. "How are you feeling today father?" You question.
"I'm doing fine now that you are here, my child." You giggle, the smile reaching your eyes. A small smile graces Muzan's face at your happy demeanor. Even if it is only for a second, Muzan is happy.
"Oh, I almost forgot." You gasp, "The doctor has new medicine for you, he wanted to give it to you himself."
Muzan let out a childlike groan, rolling over to face the balcony. It was beautiful outside, but Muzan couldn't help but feel annoyed. The sun was too bright, the wide was too strong, the birds were too loud. Even the thought of having to interact with his doctor for a second caused his blood to boil.
You roll your eyes at him, "Father, you have to take your medicine, the doctor knows better than me." He does move to face you, but you could tell he was annoyed.
"The doctors are incompetent." He moves back on his back; his brows cross in frustration. "They have been treating me for years, but here I remain, trapped in by bed." He laments.
You frown at his words, looking away from your father with sorrow. You remember a time when he was still healthy enough to spend time with you, your favorite days being when he would grow flowers with you, teaching you about their meanings and medical uses. But now, just standing was enough to strip him of all his strength.
You've been forced to watch as your father grows more resentful for the people around him, hating his doctors, maids, even gardeners for simply existing, being able to live the life he most desperately wanted. On days where his illness is at his worse, he mumbles about wanting to destroy them all, something you assumed was delirium caused by the medicine.
Even though your father has changed, you still love him, and you can't help but see him as the carefree, happy man he was when you were younger, even now. It's why you so desperately want him to get better, so that maybe you could go back to the way things once were.
"Father, I promise they just want to help." You try and talk some sense into him, though his resolve doesn't budge. You sigh, "it would make me really happy if you let the doctors give you the medicine." You put emphasis on the word really, in hopes it would motivate him. To your luck it did, Muzan moving to face you, sighing at your pleading face.
"Fine." Was all he said, feeling warmth bubble up in him as you smiled. You leaned down and hugged him the best you could.
"Thank you, father." Muzan smiles, happy once more.
---
You haven't visited you father in days, him forbidding you from entering his room a few days after he took the new medicine. You didn't mind though, it probably had some bad side effects, so you left him alone. Though, you couldn't help but question whenever he ordered for a worker to enter his room, especially when you swore, they never left.
Today was the final straw, you had to see your father. Workers had been disappearing left and right, and you knew your father was not going to be happy about it if you kept it from him.
As you get closer and closer to your father's room, a stench more disgusting than anything you've smelt before entered your nose and caused you to gag. You would've thrown up than and their if you didn't cover your mouth quickly.
The smell only got worse as you slowly crept towards the door, it nearly becoming unbearable. You swallowed down you fear as you knocked at the door. You could hear the faint sounds of crunching, like someone was chewing on something tough which made heartbeat against your ribs.
"F-father, are you in there." The chewing stopped and your heart sank. Your hands shook as you heard someone move towards the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing your father covered in blood. He smiled down at you creepily, a stark contrast between the horror that covered your face.
Muzan moves to cup your cheek in his hand, blood smearing on your face. He could hear your fearful breathing coming from your nose as you inhale and exhale in rapid succession. He rubs your cheek, trying to calm you down as you look into his room, seeing the mangled-up bodies behind him. Your breathing became even more erratic at the sight, Muzan simply sighing with a frown.
"(Y/N), you don't understand-"
"You killed them, father." You whisper, backing away from him.
"I am much stronger now; I can protect you." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. What was he talking about?
"You killed them." Your repeat you back hitting the wall. Muzan was directly in front of you, looking down intimidatingly. For the first time in your life, your father scared you.
"I had to, my child." He answers, his voice calm, but you could sense his annoyance. "It's the only way I can remain strong."
You don't say anything as he moves closer, hugging you into his chest as your world went dark.
---
It's been years since that day.
Your now older, more aware of the situation you're in. You father was now a demon, forced to consume humans in order to live. You realized quickly it was from the medicine the doctor gave him, and you curse him everyday for doing so.
He took your home from you, forcing you and your father out of your village. He took your life from you, forcing you to remain hidden with you father. Most importantly, he took your father from you, him now a husk of the man he once was.
Along with the myriad of strange side effects, your father couldn't go out in the day, the sun causing him immense pain, one of the only few things that could hurt him.
You learned to treasure the mornings, them being the few hours away from your father. While he was busy learning all he could about his aliment, you were trying to maintain the image of a normal human being. Working, socializing, anything you could do to forget about the atrocities your father committed when the sun set.
You wish things would go back to the way they were before.
"-N)? (Y/N)?" Oh, you were in the hospital, getting blood work done. You look over at the doctor in front of you, him attempting to get you attention.
You've been feeling terrible for the past few days, constant headaches, hot flashes, soreness. You could barely move without pain. You got blood work done, now waiting for the results with anticipation.
"I just wanted to ask you a question before giving you the news." His voice is solemn, not giving you a good feeling. "Does your family have any history of illness?"
You want to answer yes, but that would we wrong. You're not Muzan's child, so you shouldn't have inherited his illness. "No, my father was plagued with illness years ago, but he's...better now and I'm not his child biologically."
The doctor nodded, looking away dejectedly. When his eyes finally met yours, they were serious, "You've developed a rare blood disease." You heart sinks, but the doctor continues, "I suspect about a month or so is what you have left."
You could feel tears in your eyes, but surprisingly you didn't feel all that sad. Ever since you were young, you've accepted the fact that you would die, it's something you've learned from your times on the streets. The doctor continues talking, but you don't hear a word, to busy wondering how you're going to tell Muzan.
---
"Father, I'm home." No response, but you know he heard you.
On your way home, you accepted that you weren't going to tell Muzan. You knew if you would, he would try to turn you, and you couldn't accept that fate. To you, even death was a better fate than becoming a demon.
You slowly make you way up to your father's study, knocking on the door before entering. Like most days, your father is hunched over his desk, books and papers strewn about.
He doesn't acknowledge you when you enter, even when you move to stand beside him. You take a look at the scientific papers, not understanding a single thing about any of them. The only recognizable thing was the blue spider lily that for some reason was crucial to father.
"How was your appointment?" He doesn't look at you, flipping through pages of a book.
You sigh, shaking your head, "It was fine. Apparently, I was overreacting." You let out an awkward laugh. Muzan nods, before moving his attention back to his book.
It's like he was consumed by this flower, it was the only thing he cared about. You missed you father, even though it's been years since he's felt like one. In a way, you feel like death would be more welcoming than the life you have now, one that is consumed by fear for the man your supposed to feel safe around.
You left without telling you father, silently hoping you wouldn't see him in the morning.
---
Your hopes were not answered.
It's been week, but death does not come, all that greeted you was endless pain.
Your father found out when you collapsed one morning, and while he was mad you lied to him, he was livid when you refused to be turned into a demon. He's never yelled at you before, it surprised you when he screamed and threatened you, but you didn't change your mind.
In the end, your father was forced to watch you slowly succumb to your illness. You attempted to brighten his mood by framing the situation as repaying you. You took care of him, now he is doing the same. The only difference being you won't make it out in the end.
"Father, do you remember when I was little," You murmur to him; you voice raw and quiet. Your room was dark, blocking out any light so you could barely see your father looking at you. "You used to grow flowers with me." Your giggle sounds almost painful, but the smile on your face was one Muzan had nearly forgotten. "I'd get so sad when mine would die."
He doesn't speak, he can't, "Then you'd tell me not to cry, because death is normal for all living beings." Your voice is getting quieter as you speak, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "You were trying to comfort me about your death, I didn't know that at the time."
Muzan wants you to stop talking, he hates the pain in your voice. "I wish we could go back to the way things were before." You said, before finally going quiet. Muzan hears your breathing stop before letting out a sob.
---
It's been over a thousand years since your death and ever since then, Muzan has been filled with anger.
Anger for this imperfect world that took you away from. Anger at you for refusing the life he could've given you. Anger at himself for making your last few moments miserable.
He doesn't know who to blame for his misfortune, but he knows that if he lets anger consume him, he'll find someone to blame.
Muzan chooses to remember you when you were younger and at your happiest. When he's alone, his mind often wanders to these moments, when you were just a child, so small he was afraid anything would hurt you. He never let you out of his sight, wanting to protect you from the world.
Though in the end, he still lost you.
Since the day you died, Muzan was filled with rage. And he will continue to be until the day he sees you again.
He just wishes things would go back to the way they were before.
---
A/n: I don't even know if this counts as Yandere but whatever.
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Big Brother | Alexia Putellas x Reader
how is this the first first Alexia fic I'm writing lol. based on this request Enjoy:)
“Mamá, we see Ingrid?” your four year old son asks as you put on his shoes.
You can’t help but laugh. He had a bit of a crush on the Norwegian much to Mapi’s displeasure since he wanted nothing to do with her. “Yes baby, she will be there.”
“Jana too?” He questions grabbing his tiny football off the bed beside him.
“All of the girl’s will be there Nico,” you tell him before he can go down the list of all his favorite Barça players.
The answer seems to satisfy his curiosity as you place him back on the floor and he begins to kick the ball around the room. You busy yourself picking out an appropriate outfit to cover your growing baby bump. You and Alexia had been having some trouble over the last year with trying to conceive. After several failed attempts you were both extremely happy to finally see the positive test results. You had kept the pregnancy from your friends out of fear and had just recently told your families now that you were well into your second trimester. You planned to begin telling everyone else in the coming weeks, as the bump was definitely getting harder to hide.
“Amor, are you ready?” Alexia’s smooth voice fills the room causing Nico to launch the ball in her direction. “Be careful, remember?” She asks calmly, catching the ball before it could do any damage.
“Lo siento mamá,” he tells you, coming to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. 
Alexia lifts him in the air, inducing a fit of laughter as she tickles his sides, “go play in the living room until we leave.” Nico dashes out of the room with the ball at his feet.
“How do you feel mi vida?” Alexia asks, wrapping her arms around your waist. 
“I feel good.”
“And my baby girl? She’s good?” She leans down, placing a few kisses on your growing stomach.
You run your fingers through her hair as she rises back up, “you don’t know that it’s a girl yet love.”
“No, I know that’s mi princesa in there. You just don’t want to admit it cause then you’ll have to get bumped to second place,” she teases, pulling you into a sweet kiss.
You immediately pull away when you feel Alexia try to deepen it, “nope, we have to go.”
“I can be quick cariño,” she says with her eyes roaming over your body. 
“We both know that’s a lie,” you laugh, moving around the room to grab the last of your things. You can feel her eyes boring into you with each step you take. “Tonight, if you behave babe. Now come on before we are late.” 
Alexia’s gaze softens when you turn back towards her, “beso,” she pouts from her spot. You give in as usual and connect your lips with hers, letting her deepen just enough to please her. “Come, you’re going to make us late.”
You roll your eyes, grabbing the hand she holds out for you and heading for the living room. Nico barrels into Alexia’s legs the moment he catches sight of her. “Alexia watch,” he says, moving to show her how many kick-ups he could attempt. Alexia groans at the habit he picked up of calling her by her name, but watches nonetheless. You on the other hand thought it was hilarious, anything football related and he would call her Alexia like he heard on the TV, but any other time it was mamà. 
“Good, we will keep practicing. Now come on, we are going to be late.”
Alexia gathers everything you guys need and leads you both to the car. Mapi and Ingrid were hosting a team dinner party to celebrate the end of the season. And while you loved all the girls, team dinners were stressful. There were a lot of people, a lot of conversation, and an overly excited 4 year old you had to keep an eye on. This was the first one you would be going to pregnant and you weren’t necessarily looking forward to it, but Alexia assured you she’d keep everything in line. She rubs a soothing hand along your thigh as she drives and engages in an animated conversation with your son.
As you arrive, she helps you and Nico both out of the car before placing a kiss on the side of your head, “when you want to leave, we will.” That was your favorite thing about Alexia, the way she was always willing to put your needs above anything. 
“Nico!” Mapi says excitedly as she opens the door with her arms spread wide to him. Without a care in the world Nico ducks under her arm and sprints off towards Ingrid who was making her way towards you, “one day the kid will realize I’m the cool one,” Mapi huffs. 
Alexia chuckles sliding past Mapi’s still open arms just as Nico did. Having mercy on the defender you let her wrap you in a hug. “How are you Marìa?”
“You’ve always been my favorite Putellas,” she tells you. 
Alexia rolls her eyes, grabbing your hand and leading you around the room to greet everyone. “Move,” she tells Patri from her spot on the couch.
“Qué?” Patri questions her captain's harsh tone with a wide smile.
You interject before Alexia can speak again, “Amor stop,” you whisper harshly at her attempt to have the girl give her seat up to you. Captain Alexia was very entitled and you hated that, always quick to try and order her teammates around even off the pitch. You drag her by the arm to the bathroom just as you see Nico plop down in Patri’s lap. 
“What is wrong? Do you feel sick?” Alexia begins to check you over.
“Remember when I said ‘tonight if you behave?” Alexia nods with a smirk. “What you just did is not behaving. I’m perfectly capable of sitting in a chair.”
“But princesa likes the couch.”
“I’m serious Alexia, no more.” She crosses her arms across her chest with a glare, and you’ve never been more sure your son was her twin, even if she didn’t push him out. You kiss away her frown and head back to the party. 
Much to Alexia’s amusement Patri and several others have vacated their spot on the couch when you arrive back. “Alexia come play,” Nico shouts, as she places you on the couch. 
“Yeah Alexia go play,” Mapi teases, flopping down beside you. Alexia looks at you as if she’s seeking approval and you give her a nod sending her on her way. “She’s so whipped it’s disgusting.”
