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we-out-here-simping · 2 months

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You, Me, Lonely.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea (educate yourself and help however you can)

Summary: you love Steve, Steve loves you. But maybe you both want different things from life.

Warnings/tags: reader menstruates (reader has uterus), abandonment issues, the ‘six nuggets’ talk, suggestive

Word count: 3.4k

masterlist

a/n: huge huge huge thanks to @procrastinationprincesses for helping me out with this fic and giving it an ending (ur amazing sanjana <3)

writing and posting something because i might have to go MIA for a lil bit (miss me while I'm gone will ya?)

fic is inspired by ‘You, Me, Lonely’ by FIZZ i absolutely love this song like its so close to my heart ughh what can i say I'm a little bitter about the six nuggets scene

also if you couldn't tell already I have major abandonment issues and an anxious avoidant attachment style. It will reflect in what i write soz :(

In the quiet of the night, you wish for this to last forever. That you'll have him forever.

When you came out of the shower you found him asleep on his side of the bed. His side– the one closer to the door. ‘so I can protect you from anyone who'll try to steal you from me’, he had justified it when you asked him why he was adamant on that side.

you had turned off the bedside lamp ten minutes ago, slipped under the duvet, as quietly as possible so as to not wake him up. on your side of his bed. your bed.

He always sleeps on his stomach, one hand under his pillow and the other extended a little towards yours. His body moves with steady and slow breaths, back rising and falling under the covers, head peeking out from under the rumpled up duvet. his cheeks are squished against the pillow cover. His hair is a mess from the lack of hair product, and still damp from the shower he took before you. There's a few strands of his brown hair sprawled across his forehead too. With your softest touch you brush them away from his eyes.

You wonder what he was dreaming. you hope it was something nice. He looks calm, at peace, and very, very pretty.

You look at him and you know you love him. You want to love him forever.

Love had never seemed like the type of thing you’ll get– like it wasn't meant for you. But then you met him. This boy. This boy who you never thought to be your type. You never thought you even had a type. But his boyish charm and stupid grin won you over.

Your heart doesn't skip beats around him anymore, and you’d think that that means he doesn’t have that same effect on you anymore but that would be wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone as much as you do to him. You don’t look at him and get butterflies in your stomach, you look at him and… you’re sure. your heart is quiet and sure. You don't think you’ve ever been sure before.

You want to be sure forever.

He feels like the comfortable still of rain after a scorching hot summer, like the calm and cold breeze that cools you down. Like standing at the top of the mountain, looking at the clouds and valleys below, he feels like the crisp air that fills your lungs. Like the comfort meal your mom makes– the one you can never really recreate, the one that tastes the best when it comes from her.

You love him and you know. You know. You know he likes you, loves you even.

Steve Harrington loves you like a dream, and you're worried that one day he’ll wake up, look at you and realise that he deserves so much better. He’ll wake up and he’ll leave for work and he’ll bump into a pretty angel of a girl with a disposition as bright as his. And he’ll never return. people fall out of love. People fall out of love all the time.

You wish for him to love you forever.

How long is a forever anyway?

You wonder what it'll be like. When you're older, with wrinkles, white hair and weaker limbs.

It's like you see it.

You and him in a bed– just like now but older, wiser, more tired. His back turned to you. There'd be distance between you two, you’d want to move closer and hold him– but you wouldn't. You’d just stare at the back of his head, counting all the grey hairs you’d memorised like all the moles and wrinkles on his skin.

You’d notice his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and you would have known him so long and so well that you'd just know that he wasn't actually asleep. you'd know why he wasn't asleep.

there'd be a pain in your chest. You would know what it is, why its there. You would gulp and try not to think about it.

“Do you always stare at me in my sleep?” his groggy voice pulls you out of your own head.

You blink, multiple times. Forever, right.

He softly smiles up at you. You blink away before moving to lay on your back, the sheets rustling with your movement. “sorry I woke you up”, you mumble an apology, staring at the ceiling, you fail to hide the shake in your voice.

“Y’kay?”

“Yeah.” the sheets beside you ruffle but you keep your eyes trained on the ceiling. it seems inevitable. You know, one day it'll happen and despite having expected it, it’ll be the greatest heartbreak of them all.

“Thinking ‘bout somethin’?” he sounds a bit more awake.

“When am I not?” you shake your head and laugh hoping he doesn't notice that it isn't real, thankful that the curtains didn't let in any moonlight and that you had turned off the lights.

“What is it?” but this is Steve, he doesn’t need to see you to know how you’re feeling.

“Nothing.”

“Were you lying about liking the pasta I made?”

“No, Steve it was good”, a real laugh slips out of you, and you finally look at him. He’s leaning on his elbow, the messy head of hair in his hand, looking down at you. You suddenly wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see the colour of his eyes, the moles and freckles on his skin.

“Then what?”

“Nothing.” your gaze moves back to the ceiling.

“Must be something if it's keeping you up”, you feel him shift closer to you. He smells of fresh shower, mint, shaving cream and washed laundry.

“No, I'm just…. not sleepy.”

“Yeah?”, he raises his eyebrows with a sly smirk, “Well, I know a way to make you sleepy”, he leans down– both arms caging you in, landing a kiss on your neck before trailing further up to your lips. and its lovely, so god damn lovely, you don't want it to stop but this hurts.

“Ste– mmph– Steve stop”, you turn your face away, because if he keeps going, you think you'll cry, palm pushing flat against his bare chest, “I’m– I'm not in the mood.”

“Okay, I'm sorry”, he moves back onto his one elbow. The silence gestates for a while, you can feel his eyes on you. The ticking of the clock is the only thing heard through the room before he softly says, “Hey, please tell me what's happening?”

“Nothing”, you shook your head, “I’m just tired.”

“You just said you're not sleepy.”

“J– just go back to sleep okay? sorry for waking you up”, you turn onto your side, face away from him.

He sidles up behind you after a second or two, warm breath across the back of your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut. “yeah, like that's gonna put me to sleep", he mutters behind you.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in closer, “C'mon, you know I wont be able to sleep after fighting”, burying his nose in your hair– he sighed.

“Did you just sniff my hair?”

“Yeah, I do all the time. smells s’good."

"You pervert", you both laugh lightly at that, your hand going for his around your waist, before your smiles fall and silence takes over once again.

You lick your drying lips, you forgot to put on lip balm again, “We’re not fighting, Steve.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You take in a deep breath in, fingers drawing patterns on the back of his hand, you breath out, “m’sorry.”

His arms squeeze tighter around you, he lets out a quick sigh before placing a kiss on your shoulder, “I’ll forgive you if you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Steve…”, your voice trails off, you're not even sure what you were going to say.

“Is it— Is it your…. Uh, that time of the month?”

That makes you want to roll your eyes at him and smack his chest but you restrain yourself, you’re not sure if you want him to see your eyes right now anyway. Instead, you sigh, “I had it last week, Steve.”

You got it in this very same bed. Awoken by cramps in the middle of the night. and Steve, your lovely Steve had given you a hot water bag while he took off the sheets and put on fresh new ones and then gave you a soft massage that put you to sleep.

“right... yeah, sorry," he says all sheepish, “So what is it then? Did someone say somethin’ at work?”

“No.”

“Did I.. " he hesitated a little, "did I say something?”

“...no”, you curse yourself for pausing before saying it.

“I did, didn't I?”

“No, no. you–”

“honey, you should tell me if I ever say stupid shit– you should call me out immediately–”

“You didn't say anything stupid or whatever. I'm the one who's being stupid.”

his hold on you loosened, he shifted back to give you space to turn around, “What did I say? Hey, look at me,” you finally turn in his hold, facing him “what did I say?”

“We’d have the cutest little kids, won't we?”

“..what?” You stood infront of the kitchen sink. your hands stopped their scrubbing at the pot you were washing. You tilted your head towards him who had his head rested on your shoulder, his arms around your waist.

“Little Harringtons”, you could hear the smile on his lips.

“Harringtons?”

“Or maybe we get our names hyphenated. That works too, it’d be cute”, his hands hold your waist, his duty of drying the plates abandoned. “They’d have my fabulous hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes– cutest kids around the block”

“Our kids?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, and six of ‘em. six little nuggets. They’ll make up half of a football team”, he giggled, warm air hitting the side of your face, “Doesn’t that sound lovely?” he smiled at you.

“...yeah. Yeah, it does.” you smiled back at him which only made him grin wider. His arms tighten around you again, and lips start a trail from behind your ears to down your neck.

You scoffed softly "You’re supposed to help me wash dishes you filthy animal."

“Oh, fine,” he gave you an over dramatic sigh, before his hands left your sides, skin feeling lonely as ever.

“No, it's fine. I’m almost done anyway", you went back to scrubbing at the bottom of the pot, "Just go and take a shower, you reek.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go!” he groaned, playfully as a kid, before he leaned against the counter, looking at you with his ‘Harrington charm’. His voice is silky when he asks, “Will you join me?”

“Steve." you said it almost as a warning.

“I don’t hear a no.”

“Okay then, no.”

“Tomorrow morning…?”

“I have an early shift tomorrow, you horndog.”

“We'll make it work.”

“No.”

“Okay", he sighs, “come up quickly though, I wanna be the big spoon today”, pecking your cheek before leaving for the shower upstairs.

Looking at him, you brush the now mostly dry hair falling on his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Your fingers lingered there, you smile, “nothing, Steve.” your thumb rubs back and forth on the apple of his cheeks. “You didn’t say anything. it's stupid.”

His hand reaches up to hold your fingers in place, he turns his head a little to kiss your knuckles, “okay, I didn't say anything” he kisses your knuckles again, gaze stuck to your face, “but could you tell me what it is you think you’re being stupid about?”

God, I love him, you think. “Don't worry about it”, your voice barely a whisper as you attempt to give him a smile. You move closer, planting a slow kiss on his lips which are so much softer than yours– he never forgets his chapstick.

And god, you needed this, your brain stops when you kiss him. thoughts quelled and its quiet again. After some time though, your throat starts to burn and your chest is on the verge of a sob. So, when you pull away, you fail to hide the stuttered breath that you take in.

Steve knew there was something to worry about, but when he hears your breath that almost sounds like a sob, he’s immediately on high alert. Before he can brush your hair out of your face to look at you, really look at you, you bury your face in his chest.

It takes him a second to realize that you’re crying and it breaks his heart because you’re trying to hide it.

“Baby..” he feels you curl in further, your face warm against his skin. He moves to pull you in closer, palm holding the back of your head. He just wanted to take away whatever it was that was bothering you. He tried to pull away to get a look at your face to help you calm down but you wouldn't let him. He settles on carding his fingers through your hair, rubbing circles on the little sliver of exposed skin between your t-shirt and shorts, hoping it gives you some sort of comfort.

"Honey", it is then that you finally let in a shaky breath. he feels the skin where you hid your face get wet maybe with tears, sweat, snot, he didn't care-- he just wanted to take all your pain away.

You both stay that way, and you're suprised by how much you sob, how hard you heave. You weren't sure how long you stayed that way, maybe minutes, maybe hours, however long. It feels like forever.

At this moment, encased in Steve's arms, breath hot against his skin, despite the nose plugged with snot, lashes clumped with tears, eyes squinted shut, you think this is comfortable. Yet it hurts. Because you'll have to pull away. It hurts so damn much because you know how this can go, you know it can hurt so, so much more. You know it will hurt.

You want this to last forever, however fucking long one of those is.

So, you hold on longer because, you’re selfish with your love for Steve. You're selfish because despite the heartache, you’ll have him, for as long as you can.

His hold on you gentle yet firm, as if afraid he'd break you. In your head, he already had. He tries to pull away again, to look at you but you can't. Your eyes still squinted close, willing it all to be a stupid dream. “Honey, I promise you whatever it is, you can tell me”, he says, voice soft as feather. Of course it's not a dream.

Your tongue betrays you, “Its…s–” stupid. Silly. It really doesn't feel stupid or silly, but god, you're so scared that you can't say it, you didn't want to say it because if you do it’ll come true, wont it?

“Whatever it is that you think is stupid," he assured you as if he could read your mind, "I still want to hear it because I know I won't think it's stupid."

suddenly it burns, and you need air. you sit up and try not to think about how ridiculously not pretty you probably look with snot running down your face, “What if- what if we- we end up hating each other?” you manage to say through hiccups.

“What?” he sits up as well, he says as if you had said the most ridiculous thing, “I'll never hate you, honey.”

For some reason, tears fill your eyes again at that, “Steve, you don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No. Ste– people fall out of love, Steve- all the- all the time.” It terrifies him how convinced you sound of it.

“Do..... do you think you’ll fall out of love with me?”

The question startles you, its evident in your wide eyes, “Wha– what?”

“Do you think… you’ll fall out of love with me?" he repeats, "You think you’ll hate me?”

You shake your head, the tear that had been sitting on your lower lash finally slides down your already tear-stained cheek.

“Good." he wipes the wet trails left behind with his thumb, "then, why would I hate you?”

