#but as we grow up there's a lot of things in life n society that just. yeah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allysunny · 5 months

Text

(You're) My Antidote Pt. 3 | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ᵐᶦᵍᵘᵉˡ ᵃʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᵖᶦⁿᵏᶦᵉᵐᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵘᵐᵇˡʳ

ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ² | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ³

Synopsys: Your pregnancy is coming to an end, and Miguel is getting desperate. You're getting sicker and sicker, and your baby seems to be causing more harm than good, as his antidotes. He's running out of time. But Miguel is willing to do anything to ensure your well-being, as well as the well-being of his child.

Words: 8.2k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, exhausted-Miguel, but also very soft-Miguel, hospitals, very bad science, like, really, really bad science, pain and screaming, syringes, blood, mentions of a difficult labour, births, a very cheesy and corny ending, untranslated Spanish (please correct me if any of it is wrong!). Do mention if I forgot something!

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm here to finally deliver Part 3 of (You're) My Antidote! This one is a little longer than the previous parts, but I guess you can figure out why. Also, I took very big artistic liberties with all of the science talk in this part. Please let me inform everyone that I DO NOW KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SCIENCE! Everything in here except for the childbirth part is COMPLETELY MADE UP!

So if there are any science majors or doctors out there reading this, please do not burn me at the stake. I really did try my best.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this series! I had a blast :)

“Her vitals are stable, but we don’t know how much longer they’ll stay that way.” Spider-Doc said, looking at the file on his tablet. “She’s lost a lot of blood and it’s likely she’ll feel weak and sick for a while. We might have to keep her here for a few days before she can return home.”

If she returns home at all.

Miguel was staring at you. Lovely, beautiful, sickly you, lying on a hospital bed. He watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, and winced when his eyes caught the oxygen mask that covered the lower half of your face.

After you’d started bleeding on your bed, he’d taken you to the Spider Society Medical Centre, worried sick. He’d refused to leave the room as every medically inclined Spider-Person ran exams on you. He wasn’t allowed inside your room (He might be the leader of Spider Society, but doctors were doctors, and it didn’t matter how worried he was – he wanted them to do the best they could with no distractions) and paced back and forth in front of the door, until eventually allowed back inside.

“And the baby?” he asked, unable to keep his eyes of you.

“Miraculously, the baby survived. We’re not sure what caused the bleeding, but one of our possible theories is that the baby is destroying her uterus from inside. All the thrashing around must’ve caused the bleeding. The baby is fine, and so is she, but we don’t know how long for.” Spider-Doc looked through his files, scribbling down things with a pen. “We will be able to run further exams, but only after she wakes up. Most of them require her consent.”

Miguel nodded and sat down next to your bed, holding your hand gently, afraid to break you. The oxygen mask covering your face was far too daunting, a harsh reminder of the state you were in, and how much you were suffering.

“What… What’s the probability of them both making it out alive?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

Spider-Doc sighed.

“We don’t know that yet, but… Miguel, it’s likely it won’t happen. The baby, it’s – it’s getting far too strong. It’s not a regular child because he has your genes. And all of the antidote you’ve been giving your wife, well, it soothes him for a while, but as I’m sure you’ve been told before, the baby is growing immune to it, and it’s only hurting your wife more and more.” He paused, glancing at you. “If we don’t find a way to cure it permanently, you might have to choose between one or the other.”

Miguel’s heart broke at the words.

How was he supposed to choose between the love of his life, and his child? His child, that he’d grown to love in this short period of time. The child he hadn’t gotten the chance to know yet, but still harboured a love as deep as the one he had for you.

But on the other hand, this was the child that was killing you.

He’d always wanted a family. You’d always wanted a family. He remembered the day you told him you were pregnant. How happy the two of you were, celebrating and fantasizing about the future, about your little family.

He’d get to come home to his loving wife and kid at the end of a tiring day, both reminding him of why he did what he did, why he risked his life over and over again for the sake of the multiverse. He’d cradle his baby on his arms, marvelling over how such a small, pure creature could’ve come from imperfect, impure him.

He’d watch you as you sang and rocked your baby to sleep, heart melting at the sight of you being a mother – a look he’d wanted on you ever since you told him you’d like a little family of your own.

And now, it was all going down the drain.

The baby was hurting you.