You don’t even mention the fact that she’s just as whipped for Ingrid. Mapi keeps you company for a while before feeling left out that she wasn’t asked to play. Tonight was going a lot smoother than you expected. Alexia made sure to run behind Nico and ensure he wasn’t bothering anyone for too long and she’d check in on you every so often, placing a single kiss on your forehead.
“Hey, congrats (y/n),” Marta tells you as she passes by. You thank her, finding it a bit weird as she was not the first to say it, but Alexia loved to brag on you. You figured she had told them about the new client you had been working hard to land at work. 
It’s when everyone finally gathers around the large table for dinner you find out the real reason. Nico insisted on sitting by Lucy, claiming they had to as they were best friends. After she ensured you it was fine you let him stay beside her and took your spot by Alexia. Halfway through the meal you freeze as Lucy shouts, “YOU'RE PREGNANT?”
“What?” you ask, startled at the claim. 
Alexia goes to stand up and go full-on protective mode when Nico speaks up, “Yep, I’m a big brother!” 
“He told me first,” Ingrid says, making the boy blush.
You and Alexia share a glance before letting out a laugh. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision to tell him before you let the girls know.
“Well cats out the bag I guess,” you sigh.
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snippychicke · 6 days
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Poppy Seeds -- Part One
As you may have guessed, I fell into a new hyper fixation. Poppy's Playtime of all things. >.<
Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.
I know right now we have no idea who or what Ollie is, but I decided to go with the assumption he is just a kid and not the Prototype as some theorists are assuming. This will likely be debunked in chapter four, but I'm running with it until then.
Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)
Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)
One: Home
Your hands gripped the steering wheel tight as your old truck climbed up the steep incline. It hadn't liked the rough road on a good day, let alone with Kissy and Dogday in the back trying to drag it down. Now it whined and complained, the wheels occasionally skidding on the gravel. Ollie clutched to Poppy tightly next to you, his sunken eyes wide with fear. Poppy, to her credit, looked confident that everything would be okay.
By the time you reached the cabin nestled high above the valley, it was close to midnight. It was a sizable two story home, complete with a barn, garage, and even a chicken coop. Thick forest surrounded the homestead, assuring complete privacy. A year ago your grandparents had moved into an assisted living community in town, leaving the whole place to you. The rest of the family had not been happy but in your defense you would come out every school break growing up to help them out.
And then, after you left Playtime Co, you had moved in under the guise of getting your life sorted out. Your grandparents never asked why it was taking you a decade to figure it out. Which you were glad, because you didn't know how you would have answered them.
Ollie’s fear eased into wonder as he looked at the flock of sheep you had in the pens up front. You were just thankful they were still there, looking rather healthy despite the fact you had been unexpectedly gone for a week or so.
When you had received the letter and VHS about the old Playtime Co you had interned 10 years ago while in college, you thought you would be gone for a few days at most considering it was a few hours away. You prepped your home as best as you could for being gone that long-- giving extra water and feed to the animals, setting the sprinklers for your garden on a timer-- but had little hopes of your own survival let alone that of your animals after being dragged deep into hell.
You didn’t bother with the detached garage, but pulled up right next to the porch. You were exhausted, and you could only imagine everyone else was as well. The truck seemed all too happy to shut off with a rough sound. You looked over at Ollie, who was still looking at everything in wonder, though Poppy was carefully extracting herself from his grip. “You okay there kiddo?”
He looked back at you, “This is where you live?” he asked instead, voice full of awe. “It looks like it's from a fairytale book!”
It really wasn't, it's a typical farm for this part of the country. Hardly one of the fanciest or beautiful, just simple and sturdy.
“Let's get inside and get settled for the night,” you offer instead of remarking. “I should have the stuff for some sandwiches at least.”
“Sand…witches?” Ollie repeated, sounding confused.
“Meat and bread,” Poppy answered, unbuckling the boy. “Sometimes with ketchup, mustard, mayo, cheese.”
“So, food? I like food!”
Your heart ached. You knew the boy had been raised in the factory, hidden away and protected from the Prototype or hungry ‘toys’. The fact he had was a miracle enough--especially considering how small and thin he was. He had to be ten at the youngest, but barely looked as if he was half that age.
The passenger door opened, which considering how much trouble Kissy had with her hands, was surprising. Yet the pink creature reached in and pulled both Ollie and Poppy out of the truck.
Dogday waited for you as you exited the truck, your legs shaky from the long ride. However, his attention wasn't on you but the dark sky above. It was a new moon, meaning the Milky Way arched overhead with dozens of stars. A glance over to Kissy and the others showed they too were amazed by the stars--you could hear Poppy trying to explain all of it to Ollie quietly.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said as you stepped closer to Dogday.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I-I’ve never seen the night sky like this.”
“Well, now you can see it every night,” you said, shouldering his arm lightly. “Best place for meteor showers too.”
Dogday tore his gaze away and looked down at you. “Are you sure we can stay here, angel?”
“Of course. As long as you want, even if it's forever.” Granted, you didn't know where else they would go, especially Dogday and Kissy. But you didn't want to assume anything either, or make them feel trapped.
His hand found yours, so giant compared to yours but soft and warm. “Forever it is then.”
You felt your cheeks warm against the chilly night air as you laughed self-consciously. “Right, you might wanna sleep on that kind of decision, ‘Day.”
Two: Sleep
You woke slowly, feeling warm and cozy. Something soft was surrounding you, with the faintest hint of vanilla. At first you thought maybe you were wrapped up in a thick blanket, but when you opened your eyes to matted brown fur you realized it was Dogday instead, his arms wrapped around you and holding you close as if you were the toy. You could feel him breathe softly, each inhale and exhale caressing your skin softly.
(You didn't want to think about the amalgamation of organic and inorganic parts inside of him. You saw enough when you helped attach his legs to leave you with nightmares.)
For once, Dogday looked relaxed. Dark eyes closed and his smile softened. You couldn’t resist running your fingers along his face. He had been one of the few you had instantly trusted in that hell. One of the few that never even seemed to think about harming you.
Poppy had used you for her own means, not giving you a real choice ever since you released her. Kissy Missy had always been kind but you had soon realized that her partnership with Poppy may have played a part in it. And of course there was Ollie, though it took a while for you to trust the faceless voice on the phone, especially after you learned that the Prototype could mimic voices and Ollie had a very… peculiar way of phrasing things.
Yet Dogday… he had raised his head, and saw you as someone special as soon as his gaze met yours. Begged you to leave him behind and to run when the miniature Critters started to swarm. Actively fought to defend and protect you despite missing the lower half of his body at first.
And ever since, had refused to leave your side. While everyone else did their part, he determinedly stuck with you. Even last night after everyone finished eating and all anyone could think about was sleep. Kissy happily cuddled Poppy and Ollie in her arms as she climbed up the stairs to claim a bedroom. You expected Dogday to follow suit…
“Hey, uh, angel?” Dogday said softly, sounding rather shy. He had stuck around to help you clean up, though all that consisted of was a few plates, cups, and butter knives. Though the number of sandwiches consumed had emptied out all the bread, lunchmeat, cheese, as well as peanut butter and jelly in your pantry.
“Yeah?” You were getting used to the nickname, though you still felt as if it was undeserved the way he said it. As if you truly were an angel from heaven, sent to save.
“... Could I sleep with you?”
His question surprised you, and you almost dropped the cup you had been washing. Thankfully he quickly grabbed it before it could fall very far. “Sleep…with me?”
Granted those last two… days? You weren't sure, but you and him had found safe spots to watch out for each other while the other slept. It was the only time during the whole ‘adventure’ you managed to sleep. Wrapped up in his arms, feeling him breathe, listening to his heartbeat. It reminded you weren't alone anymore.
“I… don't want to be alone,” he continued, drying off the cup and placing it on the shelf. “Even if I know you and the others are nearby, I…”
Your surprise shifted into sympathy and understanding. Kissy, Poppy, and Ollie were together… and now that you thought about it, being alone right now did not fill you with any sort of ease.
“Yeah. I mean, if you don't mind cuddling close. My bed is barely big enough for two normal-sized people, let alone one me and one… well, Dogday.”
His smile widened. “With you? Never.”
Dogday shifted in his sleep, turning his head to nuzzle into your hand before his eyes slowly opened. His smile widened slightly, and you heard more than saw his tail thump against the bed which in turn made you smile wider as well. “Morning,” you greeted softly.
“Good morning, angel,” he said just as softly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Best sleep in a long time,” you admitted with a slight laugh. Trying to sleep in the factory had been a scary experience. Finding small places to hide long enough to close your eyes. Waking and jumping at every little sound. Plagued by endless nightmares.
And you had been there for just a few days, a week at most.
“What about you?” you asked. Him and the others had lived in that hell for a decade. You didn't startle awake from him lashing out at nightmares. Which you had seen him do a few times before at the factory. You had held him in your laps as best you could, reassuring him he was okay as he broke down.
He leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek slightly. “Next to you, how could I not?”
You laughed between his flirty words and his fur tickling your skin. “You're such a flirt!”
Three: Morning After
“It's so bright outside!” Ollie gasped as he looked out the window while you worked on breakfast. Thankfully none of the eggs had spoiled, nor had any milk, meaning you were whipping up a full course of scrambled eggs and pancakes-- as well as cooking the few boxes of frozen sausages you had found in the freezer.
Dogday was currently watching them like a hawk, occasionally licking his lips as he moved them around in the skillet.
“Actually. That's cloudy. See how the sky is gray. Not blue?” Poppy pointed out, also gazing out the window. “On sunny days, it's a bright vibrant blue, and even brighter.”
“Really?” The boy looked up to you to confirm the doll's words, and you nodded your head. To think he had never seen the sky before. To be unable to tell a sunny day from a cloudy one.
“It actually looks like it could rain,” you pointed out. “Maybe we should hold off on a bath until after you have fun in the mud.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought if you get caught in the rain, you'll get sick?”
“Psh, no. At least, not as long as you can dry off and warm up afterwards. It'll also give me time to look through stuff down in the basement. I think there should be some old hand me downs that should fit you.”
“A good bath can do wonders.” Poppy hopped down from the windowsill and into Kissy's hand before the giant monster also gently corralled Ollie to the table where the food was waiting. “It's been such a long time.”
“Er, excuse me for being intrusive…” you set down a towering plate of pancakes before sitting yourself. “But can you guys get wet?”
“We may not be flesh and bone anymore, but we can still enjoy a good shower,” Dogday answered as he set the plate of sausage links in front of you. “Or even a swim.”
“Why is the water white?” Ollie interrupted, looking oddly at the glass of milk Kissy poured in front of him. “I've never seen it that color before.”
“It’s milk,” Poppy answered. “You used to love it when you were a baby and we had access to some.”
Ollie sniffed suspiciously before taking a drink… and then nearly gulping the entire glass in one go. You took the opportunity of everyone chuckling at the boy to split the sausage between the others. Kissy noticed first and clapped excitedly, her mit-like hands muffling the sound.
“Angel,” Dogday sighed, though you weren't sure he was touched or exasperated. Or maybe both.
“Shh, I saw the way you were eyeing them. I can always buy more when I go to town.”
He was silent for a while before taking a bite of the sausage, savoring it unlike Kissy who had all but inhaled hers. Ollie was following Kissy’s example with the banquet of food, while Poppy was benign as dainty as could be, cutting everything into tiny bites, even for her smaller size.
You couldn’t help but savor your own food, feeling rather happy and optimistic about the future.
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cozage · 10 months
Note
Hey hey hey! It's me again XD I'm here to send you another angst request and you can write it with any OP charaters that you like! The request is how they would react to their s/o dying unexpectedly from an illness but when they kissed them goodbye on the lips, their s/o came back to life and said 'your love is my cure' or other cheesy phrases cuz Idk what to write lol ?
A/N: RAINBOWSTAR HI IVE MISSED YOU I HOPE YOU ARE WELL
Characters: reader x Law, Luffy, Zoro
Cw: reader death, angst
Total word count: 800
True Love's Kiss
Law
He can’t figure out why your heart rate is dropping so fast. He’s done everything he could to try and help you, but nothing is working. 
Your heart stops, and he’s in a full panic now. Immediately starting CPR. Praying to anything and anyone to let you live somehow.
When he presses his lips to yours, he’s desperately hoping for a miracle.
He hesitates just a moment before breathing air into your lungs, and he’s startled to see your eyes fly open.
A gasp escapes your mouth, and he looks at you, unbelieving that you’re really still alive. 
He buries his face in your chest, taking a few uneasy breaths and trying not to cry from the relief of you being okay. 
You comb your fingers through his hair and steady yourself, trying to recall what happened or why he’s reacting this way, until he finally speaks. 
“You died,” he says. His voice is thick with tears, which you try your best to ignore. If Law is crying, then it must’ve been serious. 
“You saved me,” you reply. You don’t feel like you have just died. Just like you woke up from a really long nap. 
“No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t do any-“
“I’m alive now aren’t I?” You ask. “I guess your lips really can heal anything”.
He’s so thankful that you’re alive, he doesn’t even respond to your stupid joke 
Luffy
He’s shaking you, begging you to come back to him. He’s screaming and sobbing and impossible to console.
Zoro tries to pull him away so Chopper can treat you, but Luffy knows. He’s been here before. 
Chopper knows too. Everyone knows. So they just sit and watch their captain fall apart. 
He’s clutching you to his chest, he doesn’t want anyone else near you or touching you. He’s still sobbing, but it’s growing softer into whimpers.
He gives you soft kisses across your face, silent pleas for you to wake up. His lips finally meet yours, a final goodbye to you.
A soft gasp escapes your lips, and the entire crew takes back a step in shock. 
“Luffy?” You groan, still pressed against him so tightly it hurts. “You’re crushing me.”