Your face twists into an expression that Steve wasn't sure what to describe it as. a deep frown on your lips, chin wobbly, brows scrunched up together, eyes red and tired yet nostrils flared. “‘Cause", you start but before you could continue another sob leaves you. you look down at your lap, trying to catch your breath. it takes you a minute before you begin again, "do you remember.... what you said about our kids?”

He nods, heart clenching at the way your voice breaks, “I don't think I can… do that”, he doesn't think he's ever heard you sound so broken. “I– I don't think if I– if I want that.”

He sits silent and you think this is it. maybe forevers aren't that long after all.

More tears fall, more sobs leave you, you don't bother to wipe them. What's it matter anyway? He hates you already. He's probably thinking of a way to let you down easily because he is kind like that “Honey.. I want a family..” you feel your heart ripping in two and you just can't look at him.

“And I want you to be a part of that family. I– I want you to be the person I built a family with, no matter the size." He wipes at both your cheeks again, making you look at him, "even if its just us.”

The relieved smile he expected from you isn't there, instead, you frown, the crease between your brows deepens. the part that hurt the most was that you push his hands away, “you’re saying that now, but what happens when years down the line, when we’re old, you– you end up resenting me. Y- you love me right now, I know. But how do you know you wont end up hating me like, ten years later?”

“I dont want to watch you grow old and hate me and then leave me, Steve. I’d rather end this now if we’re destined to just end up unhappy together.”

“We’re not. Okay? We’re not. I know I wont hate you, ever.” He reaches for your hands again. He kisses your fingers before continuing, “And I know that I want you, just you and whatever that– that that comes with. We could never have kids and I would never hate you for it.”

“You won't be happy", you say meekly, like he'd be mad at you for speaking what was on your mind to him, “You wont hate me but you wont be happy either”, you muttered, chin ducked into your chest.

“Honey”, he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head to make you look at him, to make you understand. “you’re what I need to be happy. You make me happy. And.. I’d hope you need me to be happy too”, a wet chuckle escapes you at that. A hint of a smile on your face despite the tears.

“You do, don’t you?” he clarified with a soft smile of himself.

You nod, "yeah", letting out a loud sniffle.

“Good. I know its scary but you’ve gotta put your trust in me. Trust me enough to believe in me when I say that you are what makes me happy. and I am happy."

He wipes away gently at your face, ridding it of the tear stains, “Sometimes, you’ve just gotta trust. I promise I’ll never break it.”

You sob again but it's lighter than before, you wrap your arms around his neck and feel the weight you felt get lifted, you sniffle into the crook of his neck, "thank you."

You feel his lips on your hairline, "Let's go back to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. You still wanna be the big spoon?"

"yeah, I think you need to be the little spoon today." he pulls you down with him, your back to his chest, kissing the skin behind your ear he finally settles in beside you.

You call out his name, he hums in response. "how long do you think a forever is?"

"I don't know, honey."

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"Um.. if you mean us staying forever then yes, definitely forever. But, if you meant me being the big spoon forever, baby, I'm not sure if I'll be able to commit to that."

You laugh, "I love you." you confess.

"I love you too."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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proud mary // han lue

summary: now living a quiet life with their daughter, han and y/n reflect on how they got there, and all the good moments that are still yet to come.

pairing: han lue x wife! reader

warnings: this is a big one so listen up: mentions of post pregnancy mental illness, mentions of pregnancy and starting a a family, weddings, ignoring tokyo drift canon because I fucking can, (actually I ignored a lot of canon) han is about to activate a shit ton of daddy issues

I left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day and I never lost one minute of sleeping, I was worrying 'bout the way the things might've been.

big wheel keeps on turning, proud mary keeps on burning. and we’re rolling, rolling, rolling down the river

2009, tokyo, japan.

the garage was dark, lit only by the moonlight and the small lamps atop the workstations. han lue had closed up hours ago, and everyone was gone save for him and his lover.

“han, what are you doing?” y/n laughed, sitting at a table scattered with nail polish bottles and a shellac brisa light. “it looks like a smudge.”

“it’s a drifting car!” han laughed, staring through the large magnifying glass that was allowing him to see the design he was attempting to paint on his lovers thumbnail. “see, there’s the spoiler and those are the headlights!”

friday night manicures had become somewhat of a tradition. y/n hated painting her nails with her non dominant hand, but she also didn’t speak enough japanese to venture out and get her nails professionally done. when she and han started dating, he offered to do it for her, easing the aggravation that sometimes came with doing mail designs yourself.

“well, now that you’ve pointed it out.” she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”

they had been together coming up on two years. two long, wonderful years. she was a mechanic and he was drifter, it was almost meant to be. she stopped him from getting himself killed, and in return, he loved her unconditionally.

they were sympatico like that. she loved his sense of humour, his protectiveness. he loved her smarts and the excited way she talked, animatedly and with hand gestures.

“what do you say we get out of japan for a bit?”

han should have known this question was coming. y/n was a restless spirit, never meant to stay in one place for too long. in a way, han was as well. he could tell that his lover had been more restless than usual, either from missing home or needing a change of scenery.

“a friend of mine, his name is dominic torretto, he’s got this place down in the dominican republic.” han started slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to involved her in. y/n was his whole world, and what dom and mia would be running was far bigger than street racing in shibuya.“he called me the other day wondering if I would run a job with him. but it’s not entirely legal and I don’t blame you if you don’t want any part in it.”

“baby,” she frowned, placing her hand inside the blue light machine. “of course I’ll go with you. I never pass up a chance to go somewhere sunny, and you know that I’d go anywhere with you. what we’re running here with twinkie and sean isn’t exactly legal either, you know. I’m a big girl, seoul-oh. I can handle myself.”

“I know. I just want you to know what you’re getting into. you’re important to me, y/n.”

“I know.” she said softly, running her hand up his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, gently kissing his neck. “so when does our flight leave?”

“whenever you want it to. I haven’t even bought the tickets yet. are you ready for an adventure?”

“fuck yeah.” y/n smiled, pressing her lips to his. “but you have to paint my other nails first.”

han laughed, the kind of laugh that would always set loose the butterflies in y/n’s chest, the kind that reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“I don’t think I have it in me to paint another drifting car.”

“then what are you going to paint on my thumbnail?” y/n laughed back, looking down at her nails and realizing that her lover had actually done a very good job painting a drifting car manicure.

“I don’t know,” han shrugged. he would deny it if asked, but he actually loved painting y/n’s nails. he thought it brought them closer together, built up intimacy in their relationship.

they were moments he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’ll just do like a checkered flag or something.”

“but you did that on my index finger!”

laughing, y/n turned her head to kiss him. “come on, you big dork. the sooner we get my nails done, she sooner I can model that new lingerie set I bought last weekend.”

“sold!” han laughed, knocking over bottles of gel polish as he searched for the bright pink he had used to paint the car on his girlfriends other hand. “drifting car? f1 car? whatever my gorgeous gorgeous girl wants.”

“I love you, han lue.”

“love you more, pretty girl.”

2010, monte carlo, monaco.

it was set up to be another sleepless night without her lover by her side, and y/n was having none of that as she wandered the deck of the comfortable yacht, looking around at the decorations that the crew had spent the day putting up.

she was just praying that it wasn’t going to rain.

nothing was about to spoil her big day.

she scurried below deck, past a half open door through which she could hear roman pearce’s guttural snores. fingers curled around the door knob, she tried not to make any noise as she eased the door open, slipping into the cabin.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” she laughed, looking at the king size bed where her fiancé lay, phone in his hands as he texted his mother, who the crew was picking up in the harbour in the morning before the ceremony began.

“got a lot on my mind.” han shrugged. “fucking tej won’t shut up about the reception and the playlist and I’ve told him a million times that it’s not going to be some crazy rave kinda thing.” the man sat up, gesturing for his soon-to-be wife to come closer. "it's doing my head in. seriously, he wants to do a club mix of 'i would do anything for love'."

y/n snorted. han thought she looked like an angel in the low cabin light, a halo glowing around her head and shining off her white silk pajamas, the ones with the tiny shorts and 'bride' embroidered on the butt. "how the fuck do you turn the best meat loaf song in existence into a club rave song?"

"the fuck if i know." han shook his head, hands sliding up her thighs as she came to stand in between his legs. "jagi, sarang-hae."

honey, i love you.

"mhm." she hummed, a smile on her lips as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. "i love it when you speak korean. it's so fucking sexy."

the last year had been stressful. the dominican job had been way more complex than y/n had expected, and it took a while for han's old crew to warm up to her. it took a while, but eventually she managed to crack dom toretto, and two weeks later, han got down on one knee and asked y/n to marry him.

hence why they were on a yacht off the coast of monaco, the entire thing decked out in fairly lights and tulle.

"if you think tej is bad, you try getting in between letty and those large plastic ribbons on the back of the deck chairs." y/n laughed. "who knew letty ortiz was so serious about weddings?"

she was practically sitting on his lap now, head resting comfortably on his shoulder as the boat rocked back and forth.

han seoul-oh was her home. her safe harbour. she always felt safe in his arms, at his side, even when they were plunging into almost certain danger like they had in the dominican.

"i brought you something." y/n hummed, reaching into the pockets of her shorts and withdrawing the small cardboard packet.

"fake nails?"

"help me put them on? for old time's sake." she passed him the glittery white french tips, no doubt chosen to match her dress for the ceremony tomorrow.

"i can't wait to spend my life with you. and believe me, there will be plenty more manicure mondays."

2014, monterrey, california.

"daddy, where's mommy?"

"i don't think she's feeling well, poppy." han lue frowned, looking over at his daughter, who was perched in her little kiddie chair at the kitchen table. "i'm going to go check on her, okay? stay right here."

how do you explain depression to an infant? poppy jae-i han had been one of the best things to have ever happened to han seoul-oh. but in the almost twenty-four months since their bundle of joy had been born, something had felt off about his wife.

everyone hears about the mental health complications that can come with childbirth, but no mother ever thinks it would be her.

every husband fears it, too.

"y/n, jagi?" han tried to keep his voice level as he eased open the bedroom door. the couple had bought a ranch house in monterrey when they learned they were expecting. it was one of the few things they used their ill-gotten gains as a part of dom's crew for. "poppy's asking for you."

it broke his heart to see his wife like this, hair messed and greasy, red splotches under her eyes from where she had been crying.

"am i a bad mother, seoul-oh?" she asked, voice small. she seemed so tiny and fragile underneath the layers of blankets on the queen bed. "she always seems to cry when i'm around, but never with you. poppy loves you more than she loves me."

"what?" it was all han could do to stop himself from crying as he sat on the bed, gently running his fingers through y/n's hair. "sweetheart, what's brought this on? poppy loves you. you're her mom. she needs you."

"mia makes it look so easy." y/n sniffled, pulling herself up to a sitting position. she's lost weight. not a noticeable amount, or even an unhealthy one, but enough that her husband knows. there are many things that you can hide from the man you share your bed with, but han knows. he knows she's not doing well. "and i'm fucking shit at it, han."

"look at me, pretty girl." han encouraged, reaching for her hands. "you are such a good mother. i know you're struggling right now, and i know you're hurting but you need to know that poppy loves you so much. she was asking about you over breakfast, you know."

"i don't know who i am any more. i've lost my sense of self."

han frowned, brushing a few strands of greasy hair away from her forehead before leaning down and gently kissing her hairline.

"listen, i was talking to brian last night-"

"of course you were fucking talking to brian."

"-and he thinks you should talk to mia. they're passing through town today on their way back from dom and letty's, brian and i are going to take the kids out to the zoo or whatever, and you and mia should do something." he suggested, running his hand comfortingly up and down his lover's back. "go to the mall, get a coffee. i think she could really help you. she's been through this before."

y/n inhaled shakily, pulling away from han. "what if something happens to poppy and i'm not there?"

"y/n, everything is going to be okay. i promise. brian will be there, the kids will be in great hands. go do something with mia, darling. find yourself again, yeah?"

"okay." y/n nodded, still clutching his hand like it was her lifeline. "i can do that."

"mommy?" a small voice called. poppy had managed to get herself all the way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, where han had left the door ajar just in case poppy needed them. "are you okay?"

"oh, sweetheart, come here." y/n said, tears beginning to fall.

because how could she ever think that her little bundle of joy didn't love her as much as she did? poppy waddled over to the bed, and han hefted the toddler onto the mattress so that y/n could pull her close.

"you know that mummy loves you, right?"

"yes. i love you too, mommy."

"see." han smiled. "you're going to be okay. we're going to get through this."

2017, monterrey, california.

"i genuinely can't comprehend that roman pearce is getting married."

the family of three was walking down the nail care aisle at walmart, a welcome addition to their weekly shopping trip as y/n scanned the packages on the rack for a set of acrylic nails.

han laughed, one hand around his wife's waist and his chin on her shoulder as he leaned against the shopping cart. "it's not going to last. they may be getting married on saturday but i bet that by christmas roman is going to call and tell us she asked for a divorce."