Miguel was hurting you too, with all those syringes and needles he made sure to insert into you. “It’s for your own good”, he’d say, eyes brimming with tears as you begged him not to. And yet, he insisted on sedating you and giving you the antidote, all to make sure you could keep on living.

Your reasoning started out as “Do it. I don’t mind the pain if our baby is fine” and had quickly changed to “You’re hurting him with your antidote Miguel, please stop.” What was Miguel supposed to do when your reasoning basically contradicted itself? You wanted the best for your child, and so did he. But the very thing that was curing it, was also causing it more harm.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miguel?” Spider-Doc asked, tugging the files back under his arm.

“No, thank you Doctor. That’ll be all.”

The doctor nodded and promptly left, allowing Miguel some alone time with his wife.

Usually, he’d make sure no one was there to see him as vulnerable as this. But today, Miguel did not care. The love of his life was dying, and because of the child he’d helped make.

It’s all my fault. I’m a freak. I’m a monster. If it weren’t for me, she’d have a normal pregnancy. She’d have a normal child, a normal family. If it weren’t for me being the monster I am, she wouldn’t be in pain. It’s all my fault. I’m a selfish bastard who should’ve never fallen for her in the first place. I knew I couldn’t give her a normal life like everyone else, so why did I still pursue her? If I truly did love her, I’d have left her alone and let her lead a normal life.

This was the internal monologue going inside Miguel’s head. He allowed himself to cry, big tears rolling down his cheek and falling on the floor. Was it selfish of him? Back when you started dating, you told him you didn’t care about who he was. Spider-Man, big Alchemax genius, saviour of the multiverse. You didn’t care for any of those titles. All you wanted was your Miguel, your Miggy. You told him you’d love him forever, no matter what.

You’d love him in his good days, you’d love him through his bad days. You’d kiss his scars and run your fingers through his head and calm him down. You’d celebrate his victories and comfort him during his losses. You’d be there, no matter what.

“I don’t care what you are, Miggy. I love you. Isn’t that enough?” Those were the words you’d always say to him whenever he tried to reason with you, telling you he was a dangerous man, that he could not provide you with the life you deserved. And you never missed a beat, replying “The life I deserve is with you. The life I want is with you.”

And had he been selfish for wanting that? Had he been selfish for wanting a life with you as well? Had he been selfish for fighting for what he wanted for once in his life, instead of giving it up?

A small, gentle hand tugged at his brown curls, and he looked up to find you staring at him through almost closed eyes. Your chest still rose and fell with your breathing, which seemed more stable now. Miguel couldn’t see the entirety of your face, but he found your eyes and the dam broke.

He sobbed into his hands, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry… This is all my fault… It’s my fault that I’m such a monster and have cursed our child with my genes…” Having heard this, you pulled on his hair, this time harsher. He looked up and saw your eyebrows furrowed in a frown. You shook your head gently and placed a finger to his lips, shutting him up. Your other hand found your stomach and rubbed circles there.

“If it weren’t for me…” Another harsh tug. He did not need to see the rest of your face to know you’d be scolding him right now if you could. You were never one to throw pity parties – you loved him, you said it often, and you were sure of your decisions.

“I love you,” he said, standing up to press a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes and instinctively leaned into his touch. “Get some rest, alright? I’ll be here if you need me.” Saying this, he sat back down on the chair, and quietly watched you.

Later that day, some of your closest friends of the Spider Society would stop to check up on you and wish you well. Peter B. brought Mayday and tried to cheer you up by allowing her to perform a series of stunts (if he could call “swinging around the hospital room with her web-shooter” stunts) and telling you jokes.

Jessica had dropped by your apartment and brought her some spare clothes, as well as some of the things she knew you couldn’t live without – your phone, the books you were currently interested in, and other basic items like a hairbrush and a toothbrush. Miguel hated what that implied – that you’d be in here for a while, long enough for you to need these things, but he was willing to do whatever was best to keep you safe.

Miles and Gwen stopped by too, chatting with you calmly and telling you about whatever shenanigans they had been up to in their respective dimensions. It always cheered you up to listen to those two talk. You loved how vibrant and passionate they were about their job as Spider-People, and they always made you insanely proud.

After a few hours, Miguel ushered everyone away, arguing that you needed peace and quiet. They all promised to come back later, and the two of you were left alone once again.

The Spider-Doctors had allowed you to remove your oxygen mask if you felt up for it, so you placed it near your body and tried to distract Miguel out of his worries.