He just holds you tighter, returning to hard sobbing again. “Stay with me,” he chokes out. “Please don’t die.”
“That’s impossible,” Chopper whispers. “Y/N was dead.”
You take a second to process. “I guess a true love's kiss brought me back.”
“If I give you more, you better live forever,” Luffy says, covering you in even more kisses. 
Zoro
He carries your limp body to Chopper, begging him to fix you. But he knows it’s too late. He doesn’t know what you were hit by, but he knew when he pressed his head against your chest, your heart was still. 
He lays you on the ground for Chopper to run an examination. Chopper confirms his worst fear. It was too late.
He holds you, running his hands through your hair, whispering words of apologies to you. He blames himself, of course. He wasn’t strong enough to keep you safe. 
He presses his lips into your forehead first, taking a deep inhale to try and remember your smell. He’s having trouble accepting the fact he’ll never smell your shampoo again, never see your smile. 
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He moves his lips down to yours, giving you one last kiss as a goodbye. He pulls away to find your eyes staring at him, scared to see him so sad.
He drops you in shock, his face contorting into a weird mix of confusion and joy. He doesn’t know how to feel or what’s going on, and you're just as confused. 
“What the hell?” he yelled, prompting Chopper to look up and see you alive and well. The reindeer screams while you look at your boyfriend in confusion. 
“What?” you ask, irritated that was his reaction to kissing you.
Zoro just stares at you, mouth agape. You can see his eyes are still watery, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds until Chopper screams. “You were dead, Y/N! Really dead!”
“No I wasn’t,” you shoot back, trying to hide your panic. 
“You were,” Zoro whispered. He lunged at you, his lips pressing against yours for a long time. 
You finally push him off of you, gasping for air. “Damn, Zoro! Don’t kill me again!” you said, feigning a coughing fit. “Although, I guess you could, as long as you bring me back with another kiss, mmkay?”
Before he has the chance to say something snarky back, you lean in for another kiss, and he happily accepts it. 
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shadowandlightt · 2 months
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Of Nightmares and Memories /three/ Azriel x reader
Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut
Part One Part Two
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The night of Calanmai came. You were buzzing with energy. You dressed in old clothes, and wrapped yourself in Lucien’s cloak, trying to hide your scent as best as possible. To anyone else out there, it would look like you belonged to the fox. That you were his and no one else’s. Which would also keep you safe from anyone creeping a little too close. 
“Stay with me, do you understand?” Lucien questioned. 
“I know, I know.”
The beat of the drums outside grows louder and louder. You could feel them in your soul, begging you to run out and join the fun. You ached with anticipation. You were going to leave this dreaded house and finally see your brother again. 
You just wanted to lay eyes on him and know that he was still in there somewhere, and wasn’t the monster everyone believed him to be. Certainly he was doing what he had to do to survive? Certainly your sweet caring brother was still in there, buried deep within? 
“Come, we don’t have much time,” Lucien said, leading you out of your rooms. 
You shiver against the cool night. Though you weren’t sure if it was the cold that was making you shiver, or the thought of seeing him again. You couldn’t tell him who you were, couldn’t allow him to realize you were still alive. 
He would destroy the spring court and with it any hopes of beating Amerantha at her own game. If Feyre could just admit that she was in love with Tamlin, which somehow you had a feeling she was slowly falling for the Lord of Spring, everything would change. Maybe you could go home again. 
You longed for home. Longed for Valaris, and the group of fae that you called family. You longed for Cassian and Mor constantly fighting and joking. You longed for Amren and her grumpy nature. And Azriel…your Az. The person who seemed to understand you more than anyone else in the world. You longed for him most of all.  He was so quiet and understanding, and so beautiful in every possible way. You wished you would have told him. But you were still just a child. 
You were still so young when Tamlin and his family took you. Barely even eighteen, but you aged slower somehow, so while you were of age, you barely looked sixteen. So small and young. So much of your life stripped away from you. 
You feel Rhys before you spot him. You feel the night rippling off of him, calling your own powers out to play. The headache slowly sets in at the base of your skull as you try to reign in your own shadows and darkness. 
He’s talking to Feyre, and for a moment you smile, because you could see them together in another life. Perhaps if she’d been born a Fae. Perhaps if Rhys needed to be the one to break Amerantha’s curse, and not Tamlin. Because you hated the idea of Tamlin getting to be happy with Feyre once this was all said and done. You hated the fact that she would live out her few good years with that beast. 
“What do we have here?” His silky voice questioned, violet eyes looking you over, “Already have a play thing, Lucien?” 
“Not quite,” I spoke up, daring him to recognize me from beneath the glamor.
you could feel his mental claws scratching against my shields, looking for a way in. He would not find one, of course. Having been trained to block him out since you were old enough to understand the concept.
His eyes narrowed at you, taking a step closer towards you. Meanwhile, Lucien hissed at you to stay put while he dragged Feyre back to the manor house, leaving you alone with Rhys. You ached to tell him, but you couldn’t. If you told him you’d be dead before the next moon rise. 
“Who are you?” 
You bite back the bile that rises in your throat, “Lucien’s…friend.”
“No, you aren’t.”
You only smirk and try to force your way into his head again, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. 
“If you were his friend, you wouldn’t be full of faebane.”
“Maybe I choose this.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he tisks, “Poor little lamb, stuck in spring.”
“I’m far from a little lamb,” You hiss back, hating that you sound and feel weak. 
You are weak, in every way that matters now, you’re weak. And Rhys can’t do anything to help you. He can’t take you away from here, he can’t save you. Because he can’t even save himself. He’s stuck under Amerantha’s thumb, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Your only hope is that poor human girl to actually fall in love with Tamlin. What a fate that would be. 
Lucien returns, dropping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You had to do something, anything to try to let him know you were alive. That you were here. You were right there, just silently begging for him to notice you. So you did the only thing you could think of and flung out what little power you had left. You scratched down his mental shields, already feeling sweat beading on your forehead. 
At this point he’d turned his back, ready to move away from the boring conversation. But your little outburst caused him to spin back around and stalk towards you. You thought he might go for your throat, might kill you right there for daring to do anything to him but he didn’t. 
“I could kill you right where you stand,” He hisses at you, “Without breaking a sweat.”
“Ah, but you’d have to catch me first,” you struggle to say from the strain of the faebane, “I hear I’m like the wind.”
His eyes widen, hands reaching for you, before Lucien took hold of you and dragged you away. You were back in the manor house before you could even think. Lucien started to yell at you, drowning out the sound of the drums outside, which were growing louder and louder. The rite would start soon, Lucien would be needed.
“What did you say to him?” He demands. 
“Nothing, you heard me.”
“No, that meant something!” 
“Just something I used to say as a child,” You shake your head, “I’m going to bed. Have fun.”
You wave him off as you go. You felt heavy and tired. But somehow so invigorated. Your brother was still your brother, you knew that. Deep down he was still Rhys, and not the monster everyone believed him to be. Deep down, he was still there, just waiting to come back out like everyone else. 
That night you dreamt of your wings. Flying over Valaris with Rhys and your mother. Laughing with Cas and Az at the House of Wind. You dreamt about everything, and at the same time nothing. 
“I’m going to get you, little star!” Rhys laughed from behind you as you ran away from him. 
“You’ll have to catch me first!” You yell, jumping off of the ledge, “I’m like the wind!” 
The air catches your wings and pulls you along. You smile and giggle as you pivot to avoid Rhys again. The wind whips through your hair as you fly, you don’t bother trying to stop it. It only makes you laugh harder.  You feel so free as you fly higher and higher over the city. You wonder for a second if they can hear you laughing down in the Rainbow. 
You’d have to stop back down there today, you wanted to listen to the music some more. Maybe purchase a painting or two for your rooms. Maybe you could convince Cas or Az to come with you. 
Arms reach around you, causing you to shriek. Rhys’ laugh filled your ears and you relaxed into his arms. It was rare to have moments like this now. Your father kept him so busy, much to yours and your mother’s dismay. 
He pulls you in close and laughs as you nudge him with your elbow, “I love you, little star,” He whispers to you above the wind. 
“I love you too, Rhys.”
When you wake the following morning, you have tears in your eyes. Your pillow is wet with them. You do not get out of bed that day.
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allysunny · 8 months
Text
Shadows to Stars | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
Synopsys: One night, your seemingly perfect life with your boyfriend Miguel crumbles before your very eyes. It is then you must make a decision that will change the course of your life forever - as well as the course of the life growing inside of you.
Words: 12k
Warnings: Angst, violence, mentions of death and abortion, pregnancy, Miguel is scary and a bitch. Spanish translations will be at the end. Do tell if I forgot something!
A/N: Hey everyone! Here's the super long oneshot I promised you all I would deliver! Since in both polls I made, the majority of y'all voted for one post, I'm posting this as one big drabble. Honestly, it kind of transformed as I was writing it, and I got carried away. Beware, Miguel is a monster in here, he is NOT a good person and I do not condone his actions in this work.
Also, quick aside, I'm using my own experience with toddlers and kids (namely my little sister) to shape some of the dialogue. Kids are very smart, and oftentimes we don't give them enough credit. I tried to keep this realistic!
The song mentioned is Querida by Juan Gabriel - I suggest listening to it!
Enjoy! :)
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“This is such bullshit.” Was the first thought that crossed your mind. That’s not how gravity worked. The impossible stunt performed by the actor in the TV left you unimpressed, and you scolded yourself mentally for it. You sound exactly like him. Just enjoy the movie, will you?
You shake your head with a sigh, focusing on the screen in front of you. You’d been meaning to watch this one for a while, all your friends said it was simply the best of the saga just yet. “I can’t believe they’re making another one, just let the saga die!” You replied, but your best friend Miranda was quick to disagree. “How could they, after ending the last one in such a cliffhanger?” She was defending the movie as if her life depended on it. “Besides, Com Truise looks really hot in this one, he’s aging like fine wine”.
So here you were, trying to figure out how the hell Wethan Runt was gonna get himself out of this situation. This was the… Sixth? Seventh? Seventh Improbable Endeavor movie so far, and you wondered why they couldn’t just let the series die. It was simply too much at this point, a way to milk a famous franchise in order to earn money.
“Mommy?” A small, tremulous voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked at where it came from.
A small child looked at you from behind the living room door, his hand tightly clutching a teddy bear. Your son had just turned 4 and was the most precious thing the world had ever blessed you with. With soft brown curls and [e/c] eyes, he looked like a little cherubin, all chubby cheeks and dimpled smiles. You adored him.
“Yes, baby? What’s wrong?” You asked, furrowing a brow. However, there was no need for a reply. You knew what the answer was already. “Another one?”
Gabriel nodded softly, tears forming in his eyes, and fear turning in his tummy.
“The same?”
He nodded again, the tears now rolling down his round cheeks. The sight of your pouting son broke your heart. For a few months now he had been plagued with the same nightmare repeatedly: A brightly coloured spider sinking its teeth onto him, proceeding to devour him whole right after. It wasn’t a pleasant dream, and unfortunately, it felt too familiar. Not to you, but perhaps to someone who once used to be close.
“Oh honey…” Your voice was soft, as it usually was with Gabriel. You knew nothing else when you were with him. “I’m so sorry… C’mere baby, do you want to sleep near mommy tonight?”
Gabriel shook his head “yes” softly, a small breath leaving his mouth. He was glad you’d asked him that. He didn’t want to look like a baby, not in front of his mom. Not when she told him he was her brave boy all the time. He had to be a brave boy for his mama.
“Mama…” He breathed out, tears pooling at his feet. “Mama I’m sorry…”
“Honey?” Now you were worried. He looked so scared; your precious baby looked so scared. “Honey, c’mere…”
“I can’t…” He whispered, shaking his little head. “Mama I had an accident… I’m sorry… I made the bed wet…”
Your heart officially broke.
Motherly instinct was stronger than you, and within a few seconds, you had picked Gabriel up, shushing him and running your fingers through his brown locks.
“It’s okay honey, it’s okay…” You cooed as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, hiding away from all the troubles, from all the monsters and creepy spiders that threatened to hurt him. His mama always made the monsters go away. You were his hero. “You’re such a brave boy, it’s okay… I’m not mad at you, alright? You’re so brave for me…”
Your hushed words were quick to soothe him. He stopped crying, occasionally sniffling and rubbing his eyes from the sleep.
You took him to the bathroom, quickly washed him and gave him a new pair of underwear. Gabriel knew how to use the toilet – potty training was never a problem because to him, the toilet meant he was a “grown up”. He was quick to tell you when he needed to use the bathroom, causing you to leave the diapers behind. Unfortunately, nightmares didn’t care about that.
He looked at you while you got rid of his wet sheets, throwing them in the washing machine, and his eyes were full of adoration while you prepared him his favourite chocolate milk.
Once he had finished it, you turned off the TV – Com Truise would have to wait – and took Gabriel to your room in your arms.
He made himself comfortable on your bed, teddy carefully placed by his side, and you followed suit after quickly brushing your teeth.
“I’m sorry mama…” He mumbled once again. “Maybe I’m not brave enough…”
“Nothing to be sorry about, honey. It’s okay. You’re still my brave little boy. You’ll always be.” Bending over, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, and he smiled, which made your heart melt. For all the sadness and hurt you’d gone through and suffered, Gabriel was the best thing that had happened to you. He was an amazing kid: curious, kind to a fault, and oh so cute. Of course, it didn’t help that he was like a mini-version of his father, but you’d learned to live with it.
After all, he wasn’t a little Miguel O’Hara. He was simply Gabriel, your sweet Gabriel who marvelled at thunderstorms and loved broccoli but hated tomatoes. Who liked to play in puddles and splash around at the beach, who giggled uncontrollably when you tickled his little tummy.