"don't be so cynical." y/n laughed, kissing her husband softly before holding up a small white box. "do these go with my dress?"

"they'll go with anything, babe." han said, moving to whisper in her ear “they'd look even better wrapped around my c-"

"i want nails like mom's!" poppy han's shout cut him off, the little girl looking at the array of disney princess nails on the lower shelves.

laughing, han knelt down next his daughter, one hand on her shoulder. "which one do you want, princess? do you want frozen, tinker bell? mulan?"

"i want the ariel ones." poppy smiled, reaching for the pack of little mermaid nails. han helped her get them off the hook before lifting her up, carrying the six year old securely against his chest.

"seoul-oh, she's like six, you're spoiling her by carrying her all the time." y/n laughed, dropping both packs of nails in the cart.

"what, she's not heavy, sweetheart." han grins. "besides, i have to stay in shape somehow."

y/n rolls her eyes. "sweetie, it's bold of you to assume that you were ever in shape. but i loved you anyways, didn't i?"

back at home, they settled in the living room, near the large bay window. y/n watched contentedly from the kitchen as han sat at the coffee table across from poppy, delicately brushing nail glue across his daughter's tiny nails, dropping the glittery little mermaid nails on top.

it had taken a while to get to this peaceful, quiet part of their life, but y/n han was so glad that they had made it. that she had seoul-oh and that she had little poppy.

"be careful with your nails, they might come off. now, go get your homework done before we make the pizza, okay?"

poppy scurried off down the hall to her room, and y/n padded across the shag carpet, looping her arms around her husbands neck as she gave him a kiss.

"i'm so lucky, you know that. i'm happy and healthy again, and i have you and poppy. that's everything i could ever ask for." she said softly, resting her head against han's chest as the man tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

of course they both missed the good old days. the days of adrenaline and adventure. but brian and mia had left, and then y/n and han, and soon after was letty and dom. they were moving on with their lives, a chapter of glitz and glamour coming to a close.

"i want another one."

y/n froze, pulling back from her husband. "what?"

"i want another baby. and i know what we went through last time, and i fully understand if you're not willing to take that chance again, but god, y/n, i want a big family with you." han explained, holding his wife's hands. "poppy is growing up. soon she's going to be too cool for dear old dad. and then there will be boys-"

"or she'll be like you," y/n cuts him off with a laugh. "in which case there will be lots and lots of girls."

"god help us all. my little girl is going to break a lot of hearts one day."

"and you want another one?"

"honestly? yeah, i do."

"then i guess we'd better start trying. multiplication isn't that hard, so poppy's gonna be looking for us within the next hour." y/n hummed, kissing her lover softly.

han smiled against her lips, hands slipping into her jeans pockets to cop a feel of his wife's ass. "i only need half that."

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @mignonricciardo @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @monzabee @scuderiamh @daydreamingleclerc @diorleclerc @oconso @cl16version

#han lue x reader #han seoul oh x reader #han seoul oh #fast and the furious x reader #fast and the furious #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #han x reader #han lue #sung kang #Spotify

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mvngo-muffin · 3 months

Text

[ picnics with ➼ txt ]

a/n: hey! i've been mia for months, sorry...things have been hectic. but i'm trying to get back into writing! fyi yeonjun's is heavily inspired by "let's go picnic" by george!

genre: fluff

pairing : txt x f!reader

warnings : none!

soobin ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you were both set to go for a day trip to the beach tomorrow, and he knew this would be the perfect way to end the day together

he spent the day preparing foods that were easy to transport to the beach: gimbap, cut fruit, small sandwiches

he arranged the food neatly into boxes and packed it into a cooler the next morning without you knowing

after a long day of swimming, playing in the sand, and enjoying the warmth, the two of you went to wash up

as you showered, soobin set up the blanket with the food and some flowers he had bought

"y/n, are you done?" he asked, peeking into the room you two had rented for the day

"yup! let's go find a dinner place." you replied, walking out of the room and back onto the beach

you gasped at the spread in front of you, the evening sun setting in an array of colors behind it

"soob, what's all this?"

"just for you," he responded, holding onto your hand as you made your way to the blanket for dinner

yeonjun ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

yeonjun was packing up after practice, sighing in exhaustion

he hadn't seen you in so long; he really missed you

he slipped his headphones on as he left, a song beginning to play

let's go picnic, with a girlfriend the lyrics sang to him

it was as if a light bulb went off

he rushed out of the practice room and made his way to the nearest market, picking up precut strawberries and clementines, sandwiches, some soda, and of course, a small cake

groceries secured, he called you from the car, making sure you were at home

he reached your house and rang your doorbell, immediately engulfing you in a tight hug when you answered the door

"what are you doing here, jun?"

"thought we could have a nighttime picnic in your backyard," he responded, pulling away from the hug and showing you the bag

you spent the rest of the night curled up in blankets, eating your snacks, and watching the stars with the love of your life

beomgyu ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it was finals season, and you had been busy with work and school for weeks

every night, you'd come home exhausted, and beomgyu felt bad asking you to go out on a date after you were so tired

you had sent him a tiktok a few days ago of a couple out on a date for a picnic, and he decided that even if you both couldn't go to the beach or lake, you'd have a picnic regardless

he spent the day preparing food: chocolate covered strawberries, your favorite sandwiches, and even some homemade brownies

about 30 mins before you got home, the sun was already setting...and it was raining (gyu forgot to check the forecast..)

but nevertheless! he persisted, and set up a blanket and cushions on the (covered) porch along with candles and the food

the moment you got home, he rushed you to change into your comfortable clothes, telling you to wear something warm

he brought you to the misty backyard porch, and you were overwhelmed with love at the effort he had put into the picnic

you both settled down, enjoying the food and the sound of the rain, cuddling together as you kissed his cheek every five minutes out of gratitude

"thank you, gyu"

"what's to thank me for? if my girl wants a picnic date, she's getting one"

taehyun ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

saw some couple on a picnic while driving by, and knew he had to do it with you

(he actually has a note on his phone of date ideas to do with you)

would prepare for days for the picnic, making sure he has all of your favorite foods and snacks ready

makes more food than needed, and even bakes a small cake for the two of you

neatly organizes everything in a cute basket

comes prepared with a waterproof picnic blanket, sweatshirts, and tons of napkins

luckily, the day of the date is warm and sunny! you both spend the afternoon by a river, soaking in the sun and each other's company

the date is full of giggles and reminiscing on memories while wrapped up in taehyun's strong arms

as you watch the sunset before packing up, he leaves a peck on your head and whispers a sweet, "i love you"

hueningkai ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

so excited when he sees the date idea on social media!

goes all out and makes strawberry sandwiches, onigiri with little penguin faces on them, apples cut to look like rabbits, etc...

packs everything in bento boxes and grabs a picnic blanket before impulsively going to your house, texting you a short, "come outside"

you're surprised to see him, bags in hand, as you leave your home

"kai, what are you doing?"

"taking you on the cutest date"

the two of you walk over to a park nearby your home and settle down near a small pond, enjoying the food and throwing breadcrumbs to the geese

kai looks at you, adoration in his eyes and makes sure to take some photos of you feeding the birds to save for himself

you both talk about anything and everything, and pack up a few hours later, heading back home, hand in hand

#txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt soobin #soobin fluff #soobin imagines #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai fluff #txt masterlist

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florencemtrash · 8 months

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Five

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and injuries

You blinked back into your apartment at the end of your nightly patrol, swearing out loud as you began the arduous process of peeling your suit off your sweaty body. Bruises in all stages of healing littered your body like a Pollock painting - purple, blue, yellow, and pink marks spreading up and down your skin like they were living creatures.

You sighed in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for the shower water to heat up enough to loosen your tight muscles, and twisted your body, looking and pulling at the marred skin.

Miguel wouldn’t be too happy about this… not that he would ever have a reason to look at you naked. The thought alone made you blush furiously.

Miles had been away touring colleges across the Northeast and left you with the task of managing his Spider-duties. It hadn’t been so terrible the first two nights - the minor criminals of New York City were hardly prepared to handle anyone with your powers (like the armed robber who was shocked beyond measure to find his gun had disappeared from his hand). The following nights not so much. Word had gone around that Spider-Man was MIA and criminals minor and major jumped at the chance to unleash their plans. Coffee and spite fueled you through the following week, but there was only so much coffee you could consume in a day after averaging 2 hours of sleep a night.

You would have asked Miguel and the others for help, but there was a strict no interference policy when it came to non-anomalies. Sure, Miguel would have bent the rules for you, but it wasn’t anything you felt comfortable with. Everyone knew he treated you with a special care that sometimes warmed your heart and sometimes set you on edge - always visiting you in the med bay for the most minor of injuries, finding some excuse to track you down in Spidey HQ when you visited, and even going so far as to ask the cooks to add a special edition item onto the regular menu after you’d gushed about it to him at lunch (Peter was the one to tell you).

It also didn’t escape your notice that he kept you from the most dangerous missions, or waited until the last second to call you in for help.

Terco idiota.

You groaned when you stepped into the steaming shower, grateful for the hot water that ran rivers down your back and swept away the exhaustion the night had brought. When you were finally clean and comfortable in your pajamas you sank onto the floor in your living room, pulling the battered and familiar sketchbook forward on the coffee table. One of the many benefits to being an honorary Spider-Person was that the physical exhaustion of superhero duties helped quiet your mind enough to consistently finish your art projects. And every alternate dimension you visited opened up a whole new world of creative possibilities - quite literally. Still… you’d caught yourself drawing the same thing (or rather person) over and over again recently.

You worked for a couple of hours, one ear honed in on the stolen police radio propped up on your tv stand alongside your suit. Mercifully, even criminals needed sleep and you drew uninterrupted until the first rays of dawn started to spill over New York, skyscrapers casting long spindly shadows over the grid.

When morning came you finally dragged yourself into bed for a few hours of blissful sleep leaving behind the soft images of Miguel littered on the coffee table. One day he’d just entered your life and never left, slowly invading every corner of your mind until a week without him felt like a shoe that didn’t fit.

Miguel’s eyes flickered over to you when you blinked into existence beside him, empanada in one hand and a water bottle in the other. His heartbeat picked up, then slowed down, relaxing into the newer, steadier pace of life that you brought him.

“¡Buenos díaaaaaas!” You said in a sleepy singsong voice, dropping the empanada into his lap and jumping on the desk. It wasn’t uncommon for you to stop by his office and make sure he was eating regular meals, although sometimes you would just blink food onto his desk with a post-it note affectionately commanding “Come, pendejo” whenever you visited Spidey-HQ.

“You look tired.” Miguel said, smiling softly as you took your usual spot. He allowed himself to sink into his chair, gazing at you with a love neither of you had the courage to talk about yet.

“So do you.”

“Yes, but I always look tired.” He said with a slight quirk of his lips. You made a little hmmmph sound in agreement, taking a deep sip of your drink.

“Miles is away so I’ve taken on his patrol shifts. I don’t know how you Spider-people manage to do this AND still have full time jobs. I feel like I’m barely keeping up.”

Miguel perked up. You hadn’t told him that you were expanding your superhero duties in Miles’s absence.

“When will he be back?” His eyes focused on you, taking in the faint bags beneath your eyes and the droop of your shoulders with concern. He stood up and moved closer to you, leaning down on arms that bracketed your crossed legs. The smell of coffee and cream was bitter and sweet in the space between you, mixing with Miguel’s own spiced cologne. It warmed you up from the inside out until you wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

“Next Sunday.” You groaned and settled for leaning your forehead on his shoulder as you tried to ignore the pounding of your heart, “It’s probably a good thing. If he ends up leaving New York for school, I’ll have to pick up his duties.”

The stolen look of adoration he gave you was replaced by one of confusion and surprise. He’d forgotten that Miles would be graduating next year and going to college.

A New York City without Spider-Man seemed so… wrong. Across countless universes it was always New York City, or some version of it, and Spider-Man. NYC and Spider-Man, Spider-Man and NYC.

You sat patiently, waiting for Miguel to shuffle through his thoughts like he always did, carefully organizing them with the precision and practice of a scientist.

“I could… I could help out if you ever needed it.” He murmured softly, leaning into you and finding comfort in your closeness.

You jerked up so quickly you nearly smacked into his nose, “Did I just hear the Miguel O’Hara suggest breaking protocol?” You teased, poking at his firm chest.

“Well, I-” Miguel lost his words and his cool, color faintly brushing against the tan of his cheeks. He liked having you sit so close to him, no trace of wariness in sight. In the months you’d gotten to know and work with one another you’d learned to grow around each other as tightly as two plants climbing a garden trellis until he didn’t know where he started and you ended.

Memories, painful and sharp, slammed into him - the last kiss he’d given his wife before he ruined everything. The look of terror on Gabriella’s face before she splintered into nothing. And here he was again, jumping at the chance for a future with someone he didn’t deserve. Had he learned nothing after losing everything?

“No,” He shook his head, “You’re right. It was a stupid idea.” He said stoically and stepped away.