“I’ve been thinking of a few baby names,” you said, caressing your stomach, an action that had become second nature to you.

“¿En serio?” he mumbled. Miguel had pushed his chair as close to your bed as possible, to make sure he could cater to you at all times and help you if you needed. He was currently laying his head next to your torso, and he was facing you. A rather uncomfortable position, but as long as he got to be next to you, that was all right.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking, if it’s a boy, we can call him Henry.”

Miguel snorted.

“What’s wrong with Henry?” you asked him, pouting.

“We’re not naming our child Henry.” Miguel deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

“I think it’s a lovely name.”

“Yes, maybe. But not for our child.”

You huffed, flicking his forehead softly.

“Ouch – hey! What was that for?” He asked, lifting his head ever so slightly.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” You looked away, visibly upset.

“No – no, look at me.” When you refused to do it, Miguel lifted his hand to turn your head towards his, so he could look you in the eye. “Mi vida, I’m sorry. I am taking this seriously. I just personally don’t really like Henry. What are some of your other ideas?”

You huffed again and he had to try and hide his smile. You looked rather adorable like this, even if he would never tell you.

“I like Lucas.”

“Hm.”

“You hate it.”

“I don’t – “

“You do, Miggy, I know it! I can see it in your face – that’s the same expression you had when you tried my mom’s empanadas.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Cariño, I love your mother, but those empanadas were terrible.” Miguel calmly replied.

“You’re making that same face now.”

“And how can you be so sure it’s a boy?”

“I told you, I can feel it. Call it maternal instinct.” You smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile with you.

“What do you think about Gabriel?”

Now it was your turn to furrow your brows.

“Gabriel? As in – “

“Yeah.” He looked at your stomach and hesitantly placed a hand on top of it. He wanted so badly to communicate with the baby growing inside of you, apologise to him for making him the way he was, and beg him to please stop hurting you. “What do you think?”

You hummed, and grinned.

“I love it.”

Miguel’s head snapped upwards, and his eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like it. Gabriel. I think it’s lovely.”

Miguel leaned upwards and placed the sweetest of kisses on your lips, savouring the sweetness of your words, your body, your soul.

“Gabriel it is then.”

You two remained in silence for a while, before you decided to speak up once again.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Your voice was low, and Miguel could sense the sheer adoration and utter love you had for your unborn child. “I can’t wait to hold him, and to see you hold him. I’ve always wanted a family with you.”

Miguel did not speak.

“It’ll be fine, Miggy. Everything will be fine.” It was odd. Usually, it was him who had to comfort you. After all, you were the one lying on a hospital bed. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

He looked up and offered you a small smile, taking your hand and giving it a kiss.

“I do. I love you too. You, and our baby. I would do anything for the both of you. You know that, don’t you?”

You smiled. A sad smile, that said everything you couldn’t find the words to.

“I do, Miggy.”

You puckered your lips, silently begging him for a kiss, which he obliged you with. He tilted your head upwards and kissed you slowly, tongue lazily tracing your bottom lip before you parted your mouth to welcome him. Although weak, your hands still found strength to clutch his shirt and pull him tighter against you.

“I can’t wait to have a family with you,” you whispered against his lips.

Miguel nodded and slowly untangled himself from your grasp.

“You should rest, my love.”

After you’d fallen asleep, Miguel exited the hospital room and made his way to his laboratory.

Lyla’s gleaming form appeared before him, taking her heart-shaped glasses so she could see him better.

“Miguel? Is that you?” she asked, disappearing from her spot, and appearing once again right in front of his face. “I heard what happened. I’m really sorry. Shouldn’t you be with her right now?”

“We need to work on a cure.” Miguel ignored her as he walked towards his workstation, glaring at the papers scattered around. Formulas, calculations, drawings, and sheets filled with words. He had to be getting closer to the cure, right? All those sleepless, restless nights couldn’t have been for nothing. Miguel was one of the smartest men in his universe, clearly there must’ve been something he hadn’t tried yet.