“Can you sing the song for me?” He asked, voice laced with sleep. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to refuse your son in any way. You nodded and tucked his teddy closer and caressed his cheek.
“Of course, my love.”
You took a short breath and started singing.
“Querido Cada momento de mi vida Yo pienso en ti más cada día Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”
Miguel had taught you this song. It was one of his favourites, and you used to sing it to him when he felt stressed or tired. His head on your chest, on your lap, on your neck, your hands running through his hair, his heart on your palm, yours on his. The original song was meant for a girl. Querida was a woman. But you’d adjusted it for him, and never had the courage to change it back.
It was a song of heartbreak, of longing and hurt.
How fitting.
“Querido No me ha sanado bien la herida Te extraño y lloro todavía Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”
Glancing at the little one, you chuckled to yourself. Gabriel fell asleep quite quickly, especially when you sang for him. This was his favourite song too, and you’d gotten used to singing it to him nearly every night before he went to sleep.
For a few minutes, you stared at your son. Soon enough, after he’d fallen into a deep slumber, you adjusted his rebellious curls and brought him close to you, his little hand instinctively coming up to wrap itself around your finger.
It’s impossible to describe the love you felt for Gabriel. You’d do anything for him, walk to the ends of the earth if it meant he would smile and look at you with his bright curious eyes. What was there not to love? You couldn’t figure that out. And you couldn’t shake away the memory of when you first asked yourself that question. Not when it used to play in your head every night, no matter how hard you tried to keep it from your thoughts.
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The paper read “Test indicates the presence of hCG hormone, confirming pregnancy”.
Oh.
You were pregnant.
If the cheap pharmacy test wasn’t enough proof, now you were absolutely positive you were pregnant.
You. Pregnant.
A mother.
You were going to be a mother.
And Miguel was going to be a father.
Was it possible to die of happiness? You always felt like you were floating with Miguel, but this was different. The thought that you had a little human, a baby, a child, a mini-you growing inside of your uterus? It was too much. To say you were over the moon was an understatement.
That day, you cooked Miguel his favourite.
You got him his favourite wine, mentioning how you were “feeling too light-headed to drink”, but inviting him to do so anyways.
You wore the dress he loved so much, the one that, according to him, made you look like “a princesa”.
Before he arrived, you placed the paper sheet with the results inside an envelope. Taking the lip gloss shade he loved so much, you painted your lips and placed a soft kiss on top of the envelope, the red stain its only decoration.
And just as you hid it within your apron, the doorbell rang.
“Miggy!” You exclaimed, running towards him.
Miguel looked tired – eyebags ever so prominent, face tired and devoid of any emotion. But these features changed once he laid his eyes on you. The exhaustion almost as if evaporated from him, the tired look replaced by a warm smile.
His arms wrapped around you instinctively, head coming to trail his lips over your collarbone, humming ever so slightly – if you didn’t know your boyfriend, you’d think he was silent.
“Amor…” He groaned, hands squeezing your waist, lips caressing your skin.
“Rough day?”
“Would sewing a bunch of kids’ mouths shut make me a bad person? Answer me honestly mi Cielo, I trust your good judgement…” Was his mumbled reply.
You laughed, skimming your hand through his hair, as the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.
“It wouldn’t be the most moral thing to do, no.”
“Mierda.”
Your laughter filled the room and it was healing. It lifted all his worried, carrying them to a place far, far from your soft touches and kind words. You were his safe space, his little secret. For all the technological advances he had access too, Miguel found the best remedy to be purely and simply you. And didn’t you look extra pretty today?
You were always breathtaking, but that dress… Surely you knew what his thoughts on that dress were. You had to be doing it on purpose.
So, he let you lead him to the shower, covering his body with sweet kisses and kneading the tense and sore muscles of his back and shoulders. He let you wash his hair, giggling as you played with it, turning his soapy curls into a mohawk. He let you cover his body with body milk, rambling on about “it makes his skin so soft and healthy”.
He loved you. How could he not? What was there not to love?
And you loved him back just as much.
The way Miguel smiled as he took bite after bite of your food. He refused to talk about his day, claiming it’d only make him angrier. He’d much rather hear about yours.
So, you did just that, telling him about the things you did, the places you went. The new supermarket that opened just down the street with fresh fruit, the old market where you got the meat he’s eating right now, etc.
You were always out and about, keeping yourself busy while he saved Nueva York, volunteering, working with children, helping elderly people, or perhaps, if you were feeling lazy and tired, maybe just lounging around with a book in your hand.
It was when Miguel offered to do the dishes that you realised it was now or never. Time to shoot your shot.
You waited patiently for him, leading them to the couch once the kitchen was sparkling once again, and sat him next to you on the couch.
“Miguel, there’s something I wanna show you…” Was how you started. Goodness, had you always been this nervous? Were your hands this clammy? Why weren’t any words coming out of your mouth? Your breath was quickening, and a million questions were running freely through your head.
You didn’t think this through, did you? What if he’s not happy? But that is impossible, right? You two spoke about this. Miguel wanted a baby. So did you. You knew of his past, knew of Gabriella. But you also knew he was healing. You saw it happen before your very eyes. First there were the small glances, the small comments about baby clothing, and then there were conversations of children, of family. And of course, there was the trying. In fact, Miguel was more than invested in trying for a baby. “Just give me one more,” He’d whisper in the intimacy of your bedroom, “Wanna make sure it takes.” And you were soft and giddy and in love and oh so pliant for him.
And yet, it could go wrong. So many things could go wrong.
“Mi vida, what’s wrong? You look worried…” Miguel furrowed his brow, hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way he did when he wanted to see your face more clearly. His face had “worry” written all over it, and it’d be funny, if you yourself weren’t shaking with anxiety.
“Yes, I… I’m fine, just… Give me some time.”
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.
Nothing would go wrong. Miguel loves you. Endlessly, and he’ll love your child just the same. You’re sure of it.
“I need to show you something.” You said more clearly, looking him in the eye. “I… I love you, Miguel. So, so much. Unimaginably so. I love you. I love everything about you.”
He smiled. A genuine smile, one saved for you and only you.
“I love you too, mi vida. Te amo con todo mi ser. Eres la luz de mi vida.”
Shit, it did things to you. Him speaking Spanish, that was. You’d been learning, just for him, and while you weren’t yet a professional, you’d picked on his endearing phrases quite early. In fact, those were the first you learned – you wanted to be able to understand the sweet nothings he whispered to you in the comfort of your home.
“I… I’m scared you won’t… At least not anymore, when I show you this…” You confessed with bated breath, shrugging your shoulders ever so slightly. Communicating your worries and fears with Miguel had never been an issue. He was very open, telling you whatever was on his mind with no hesitation. It had taken a while, but now he trusted you fully, and your relationship was based on trust and understanding.
“Mi vida…” He murmured, fingers slowly cupping your jaw. “Unless you ate the last empanada in the cafeteria, there’s nothing you could do that would make me love you less…” It got a chuckle out of you, and a smile out of him. Good. It was all he ever wanted to see; you with a smile on your face.
“Well then…” The words were muffled by the ruffling of your apron.
You took out the envelope and sighed.
This was it.
It was now or never.
Fuck, you were going to puke. This was simply too much. You were so worried, so scared.
But before you could do anything, he had carefully taken the envelope in his hands and opened it, smiling at the lipstick stain.
Oh god. This was it.
He unfolded the paper.
There was no turning back now.
He read the words attentively, curious about what had gotten you so worked up. You observed his face, his calm demeanour, his brow furrowing, his lips parting, his eyes widening-
“What?”
It was nearly imperceptible, but it was there, and you heard it.
His eyes scanned over the words again.
And then again.
And then again.
And then again and again and again and again, until his fists clenched the paper, and he was turning away from you.
“Estás… Estás embarazada…?”
“Miggy…?” You tried getting a glimpse of his expression, but he refused to look at you again.
“Is this true…? You’re pregnant?” There was something in his voice, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Grief, perhaps? Anger? Surprise?
His knuckles turned white, and the paper sheet was quickly torn in two.
“M-Miguel?” Your eyes went to his knuckles and the paper. Oh no. This couldn’t be good. There’s no way this is good.
“You’re PREGNANT?” He turned to face you, his eyes a dark shade of red. His voice boomed and you flinched. It was an instinct, truly. The paper was left forgotten on the floor as he balled his fists in his lap, as if he was restricting himself.
“Aren’t you happy?” The words left your mouth as a mere whisper, all of the confidence and bravado from earlier completely gone. What the hell was going on with Miguel? He looked angry, feral, like… No, you did not want to think about it. Surely, he was just a bit surprised, right? That must be all. “Miggy? Aren’t you ha- “
“How did this happen?!” He growled, and you could do all but scoff. Was he actually serious? Did he not know how pregnancies happened? Did he not know how babies were made? Wasn’t he there when you two were actively trying to get you pregnant?
“Gee, Miguel, I don’t know, maybe it happened one of the times you pushed me up against the kitchen sink or the couch as soon as you got home, claiming you ‘needed me so badly’. Maybe it happened because we’ve been trying for a baby, because you said you were ready to start a family with me.” Was he being serious right now? It’s not like birth control was 100% effective – you had always warned him of that – and it’s not like he always used protection – something you both discussed as well. So how come he was asking ‘how it had happened?’. “We don’t always use protection, you know, these things happen- “
“How could you let this happen?!” Miguel stood up, his frame towering over you. And for once in your life, you felt something you’d never even imagined you’d fear when with Miguel – let alone because of him: fear.
“What? Me?” Your eyes widened, refusing to believe the words that he’d just uttered. “How is this my fault? Last time I checked, it took two people to make a baby, Miguel. And you wanted one. Holy – Miguel, what is wrong with you? We’ve been wanting a child for so long!” It wasn’t until the tears hit your palms that you realised you were crying. It hit you shortly after, Miguel made you cry. “Honey, please, just… Aren’t you happy?” You forced a smile through the tears, hoping to get him as excited as you were.
“Happy?!”
“Yeah!” Tear after tear escaped from your eyes, tracing paths down your face. You’d been so excited to find out you were going to be a mother. Fantasizing about holding your child, caressing their chubby cheeks, watching as you and Miguel doted over the tiny human that was both a mixture of him and you. And now those fantasies were shattered as Miguel paced back and forth in your living room, giving you a look that could kill you by itself. “I thought… I thought you wanted a family with me…! You said so Miggy, you told me you wanted to start a family…”
He all but scowled and threw a punch at a wall, cracking the surface around his fist. You flinched once again, shaking your head repeatedly. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t your Miggy, no. This wasn’t the man that whispered the sweetest words in your ear, who woke you up with gentle kisses, who placed gentle hands on your stomach and wondered about the family you would once start.
“Clearly, I changed my mind.” Your boyfriend – no, because there was no way this man was your boyfriend – rumbled, removing his hand from the wall, and inspecting it. “I… We… [Y/N], we can’t. Perdóname. I’m sorry. I know what I said, but… No. This is out of the question.”
“I don’t get it,” You shook your head. This whole thing seemed so farfetched – Miguel wanted a child. He had told you as much. Hell, you two had been trying for a baby. On purpose. How could he just tell you “No”? “Miguel, we wanted this. I’m pregnant because we wanted to start a family, because you told me you were ready and wouldn’t love anything more other than me holding your child, Miguel, I’m pregnant because we wanted this! And you need to take responsibility for your actions, you can’t just blame me for this when we were bo-“
“I don’t have to do anything. This is completely out of the question. I thought I wanted a child, well, turns out I don’t.” He was spitting the words so viciously, you could’ve easily mistaken them for poison. “Having a child now would complicate things too much.”
“Complicate?”
“Yes, complicate. Our lives shouldn’t be changing too drastically because of a baby. I’m sorry, [Y/N], but we can’t. We just… No. “ He didn’t even  have the decency of facing you. He was looking at the hole he’d punched into the wall, frowning.
“But Miguel…” You pleaded. You truly couldn’t understand what was happening. You could not understand why he wasn’t thrilled, excited, over the moon, spinning you around as he kissed your face and pledged his undying love to you. Undeterred, you take your hand in his and place it on your stomach, on the place your child would live for a few months before you had the joy of holding him (or her) in your arms. A smile, albeit a small one, graced your features once again. “We’ve been… We’ve been wishing for this…”
Miguel took a good look at you. He glanced up and down, taking your figure in. Your red eyes, your runny nose, your puffy lips. The tears, the hurt in your gaze. All because of him. He was hurting you. You truly wanted this, didn’t you? And didn’t he want the same? Hadn’t he told you time and time again how much he wanted to start a family with you? Weren’t you trying? Wasn’t he finally healing?
So why was it that the only thing he felt for the growing foetus inside of you was disdain?
He removed his hand from yours and shook his head.
“Get rid of it.”
Your jaw dropped.
What?
“Miguel? Honey, I…”
“Get. Rid of it.” He spat, eyes glowing bright red. “Or I will.”
You stared at him, mouth slightly parted, heart turning and churning and burning and hurting oh so much. How could he? His child, his own child… How could he say such things? How could he be so merciless? How could he want to… to kill the child you’d loved so unconditionally, even if for the past few hours?
It was horrifying. There was no word for it, it was truly horrifying, the way your Miguel was treating this matter. You’d looked at him with tears in your eyes, hoping that something, anything would leave your lips. But he’d opened a portal and left for HQ, leaving you alone in the middle of your living room.
So, you did the only rational thing.
You ran.
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Jessica had helped you, along with Peter B. Parker.
Both were parents, so not only did they understand the way you felt towards your unborn baby, but also encourage you in your decision to leave Miguel. It broke Peter’s heart to find out the man that took care of the Spider Society had threatened to hurt his child and pregnant wife in the way.