“Hey,” You whispered, grabbing his hands when he pulled back. He was entering that dark place again. He hardly talked about his old life except as a warning to Spider-Society members. He believed he was a walking, talking cautionary tale - nothing more than a sense of duty kept him from spiraling down into a sea of terrible memories that would tear him apart.

“It wasn’t stupid. It just means you care.” You said, and felt some relief when Miguel squeezed your hand back, “I can handle it, Miguel. I promise. You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Miguel’s breath caught in his throat. He knew you meant it jokingly but the words still hit a sore spot.

He didn’t want you to go. If he had control over the powers that governed the multiverse he would ask that you stay with him here forever. He would court you properly instead of dancing around the issue of your growing feelings for one another. He would hug you and kiss you and ask you to spend the nights with him…

Al carajo. He swore and gave into one of his safer desires.

Without warning he closed the distance between you two, slipping into the space between your legs and pulling you against his chest in a bone crushing hug. It was the most contact you’d had with each other since the collider explosion. You melted into his touch, gripping him almost as tightly and getting lost in the smell of coffee and cinnamon.

“I’d like to have you around if that’s alright.” He said softly into the crown of your hair.

You smiled, “Yeah. That’s alright with me.”

“Hey Miss Y/n?” You jolted awake at your desk where you’d drifted off during free period.

Miles smiled apologetically from the door with Gwen at his back who waved and grinned at you.

Oh thank god he was back. You thought to yourself, running a hand through your hair to fix it.

“You know you’re allowed to call me by my first name, right?” You said with a stretch of your back - the sound mimicked a glow stick so much you were surprised you didn’t begin to shine with neon light.

“Yeah, but it’s weird to call an old person by their first name.”

Gwen smirked at Miles as he dropped his bag off at an empty desk.

“Old?!” You said incredulously, “Miles, how old do you think I am?”

He froze like a cat that had just knocked over a glass cup, “Uh…….”

“Oh this should be good,” Gwen quipped, sinking into a chair and propping her feet up on the back of Miles’s chair.

“I-I mean,” Miles stuttered, “Like forty-”

“FORTY?!”

“Thir-Thirty-Thirty-three?” He stumbled over his words, heat rising into his cheeks and coloring them a deep plum.

“I’m twenty-eight!” You said, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“Whoops.” Gwen chuckled. You tipped your head back and laughed, momentarily forgetting the last two weeks of crime-fighting exhaustion.

“How were the college tours? I want to hear everything. Was Princeton all you hoped for?” You leaned forward in your seat, propping your chin up on woven fingers.

“Princeton was fantastic!” Miles said, dragging his chair over to sit closer to your desk, much to Gwen’s chagrin as she lost her footrest, “It looks like something out of a Harry Potter movie. And their engineering building was just-” Miles continued to gush over the schools he’d seen, pulling up photos on his phone of Princeton, Harvard, Columbia, Brown, URI, BU, Northeastern, and a slew of others.

You hung onto his every word, his excitement so infectious that even Gwen abandoned her spot to share Miles’s seat and hear the stories she’d no doubt heard before.

“I loved Berklee,” Gwen jumped in, pointing out a photo of her and Miles smiling in front of their admissions building.

You tilted your head to the side, “You visited colleges in this universe?”

She blushed, “Miles’s parents let me tag along for part of the trip so I had to pretend like I was looking at colleges myself.”

“That makes sense.” You said, noting their closeness and the stolen glances they shared when they thought you weren’t paying attention. “Well, I’m glad the trip was a success!”

“I actually wanted to ask you something, Miss Y/n.” Miles said nervously, straightening up in his chair, “Would you be willing to write me a recommendation letter? I know you’re busy and all but-”

“Say less!” You said with a glowing smile.

“Really?!” He brightened up.

“Of course! Who else would be better suited to the task than me?! I mean, probably someone with more writing experience, but I would be happy to do it.”

“Thank you so much!” He quickly pulled out a resume from his backpack and a list of schools he was planning to apply to, sliding them across the desk with relief now that the anxiety of asking had fallen off his shoulders.

The three of you dove into a conversation about college (you had MUCH wisdom to bestow upon them… art college had taught you many lessons), Spider-duties, and life in general. At the close of the school day, Gwen followed you home, a regular occurrence after you’d offered up your apartment for her to crash in whenever she visited your dimension. She always had a change of clothes folded in your dresser and a toothbrush in your bathroom.

You groaned when you were shaken awake from a deep sleep. Gwen hung upside down from your ceiling already in her spider-suit, pink-tipped hair tickling your nose.

“What-what the- JODER!” you shouted, blinking off the bed and landing on the floor with a groan. There were still moments where you didn’t have complete control over your powers. “¡Carajo!” You hissed in pain and picked yourself off the floor, “Gwen, what the hell?”

“Anomaly in Times Square. Miles is already there and needs backup.”

Shit shit shit. You slapped yourself awake and scrambled to grab your newly mended suit from the closet.

“What are we dealing with?” You shouted as you ran out of your bedroom, slapping on your watch and hearing Miles’s voice ring out from it.

“Dude’s sparkling like a firecracker on Chinese New Years!” His panicked cries rang out, “He’s going after-” Miles’s voice cut out after a strike in the chest fried his watch.

From your apartment window you could see the lights of the New York skyline flicker and crackle like tv static.

“You ready, Gwen?” You asked, holding out a hand.

Gwen ignored the hand and jumped onto your back, wrapping her lean arms around you for dear life, “Oh god I hate this so much.” She said, squeezing her eyes as you teleported them all the way to Times Square.

It was always harder blinking with a passenger in tow. The collider explosion had changed you on a molecular level in such a way that blinking through space felt as natural as passing through a doorway… for others not so much. Traveling across New York City with Gwen felt like dragging a thick strand of yarn through a tiny needle.

Bright lights exploded out of billboard signs, cascading over you in a burning rain of color. You threw an arm around Gwen as she reoriented herself, pushing her down behind a flipped cop car as a bolt of electricity sailed past your ear crackling with heat and energy.

“You don’t remember me do you, Spider-Man? Not important enough for you?” A voice boomed out, tinged with the power you felt during thunderstorms.

“For the third time, I have literally never met you in my entire life!”

“You’ll remember me. They’ll ALL remember me when I’ve taken everything from them.”

“Shit.” You and Gwen said in unison before leaping into the fray.

You made quick work blinking the few people who remained huddled in buildings and under rubble to safety a block away.

“Sorry, sorry. Sorry!” You apologized as people dropped to the floor after being blinked, unused to the feeling of teleportation.

The lights blinded you constantly, blue electricity zipping across the ground like animals on the hunt. You teleported across Times Square, narrowly dodging lightning strikes that raised the hair on your head and arms and teleporting buses, cars, and concrete over the man’s head. He kept up with your attacks, jumping to safety or simply blowing the vehicles up with his power.

Maybe this was what having a Spidey-sense is like? You thought to yourself as you knocked Miles out of the way of a well aimed strike, using the taste of metal in the air as a sign that he was powering up.

A bolt caught you in the chest, sending you crackling through the air. You landed in a smoking heap by the gutter, groaning as your watch smarted and burned on your wrist. You wrenched it off with pain shooting up the side of your ribs.

So much for calling for backup. You swore inwardly as Gwen cried out, tossing her own smoking watch onto the ground as she picked her way out of the rubble of broken billboard screens. There would be no calling Miguel until this was over and done with… if you ever got a chance to call him. The safety net you’d always had fell away from your feet, leaving you buzzing with anxiety.

“Throw the cage!” You screamed at Gwen. She jumped and arched through the air, throwing a device no larger than a coin and watching it stick to the ground beneath the man’s feet.

He thrummed with the energy of New York City’s power grid, drinking it in through his skin like a sponge. The shield sprang to life, closing in on him with precision and accuracy. You let yourself breathe a sigh of relief as he quietly looked at his new cage. The high strung buzz of power in the air dissipated, no longer called to him from behind the holographic barriers.

The man quietly pulled off his hood, revealing blue skin cracked with the movement of electricity shooting through his veins like blood.

“Wait, NO!” Miles shouted, “It’s not going to work!”

“You really think this can hold me?” He grinned, white eyes haunting, “Think again.”

He pressed the palms of his hands against the barrier and you all watched in horror as it blew apart in his hands.

“SHIT!” Miles yelled, throwing his hands up to block the light that exploded outward.

You ducked down behind an overturned bus, feeling the sharp pricks of debris falling down on your back and singeing the fabric.

Times Square was once again alight with electricity and light, and the electric man stood at the center of it all, drawing in power and watching with delight as block after block of neighborhoods went pitch black. Helicopters flew overhead, spotlights zigzagging over the ground. You watched, powerless as he aimed one finger at a helicopter and shot it down to the ground. Miles and Gwen lept into action, working in tandem to weave a net strong enough to catch it as you continued to distract the villain. But you were slowing down, exhaustion creeping into your bones.

Another shot to the shoulder slammed you into a brick wall, body flickering in and out of existence as you struggled to blink yourself away. You fell to the ground in a crumple of limbs.

A boot pressed down between your shoulder blades, heavy and bruising. You screamed when a burning hand grabbed you by the back of your suit and hoisted you into the air. Blue eyes, cold and unfeeling bore into your own.

“You didn’t need to get involved.” He said, his hands beginning to light up dangerously. “I’m sorry this has to happen. But you’re not going to stop me. No one is going to stop me.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” You said through gritted teeth.

Every dimension was different and every dimension left its mark on its inhabitants like a key to a home or a postal code. It was how the Go Home Machine was able to send people back where they belonged.

“You think you could ever do that?... I think you could.” Hobie had said about the Go Home Machine. You’d scoffed and brushed it off at the time but… there was no time like the present.

You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed a hold of his arm.

You drew on every inch of your power, searching throughout the multiverse for something that felt like home to this person until…

You got a match.

“What-what are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You opened your eyes and gasped. The man’s body was slowly breaking apart like the static on old distorted TVs. He tried to get away from you, struggling against your iron grip as you held on for dear life, pouring your power into the action of forcing an unwilling person across the multiverse.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Dimension.” You growled, finding yourself back on solid ground as his legs went, then his lower torso. His face and arm were the last to go, mouth frozen in a silent scream, leaving you clutching empty air.

Miles and Gwen gawked at you from twenty feet away as the lights of the city slowly shuddered back to life, a stillness and unnatural quiet falling down on the city that never sleeps.

Your knees buckled beneath you and they shouted your name.

The last thing you saw were the blurry outlines of Miles and Gwen running towards you before your head hit the ground and the world went black.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note: Annnnnnnd here's Chapter Five! Thank you all for reading and sticking with me and my chaotic posting schedule. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666@natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies@07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse

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thisismeracing · 7 months

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King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 17

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: curse words, twitter environment, mention of food, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI! ― Summary: Yn decided to take a break from social media as well, but her friends were hell-bent on protecting her image and not letting people talk shit about her in front of them. When she comes back, ready to launch her winter collection, someone shows up ready to talk too. ― A/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. Everything else is made up by me, and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛 ― A/n²: We're heading to the end of this series. I'm sorry for going MIA for a beat, but I'm back now, and I'm gonna work to get everything done by the end of this month 💛

⁕ part. 16 | series masterlist | part. 18 ⁕ my masterlist | my taglist here ⁕ Support my writing by reblogging, and leaving me a message 🤍

📧 Lewis and Mick

francisca.cgomes

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francisca.cgomes ⭐️💓 te amo, linda!

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schumacherpt Where's your phone case from, Kika??

⤷ franciscac.gomes It was a gift, I dunno, love 🥺

mercedesamigasf1 they're so pretty

ynfan oh to be a wag and besties with the other wags 😍🥺

⤷ user33 Yn's not a wag

⤷ mickshoes DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT 👍🏻

lilymhe

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lilymhe all my fav emojis for you, babes 🦋🦕🪲🦩🍄🌷💐🌸🌼⭐️💫🌈❄️🩷🤍🩵🏓🎨🍭🍋🍉🌊

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alex_albon I love how you always leave me for her

⤷ pierregasly Kika does the same, I don't even mind anymore

⤷ franciscac.gomes let the girls club be! 😒

nandolonso I'm so soft *teary eyes*

ynsunshine I'm under the impression that Yn gives the best hugs

⤷ charles_leclerc It's true

⤷ ynshunshine OMG

lewishamilton 💖

⤷ braziliangp22 Yn's biggest supporter

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton spent the week with my fav people ❤️

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carlossainz55 ❤️

charles_leclerc tell Yn to save some cupcakes for me, I'm flying to you guys

⤷ arthur_leclerc why you've never posted a dump with me with the caption 'my fav people'?