“Miguel, we’ve talked about this. You need to go to her,” Lyla sighed. If she could get tired, she would, really. “Jessica and I are still working on the research. We’re trying our hardest, but you have to – “

“We’re running out of time, Lyla!” Miguel yelled, sending the papers flying all over the room. “She’s getting worse. That baby is killing her, Lyla. It’s killing her, and the antidotes I’m coming up with are just hurting her more… You were right…” He placed his hands on his desk, leaning his head on the top. “You were right, the baby is growing immune and making the antidote stronger will only hurt her further… I don’t know what to do anymore…”

Lyla sighed, her figure flickering in the darkness. She appeared once more next to Miguel, looking at the few papers that managed to stay intact. Her holographic fingers ran through a few lines of text, analysing them.

“All of these formulas… You’ve been increasing the power of the antidote… Making it stronger and stronger to sedate the baby as much as you can… You’ve been far too aggressive on your approach, Miguel.”

“What?” he asked, not even daring to look up.

“Yeah, I mean,” Lyla flickered over to other papers, scanning them and reading them a few times, before returning to Miguel’s side and booting up her results to his computer. “Look at this. You’ve been so focused on sedating the baby, you haven’t even tried to build [Y/N]’s defences up.”

Miguel furrowed his brows, glancing at Lyla in disbelief.

“I did that. With patch 3.4. I fortified them, see?” Using his fingers, he tapped away on his screens, zooming in on a few lines and notes, and then sliding the screen so he could see the matching blood results. “See? Look at the white blood cells.”

“Yes, but still, you’re focusing too much on the offensive side of things.” Lyla quickly sparkled before his eyes, and in a flash, she was inserting sketches and drawings on the picture that shone on the screen. She was crossing out words and numbers and letters and replacing them with her own. “Look, over here. You decided to strengthen the defences, but you also doubled down on the sedative effects. You make it strong for yourself because you’re a grown man. We’re talking about a baby here.”

“A baby that is killing my wife.”

“A baby, nevertheless. The baby’s genes are triggering a response in [Y/N]’s body. What if we reprogram her white blood cells, specifically the T cells and natural killers cells, to recognise and neutralise the foreign elements?” Lyla turned to him and removed her sunglasses.

“We’re not messing with my wife’s genetic code, Lyla. That is out of the question.” Miguel knew the price one had to pay for such a thing. And he wasn’t about to risk your well-being. Who knew what could happen should he try to do something as drastic?

“But what if we don’t have to? We can reinforce the white blood cells in the antidote. We can tweak the core essence of the antidote itself, with Essence Cells – tiny protectors we can unleash to recalibrate the energy balance between her. They’ll form a shield that actively repels the negative influence from the baby’s unique energy pattern.”

Miguel placed a hand on his chin, going over what Lyla had told him.

It was true, he’d been far too preoccupied with tackling the baby issue. But he also knew that strengthening your defences could cause the baby to get stronger and stronger as opposed to stagnate.

“Essence Cells? Can we really do that?”

Lyla shrugged.

“It’s a stretch, but we’re dealing with extraordinary circumstances. If we manipulate the energy signatures in her bloodstream, we might create a defensive barrier that counteracts the harm all of the baby has been doing.”

Miguel faced his papers once again.

“It’s a long shot Miguel, but at this point, what do you have to lose?”

“I can lose [Y/N] – “

“What’s fortifying her defences gonna make? Worst case scenario, her immune system grows.”

Miguel stared at the screen. He remained silent.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Lyla voiced one last time.

It wouldn’t. If it worked, you’d be safe. The baby would be safe.

If it didn’t, he’d at least buy you more time.

And prolong your suffering, a little voice whispered in his head.

He shook that nasty thought away.

“Let’s do it.”

You’d been doing fine.

You’d been healthy, colour had returned to your cheeks, and you seemed to be healing just fine. The baby hadn’t caused much trouble, sometimes kicking you harder than a normal baby should, but, overall, behaving.

The new antidote mix seemed to be working.

Miguel was currently sitting by your side, reading your favourite book out loud. You claimed you were “far too tired” to pick it up, but Miguel knew you simply liked the cadence of his voice. No matter. He’d read to you as many times as you wanted if it meant you’d be fine.

“You sound so nice,” you mumbled, eyes slowly closing. You were close to falling asleep, although it wasn’t even near 3PM. Sure, you were healing, but having a baby that shared 50% of his genes with your vampire-ninja-spiderman husband (as Miles so charmingly put it) was tiresome, and you found yourself exhausted even before lunch time on most days.

“I’m sure the baby likes to hear you too,” you yawned. Miguel smiled at the sight. Although not the ideal location, this is all Miguel has ever wanted for you. A quiet, peaceful, healthy pregnancy with him catering to your every need, and you just sitting pretty as not to strain yourself much.