But much to his sadness, he would have to act as if everything was fine and dandy, as if this man hadn’t threatened to kill a foetus, as if he wasn’t a monster. Peter would have to keep on interacting with him normally, in order not to raise suspicion. And so would Jess.
So, they did.
All traces of your existence had been removed from your shared apartment. Clothes, shoes, blankets. Anything that he could use to get the faintest trace of where you were was brought along with you, only his things and his things alone left behind.
It broke your heart to do it, but you had no choice. It was him or your unborn child, and although you’d known of your pregnancy for only a few hours, you were willing to do anything to assure its safety already.
You laid low for a while. Found a nice apartment where you could start over and build a life for yourself and your little one. Peter and Jess couldn’t keep you from going outside, so instead of trapping you, they helped disguise you. Both your appearance and scent changed every time you left the safety of your new home, with Jessica’s motherly instinct helping you find safety in new wigs and robes.
And so, your pregnancy went smoothly.
But it’s not to say it was easy – far from it.
Watching a baby grow inside of you all by yourself was terrifying. Not only was it terrifying, but it was also heartbreaking. Especially when the father of said baby had threatened you and him. It was even worse when you heard from Jessica that he was actively looking for you, coaxing every Spider in the Spider-Society to find you and destroy whatever was growing in your womb. How could he be so cruel? The possibility of someone killing your child just like that was frightening, but you managed to keep your fears aside for the well-being of your baby.
You could count with your fingers the peaceful nights you spent without a newborn toddler screaming and crying for your attention. For four whole years you were both mother and father, nursing and singing your baby to sleep whenever he was scared, kissing his wounds better, taking him to school, helping him talk and walk, watching him grow, looking over him the best you could.
There was no helping hand, no strong arms to hold your stomach during the day to ease your back pains, no soft rubs, and kisses on top of your belly at night, no proud displays of affection. When you gave birth to Gabriel, although surrounded by Peter and Jessica, there was no loving boyfriend or partner by your side, kissing your tears away, asking you to push, telling you you were “almost there”, holding your child in his arms and crying tears of joy, telling you you were oh so beautiful, to tell you that you were marvellous and miraculous and the most gorgeous woman alive.
While your heart could burst from the happiness of holding your son in your arms for the first time, it was also breaking at the realisation that, even if you had friends, there would be a major gap in your life that would scar you and your baby forever.
And there of course the questions. Gabriel was reaching his curious phase, and one time he had come home, asking why he did not have a daddy like his friends. That day you’d tried explaining it to him. You told him his father’s actions did not make you feel safe, and so you had to make the tough decision to protect the both of you and run away. You assured him that no matter what, you would love him unconditionally, that you were still a family, even if an unconventional one.
His reply was “Thank you mama, but I want a real daddy like my friends have!”
Tears streamed down your face until you fell asleep.
Gabriel was right. Even if he did not mean anything mean by it, even if his reply was something out of a clueless 3-year-old boy’s mouth and you shouldn’t take it to heart because he didn’t quite grasp the reality of your situation… It was still true. He needed a father, his father. You could try and try and try all you wanted, but he needed a father figure in his life, a role you’d never be able to fill.
The next day, you called Jessica and cried on her shoulders for a few hours while Gabriel was in school. She made up some stupid lie in order to be with you for the whole day, reminding you that children often said things they did not mean. Gabriel was a child; and children were way too straightforward, and it was not his intention to hurt you – wanting a father was a completely normal thing and you shouldn’t blame yourself for it.
But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt.
At first, the life you shared with Gabriel was terrifying. What if Jessica said the wrong thing, or Peter made a mistake? Thankfully, they behaved remarkably well, always prioritizing your safety and well-being over their duties to Miguel. As time went by, more people were in on your little secret. And you couldn’t help but worry. What if Hobie decided to “stick it to the man” and inform Miguel of his son? What if Pav thought “the power of love” could fix everything? What if Gwen and Miles tried to talk some sense into his head?
But luckily for you, they were all as interested at keeping Gabriel under wraps as you were. And the reason it was so easy for you to keep Gabriel away from his father was also because of Lyla. She’d witnessed the whole exchange of course, being an artificial intelligent program meant that she was everywhere Miguel habited – and that meant his home. So, she too was in on your plan, keeping everything away from Miguel. Every visit from the Spider-People, every time Gwen or Miles babysat your kid, every time something remotely urgent happened, Lyla was there to cover your tracks, and everyone else’s.
You also suspected everyone else in HQ helped, refusing to let Miguel murder an innocent child, or even help him with it. You were grateful.
Miguel was completely in the dark, he had been for 4 whole years, and you were happy it was like this.
Your son got to grow up in peace, and you got to watch him. Or so you thought.
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“Honey, have you washed your teeth?” You asked as your son made his way out of the bathroom. Before he could answer, you spotted the stain of toothpaste on his chin, and bent over to quickly wash it. “There. Dashing.”
Gabriel smiled a toothy grin at you. “I’m wearing my Snoopy PJs!”
“Well, you’ll always be dashing to me. Snoopy PJs or any other kind of PJs.” You poke his tummy softly and he bends over, as ticklish as always. Before you can open your arms and embrace him, your ringtone rings through the room. You wink at Gabriel and take your phone into your hands, looking at the name on the screen.
“Oh honey, it’s auntie Jess. Give me a few minutes and I’ll tuck you in, is that okay?”
“I wanna speak to auntie Jess!” He exclaimed excitedly, to which you nodded, before picking up.
“Hey Jess! What’s up?”
“He found you.” Was all you heard on the other line before you felt your stomach fall.
What?
You couldn’t make out her words at first, but slowly, everything around you came to your consciousness again.
“Take him and go. [Y/N], can you hear me? You have to leave. I’m so sorry, we don’t know how he found out, but you need to take him and leave, now.” Jessica repeated these words urgently like a chant, and yet, all you could do was stare at Gabriel, his big eyes round and bright, his head titled to the side as he often did when confused, the little triangle in his brow all Miguel O’Hara.
You couldn’t move. Miguel had found out.
Shit.
And then someone knocked on your door. Loudly. Repeatedly. The sound echoed and rang in your ears, and it was Gabriel who brought you back to your senses by hugging your leg.
“Mama?” He inquired, looking at the door.
“Stay here. You hear me? Stay here, do mama a favour and stay here. Can you do that?”
Gabriel gave you a quick salute, a smile playing in his lips. He probably thought this was some silly game in which he acted like a big boy and his mama high-fived him and made him some chocolate milk as a reward. But unfortunately for you, there was nothing silly about this.
Your feet slowly dragged themselves to the front door, and you mustered all of the strength you had to open it.
With a deep breath, you turned the knob and pushed it open, revealing no one other than the one you feared the most.
Miguel.
You try to block the entire door with your figure, but Miguel is tall. Incredibly so. And while it used to make you squirm and gush and blush, it now fills you with a sense of dread you cannot shake away.
He takes a step forward and you speak, voice sounding braver than you were feeling.
“Leave.”
“[Y/N].”
“Miguel, I’m warning you, leave.”
He grumbled something under his breath and took another step, looking directly under him – at you. You used to love when he did it. It made you feel safe, protected, cherished. Now all you want is for him to back off.
“I do not want to force you. Let me come in, or I’ll have to. Please. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” The worst thing about Miguel was that when it came to you, he was always genuine. He never lied to you. And that did not change now. He looked almost… Scared. There was a mix of anger and sadness and… was that betrayal? In his eyes?
Nevertheless, it made you vulnerable. Such a hurtful expression from the one you once loved… You couldn’t lie and say it did not make your heart twist a few times.
“He threatened to kill your child. His child, too.” You told yourself, shaking all those soft feelings away. No use being weak, not when you wanted to protect your son.
Still, he looked genuine when he said he did not want to hurt you. And it’s not like you can take him on your own, the man is literally 6’9, built like a Greek god, and Spiderman. You wouldn’t stand a chance, and your son needs to be protected. So, you slowly back away from the door, keeping your front to Miguel and your back to Gabriel.
You take a few steps back and are about to ask him what he wants, when a small voice interrupts you.
“Mama? Who is this?” Your son, your sweet, caring, clueless son asked, his neck craning all the way up to get a good look at Miguel.
Gabriel was a big fan of Spiderman – much to your chagrin – so the thought that maybe Miguel was wearing his suit terrified you. The last thing you wanted was for your son to idolize the man who threatened to kill him while he was nothing more than just a foetus. You quickly turned, taking in Miguel fully.
He was clad in casual clothes, a white shirt underneath a black leather jacket. He was dressed normally, thank God.
Miguel’s eyes widened at the tiny voice, and he looked at the child before him.
His eyes widened.
It all clicked in his head.
His eyes darted from you to him, from him to you, over and over and over and over again. He seemed to be making the connection in his head. Soft brown curls, furrowed brow, tiny nose that resembled yours and bright eyes that belonged to none other than the woman he loved.
This was his son.
“Mama?” He asked once again, tiny hands grasping at the loose sweatpants you usually wore around the house. Tiny fists curled around the fabric as he hid behind you.
You stared, wide-eyed at Miguel. You were silently begging for him not to cause a scene, not here, not in front of your baby, most certainly not at all.
“Please…” You whisper, nudging your head towards the little guy by your feet.
After a few seconds of dead silence and a stare off, Miguel hung his head low and nodded. You sighed in relief.
“Honey, time for bed. Mommy’s gonna tuck you in, alright?” Gabriel nodded and clung to you as you picked him up securely in your arms. Tucking his little hair in the crook of your neck, you slowly took his scent in. Citrus shampoo, the lavender fabric conditioner you knew he liked, he smelled like your darling song through and through, untainted by the evil and darkness of the world, untainted by the hands and knowledge of his father.
Once he was all tucked in, teddy loyally by his side, Gabriel reached out to hold your hand in his tiny hand.
“Mama?” He probed quietly, drowsy eyes twinkling with the gentle glow his dinosaur lampshade.
“Yes, honey?” He was about to ask about the mysterious man in your living room, you were sure of it. You just weren’t quite sure what you were going to tell him yet. The truth? He couldn’t know. At least not now. Not when Miguel was just a few rooms away, waiting patiently for you. Not when you had no idea if he was still violent.
“Who is that man?” Gosh, he looked so much like his father. The furrowed brow, the squinted eyes, and pouty lips. When he was born, you huffed and puffed to Peter, saying how unfair it was that your son had inherited Miguel’s looks, even though you were the one breaking your back to carry him – and then later, take care of him.
“He’s… He’s an old friend.” Technically not a lie. Miguel had been your friend once.
“Is he the one in the pictures that make you cry?”
Oh.
What?
Noticing your confused expression, Gabriel spoke again, shrugging.
“Sometimes you cry in the living room when you look at pictures… Is he the one in them?”
Were children supposed to be this curious? Or perceptive?
How come he had picked up on you crying? It was true, sometimes your hands instinctively reached out to the old photo albums you kept on the top shelf of your living room wall cabinet, far from his reach.
There was no need to lie to your son – not when he was so smart and cared so much, not when he was so perceptive.
“Yeah, baby.” You sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He is.”
“Why do you cry? Did he do something to make you sad?” The worry in his eyes was inevitable. If the situation weren’t so scary, you’d laugh. Your sweet child, always so worried about you.
“Yeah, he did. He made mommy very sad, that’s why she cries.”
“Did you like him?”
Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, and you fought them back. “Be strong”, you thought. You always played the part of the strong caretaker, the fearless mother who protected him against the dangers of the world – but right now, with Miguel waiting outside, you weren’t sure you were strong enough anymore.
“Yes, pumpkin. Very much. Very, very much.” You removed your hand from his hair and moved it to his round, chubby cheek. “Mommy loved her friend a lot. And I was very sad when he hurt me. Incredibly so.”
“Do you miss him?”
The question hung in the air.
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Miguel was still asleep.
Today was one of those days he had decided to remain home, take a break from all the stressing Spiderman stuff and just relax.
He looked so handsome like this, lips slightly parted to breathe in and out, cheek smushed against his pillow, legs entwined with yours, arm lazily thrown across your waist. You loved him like this, before the burdens and responsibilities of the suit dawned upon him, before he was a superhero and was simply Miggy.
You’d been tenderly running a hand through his curls, enjoying the view before you. Such a handsome man, such a kind soul. Sure, he was rough with everyone else, but with you? Away from the prying eyes and annoying questions? Away from the screens and all of the Spider Society duties?
He was plush. Soft, sweet, mellow, delicate.
You were whipped for this man, truly.
He stirred awake next to you, grumbling something in Spanish you couldn’t quite hear, and shuffled closer, lips quick to latch onto the column of your neck.
“Buenos dias hermosa…” He murmured against your skin, voice groggy and deep, earning the sweetest sigh from you. His grip on your waist tightened and you turned to him, smiling. He was such a vision.
“Morning, handsome.” You smiled, tugging on his curls to tilt his head towards you. He chuckled and kissed you tenderly, as if you were a figment of a dream he hadn’t yet abandoned and could disappear at any time.
You decided to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, pressing yourself against him to kiss him harder, obtaining the most delicious moan from your boyfriend. He pulled you closer by your waist, and with a quick movement, was on top of you, arms and hands caging you beneath his figure.
“Felling cheeky, aren’t we, mi vida?”
“I’m just kissing you Miguel, nothing cheeky about that.” You were quick to defend yourself, giving him a smug look.
He lowered himself, ghosting his lips over yours, almost as if on the brink of promising the entire world to you. Instead of doing that, he laid down, hair barely grazing your breasts as he placed soft kisses on your stomach.
You knew this look.