⤷ lorenzotl because you're not his favorite 🙄

cullen_angela Love you guys sm

gina_schumacher I love you two 💖

estebanocon 🧡🧡🧡

landonorris can I join? 🙏🏻😁

ginaschumacher

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ginaschumacher weekend dump ❤️ much love

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theofficialyn

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theofficialyn Our winter '23 collection has an official launch date! Check ynthebrand for more info. Can't wait to share everything with you all 🤍

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lewishamilton Congrats, bitsy!! 🩵

sainzsalz THE CROWN?? THE CAPTION?? SHE REALLY CAME TO SLAY

ynswiftie back by popular demand, babyyyyy

hamiltonsiblings my fav family 💗

charles_leclerc if my invitation don't get here by tomorrow I'm flying to you

⤷ pierregasly me too

f1wagsupdates

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f1wagsupdates Some of Yn's looks on her Winter's collection launch in Paris.

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formulaumdois she looks so pretty! 😍

sunshinesteban the way this woman can reinvent herself all the time

lewiscars I saw that she's launching some pairs at an accessible price, does anyone know when it gets to the stores?

⤷ keepingupwthehamiltons I think everything will be available at her website ynthebrand.com

⤷ monzashalrs bruh I chuckled when I saw she had shoes at an average prince, but she also had shoes with golden in them. talk about a mindful queen 😂

ylnhamilton I'm totally coping one of these model dresses for my grad party 🤓

vettellbees someone said she's parading with the models too, I am SO READY FOR THIS <3

vegasricciardo DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT APPARENTLY MICK IS ATTENDING?????? 🆘🆘🆘

💌 Yn and Mick

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Heyyyyy!!! Omg its been forever since I last updated, and I'm really sorry for that but I'm finally back *yay* I'll try posting the next chapter later today or tomorrow, and if things go smoothly this series will be over by the end of the month *cries gently into my hands*. Let me know your thots! Don't forget to leave me a comment and reblog *mwah*

⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @pinksstrawberry @callsign-scully @moonyschocolate13 @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris @heelariously @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @alm334 @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart (if you're not tagged make sure to enable the tagging button on your profile's setting. Let me know if you're supposed to be tagged on this series or only on my other works *mwah*)

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wexhappyxfew · 1 month

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you, me, and the stars

(a/n): judy x rosie girlies, this is for you!! this is for all the ones who have never been in love, who are trying to protect the last parts of themselves in the face of others, and for the ones deserving of love!! these two represent all those awkward, newly-found emotions and feelings, that surprise even themselves, so please enjoy! :)

Judy had dwindled into down to just this; home was more of a feeling, not entirely a place.

The flak house was beautiful, an escape, somewhere to get one's mind off of the mental torment that was the God-forsaken war they all seemed stuck in.

But, it wasn't Thorpe Abbotts; with its metallic scent of air, voices and grinding machine parts echoing at all hours of the day, the marching, the footsteps, the way the air danced through the tree leaves. The flak house was quiet, save for the occasional flight path overtop. Thorpe Abbotts was loud and enough to make you feel like your brain was being knocked about inside, but it was home in a way the flak house wasn't.

The thing that made Thorpe Abbotts feel like home was especially the people. All the men in the 100th, their leaders both lost and MIA, and the women of Silver Bullets.

It was just like her home, in North Carolina. With Ma and Pa, that large house on the river, big meals to feed all six kids, making sure the lambs, chickens and cows were kept up with, that laundry was hung, crops harvested, plates and bowls washed in the river.

They didn't have much, but they had each other.

And even across the ocean they still did - in more ways than one.

Now, Judy felt them even in the women beside her. Strong and courageous, putting on their brave faces against the waging war of the world. Something her family had done ever since they'd come to America.

"The stars are so bright out here," Bessie said from Judy, their arms interlinked, sat side by side on the steps in front of the flak house, the light dripping out from the main door where cool, night air rushed in,

"I almost wish Tommy could see it." Judy looked towards her with a small smile.

"He does," Judy whispered quietly, reaching a hand forward to gently brush her hand over Bessie's calloused palm, "where ever he is right now. He sees it. Maybe not this instance, but he does." She watched Bessie smile, the corners of her lips turning upward, before she glanced over at Judy, a big grin on her face, her eyes glowing, the softest they'd been in days, the least stressed Judy had seen the navigator.

"You know, when we were kids," Bessie started, "we sat in his parents' apartment, right by one of the windows and watched the stars one night, all night practically, side by side. Not only was it my first kiss, but…he also told me he'd name a star after me. I think he named it 'Bee'….something or other." Judy giggled into Bessie's side and clasped a hand over her mouth with a gleeful smile.

"You two were meant to be," Judy whispered quietly, "everything you say, about him, about you, about the two of you together. God, you'll make the cutest babies, Bessie, I'll tell ya." Now, it was Bessie's turn to laugh and shook her head.

"You know he told me one time that if he had a daughter, he'd name her Charlotte," Bessie said, "he thought the nickname, Charlie, would be cute."

"Taste." Judy said with a laugh, nudging Bessie's side, "Charlotte McKenzie has a ring to it."

"And so does Bessie McKenzie." Bessie said back, sending the two of them into a fit of chuckles under the moving dusk. They fell quiet for a beat and then Bessie sighed and wrapped an arm around Judy's side, giving her a tight squeeze and rubbing her shoulder.

"Well, I'm heading up, going to get some rest and enjoy waking up and drinking coffee without having to hear a bunch of bullshit from Blakely," Bessie said with a chuckle, "you good out here? Staying up a bit?" Judy smiled and wrapped her arms around her sides and nodded.

"Yeah, just a bit more," Judy said, "you go though, I'll be up in a bit. And…Bessie?" Bessie watched her as she stood and sent her a smile.

"Just...give Lieutenant Bradshaw an extra hug for me," Judy said sadly, "her eyes looked like she'd been crying all night. About Captain Brady, so….incase I get in late, just do that for me, please?" Bessie smiled at her and nodded.

"You think she loves him?" Bessie asked Judy. Judy stilled.

"I don't know a whole lot about love, but I know he looks at her like she's the only woman in the room," Judy said softly, "and she gets all blushy around him, all soft and sweet. I like to think the universe doesn't just do things for the hell of it." Ripping them from each other, Judy thought to herself. Bessie grinned and then looked at her sadly.

"Try and get some rest," Bessie said, "don't stay up too late, okay? You need to keep yourself well-rested. Goodnight, honey."

"Night, Bes." Judy called after her, watching Bessie offer her a smile and then disappear inside. Judy smiled softly, looking forward again towards the oncoming darkness and comfort of nightfall, the singing birds and bugs all around and sighed.

Lieutenant Bradshaw's eyes looked sadder more often than not, but she was trying and that's all the credit a person like Annie Bradshaw needed - that she was being seen.

To be seen, was to be loved.

"Hey," Judy looked over her shoulder and was almost surprised to see Rosie Rosenthal there, coming towards her from the doorway, hands in his pant pockets, his A-2 jacket over his shoulders and a soft smile on his face, "mind if I join you?" Judy watched him for a moment - he looked so….different, a nice different. A different that made her think they weren't in war for a second.

"Of course, sir," Judy said, watching as he came forward and settled down on the step beside her where Bessie had been, "come to watch the stars?" Rosie let out a chuckle and then glanced towards her, his face bathed in blues and purples from the night, his eyes like a doe's as he watched her.

"You could say that." he said, then he grinned, nodding at her,

"How've you been?" Judy watched him, unable to contain the grin wanting to grow on her face and then chuckled lightly.

"Good," she said, and then smiled nervously, "sir, uh, good, being away from base, it's been….a breath of fresh air, I'll admit. Just, not having to get those planes going in the morning, get in the ball turret and shoot, over and over. It's nice to just….." she watched as he watched her, "be."

"Good," Rosie said, his voice light, "good, good, I'm glad. Really. You've all been putting out the last few months. I know that - Pappy's been talking Kennedy's ear off and well…."

"Collateral damage." Judy supplied and Rosie nodded with a small chuckle, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"Exactly, exactly," Rosie said and then glanced up at her, "I'm just glad the Silver Bullets crew is getting some deserved rest. All of you."

"Thank you, sir." Judy said, her voice tender, watching him in a moment of seriousness that was different than a few seconds previous.

He watched her for a moment, just taking in the feeling it seemed, the same she was allowing herself to feel in her heart. They both seemed to come to at the same time and smiled, laughs leaving both their lips as Judy shyly looked away and crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry, Judy, are you, uh, cold?" Rosie asked leaning forward a bit, and placing a hand on her shoulder, "October's never been a great month for short sleeves." Judy watched him, looking between his face, his hand and him. Short sleeves, right, she was in that right now. And freezing; he was right. How'd he know? She glanced down at her short sleeves, her right side hidden beneath his hand and then looked to him, his face full of worry and seriousness. And then she let out a shy laugh and blushed quickly and then nodded.

"A bit, but," she shook her head, "I was planning to go upstairs in a bit anyway, so, it's okay."

"Here," Rosie said quickly, shrugging himself out of his A-2 and then leaning to his side to lay it over her shoulders, "just to warm up." And warm up she did in fact do; to the point, she was blushing all over and inhaling the scent from his jacket and him beside her and suddenly very overwhelmed with his presence. Alright, so it was a stupid feeling she had been trying to hide, but it was a feeling she had never felt all too well. And in a war, she wasn't sure what to even feel. But right now, with this jacket and him beside her, she wasn't as eager to head up to bed anymore.

"Thank you," she said softly, grasping the edges and then looking at him, "I appreciate it really." Rosie watched her with that tender gaze of his again before leaning back a bit and looking up.

"You can really see the stars from here," he said, his voice a small bit of astonishment and adornment for the world above them, glowing with the life of the night, shining little orbs so far away they'd never be able to actually grasp them, "they're beautiful."

"Yeah," Judy said, her eyes traveling back up to the night sky above them, "sitting in the darkness, on the ground, staring at the stars? It's almost like home." She could feel Rosie staring now, and glanced his way. Something so harrowing, yet nostalgic in a way. A mixture of feelings lingering between them at her simple statement - thoughts of home, seemingly so far away now, a place that'd be changed in a thousand different ways by the time they did actually got home - if they got home.

"Where is home?" he asked quietly, leaning to his side to bump her shoulder. She laughed quietly.

"North Carolina." she said, glancing at him in the quiet - she could practically hear him breathing. It was so … comforting.

"A tiny town," she admitted, "nothing big, a river, a general market, a wood mill, friends here and there down the road. But it was home." Judy looked over slowly towards Rosie beside her and quirked out a smile as she saw him sitting there, grinning.

"What?" she said grinning, "Where you from?"

"Brooklyn." he said, looking at her. Judy's face hurt from smiling, but it was okay because it was Rosie.

"Brooklyn," Judy said with a soft smile, "never really been in one of those big cities."

"You'd like it," Rosie said, looking out towards the darkness, "you'd fit right in. Bright lights, the people, the music. All of it." He looked at her. Judy smiled and pulled her knees to her chest, and glanced towards him again.

"Music, huh?" she asked him and he looked at her with a smile.

"Yeah, can't sing real well, but my mom, my sisters, they're pretty good. Far better than me," he said with a nod, and then grinned, "still love music though. You can never go wrong with Artie Shaw." Judy smiled, her thoughts consumed with the idea of what a younger version of this Rosie could've been, home with his family, dancing and attempting to sing. Far away from war and fear and grief. She liked the thought of that at some point, they were all like that. Young, youthful and free.

"Did you do a lot of music and dancing before the war then?" Judy asked him quietly, with a hopeful smile, watching as he comprehended her sentence and then let out a small smile. He shook his head and then leaned forward on his bent knees.

"I was a lawyer before the war actually," Rosie said and Judy's eye widened in near amazement, "yeah, was doing that and then the war broke out. Couldn't just sit back and do nothing." His face grew serious at that last statement and then melted as he looked at her.

"What about you? What was the thing Judy Rybinski was doing before this whole thing started?" he asked, leaning forward, with genuine curiosity and she watched him before letting out a laugh and shaking her head.

"I'm afraid nothing as cool as being a lawyer," she admitted and she watched Rosie's face soften as he tilted his head towards her, "but I was 3 years removed from high school, didn't have money for college so….I worked in the local mechanics, fixing cars, boats, anything and everything. Learning what I could. Made some good money, too." Judy watched him and sighed.

"But….I always dreamed of getting to go to college, continue to learn, allow myself to grow," she said, her thoughts swimming back to that time her parents told her they didn't have enough to help get her through schooling and Judy had cried herself to sleep and then gathered herself together and gone to the mechanic to start learning some trade, "maybe get a job teaching. Maybe geography or something of that sort….I don't know. One day, that's the goal." Rosie stayed watching her, his eyes holding her gaze as she looked at him.

"You should go for it," Rosie told her, "when the war is over, I mean. You'd be a great teacher, great with kids, getting to teach, you just…." Rosie cut himself off for a moment and then smiled at her, suddenly looking more shy and unsure of himself than in recent minutes. Judy watched him, her cheeks warming slightly at his encouragement and genuine thought. It made her stomach twist pleasingly. Rosie let out a nervous laugh and then looked at her, crossing his arms and leaning against his upbent knees.

"You're just someone I like being around," Rosie admitted quickly, running a hand behind his neck and then glancing at her, "and I think you'd be someone good at teaching kids. And being a teacher so….I think you should go for it." Judy was watching him, her cheeks all crimson and her heart racing and for a moment, she caught his gaze and she saw things that made her heart race faster.