“I can’t wait to hear him,” rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, you sit up – or rather, try to. Miguel is next to you in milliseconds, propping you up with pillows and making sure you were comfortable.

“This alright?” he asked, fluffing up a pillow behind you.

“Perfect,” you smiled and kissed his jaw affectionately. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never good,” he chided with a fake worried expression.

“Ha ha, very funny. But I wanna get out of here.”

Miguel took a sharp breath.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Miggy, but I need to get out. Just for a while. I can walk, you know? I’m tired of being in this damn hospital bed for so long. I promise it’ll be fine; you can even come with me! Please? Exercising is good for the baby.”

“[Y/N]…” Miguel sighed, reaching out to hold your face.

You were quicker though and held his hands with your own.

“Please, Miguel. You can accompany me or chaperone me, or whatever you want to call it. But I’ve been getting better, and all I want is to move around a bit. I’ll be fine. And after we go for a walk, I’ll return to bed, I promise.”

Miguel looked into your pleading eyes and saw how badly you needed this. You’d been lying in a hospital bed for a few weeks now, after lying in your own bed at home for a few months. It wasn’t the greatest lifestyle, and how could he deny you something so simple? Two voices in his head fought against each other, one of them telling him that it was a terrible idea. The other one, however, assured him that you needed to get out and get some fresh air, because it’d be good for both you and your baby.

“Alright my love. Let’s go.”

You’d never been happier as you walked (waddled, more like) around the Spider Society with Miguel by your side. Ever the protective husband, he held your hand and kept you close, offering you any help around every 5 minutes.

Spider-People approached, gushed over your big baby bump, asked standard questions such as if you knew the gender, if you’d been thinking about names, and wishing you all the best in your pregnancy. Those who knew about your condition asked if the antidote had been working and offered to keep you company at the Medical Centre, which you gladly accepted.

Once you got to the cafeteria area, Miguel had to nearly physically restrain you, seeing as you almost ran to the empanada stall, claiming you were super hungry, and nothing except those godly cafeteria empanadas could soothe your craving.

“We’ll get you one, but you need to sit down,” Miguel said, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at that line! Miggy, they’ll be out of empanadas before we get there! We need to hurry!” You huffed.

Miguel chuckled and kissed your forehead, before leading you to a nearby table.

“Sit here and I’ll bring you the empanada. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly and waited for your husband to return.

After a while, Miguel came back, holding a few boxes – he wasn’t going to risk it. He knew you, and if you said you craved one empanada, what you actually meant was I’m craving a whole bunch of them. He noticed the small crowd that had gathered around you and had half a mind to send them all away, before he noticed who they were.

“I’m so glad you’re doing better, [Y/N].” Gwen Stacy said.

“Yeah – you got us all worried, you know?” Miles replied.

You smiled, having grown very fond of the kids. In a way, you saw them as your own children.

“Thank you. I’m getting better now – all thanks to Miguel. He’s a genius. Oh! Speak of the devil!” You reached out your hands and Miguel promptly handed you one of the empanada bags. You squealed in delight and opened the bag, wasting no time in sinking your teeth into it.

“Hmm – this is so good,” you groaned, mouth full (earning a side glance from Miguel). You finished chewing your bite and cleaned your mouth, and then turned to him. “Thank you, honey. Gosh, I really missed these.”

Gwen and Miles chuckled as they watched you chew on your empanada contentedly, and Miguel silently thanked whoever was watching over him for this moment. He felt normal for once. Just a husband taking care of his wife’s cravings and watching as she appeared to glow.

Things had been bad for a while, but thankfully, they were getting better. You were getting better.

“Miguel! Miguel, look!” Gwen shouted, breaking him out of his trance and pointing at you. He turned his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and that’s when he saw you.

The empanada had been forgotten and dropped on the floor, and you were panting, out of breath. One of your hands was placed on your stomach, the other was holding onto the bench for support.

“[Y/N]!” Miguel was immediately by your side, looking at you and accessing what was happening.

“Shit – shit, it hurts, Miggy. It hurts so much!” Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and a pained expression overtook your face. Before he could ask you what specifically hurt, you were letting out a horrifying scream and falling on the floor. Miguel’s reflexes were quicker and you instead fell on his lap, where he cradled you tightly against him.