For a while now, the conversations about children and family had become more frequent. Miguel would catch you staring at baby clothes at the mall, or interacting with toddlers who looked and waved at you, and his heart melted. You had mentioned wanting a family before but were waiting on his signal. You knew Miguel had gone through something horrible – losing the family the way he did… You couldn’t imagine how that must’ve felt.
So, you waited.
And lately, he seemed to be on the same page.
Last week, when you two had gone to the mall, he’d found you staring at a baby blue stroller, and the expecting couple examining it. You sighed, hands slowly trailing up to your stomach. Someday you hoped that would be you.
And it was then Miguel realised that he would want nothing more than to see you pregnant with his child, round and soft and plush and his, for the whole world to see.
He could picture it, you sitting in your garden, sunbathing and applying lotions on your baby bump, and him, by your side, kissing your forehead and placing his hand on your stomach to feel his child kick.
You, waddling over to him when your cravings got the better of you, begging him to get you some pickles and strawberry jam, promising nothing in this world you make you happier or satisfy you more – even if the combination did seem disgusting. ~
You, sitting down on a big chair, breasts exposed as you gently nursed your child. Your baby would have its tiny, miniscule hand on your chest as he drank your milk, and Miguel would be watching from the doorway as you fed your son, before placing him to sleep.
He could see himself too.
Playing with his child in the park, teaching his son how to play football, helping his daughter score goals, lifting his child over his head once they won their first game, reading them bedtime stories and saying “Don’t tell your mom” whenever they got into trouble.
It was all so very vivid.
“Miguel?”
He could picture it all, reach before him and grasp it.
“Honey?”
How pretty you would look, all swollen with his child.
“Earth to Miguel?”
Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he sighed, kissing your stomach.
“Mi vida, I think…” He looked up at you, fondness and love nearly spilling from his gorgeous brown eyes and held your hand in his. “I think… How would you feel about starting a family with me?”
There. It was out. He’d said it.
And although he knew what your answer would be, his heart still flipped when your eyes turned into crescents, and your lips curled into a gorgeous smile.
“A family? With me? Really?” You sounded so fucking happy; it made his heart swell. Was it possible to love someone as much as he loved you?
“Yeah,” Miguel replied, and pressed his hand against your stomach. He could almost feel it. Picture your baby bump, feel the soft kicking of your child against your stomach, a silent reminder that it was alive and breathing and waiting to meet you. “A family. You and I and our child… What do you say?”
You giggle – you giggle! And por Dios if it isn’t the most gorgeous sound he has ever had the blessing of hearing. If anyone asked what Miguel’s favourite type of music was, he’d probably say it was the sound of your laughter. Either that, or the pretty mewls you make for him when it’s late and he’s needy and you’re oh so pliant.
“I say it’s perfect!” Hands fly to his hair, and suddenly he’s being pulled towards you, lips hungrily crashing onto his. You kissed him with everything you had. All of the love you felt for him, the love you felt for the family that was yet to come, the joy, the laughter, you tried expressing it all through this kiss.
And he smiled because nothing would ever make him as happy as you do. Nothing would ever get him to smile as much as you do. Nothing would ever complete his life the way you did, and he was so, so grateful for that. He kissed you back, hands carefully placing themselves on your hips to steady you, yours gripping his jaw to bring him closer.
When you parted away from air, he looked at you through lidded eyes, a very familiar form of desire dancing in the brown of his irises. You smiled sheepishly and watched him shrug his shoulders.
“Well, I guess… Since we’re on the topic of baby making…” He whispered near your ear, relishing in the full body shiver it elicited from you.
“Now who’s the cheeky one?” You faced him, brow comically raised at him.
You were so cute; Miguel could just eat you up.
And there was no one to stop him.
“Shh, hermosa, don’t give me that.” Barely a whisper, and yet it made heat pool in your lower belly, and your face warm upr. “I’m just saying, we should start practicing.”
With one swift movement, he was between your legs and your laughter filled the room.
Everything seemed right in the world.
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Not at all. Not anymore.
“No, I don’t.” You absentmindedly ran your finger through Gabriel’s hair, “Not anymore. Right now, I have you, and you’re all I need.”
“Do you want me to draw a picture for you? I can draw a giraffe because I know you like them, and then you’ll smile and be happy.” This got a chuckle out of you. Always trying to cheer you up, this one, no matter what.
“Mommy would love it if you drew her a picture of a giraffe. It’d make me super happy.”
“Okay then! I’m gonna do it tomorrow, and I’m gonna use the crayons Mrs. Camille gave me, so it will look extra special –“ Before your son could continue, you smiled and ran an index finger from his forehead to the tip of his nose, a small gesture between the two of you, one that had a bazillion meanings. But right now it meant something around “Time for bed”.
Gabriel looked up sheepishly, shrugging.
“Can you sing for me?”
You felt slightly self-conscious about singing to him, especially since Miguel was standing right in the other room, and you used to sing this song to him.
“Let him hear”, you thought. He meant nothing to you anymore. This song was no longer his.
The song came to you naturally as you stroked Gabriel’s curls and watched his cheeks huff and puff, his slow breathing reminding you that he was here, safe and sound.
“Querido Cada momento de mi vida Yo pienso en ti más cada día Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”
All it took was one single stanza and he was already fast asleep. You chuckled to yourself and kissed the top of his forehead. He looked so peaceful; you took a mental picture of this moment.
Because perhaps, it’d be the last one you’d have.
You took a deep breath and stood up, not wanting to delay what was to come any more. Miguel was standing in your living room. You couldn’t hide from him forever, and you weren’t going to.
Closing Gabriel’s door, you decided to once and for all, face the man who had broken your heart four years ago.
The fact that he spoke to you first didn’t surprise you – Miguel had always been straightforward. It was what he said that caught you off guard.
“Was that…?” He asked, clearly referring to the song.
Stay strong. Don’t waver. You have to be strong for your family.
“Yes. Yes, it was Querida.” Your voice sounded certain, confident. You weren’t feeling very confident, but the taste it left on your tongue was quite nice. It made you feel more and want more. A placebo, maybe, but right now, you took all the help you could get.
Miguel chuckled dryly, running a hand through his hair.
“Wow. I haven’t heard that song in… What? Four? Maybe five years?” How dare he act like everything was normal? Like you had simply forgotten to sing it for him, like instead of Querida, you’d started singing Para Siempre from Doreen Montalvo. He seemed too at ease.
“Yes, well. How sad.”
He stared at you, unsure of what to say. And was that regret on his face? Regret? Fear? You couldn’t tell. And it’s not like it mattered – Miguel had to leave. That much was final.
“And… And, well…” He stammered, eyes darting behind you, to the closed door of your son’s room. “He…”
“He’s yours.” You cut him off coldly. Why was he dancing around the subject? Miguel looked at you and swallowed harshly, scratching the back of his neck. You wouldn’t let him be meek and weak, you couldn’t. He had no right to. “What? Wasn’t that what you were going to ask?”
Miguel straightened himself, regaining some of the composure he’d lost earlier.
“I see.” He nodded and nudged his head towards your kitchen – that’s when you saw it.
“I did your dishes.”
Your brow furrows and your eyes widen all at once.
Your dishes?
“You were tucking, um, our, well, your, um… The kid. You were tucking him in, and I thought maybe I could be of help.” He looked so earnest it almost hurt you. Ever the gentleman, your Miggy. When you were together, no matter how late he got home, no matter how tired he was, Miguel still made time to help around the house. Cleaning, cooking, doing whatever it took to make sure you had no extra burdens.
But right now?
You didn’t care if he was Spiderman, you didn’t care if he was nearly 7 feet tall and wide and strong enough to snap you in two – you wanted to punch him in the face. Oh, so badly.
The anger took over you and you scoffed at him.
“Oh! You wanted to help, huh?” You leaned against the couch and raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “I see. Well, thank you for the help, Miguel. Unfortunately for you, I don’t need you to take care of household chores for me. Washing a few plates isn’t going to change anything.”
He winced at your words. Good.
“I just thought –“
“Well, you thought wrong.” You interrupt him once again. This conversation is not going to be about him. He’s not the victim, he’s not the vulnerable one. He doesn’t get to be vulnerable.
“[Y/N], we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t. You need to leave, and I need to get some sleep.”
“No, please, we need to talk. We have to.” He sounded desperate. Goodness, you loved it. His eyes were filled with something you’d never seen before. The bags under them reveal he must not have been getting a lot of sleep, and he kept pinching the bridge of his nose as if in exhaustion. You weren’t naïve – not anymore. You didn’t feel bad for him per se.
But seeing the man who once seemed to carry the weight of the world in his shoulders, who took care of an entire city and never even wavered, look so defeated… Well. It did pull at your heart strings a little bit. Maybe that’s why you nodded and gestured over to your couches, sitting down in one of them and waiting for Miguel to do the same.
Maybe that’s why you watched as Miguel sat on the couch facing the TV and waited for him to speak.
“[Y/N], I… Mierda… No sé por donde empezar…” He cursed under his breath, head hanging low.
“I don’t have all night, Miguel.”
Oh, how he missed hearing his name spill from your lips. But now, instead of filled with love and warmth, you spit the words almost like they are poisonous, like you can’t hold them on your tongue for more than two seconds without them corrupting you.
He supposed he did that to you.
“I suppose I should start by apologizing…” Miguel finally looked at you, brown eyes staring into yours. You’d have done anything for those eyes once upon a time. Not anymore. “[Y/N], that night, all those months ago… I can’t begin to explain how sorry I am…”
So he was here to apologize? Was that it? Did you even want to hear his apology? Were you going to forgive him?
“When I told you those things, when I told you to…” He averted his gaze for a few seconds, probably too ashamed to look at you as he remembered telling you to kill your child. And you felt good that he was ashamed. He deserved to be. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared. Scared it would happen again, what happened to my sweet Gabriella… I lashed out on you, and I scared you. I’m so sorry.”
You nodded once, and upon hearing no reply from you, he continued.
“I… I really have no excuse other than that. Seeing Gabriella disappear right before my eyes, it… Mierda, it really scared me. So, when I read that test, when I saw you were pregnant, I was afraid it would happen again.”
Miguel found you staring at him, unimpressed, unmoved. Did his words mean nothing? Had he reached you?
“So?”
“So, what?”
“Is that why you came here? To apologize?” You questioned him, brow quirked.
“Well, yeah. You deserve an apology mi vi- [Y/N]. What I did to you was inexcusable. And yet, I hope that someday you manage to find it within your heart to forgive me. You know I’ve never lied to you, and I’m still telling you the truth when I say I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m ashamed of how I behaved, I was a monster, and you didn’t deserve that.”
For some unknown reason, his words made you weak, if only for a few seconds. You saw in front of you, your Miguel, your sweet, sweet Miggy who brought you breakfast in bed, who kissed your period cramps away, who carried you when you were too tired to walk, who treated you like you were God’s gift to green earth. You saw him scared and vulnerable and hurt, and all you wanted to do was take him in your arms and hold him tightly until all of the pain was nothing but a distant memory.
But you also couldn’t ignore the other Miguel, the Miguel who had jumped and punched a wall and yelled at you, demanding you to get rid of your baby, and forcing others to do it. No matter how much you had once loved him, Gabriel was your life now, and you couldn’t allow yourself to feel soft over someone who would do something so inhuman as threaten an unborn child.
“Thank you for the apology.” You told him. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have things to do. Now, please leave.”
He seemed confused by that. Leave?
“Wait – what?”
Standing up, you gently adjusted the couch you were sitting on, and shrugged at him.
“Yes. I have heard your apology, and now I want you to leave.”
“Well, what is your response?”
“To what?”
“To the apology.”
“I’m not accepting it.”
“What?”
What was he expecting? You to run into his arms with tears of joy, kissing him until he was dizzy and proclaiming his love for him? Was that it?
“You heard me,” You crossed your arms, “I’m not accepting your apology.”
“But – I thought – “
“You thought what, exactly?” Now your words were pure venom, meant to poison his skin and hurt his heart. You wanted him to feel a least a fraction of the hurt and pain he caused you, of the heartbreak he submitted you to. “That you could just come in here after I actively ran from you, after I tried to hide, and you would solve everything by washing my dishes and giving me a half-assed apology?”
“[Y/N], I told you what happened, I’m sorry, I was scared – “
“How do you think I felt, huh?” You felt the rage in the back of your throat. It hurt. It felt nice to let your anger out, to direct it at him, the source of your ache. “How do you think I felt when you threatened my baby? Were you also scared when you sent your Spider-People after my child and I?”
“What?” Miguel looked at you, dropping his hands to his sides.
“That’s right. I’m not stupid, Miguel, I know what you did. You asked for them to search for me, and to kill my son. You think all of that is washed away simply by apologising?”
“I was afraid you’d disappear on me too!” He pleaded, hands gesturing to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what else to say, how else to show you how heartbroken I am…”
“Well then, perhaps you should’ve thought about all that before you decided to have a child with me, Miguel. You don’t get to do this – You don’t get to picture a future with me, with our family, you don’t get to tell me you’re ready only to then threaten us. You should’ve voiced those concerns instead of taking it out on me. You got me pregnant and didn’t even deal with the consequences of your actions!” You threw your hands in the air, desperately trying to make him see your side. Could he not understand the gravity of the situation?
“You should’ve told me. We would’ve worked something out, Miguel, I knew we would’ve.” Your vision becomes blurry – all these emotions aren’t really helping your “Don’t waver” plan, but at this point you just need to vent your frustrations. “But what you did? It felt like betrayal. We were trying for a baby, and when I finally got pregnant, you threatened us. I know what happened to you in the past, and I can’t imagine how it must’ve hurt, but it is no excuse for what you did to me.”
For a while, the both of you were silent. There was nothing else to say.
“What’s his name?” He asked silently, looking at Gabriel’s door.