Rosie Rosenthal was equally someone she liked being around, but the thought of telling him that made her sweaty and panicky and she figured she'd embarrass herself, so instead, she blushed further and smiled.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, and then let out a small laugh, "sorry, it's just….I haven't really told many people that, so…it just means a lot - the support I mean." Rosie smiled at her and nodded.

"You deserve good things after this war, Judy," Rosie said and then swallowed, "all of us do." Judy watched him, this urge to reach out and brush her palm against his cheek inviting her closer, a wish to curl up beside him and let the stars stare down at them, the need for human touch, to be looked at and loved.

By Rosie.

"You too, sir," she said quietly, her smile soft, "only the best." This staring, these lingering glances, they seemed to be whatever they couldn't say and just that look in his eyes made her blush further. Judy tried to control her racing heart, and her breath, and then cleared her throat.

"I think I'll be heading up now," Judy said, and pressed her palms against her cheeks and then sighed and looked to him, "Bessie said she'd braid my hair and I don't want to keep her up."

"Of course," Rosie said, standing to his feet and then offering his own hand towards her, which she took rather quickly, and then stood there, staring up at him like a goof, "try and get some rest tonight, alright?"

"You too," she said, and then chuckled, "sorry, Lieutenant Bradshaw said she couldn't sleep last night and it ended up being the two of you down here, with Doc, unable to fall asleep, just talking and stuff. So….yeah, just, you too, sir." Rosie laughed at her words and then schooled his facial expressions again.

"Thanks, Judy."

Staring at him, she couldn't constrain what she felt and stood on her tiptoes, before placing a small kiss to his cheek, and then turned and walked away, as fast as her feet could carry her and up the stairs, towards the room she was sharing with Bessie. Her mind raced, her thoughts knocking at the edges of her brain as she hurried in, shut the door, and let out a sigh, before turning to the two beds, where Bessie was sat up in one, reading a book and staring at her, confused.

"Since when did you get a jacket….like that?" Bessie said, raising a brow, "And that, large?" Judy blushed and then tried to speak and choked on her air a bit before clearing herself up.

"It's just Lieutenant Rosenthal's," she said, stepping forward and settling on the side of her bed to take her shoes off, "he saw me outside, gave it to me because he said I looked cold."

"Judith Rybinski," Bessie, sitting up and then practically launching out of the bed to sit beside her, "you're blushing like a loon! What happened?" Judy looked at Bessie, her heart pounding, her thoughts racing, emotions running high in far too many wacky ways. Bessie watched her excitedly, but then slowly let her face fall and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"I think he's just being nice," Judy whispered quietly and then shook her head, "and then I gave him a kiss on the cheek because I wasn't thinking-"

"-a kiss? On the cheek?"

"Yes, yes, a kiss on the cheek, it was stupid, he was just trying to be nice-"

"Giving you his jacket in this cold is never just him being nice, Judy-"

"It's a part of it-"

"But not all of it!" Bessie said and looked at her, and smirked, "He probably wants to you know….get to know you more." Judy stared at her and then let her shoulders fall and shook her head.

"No….I don't think so," Judy said and then crossed her arms and bit back her lip, "and plus, did you know he was a lawyer before the war? Bes, he's probably, I don't know, someone from some sort of money to do that sort of thing, ya know? My family comes from people who've lived on the streets, we showered once a week as kids. What am I thinking?" Judy ran her hands over her face and sighed, before squeezing her eyes shut.

"It's stupid," Judy said quietly, "it's just a stupid crush, it'll go away. He's just being nice, and I latched onto that because a nice guy, is a nice guy. But that's it. And….it's fine. I'll be fine." She grew quiet and watched as Bessie stared at her, eyes full of that lingering worry.

"It's not a stupid crush, alright?" Bessie told her, "You're allowed to feel that and if someone's ever told you otherwise, they're the stupid ones. He clearly is someone who is interested, too, Judy. Don't discredit that about yourself. You're one of the sweetest peaches I've ever met. And someone like that? You deserve that." Judy looked over at Bessie and then offered a small smile.

"Thank you, Bessie," Judy said, leaning to her side to pull Bessie into a hug, "you're too nice to me." Bessie chuckled into the hug and patted her back.

"You deserve it, Judy." Bessie said, "A whole lot of things, but sweetness is one of the many."

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monstat · 2 months

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“i don't really need friends. you're the only person i need in my life. is that weird? i guess i'm not like most people.”

𖥻 sdv

cw: squinted smoking, (it’s sebastian) angst on sam’s par’, someone’s mom “mona,” referring to reader as “farmer,” and “overalls,” sam ‘n farmer were together, (divorce fees and mayor) kinda asshole seb???

:: sebastian x reader - (not fully) sam x reader - (???)

@cafekitsune dividers

the maple tree taps on sebastian’s back. juniper bark creating a ticklish sensation through the baggy, black hoodie he can’t seem to get rid of.

sam’s there, too. there’s not enough space on the old wood for the blond to press the full of his back onto, but that’s alright. he’s fine with standing beside his ‘best friend.’ he’s fine with the silent conversation occurring.

he’s been fine with the distance. that’s what ‘best friends’ do.

sam can’t blame sebastian for his mia status as of late. though, they don’t talk like they used to, even sam knows his ‘best friend’ is too busy ‘makin’ babies’ to play chronicle games. there’s an occasional love tap during pool on late friday’s at the saloon, but it always ends with sam losing a ten-dollar bet and a part of his pride.

his best friend, too. ‘losing’ him to the night, watching as the lanky back disappears down the path only a family member is allowed to pass through that late.

then it starts over again. most friday’s, there’s an excuse. “sorry, dude,” sebastian would wince. there’s always a certain glint in his expression, mocking the halfhearted apology for what it’s worth. which is little.

sam can’t blame sebastian’s glance towards the overalled form — who is usually chasing time and energy around town. sebastian’s eyes tender in a way sam can only describe as love.

and sam would know love.

sebastian has a family - sam knows. he’s reminded of it every time he sees the plum-haired baby in the frog onesie strapped to the married man’s chest. it’s the only occasion in which sebastian ditches the hideout-sweater. something about the barely-toddler pulling on the dull strings, ‘trying to choke daddy.’ sam can see the same look in sebastian’s eyes now, on the maple tree. the one given every time the secondborn spills chocolate milk all over his tee.

sebastian can’t even keep his eyes on the river ahead before his gaze is instinctively drawn to the sound of metal on overall straps clinking together, subtly over the town track. the farmer always seems to be on the move. it’s what leads sebastian to moments like this, which only last an hour - which feels like ten seconds on the steps outside of sam’s house, next to the bushed graves where abigail’s old mona lies.

time seems to go by faster than normal, here. sebastian would know. and sam can’t blame him for getting hit by cupid. that would be hypocritical. sam remembers the adoring gaze because he would usually be the one wearing it. it’s hard to ignore the sound of overalls ringing when the heart still lies in the crop field.

he should blame sebastian, but he doesn’t. they’re ’best friends.’ even when sebastian’s time is too occupied with wrangling real frogs and babies. he’s a loner, sam knows. no doubt enjoying the rain that’s been passing through stardew valley these past days. the farmer’s porch has a great view of the town during sunset.

sam would know.

he doesn’t shame sebastian for leaning against the maple tree on this monday. one hour which feels like ten seconds before the hooded boy moves. it’s not accompanied by a harsh stomp in the mud where sebastian ashes his cigarette, though. it’s one of the many things the farmer has done for this town.

just sincerity and an almost longing gaze. “later, sam.” ‘later’ is until the next festival. and even then sebastian is too busy holding the mini raven-haired baby while his spouse goes out onto the misty ice to win both of them the trophy for surpassing five slimy fish. beating willy.

then they go home where sebastian kisses his family goodnight, and in the morning he comments on his partner’s rest. flustering out that the late-night dream mumbling was cute. the farmer leaves and sebastian stays. ‘maybe that’s what he sees in overalls,’ sam has to wonder. sebastian has never liked being forced into small talk. the farmer doesn’t seem to mind.

they fit. unlike the tripod. unlike sam and overalls.

inspired by this frame on “mal’s sebastian expansion.” (i think. i have too many mods…) ↓

also inspired by dating two pretty best friends. ‘cept sam was the first victim…

#stardew valley x reader #sebastian x reader sdv #sam x reader sdv #sdv #stardew valley angst #learned sebastian has green eyes while writing this #- fucking hated it #frog onesie canon #abbigail sebastian sam r broken #sebastian’s in love #sam is sad #seb don’t care about his friend bro

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gunraekae · 2 months

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having an off day 2

Ophelia - Sir John Everett Millais

>ikemen vampire

>mansion residents (+bonus) x reader

>a/n: the second half of your off day. here is how your morning and early afternoon went.

Leonardo da Vinci

While Leonardo isn’t necessarily your responsibility to awaken (he could really be anywhere in or out of the mansion, it’s far too much effort for anyone to find him and urge him to eat. Let’s not forget he’s an immortal vampire, he doesn’t even need to.), a small and guilty part of you tends to seek him out anyway. He’d done a lot for you when you first stumbled into the mansion and has acted as one of the main components of your support system since then.

It was nearing noon and after you’ve awoken Napoleon, Leonardo was surprisingly awake and in the library. Perched upon one of the oak armchairs by the window, the sunlight streaming through the glass painted him in a glorious light – reminding you of the timeless beauty the purebloods possess. He looked like he was in one of his own paintings, and you would be a villain to disturb that.

Still, his vampiric senses had a lower threshold than the others and he could sense your presence (or really, smell your blood) before you even opened the library doors.

“Surprised I’m up so early, cara mia?” The husky rumble of his baritone voice always sent pleasant shivers down anyone’s spine. His golden eyes, brightened by the sunlight, peered above the book he held in one hand straight at yours.

“I suppose.”

“Hmm… come closer will you?” His wolfish eyes narrowed in disdain at your lethargic response. Reluctantly, you follow his command and sit across from him at the window. He discards his book, leaning on his knees to get a better look at your morose disposition. A displeased hum, then he places a finger under your chin to move your face even closer to his.

“That won’t do. Such an emotion dims your eyes.” His artist-eye grazes over your face, observing your downturned lips and your swollen, teary eyes. A knowing smirk, and he settles back on the armchair. He leans on the armrest, the slouching figure alluring in his own charm.

“You’re a smart girl. You can guess what’ll happen next, can’t you?” His handsome smirk grows at your knowing sigh.

“Just don’t throw me over your shoulder this time.”

“No promises, cara mia.” He huffs as he rises and moves to your side. With a motion for you to raise your arms, he at least carries you princess-style as he speeds to the mansion’s exit.

It’s not entirely unpleasant being in Leonardo’s strong arms, and you find the warmth almost soothing to your turbulent thoughts. He takes you to your signature spot: a small dock on one of the more solitary ends of the Seine river. He wants to give you the princess treatment, so he’ll slowly row the two of you down the water.

On the romantic boat-ride through the Seine, with Leonardo’s golden eyes trained on your face and giving you his full attention, it would be quite difficult to resist confiding in him. In your lowest moments so far, he’d been nothing short of comforting — holding you in his arms when you were afraid during your first night, sleeping outside your door for the following week, and whisking you away from your chores to dispel the unhealthy façade you kept up.

In fact, a small part of Leonardo is ecstatic that you felt safe and comfortable enough with him and the other residents that you could freely express your more negative emotions with them (but hopefully mostly with him. Forgive him, he can be a bit possessive).

However long it takes you to quell the darkness in your mind, Leonardo is there to receive anything you throw at him. He can wrap you in a warm embrace and caress your back, offer you wise advice to your problems, or just listen to your thoughts. Whatever you need most, Leonardo will give it to you.

Leonardo hopes you’ll always run into his arms any time you have problems and allow him to fix it, like he does with machines. That being said, he doesn’t mind seeking you out and literally carrying you away from your responsibilities to ease your torment. Wrapped in his big, strong arms and shielded from your worries, it’d be difficult not to feel at ease with this loveable dork. Anything and everything you ask for he’ll deliver, and if you don’t know what that is, he’ll give you a familiar experience that comforted you in the past. There isn’t much that fazes him with his long years on Earth, but just the teary sheen over your eyes is enough to twist his heart in painful knots.

Isaac Newton

Lost in his bustling mind and distracted by an equation he couldn’t quite solve last night, he unfortunately only caught Theo’s grumbles of “pouring his own damn coffee,” and your departing figure to the kitchen. He thought nothing of it, believing Theo was just being his usual insufferable self and holed up in his study for the day.

If you weren’t responsible for delivering lunch to him, he’d have never caught wind of your off-character today. So when your voice behind his door lacked its usual lively pitch, he wanted to bash his head open for not noticing it during breakfast.