You hesitated, but figured telling him what you had named your child probably didn’t hurt.
“Gabriel. His name is Gabriel.”
His eyes twinkled in acknowledgment. You had wanted to name your son anything that had nothing to do with his father, but you couldn’t. You considered that your last act of kindness towards Miguel.
“After my brother?”
“Who else?” You looked away.
“He… He’s beautiful. He looks…”
“Like you, I know.” You’d made your peace with it, sure, but sometimes it still stung that your child looked nothing like you, you who carried him and took care of him and fed him and rocked him to sleep. Instead, he was a near perfect copy of his father, opting to act like you, rather than look like you.
“How is he?” Miguel felt scared to ask. He wasn’t sure if you were going to tell him anything – and why should you?
“He’s… He’s the greatest kid ever. He’s smart and kind, and so considerate. He’s his own little man, even though he’s only four years old…” A smile spread across your lips, as you always did when talking about your son. He was your pride and joy, after all.
“Will I…” Miguel hesitated. You know what’s coming. “Will I get to meet him?”
“No. Not if I can help him.”
Miguel’s lips formed a tight line.
“[Y/N], he’s my son too –“
“No, he’s not. You might be related by blood, but that doesn’t make him your son, and it most certainly doesn’t make you his father. You lost that right when you threatened to kill him, and sent your goons to do it.” Your voice was getting louder, so you tried to lower it. The last thing you wanted was to wake Gabriel up.
“You can’t do this. I have a right to see him.” Miguel’s voice was also getting louder. Not only that, but he had also gotten up, towering over you. So much for weakness and desperation, this Miguel looked the same as the one you left four years ago.
“You don’t, that’s the thing. I don’t trust you around my son. I’ve spent the past four years trying to protect him from you, and I’m not going to stop now.” As if by instinct, you placed yourself right in front of him, blocking his passage to Gabriel’s room. Could he snap you in half and get to him by himself? Yeah. Were you going to let that stop you? No.
“What did you tell him? What lies did you tell our son?” Was it just you, or were his eyes turning red?
“My son. And I told him the truth, that his father wasn’t making me feel safe, so I had to run in order to protect him.”
Miguel visibly flinched at those words. He never wanted to make you feel unsafe, never.
“I understand I made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be a part of his life.” His expression changed to something darker – you weren’t sure how long you had until he snapped. A mistake? How dare he downplay his actions like this?
“That is precisely what it means. I want you away from my son.”
“He needs a father. What if – what if he inherits my abilities, huh? What are you going to do then?”
That’s when you snapped.
“He needs ME!” Hot tears streamed down your face, and you did not try to stop them. “Do you understand? Me. I am his mother. I cared for him for the 9 months he was inside of me, scared shitless because I didn’t know what you might do if you found us. I took care of him for 4 whole years. I was the one who fed him, I was the one who changed his diapers, I was the one rocked him to sleep when he cried and I’d been awake for hours, I was the one who gave up everything and started from scratch because of him! And what did you do? You whispered pretty things in my ear and got me pregnant, and then got scared and proceeded to tell me to kill my child! That’s not something a father does!” The words kept spilling from your lips and there was no way to stop them. You could finally speak freely, get him to understand the pain he put you through.
“If my son happens to inherit your abilities, then I will take care of it. Just like I’ve been doing all these years, I will take care of it. You’ve done nothing for us, and we don’t need you. I don’t need you Miguel, I don’t love you anymore. My priorities in life have changed, and now they lie in the safety and well-being of my son. So, for once in your life, stop being so fucking stubborn and LEAVE!”
“Mama?”
Your heart fell as soon as you heard Gabriel’s scared voice.
Shit.
You turned to him, only to be meet with a teary-eyed child, holding onto his teddy bear way too tightly.
“Honey, I… I’m sorry… Did I wake you up?” Your voice was automatically gentler, lower, something above a whisper, something reserved for him and him alone. Right now, you didn’t care that Miguel was right there, angry, and tall, all you cared about was your son, who looked so, so scared it nearly killed you.
“I heard you yelling…” He murmured, running towards you and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. His tears fell on your skin and you allowed yourself to cry with him, clutching him close to you, afraid he’d disappear right before your eyes because of your actions.
“I’m so sorry…” You mumbled into his hair, hoping all the love and sincerity you felt right now could be translated into words. “Honey, I’m so sorry, mommy got angry and started yelling… I promise it won’t happen again… I’m so, so sorry…”
You felt Gabriel nod, and pressed your lips to his head, a thousand promises laced in one simple kiss.
Standing up and turning to Miguel, you gave him a serious look, despite your puffy face and red eyes.
“You should leave. For good.”
And for all his bravado, Miguel couldn’t help but melt when he looked at your son, at his round, bright eyes, and small pout. He might look like his father, but right now, he was all you. It killed him. He drove you to yell, he drove you to be mad and wake him up. Mierda. He’d fucked up again.
Miguel took his son in one last time, telling himself he’d keep an eye on him from afar, and nodded before walking away and leaving you alone in your living room.
You locked the door behind him, heart tightening.
You’d made the right choice.
“Would you mind sleeping with mommy tonight? I think I need my brave little boy to scare away the monsters…” You whispered.
This earned a chuckle out of Gabriel, who nodded and placed a hand on his forehead in a salute, no doubt imitating the cartoons he watched.
“I’m going to protect you!”
You smiled and took him to your bedroom once more, not even bothering to change. Your sweatpants were comfortable anyways.
Holding Gabriel close to you, you sighed when you heard him speak.
“That man said he was my father…”
You pressed your lips. However were you going to work this one out?
“Was he the one you wanted to protect me from?”
You let your hands run through his hair.
“Yeah, my love. He was.”
“How did he find us?”
That was a good question. With all of the yelling and anger, you’d forgotten to ask. But after all, this was Miguel you were talking about. He was a genius and would surely always find a way to you, sooner or later.
“I’m not sure. But he won’t hurt us. I promise.” You looked at him, offering him your best reassuring smile. Truth was, you weren’t sure he would follow you once again. But what you were sure of, was that you would always do your best to protect him and keep him safe.
Gabriel looked into your eyes and slowly wiped away what was left of your tears.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
No matter how used you were to it, it would always catch you by surprised how perceptive and intelligent your son was. You smiled slowly grabbing his hand and kissing it.
“I know.”
“Are you scared?” He asked again, his eyes droopy and his lips parting to let out a big yawn.
“I was a few minutes ago. But I’m gonna tell you a secret. That alright?” You moved your hand to cup his cheek.
“Mhm…” Gabriel mumbled, sounding like he was dozing off already.
“Mommy is never scared when you’re by her side.” It was barely a whisper, and you didn’t even know if he had heard it. Still, you added, “I’ll always be strong for you.”
A smile tugged at your lips as you watched his gentle breathing.
And then, words.
“I love you, mama.”
They were barely audible, but nevertheless, they were there.
A few tears managed to escape – tears of joy, of love.
You would always do your best to protect him. You’d always be there to hold his hand and watch him grow, watch him become his own person, cheering him on as he went.
No matter what came your way, no matter what happened, you’d always be there by his side. For the good things, for the bad things, for the so-so things. To hold him tightly when he felt clingier than usual, to pin his drawings on the fridge, to hear him babble about whatever new topic he’d discovered in school, even if you were tired beyond reason and all you wanted was for him to go to sleep so you could get some rest.
You’d be there to tie his shoes until he could do it by himself, and to clean his face whenever he got too excited with his lunch. You’d be there to explain to him what a “memamporphosis” was, and to listen to him explain to you why Spiderman was the greatest of heroes.
You’d be there when he cried, and when he laughed.
And be there when he wasn’t yours anymore.
Four years ago, you had chosen him, and you would always choose him, for as long as you breathed.
“I love you too, my sweet boy.”
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Spanish Translations
Mi cielo - My sky Mierda - Shit My vida - My life Te amo con todo mi ser - I love you with all of my being Eres la luz de mi vida - You're the light of my life Estás embarazada? - You're pregnant? Perdóname - Forgive me Buenos dias hermosa - Good morning beautiful Querida / Querido - Dear (While Querida is meant for a female partner, Querido is meant for a male partner, both are a term of endearement and have the same meaning) No sé por donde empezar - I don't know where to start
If you'd like to check out the song's translation, you can check this page out!
I hope you enjoyed this! Have an amazing day ahead, please keep yourself hydrated and safe <3
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ventismacchiato · 8 months
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40 behind the lens — paper rings !
scaramouche x g!n reader
⇢ ˗ˏˋ time skip of three years ࿐ྂ
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˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗
✰ you and kuni graduate at the top of your respected classes and have been dating for almost five years now, known properly as the campus it couple
✰ neither of you moved in together until last year when everyone else started moving out of the shared content houses
✰ first xiaoae move out together, then childe, then heikazu, albenari, then ayaka going back home and venti living on his own
✰ living in the houses on your own was essentially a waste of money and space so jean ended your leases and you guys finally moved in together
✰ and after graduation, with jean’s help, you’re able to slide into the industry pretty easily with your large fanbases
✰ you start off as side characters that grow in popularity since your fans watch the shows and movies you star in just for you both
✰ i like to think kuni double majored in child psych along with film in case acting didn’t work out in his favor so he’s pretty and smart
✰ but since this is fiction it did work out for him cus dreams come true #livelaughlove
✰ id like to think star/you would also act but probably dials it down to direct full time instead
✰ you preferred to direct compared to acting so eventually you started to fund your own projects with kuni on your cast which helped you grow
✰ you try not to cast kuni in every one of your movies because then it’ll look like favoritism but he prefers to star in ones you direct
✰ you also get your friends to be extras a lot, most of the time it’s childe who begs you to let him be in the back for movies
✰ you guys probably don’t get engaged for a while despite living together, blaming it on scara’s commitment issues and the fact that your careers are your main focus
✰ alongside luna, your previous black cat, you probably adopt another white one alongside scara
✰ as for actor!scara headcanons imagine scara on hot ones, that one show on youtube, and he has a straight face the entire time as he eats the hottest wings and answers questions about you
✰i think he’d have a lot of fun on shows like that, example would be eat it or spill it by jimmy fallon, he would annihilate them
✰ he probably does all his own stunts, always giving you a heart attack as you see him falling from heights on harnesses, sometimes he convinces the staff to fool you into thinking he actually got hurt due to a broken rope as he plummets to the ground
✰ he does it so much that there’s enough content for ‘scara pretending to die in front of yn for ten minutes straight’ compilations
✰ you guys probably stream when you can but not as much with your jobs, i think star doing behind the scenes vlogs of you and scara together would be so cute though
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˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗
✰ was a communications major so he’s the PR manager for scara and you after graduating
✰ yes i know technically jean could do this but she has enough on her plate! i’m just thoughtful like that #feminist
✰ constantly trying to prevent you guys from getting into scandals, which is hard when scara cannot keep his opinions to himself
✰ aether probably has a heart attack everytime scara goes off to do interviews since scara always ignores the pre written answers and goes on tangents, which his fans love but twitter not so much
✰ xiao as an animator wud be so sexy guys. like walk with me here imagine an operation true love anime after the drama and webtoon are a hit so he gets to animate for the anime and storyboards with albedo
✰ i’m tryna intertwine all of them even after they graduate can you tell
✰ as for him and aether they probably tie the knot a little while after graduating, small wedding with just close friends and family
✰ xiao would edit one of those pretty wedding videos that youtubers do
✰ but they don’t film the entire wedding for their channels cus they gotta gatekeep
✰ id say xiao probably still streams but he mainly just draws with music in the background or works on his stardew town with aether
✰ xiao probably strains his wrist a lot from all the work he does so at promotion events he’s always wearing a brace on his hand
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˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗
✰ okay in this au let’s all pretend he’s the creator of operation true love cus rmbr he’s a writing major and a huge romantic
✰ like how sexy is that, obviously it does well cus all his fans all read it and so it gets turned into a drama
✰ directed by you of course starring kuni as eunhyuk
✰ he’s still head over heels and throwing up in love with heizou, they probably adopt a cat together when they move in together
✰ i imagine if kazuha ever wrote a murder mystery novel he’d have heizou read it to decipher if the culprit was too easy to figure out
✰ nothing really exciting about heizou’s major in this au, he probably just becomes a detective and streams on the side, known as kazuha’s partner in the entertainment industry and attends all the events when he can
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˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗
✰ obviously goes into the art industry, works on a lot of graphic novels and novel covers and sometimes album covers
✰ when kazuha’s work gets turned into mangas or graphic novels he always does the art for it
✰ he probably paints nari’s favorite flowers for him and they adorn their house’s walls
✰ i’d say he doesn’t stream as much anymore but if he does it’s probably just him doing commissions with music in the background
✰ nari’s major is also not exciting in this au, probably becomes a forest ranger or a college professor
✰ albedo builds him a greenhouse in the back of their house for him
✰ the type to bring hurt animals home and fosters them back to health
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˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗
childe
✰ stealing from my pookie mrbeast for inspo
✰ he probably does stuff like has a whole business for his videos and side hustles like merch and a food company
✰ like maybe he and diluc collab to make an energy drink or something
✰i mentioned he fancies diluc like once in a previous chapter so that’s why he’s with diluc who streams a little
✰ they probably met properly at another twitch con or creator event
✰ very wow factor oriented like he does more than just stream games, he prefers to work on big challenge videos and loves giving away money
✰ like he would host those extreme hide-and-seek challenges with all his youtuber/streamer friends in weird locations and get them to do weird dares with him
✰ i think heizou would win those types of videos most of the time, whereas scara barely tries and still seems to almost win
✰ diluc probably does one stream a month because it’s not his entire focus, probably also a business major and just appears in childe’s videos once in a while
✰ how cute would it be if childe was always at his 110% in videos and extra hyper to make them more entertaining but when diluc joins him he’s more calm and cute
venti
✰ his streaming fanbase gives him a jumpstart in his music career yk how it is
✰ does a bunch of osts for shows and movies. still streams but also is a popular musician
✰ not an idol 😍🤞 has to be a little different than jptp but does start out by opening for tours and makes it on billboard
✰ i do think he’d eventually do a world tour though on his own and stray away from streaming to focus on his music, would probably just upload vlogs if anything
✰ does the operation true love ost so everyone is working tgt and he’s single in this au cus #singlerep
ayaka
✰ honestly i don’t care what happens to ayaka she’s just there ig
✰ keep doing what ur doing queen! i’ll support you from all the way over here!
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behind the lens !
masterlist — prev | next
yes i’m using yeonjun as scaras face 🤞
also sorry if this isn’t as in depth as the jptp one i’m just tryna wrap this fic up ☠️
author’s notes — just like jptp i just wanted to do a bunch of headcanons :] this is how i envision their future and if u don’t agree talk to the wall cus idc 😊
synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?
taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]
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the-moon-files · 3 months
Text
Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain! :)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (ur here!)
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Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader!
Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Scenarios?
Stars: Wind, Wild, Sage, C*urage, K*ridai
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: i included the link from K*oridai (faces of evil), and the brunette Link from that old cartoon tv show,
& Trigger Warnings: none known.
Wind (Wind Waker):
Misses being a big brother
LMAOOO I CAME FOR UR THROAT HAHAAA
ok chill chill he's doing okay
He's just not used to being the youngest in any given group, he used to be the oldest kid in charge of the younger ones and his little sister too
But dont get him wrong! He rlly does love the advantages that come with it,
and when he's feeling down abt not being older u usually cheer him up by reminding him he can be the biggest little shit he wants and every single Link will forgive him once he pulls out his baby seal eyes lmao
Ur the easiest to rope into horse playing/goofing off and he's very happy abt that
The others can be too serious for too long so he appreciates how u and him lighten them up by trying to give each other noogies (he loses most of the time)
As soon as Wind found out the others could play instruments, he immediately demanded they do campfire songs every night lol
(Most of the time one person caves, even just to idly play smth)
Likes inventing weird new games to play that'll convince as many other people to particpate, he used to do it back home too, like finding the prettiest rock on the island, that way his grandma and even adults could play too :)
Needs to sleep beside someone at night, bc he secretly likes it, back on his adventure going to sleep all by himself (unlike living with his grandma/sister) always was a little hard for him
Very hard to wake up in the morning, sleeps in the latest out of all the Links
("I'm a growing boy? Ofc i need my sleep, whats ur excuse??" @ the other Links who sleep in late lol)
Likes to sew! He's still learning, but his grandma used to teach him how so he could help her keep up with his growth spurts/recklessness tearing his clothes up
Idolizes u forever if you embroider, and will watch u like those videos of someone's cat who's fascinated by watching owner craft smth lol (like this ⚫️v⚫️)
Enjoys making stoic people crack their persona and laugh
Also has the wheeziest laugh youve ever heard, it makes u laugh every time, even when he started laughing over a dumb pun
Oh yeah, makes a foul amount of dad jokes for someone whos only like 14 💀
(He once managed to break Time and Legend, which then broke Wars and Twi, and it just continued down the Chain until everyone was crying or on the ground, he wears that shit like a badge and it literally made his confidence go 📈 puffed his chest out and everything lol)
Wild (Breath of the Wild):
U already know everything there is to know abt him??
I dont even have to say it, and it shows when ur around him lol
Like he'll go to do smth stupid like shield surf down death mountain in a unknown Hyrule, and before anyone can even realize thats what he's planning to do you've caught and stopped him and made a compromise to shield surf down some snow bluffs later instead
Or when u know he's gotten new ingredients in some other Link's Hyrule and is going to try and cook with them tonight, so u help him make a regular meal of smth else along with so the boys dont suffer stomaches
Like u can absolutely predict his bullshit all the time, just imagine the most adrenaline junkie thing he could do in that moment with the combination of things around him and you always know what tf he's up to, ur always right lol
Ur the only one who can get him to stop the chaos (besides maybe Time, weirdly enough Sky/Hyrule/Four bc they are the least likely to tell him to stop, so when they do, its usually a very, very bad idea)
Likes hair ornaments, he's got long hair for a reason after all
Likes u to style his hair, and esp if u teach him how to braid or do diff styles <333
He loves that u help cook/at least prep, and u make sure another Link helps too, bc thats a lot of ppl to make food for with little to no help 💀
(Makes u ur fav foods at even the slightest mention of them, like u wont even have to say ur craving Link's already whipped the pan out best housewife fr)
One of the few Links who's adventurous with his clothing, and trying new stuff
Wild was worried abt his Champion tunic getting messed up but was sad he couldn't wear it as much anymore
So u handmade him a new shirt that imitates the old one but with some new designs to represent the Chain! :)
He started crying.
He either hugs so lightly he seems like he's not enjoying it (no true, he's just trying to be polite)
Or he squeezes so hard be pops ur back and nearly breaks a rib
U got the latter for that shirt lol
Any new thing he doesnt remember how to deal with, like how to sew (he knows 1 stitch help), how to wash clothes (dont mix whites and blacks, and colors), how to soothe headaches/muscle aches etc.
He just wanders pitifully over to ur side and looks pitiful lol
Like he's a confused and saddened puppy
And just holds up whatever mess he's made like, "im so sorry, i dont know how to do this pls"
Bc he trusts u to know (the other Links may be hit or miss too tbh lmao)
And ur the least likely to clown him for it too, at least nothing he doesnt also find funny
Sage (Tears of the Kingdom):
So sue me, i enjoy this stupid-definitely-not-canon-unhinged-Link thats done with everyones bullshit and wants to be a hermit
SUEEE MEE ABT ITTTTT✨️
The first time u saw his hair nest and immediately clapped ur hand over u mouth in shock and tried to take a brush to it on sight
He fucking hissed at you.
Feral bitch.
Sage isnt like that all the time, but he was certainly the most distrustful and prickly out of all the Links
(U could smell it was like a defense mechanism from his adventure/past from a mile away, and knew with time that it'd fade away into his true self... like how u just knew Wild that well too)
U are the only person allowed to casually touch him, he shys away from the other Links, let alone strangers,and the first he allowed to help him with his hair
Tbh after u washed it out and got tangles and mats out and cut split ends off etc.
He almost teared up, and was extremely confused why
Def the type to not have realized he felt insecure lowkey abt it until it was fixed (he also was embarrassed to say he didnt rlly know how to take care of it)
Energy of a stray feral cat that leaves dead birds on ur doorstep without fail every morning and u leave a food bowl out in hopes he'll actually be your cat 💀
Extremely protective of you, and eventually the Chain, to the point where he might set someone's hair on fire or use runes on them
Like not enough to seriously injure but enough to scare tf out of ppl and have them running for their lives
(Did he literally growl at someone when they tried to flirt with you?? ... why is Twi encouraging him.)
Was unnerved by Wild at first but slowly got used to him and often butts into whatever private convo u two are having
Like just casually struts up and plops his head on ur shoulder and waits for attention, may complain loudly depending on how grumpy he is that day
(Wild's not getting jealous and constantly hogging u for cooking to get even more time with you what-)
Okay but unfortunately
Once those 2 got comfy with each other, they started tag teaming everyone
Like u can now bet that if an explosion happens in the distance, Sage definitely caused it, and if he's there, then Wild's there making him the explosives
(Same for if Wild's there, then Sage's there)
Def the Link that likes showing the most skin, he "gets overheated easily" - local half naked man justifies his nakedness
(coughtotallynototherreasonslikebeingshirtlessaroundyouallthetimecough)
Absolutely grievous clowning on the other Links, like its getting into bullyinggg 😭
His words are E rated for Everyone, no ones safe not even you
Sage: "wait, all those rings and nobody's ever put one on you? And you've never put on one someone else??🤔🤔"
Legend: ...😦
The rest of the Chain: 💀😭😶
Time, trying to hide he's choking on laughter so hard he's abt to fall into the firepit
Will occasionally team up with Wild to make a protective little border on either side of you while in towns/new Hyrules
U once offered to sing/hum for him after a nightmare while it was ur turn on watch (he sleeps up trees btw) and after u switched off w/other Link, u both went to edge of camp to sleep next to each other and he had the best sleep of his life like that
Now demands begs u to sing him to sleep every night, wont take "i dont sound that good tho" for an answer
Courage (The Legend of Zelda, 1989 Cartoon TV show):
Yeah... he's here too.
Just dont read this tbh
Enjoys being ✨️special✨️ by being the only hero twink out here with brunette hair
Was insecure abt it being curly/wavy until u slowly built his confidence
Bc he's got the most confidence in his strength, but not in much else tbh 😭
Actually will randomly have moments of responsibility or capability you didnt expect out of him bc he can be so silly and jokey all the time
Youll be lost as hell and he just "hey its ok the stars look like this so we go this way" and it works
Like the type of person u sort of avoid relying on bc he's like a playful jock type and then they randomly show theyre the captain of the team for a reason
Dont ask why, but hes good at knitting, shhhh no, no, no explanation he just secretly is he wont even tell u why or how or when he learned this he just "hehe, wouldnt u like to know princeyyy/princesssss/your majestyyyy"
Hyrule, and rest of Chain standing by, went to talk to one of the Great Fairies in a Hyrule once to try and get some info abt where to camp tonight or where nearest town was and before he could get close enough to ask,
Courage was already yelling like "YOOOO BIGGEST FAIRY WHATS UP?! u mind giving some poor lost fellas like us somewhere to go with ourselves tonight??"
They kept talking super casually and she laughed so hard that she let u guys stay near her that night to camp and be under fairy protection like no fairy boy Link needed 💀
Everyone was shocked, and thats how u all found out Courage is rlly good with fairies/their best friend no matter the Hyrule
Every time u guys learn smth new abt him it feels so unexpected, like out of left field or smth
It just never seems to fit his usual persona, or at least not what youd expect from him
So needless to say the first time u guys learned he could talk to magical objects that were powerful enough (like the fucking triforce)-
(this was apparently so normal he literally lived with a piece of it just in his room all the time????)
Has weird mixture of country boy vs. royal prince sensibilities?
It alarmed several Links. 💀
He can talk to Fi.
(Sky and you nearly cried)
Like he lived in the castle alongside Zelda so he inherited some spoiled/etiquette stuff, but he still would absolutely go splash in mud puddles in the rain
Would literally do fucking anything if it meant youd give him a kiss on the cheek
Likes to hug you a lot too, with his huge ass arms lifting u up (no he does not care how much u weigh ur going UP) and spinning u around
Its his favorite, almost as much as kisses
No but he's slay fucking Majora to get a kiss, like it's actually unbelievable and kinda endearing how excited he gets if u promise him one lmao
Koridai (Link: The Faces of Evil):
Omg not them putting Link's name in the title of the gameee i didnt know that 😭😭
Geezzz,, i dont know what im on
But ig heres that other silly ass Link if anyone feels like reading it
Will also fight any god, including Hylia, for a kiss
Actually astoundingly good at strategizing
Like after a few times in heat of battle him organizing Links, Time and Wars practically jumped him to include him in planning shit
He was similar to Courage to in that he just was cracking jokes all the time u didnt expect it, also he's significantly more sarcastic than Courage
U introduced him to dark humor and the laugh he laughed practically burst out of him, he looked shocked by his own laugh lmao
So he also now has a streak of dark humor he shows when u talk for while/sees someone also enjoys it
Its like his not-so-guilty-pleasure
Really good at baking? He apparently learned a lot of miscellaneous skills to better court someone and he now uses them fully to seduce you,
thru gift giving mostly, its is love language besides acts of service :)
(All Links do some amount of acts of service tho <3)
Rlly good at styling hair surprisingly, and at shield surfing??? What
Actually down to try Wild's experimental dishes...
And by that i mean he pranks the rest of you by sneaking the inedible bits into ur food
U may or may not have nearly choked him out for it and now he doesnt do it to you, and even was trying to act all pitiful abt it like "sorry lovely, but i just wanted to tease u bc ur so cute!! 🥺👉👈"
Like,, stfu u little shit 💀
He has the energy of a male orange cat, dont ask why he just is, and specifically the orange cat getting on top of the fridge or stuck between the the screen door and glasss door comically or smth 😭
Hes also loud as hell
One of the worst at stealth unless he just keeps his mouth shut completely, like his whispering is loud
He proclaims his affections very loudly too, like gettin u flowers and chatting ur ear off with what he likes abt u lol
No, like he can go for 20 minutes or more if u let him, u better stop him before he gets into the personality based compliments
Bc those sound wayyy too personal to be aired out in public ngl, like its so soft and domestic itll kill u lol
And he means every word too 👀
I HATE THIS NEW FEATURE OR FUNCTION I SWEAR THIS DIDNT HAPPEN BEFOREEE!!!
😭😭 U ABSOLUTELY KNOW WHAT IT IS BY NOW, IT FUCKING POSTED MY DRAFT BEFORE IT WAS READY TO GO
God fuck this hellsite stop doing this meee
Thats it im just do what i do for the other blog and write it smwhere else and then copy paste onto the post this is ridiculoussss 😒😒
Well anyway, i hope if u read this before i updated and actually FINISHED THIS u come back and read it again!! :(
Sorry guys, but blame tumblr pls before u blame me 😔
(Yeah theres a lot of emojis leave me alone i feel strongly abt this)
Peace out,
🐤 Peep
I think ill start signing off my name ig, unless u guys wanna call me Moon that works too
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