When you entered his study you quietly placed the tray on one of his tables, wishing for an easy escape from his calculating rosy eyes. At your quickly retreating figure, the swirling worries in Isaac’s head scolded him for his indifference and how that coldness definitely would break your heart. He grasped at your sleeve and pulled you with more force than he intended, landing your entire upper body on his lap. (You’ll have to forgive his awkward execution, he really means well.)

“I’m terribly sorry mc! I didn’t mean to do that.” He bristles and helps you regain your composure. “Actually, I did intend to pull you closer. I want to apologise as well for not noticing you sooner. I should have been the first to seek you out.” While he does mean what he says, he finds that maintaining eye contact is a bit difficult and from his blushing ears, you can tell he’s just nervous.

“The first? Isaac, you don’t have to do anything.” Similar to him, you felt ashamed that he felt obligated to comfort you. Isaac, upon noticing that, wildly shook his hands in firm rejection of that implication.

“Not at all! You’ve always been there for me mc; defending, accompanying, encouraging me. Perhaps it’s even a bit selfish, but seeing your smile is the highlight of my day. Without it, I find I’m in a bit of a bind, as you can see.” He gestures for the messy scrawls of that damn equation he can’t seem to solve.

“I hope you won’t let Theo’s boorish manners bother you. And I hope you won’t mistake my foolishness for indifference either. I want to be here for you, mc. I’m not like Napoleon, so I admit this doesn’t come easy to me, but I want to be close to you.” Isaac rises from his chair to move closer to you.

Despite his rapid pulse, his trembling hands find yours and squeeze them gently. “Please tell me all that ails you, all your frustrations, and stresses, and allow me to do for you what you’ve always done for me.”

His sincerity is touching. Isaac sits you down on one of the seats by his table and offers you half the sandwich you made for him. Whatever you indulge Isaac with, he eagerly accepts. He can’t help the fascinated gleam in his eyes at the unfiltered emotions in your expression — in fact, his heart actually warms at being able to do this for you.

It was inevitable that a few tears escaped your eyes; while it did sink his heart, Isaac seized the opportunity to be closer to you. In a surprising show of boldness, he tucks a strand that obscured your face, behind your ear. “Thank you, darling, for showing me this side of you.” He murmured intimately.

“Isaac, you’re—”

The confidence that deluded him in that moment quickly dissipated at your surprised face. “I apologise! I’m not sure what came over me then.” Perhaps it was because it was just you and him, and he found your presence far easier to relax in than anyone else, but he found it in him to laugh.

“You’re really a wolf in sheep’s clothing sometimes.”

“You can blame my teasing on yourself. After all, you’re the reason my new life is more hectic—” Isaac chuckles “but I can’t say that hasn’t made it so much happier.”

After supper, Isaac timidly approaches you in the kitchen. “I’ve set up my telescope out in the yard tonight… Would you care to join me?”

Laying on the soft grass with Isaac was incredibly soothing, the picturesque night sky splattered with the many shining stars, unpolluted by the 19th century Paris city. Isaac would focus the lens on specific constellations and allow you to view them through the telescope. While you admired its brightness, he’d excitedly tell you about each one. Eventually, the day’s fatigue would catch up to you, and Isaac, noticing it, would seat himself a little bit closer to you, in hopes you’d lay your head on his ready shoulder.

Finally, soft peace had settled on your hardened features. It was during moments like these with you that Isaac envied the artists’ talents — they could capture this moment for eternity and he only had his memory to keep the sight in his mind. In spite of that regret though, a part of him was proud that it was him who could witness this adorable sight.

While extremely awkward in execution, Isaac’s heart breaks in two at the mere thought of you feeling upset. This is worsened when it takes him longer than the others to notice it — couple that with his less-than-stellar social skills, and he’s bound to mess up in the process. But his sweet intentions shine through his small, affectionate gestures and his eagerness to listen to you. It’s quite adorable how happy he feels that he can finally return some semblance of what you’ve done for him. He’d provide his room as a safe space, but he’ll also gladly bring his telescope and stargaze with you in the courtyard. If you doze off, he’ll offer his shoulder and feel blessed that you shared your day with him, the feeling even sweeter knowing that it was him you chose to spend the evening with.

Jean d’Arc

Part of your evening routine was to meet with Jean in the library after supper and practice writing. Tonight, despite your mood, you felt it would be far too cruel to abandon poor Jean, who found it hard to spend time with others; it was only through these sessions that you could foster a connection with the elusive man.

Jean was extremely blessed that your radiant presence was in the library for him tonight. Napoleon had informed him earlier of your despondent spirits. Initially, it spurred an almost murderous glint in Jean’s eye at whoever had caused you suffering, but with Napoleon’s clarification, his rage on your behalf settled into a thorny discontent.

Of all people to suffer torment, why did it have to be mc; his radiant angel? The kind soul who ensured that night-after-night, she found time to teach and accompany him? It was because of your beautiful self that his chest was not as heavy with the weight of his sins everyday. And yet, you also had to endure these torturous emotions, despite all that you’d done for him. It truly did not make sense in Jean’s mind. It should be monsters like him that suffer, not angels like you.

So Jean resolved it within himself that he would do all that he could to alleviate the weight in your heart and fight the shadows that dared to dim the brightness in you.

Unbeknownst to you, after his work he wrote a letter that communicated his sincere appreciation and sheer affection for you, far better than he could verbally. He wrote of his sadness that a person like you, who cared so much for others and always put themselves last, suffered behind a smile. He longed to one day be as expressive as the writers (he never thought the day would come that he’d envy the likes of Arthur or Dazai) so that he could comfort you directly with words instead of having to convey all his sentiments through a letter.

Safe to say that when Jean handed you his clumsily penned letter, tears immediately rushed down your face at his touching sincerity. Jean grew alarmed, blaming himself for causing you further distress. You stopped him from kneeling on the ground for repentance and instead, wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Thank you Jean. You’re much kinder than you think.” Jean would be a touch flustered, but would wrap an arm around your shoulders to offer you the comforting embrace he only dreamed he could give you. And yet, here he was, finally able to offer you at least a semblance of peace in small payment for all you’ve unknowingly done for him.

It was absolutely unfathomable to Jean that such a radiant and kind person like you had to suffer some of the torturous thoughts like he had. It felt wrong that God would allow those thoughts to plague your brilliant mind; so Jean, aware of his shortcomings in this department, would absolutely try his best to fight your demons for you. Words were extremely difficult for Jean to convey, but he’d try to make you proud by doing so in a letter. Your brightness prevented him from succumbing to the haunting shadows of his past. His sheer devotion and protectiveness for you would be revealed in that letter, but if you needed him to support you in-person: whether by embracing you in his strong arms, punching out your frustrations on his sturdy chest, or burying your face in his neck to block out the world, Jean would do all of it for you.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

The day had stretched on, and while most of your heartache was eased from the residents’ efforts, insomnia purged your rest nonetheless. You knew that remaining under your warm blankets would change nothing of your predicament, so perhaps a short walk (by the mansion’s standards) to the kitchen for a glass of water would arouse drowsiness back in your hazy mind.

On your way, you passed by Mozart’s studio. Tonight he played a more serene song, the soft notes floating through the air and quelling some of the remaining despair in your head. You didn’t mean to, as you knew that Mozart hated to be disturbed while practising (really only for the men — it was difficult to be upset at you), but you lingered by his ivory doors.

Suddenly, his song ceased. “Come in, mc.” Startled at the fact that he heard you, and even more at recognising you from what little sound you made, you were compelled to follow his command.

Mozart was always a vision to look at: the moonlight streaming through the gap in his window was reflected in his alabaster locks. Awaiting for you, his deep purple eyes were unreadable as it scanned your figure. If you looked even closer, there was a discernible trace of worry that twisted his brows.

“What was with you today?” Not one to mince words, Mozart hit right where it was sensitive.

“It’s nothing of concern.” Mozart huffed indignantly. To you this resembled his usual shortness with you, but inside, he was deeply envious at the fact that you opened up to everyone except him today. Wanting to remedy that inconsistency, he rose from his seat and advanced towards you.

“Liebchen.” He insisted as he reached for your hand.

“You have enough to worry about, Wolf.”

“And I want you to be one of them.” As opposed to his usual rough manners with you, he softly stroked your knuckles. Since he knew that it would be difficult for you to dredge up and unearth your worries once again, he settled for providing you a small piece of comfort for the night.

Mozart gently guided you by the wrist to sit beside him before his grand piano.

“Would you like to try a duet I drafted recently? I haven’t been able to complete it because I had no partner—” he trailed his fingers from your wrist to your hands to unclench them “until now.” He delicately intertwined his long fingers around yours and gave your hand a loving squeeze. Then, he carefully guided your hands down to the piano keys.

He slowly taught you a small part of the song, and within a few tries, you were quick enough to match the tempo he had in mind. Your attempt at the duet together went as well as expected, the discordant notes completely altering the softly romantic song to a playful one instead.

To your surprise, a loud chuckle burst out of Mozart. “How clumsy,” he said, his eyes squinting in unadulterated affection.

If you confide in Mozart of your lingering disturbance and your insomnia, Mozart will guide you toward the bedroom connected to his studio. Mozart had to fluff up the unused pillows but urged you under the covers anyway. He’d leave the door open and play the most soothing lullaby on his piano to quell your sleeplessness.

Mozart is rather brusque and difficult to approach — painfully aware of that, he knew he wasn’t the first you’d approach, as much as it hurts him to admit that fact. Still, when the opportunity arose later that night with just the two of you, Mozart jumped at the chance to ease your pain. He’d try to cheer you up in his own way, but ultimately does what he knows best. He doesn’t play for anyone at all, and while many of his songs are dedicated to important historical figures, he documents a few pieces solely to you and caters to whatever you need most at that moment. Tonight, he plays an improvised song of yearning: he imagines a quiet man, unable to properly express the depth of his love for his dearest one, humming this soothing lullaby to send his suffering love to slumber.

Bonus: William Shakespeare

Unfortunately, Will is physically and figuratively out of the loop with the happenings in the mansion. Your off day being one of the most regrettable events that he missed out on.

He longed to have witnessed the harsh colours of despair taint your lovely visage and have been the man to lift that darkness.

He yearns to have been the loving angel to embrace you while your tears wet the earth. He imagines that black roses and blue violets would grow from your tears that watered the ground.

He longs to have been the dashing knight that whisked you away from your responsibilities and brought you to a secret place that only the two of you knew about. The intimacy of being the only one to witness your vulnerable side was tragically enticing for him.

How fortunate the mansion residents were to bear witness to all the mesmerising dimensions you had. Capricious Fate has tricked him yet again in this instance as he can only hear about this event from Vincent. How tragic was he that he had only his imagination to provide him inaccurate images of your tainted beauty that day.

While he knew this day had long passed, he couldn’t stop his longing fingers from scribing a letter to you, urging a visit as soon as possible so that he may offer a belated gift of comfort and perhaps, selfishly, indulge in your presence.

He’d deliver a bouquet of those blue violets, carnations, and chrysanthemums to you (thanks in part to his vampiric benefactor), coupled with an expensive gift of several rings (so that you may imagine it was his fingers intertwined with yours) and a floral perfume that matches the flowers.

Bonus: Vlad

After your boat-ride with Leonardo, the two of you idly strolled about town. Leonardo quickly left to purchase a box of cigarillos from a foreign vendor, the limited stock too alluring for him to pass up on. You insisted on waiting on a nearby bench, a little ways away from the busy stand.

“A storm is brewing behind those lovely eyes. I wonder what caused it and what incompetent ward has allowed it to continue.” Vlad’s sweet voice sounded right beside your ear. You jumped, much to his amusement, but the underlying protectiveness under that pleasant expression was marked by you nonetheless.

“Has he been overworking you?”

You hastily quell the accusation Vlad threw in the air.

“I wonder what could be the cause of those dark clouds in my darling’s eyes.” Vlad sighs in stark concern, lifting a hand to your temple gently massaging it.

“I wonder what worries your pretty head.” He moves that same hand to your forehead and smooths the wrinkles there.

“And I wonder what caused these soft lips to frown.” He trails his fingers from your head down to your cheek, and finally on your lower lip. The delicate way he handled your face felt as if you were a newly bloomed flower that was too sensitive to nature’s forces and required Vlad’s devoted care.

There was both gentleness and a stark possessiveness with how familiarly and easily he glided his fingers across your face. It seemed he longed to touch even more of you, but found restraint and settled in tucking your hair away from your face instead.

“If you stayed in my castle instead of his mansion, you won’t know any misery or work.” He longingly stroked the ends of your hair and eventually trailed his fingers to meet with your hands. Upon closer inspection, Vlad laments the dryness from cleaning products on your hands. He lovingly strokes your knuckles before lifting them to his lips kissing each one.

“Cara mia, I don’t have to beat this guy to get him to back off, do I?”

A painful expression overtook Vlad’s sweet face, and with great reluctance, he backs off as per Leonardo’s request.

“Such brutes he houses. No wonder my flower has withered in their company.”

Before Leonardo could provoke him further, you led him away from Vlad, whose eyes longingly followed you until you were out of his sight.

Bonus: Charles-Henri Sanson

While waiting for Arthur to pay for his gifts for you, you sat on a bench outside the busy store. A pair of familiar lilac eyes brightened at the sight of your figure. He bounded over to you like a loving puppy reuniting with its owner. This unfortunately startled you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind.

“Mc! It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you. I really really really missed you.” He murmured while nuzzling his face into your neck. To your relief, he reluctantly released you from his hold, only to sit right next to you.

Only when he could take a closer look at your expression does his cheerful face crumble. He tenderly cups your face and mourns the wistful spirit of it. “My poor mc, what happened?”

You shook your head, unable to meet his worried eyes. This breaks Charles-Henri’s heart even further as he wishes he could take whatever was bothering you and replace it with his love instead. In that thought process an idea springs into his head.

He takes your hand, and after squeezing it, places it near his heart. “I want you to channel all your sadness into this hand and give it all to me instead.” His silly charade breaks you out of your stupor, and since you don’t have the heart to reject his sweet lilac eyes, you relent and play along.

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to channel all my love for you in my hand and place it in your heart. Ready?” He places his hand on your chest and playfully scrunches his face as if he was straining. “Mmmm… there! Did you feel my love enter you?”

Ignoring the suggestive statement and the even more suggestive position you two were in, his hopeful face was too innocent to reject.

“Yes, I think I felt a little bit of warmth enter me just now.”

Charles-Henri’s face lit up in adorable joy.

“Whatever you’re going through, I know you can overcome it. You’ve healed the darkness in me, and many others’ and we owe you for that.”

“Thank you Charles.”

A satisfied hum left his lips as he leaned even closer to you.

“I love you so much mc—”

“You can scamper off now, Sanson.” Arthur’s annoyed voice sounded from behind you. Charles willfully ignored him as he continued to squeeze your hand.

“I hope you can feel my love whenever you’re sad like this—”

“Leave, old boy! Can’t you see she’s had enough of you?”

“Come visit me and the others at the church soon!” Almost comically, Arthur drags Charles away by his collar. He turns around and waves at you. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but a small smile reached its way to your lips at Charles' cute antics.

thank you once again for taking the time to read my writing. there were a few I wasn't too satisfied with, but I hope you liked it nonetheless.

leave a like and/or a reblog if this was a fun read for you. despite its self-indulgence, I hope this comforted you a lil bit.

have a wonderful day my love <3

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire jean #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikemen vampire vlad #ikemen vampire charles

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credince--writes · 10 months

Text

Deep In Those Woods 6

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

AO3

Masterlist

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N:

DID SOMEONE SAY WORLDBUILDING AND SEXUALLLLL TENSION?

I did :)

Sorry I've been gone so long my appendix fucking exploded

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756

Keegan stared, mouth opening and trying to speak but nothing coming out- his mind rushing a million miles a minute.

"Because you owe me?" You teased.

He releases a breath. "Yea, Princess. Because I owe you."

You were angry, rightfully so-

You felt you were further past this, but at the same time, you really didn't know each other at all did you?

You knew he muttered in his sleep, softly, and only when he felt warm. He never mumbled when he was cold, he'd curl in on himself

You knew his eyes reminded you of the clear, blue waters of the creeks and rivers that passed over the rocks here.

You knew that even though he'd never say anything, he liked having extra carmelized onions in his food.

Or that he still wouldn't complain, but was always hesitant to eat scrambled eggs for some reason.

"You need to sit down." You all but hissed out, shooing him out of the kitchen and back down onto the couch across the room.

"And you..." Keegan sat down, leaning back into the cushion of the couch and letting out a sigh of relief, the stabbing pain in his side subsiding as he leaned back and relaxed. Trailing off, the glanced out the window, dutifully ignoring the light red tinge of embarrassment that dusted onto his face understanding that yes, you were right about his exertion.

He needed to dial it back if he ever wanted to get better.

He'd been hurt worse before, he argued, he shouldn't be complacent in a stranger's home just because it was warm.

Just because there were rare occasions where your hand would grace across his skin, his eyes would flutter closed and he could almost forget about how horrible of a man he really was.

He was destined to be buried face down in the Earth, pointed back home in some strange, cold, and hostile land. Not being doted on, and soaking it up like a greedy sponge.

What the fuck is he doing?

He has been MIA for who knows how long- he couldn't keep track of the days in his concussed stupor, but he knows it was more than two weeks minimum of time he'd lost total.

Keegan was angry with himself for letting the time get away from him- but from the dark splotching on his skin he knew that if he had just tried to push it he would've died under the ferns and moss.

That was, if he ever would've managed to get himself out of that creek.

A horrible little part of him knew he wouldn't have.

He needed to get his radio working- he needed to get intel back to base- the fact that there was four unmarked settlements they didn't even know about was concerning. How old was the information they'd sent him out here for based off of?

What he needed was-

“Soup.” You said, almost sheepishly as you sat down next to him, readying yourself to raise the spoon to his lips. His cold blue eyes narrowed on the bowl, forcing him to sit up and reach his hands out to pull it from your grip.

Your cheeks burned, turning your head away and sucked in a deep breath trying not to immediately turn back and react, glance down at his waistband, and argue. Biting your tongue and waiting just a millisecond you gather your thoughts you turned your head back to look at him, the amusement clear in his pale blue eyes.

You quickly stood, excusing yourself and walking outside to take a breath.

The feeling of your warm hands brushing against his chest when you thought he was asleep, selfishly keeping his breathing even to lure your little hands into touching him.

No.

He had pieces of why he'd been sent, he knew the mission. He just lost bits of time to the adrenaline and blood loss as he staggered through the woods and eventually toppled into the creek.

He'd left from Santa Monica nearly two months ago, he knew that. The plane ride, the rinky dinky bush plane if it could even be considered a plane.

It had two wings in flew, he mused to himself, of course, it was a fucking plane.

The heavily wooded areas of the northern segment of the state, while not ravished by the attacks of ODIN had fallen victim to the infestation of Federation soldiers. It was a guerilla war, in the street, woods, the rivers. The cities fell first, but the remote areas were controlled by farmers withheld.

Infrastructure was destroyed, bridges were blown, and entire counties were islanded in a matter of days.

And since they held no real value in the war, they were left alone.

Until five months ago.

The intel was solid, they'd moved in from the coast suddenly, surging into the few remaining skeletons of cities and overwhelming what little military a civilian presence was left.

The question was why.

Nuclear Power.

A small, barely on-the-map city and it's nearly forgotten nuclear power plant was guarded with the minimal military presence that remained in the area. And clearly, the presence wasn't enough.

The rods in the plant could be deconstructed and turned into dirty bombs that could, and more than likely would, wreak havoc on the few remaining 'unscathed' cities of the country.

Keegan called it one of the worst oversights possible-

all they had to do was remove the fucking nuclear components/

But alas, the bridges had been blown up.

Was the justification.

He lived in the woods, deep behind the cover, and stalked, much like the wildlife rampantly taking back over the land. Lurking in the shadows and observing trying to confirm if the plant was being used to convert for weapons of mass destruction.

Or, even more plausibly, to turn the city into one of their most efficiently functioning bases on American soil.

He volunteered himself for the mission, needed some way to escape after the last absolute shit show of a mission that ended with both Hesh and Logan getting hurt. He knew he couldn't have prevented it- it's just something that happens on the job now, but it still melted into his flesh like acid.

He needed time to be alone, time to rethink the events that had happened. What better way to have plenty of time to think than to volunteer to sit in a glorified damp hole for God knows how long and simply wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It started to become clear that at least for now, the power plant was to stay to its intended use- holding the old employees at gunpoint to ensure that the plant stayed maintained.

He waited some more.

Until the crackling of his radio, quiet in his ear but so loud compared to the silence he'd become accustomed to over the last few days. New intel on a location nestled deep in the woods, five miles from his current vantage point staring down onto the plant.

Well, that's where it went to shit.

The hike wasn't the bad part, neither was the rain, or the mosquitoes, or the run-in with the bear. He could manage all of those things, but he wasn't prepared to see the base. The dingy little thing if it could even be called a base.

He could argue with himself and say he'd stayed in worse, but that was beside the point.

It was the people.

Of course, there would be the locals, they wouldn't be able to sustain the base without their (forced) help of them. He knew that, that was usually how those bases went. Either the locals would be killed on sight, or be forced into laboring for their invaders.

He just never got used to how skinny and hollow they always looked.

So when it was one of the Prisoners who saw past the camouflage and alerted the soldiers, barrels turning and pointing dangerously close to not twigs and leaves- Keegan decided he needed to move.

And he was moving, running- fleeing, for three days.

The delirium of exhaustion caused hallucinations of sounds that weren't really there- soldiers that weren't really there. Getting the drop on him in ways they shouldn't have been able to.

He'll blame it on the exhaustion.

But it seems like some of these soldiers knew the land better than a non-local soldier.

They'd started to convert.

And he ran, until the blade of his knife was dull and blood splattered on the ferns and leaves beneath him. Until his legs gave out from under him.

Until he tumbled into the sweet, cold fresh water of your creek.

Until he felt the first brush of your warm flesh against his.

Maybe he was still delirious.

#Call of Duty #Keegan P Russ x reader #Keegan Russ x Reader #Call of Duty Ghosts #Deep In Those Woods

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 8 months

Text

Amore Mio [Secret Trope]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Secret situation 1. Character A is keeping a secret from Character B, until it comes out in a dramatic moment. "Frank has been keeping something from you."

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Female Reader. FLUFF. Based on a wonderful request from @xxdrixx . I hope my Italian is not shit, but I know just a little bit from singing opera and kinda went off what I know from that.

WC: 734

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Frank’s phone went flying across the room, landing with a plonk in the armchair.

You looked at him curiously, having just come back from making popcorn in the kitchen.

“What was– ?” you asked

“Picture of a snake. Fuckin scared me.” Frank responded

You rolled your eyes at the thought of the Big Bad Punisher getting spooked at a photo of a snake popping up on whatever app he was on, but you sat beside him and started the movie, the incident soon leaving your mind.

But several more times over the next few months, situations like this would happen. You’d walk into the room and Frank would suddenly get nervous and find an excuse to close his phone quickly.

If it were any other man, you might find it suspicious, but Frank was too loyal and honest for you to ever suspect anything nefarious.

Then came date night. Frank had taken you to an unusually nice restaurant, having even put on a pair of pants that weren’t jeans just to spoil you with a romantic evening.

Except his mind seemed a million miles away and he kept picking up his phone, reading something while muttering to himself, then putting it down suddenly when he noticed you staring.

You were about to ask just what the hell was up, when the waitress came over to take your order.

“Hi, my name is Francesca. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”

Your face lit up hearing her speak, recognizing a familiar accent in her voice.

“Sei Italiana?”

“SÌ!” she responded

You talked for a few minutes, reminiscing in Italian about where you were from. Frank watched the two of you, smile on his face as he knew how much you loved speaking in your first language and meeting people from your home.

The waitress was so excited to connect with you, she even brought you and Frank free dessert at the end of the meal, delicious creme brulee the perfect way to end the evening.

“Wanna take the scenic route home?” he asked, offering his hand out to you

You nodded with a smile, happy to have a date night with Frank that didn’t involve him rushing off halfway through to go deal with ‘business’.

There was a chill in the air as you walked hand in hand along the pier of Hudson River Park.

Frank’s jacket was draped across your shoulders, ever the gentleman keeping you warm when you prioritized your outfit over dressing for comfort and the weather.

You stopped walking after a while, leaning side by side on a railing and watching the lights of New Jersey sparkle across the water. Frank’s hand was splayed across your lower back, a quiet gesture of affection and protection.

After a few minutes basking in the comfortable silence of each other's presence, Frank finally spoke.

“Amore mio. My love.” he whispered in your ear

Your spine went rigid and goosebumps crawled along your skin. You’d never heard Frank speak Italian before.

“Hai cambiato la mia vita. You have changed my life.” he continued, voice trembling from nerves “Non riesco a immaginare un futuro senza di te. I cannot imagine a future without you.”

Was this really happening? Had Frank learned your native tongue just to use it for the most romantic proposal ever?

His familiar touch disappeared from your side as he knelt down on one knee beside you, pulling a velvet box from his pocket.

“Vuoi sposarmi? Will you marry me?”

You could feel the tears coming on as his big brown eyes stared up at you, waiting for your answer.

“SÌ” you responded with a shaky voice, too overcome with emotion to manage much else.

A grin like you’d never seen spread across his face as rose to his feet and kissed you deeply.

After he slid the ring on your finger, you knew you had to ask.

“How long have you been learning Italian, mio caro?”

“Bout six months. Wanted to get it good enough to do this. Maybe we can do our vows in Italian too?” Frank responded sheepishly, pulling out his phone and tapping the icon with the green owl to show you just how much he’d progressed on his own.

Now you understood what he had been hiding on his phone from you.

“Perfetto. Perfect.” you said, kissing him once more

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #the punisher #trope de sept #nmcu #jon bernthal

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elly99 · 1 year

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