You screamed and shrieked, Spider-People all around you stopping to glance at what was happening. Pavitr kneeled next to you in panic, holding your hand and encouraging you to squeeze it tightly, which you did (let it be known that he took it like a champ, focusing on you rather than on the pain you caused him). You turned to Miggy and sobbed, trying to explain what you felt, the way he always told you to do whenever you hurt.

Unfortunately, the pain was far too much to endure, and every two words from you were interrupted by ear-piercing wails.

Miguel didn’t want to leave you. Not at all. He wasn’t going to leave you alone while you suffered and cried in his arms. But he needed to get to his lab as soon as possible, and he couldn’t do that with you. He couldn’t possibly risk hurting you.

In a split second, he made a decision he never thought he’d ever make in his life.

“Peter, Hobie, Pavitr, take [Y/N] back to the Medical Centre.”

“Miguel, no – “ you sobbed, clutching onto his suit.

“Mi vida, I need to go to my lab and reach your files – “

“No – “ You flashed a thousand colours in front of him. Chunky blocks of colour replaced your figure and rearranged it repeatedly. You felt lightweight in his arms, and his heart sunk at the realisation. He’d felt this weight before, held it as its colours sparked dimmer and dimmer.

You were glitching. Again.

Panic overtook him, clouding his judgement.

Shock. What was he going to do? Why were you glitching? He’d stopped giving you that patch of antidote he’d gotten from another universe. Hell, he’d promised never to return there after you’d glitched the first time.

So, what in the world was causing this?

“Miguel?”

Why were you suffering?

“Miguel?”

Hadn’t you suffered enough? Was this the world’s cruel way of punishing him?

“Miguel!”

It was Peter B.’s voice that brought him back to reality.

“We need to get her to the Medical Centre. You go to your lab and find a cure. Now.”

Miguel didn’t need to be told twice. He held you tightly one more time, kissed your forehead when your frame stopped sparkling, and all but ran to his lab.

Once he got there, Lyla flickered in front of him, pixelated eyes widening in fear.

“Miguel!”

He looked up and saw as she returned to his keyboard and pointed at the screen.

“The Essence Cells are causing a temporal instability in [Y/N]’s physiology.” She exclaimed, typing away.

Miguel huffed; face contorted in anger. “I thought you said this was safe, you said the worst that could happen – “

“I had no idea this would happen! Miguel, it wasn’t supposed to! But it’s too late for that, we need to work on a cure.” Lyla appeared in front of the screen and urgently pointed at it. “[Y/N]’s sense of time is becoming warped. She might be experiencing moments from different timelines, different realities. It’s as if the Essence Cells are opening windows to parallel words within her. But this wasn’t supposed to happen. [Y/N] hasn’t been exposed to any other dimensions or universes. Ever. Not before, not during her pregnancy. This is completely unexpected.”

Lyla’s words sunk in.

She hasn’t been exposed to any other dimensions or universes.

“Mierda,” he whispered, nearly collapsing on her knees.

Lyla knew what that expression meant. She knew what that voice meant, and she did not like it one bit.

“Miguel…?” she asked tentatively. “What have you done…?”

He shook his head and glanced at his hands. Was it his fault then? Was this all his fault? Perhaps if he hadn’t given you that foreign antidote, you’d be fine now. The Essence Cells would do their job, and you wouldn’t be suffering. It’s all his fault.

“Miguel, tell me what you’ve done, now. The quicker we know what the problem is, the better we can deal with it!”

“I… I travelled to another dimension…” he mumbled; voice numb. “It was a few months ago, I… I was desperate and reached out to another me, a better me… He gave me this antidote, said it wouldn’t fail… Lyla, I was desperate – I didn’t want to lose [Y/N]! I didn’t know what else to do!” When Miguel finally looked up, Lyla could see he was crying.

His next words carried all the heartbreak he felt, and even with no feelings, Lyla felt something resembling a heart breaking inside of her.

“I didn’t want to lose her, Lyla. I was desperate. It’s all my fault now, isn’t it?”

Yes, it was, but Lyla was not about to tell that to her clearly very disturbed boss. Instead, she did what she did best.

She got to work.

“You’re an idiot, Miguel O’Hara,” she sighed in exasperation before taking a deep breath. “But you already know that. Now, stand up and stop moping around. Your wife and child need your help.”

Miguel looked up at her, like a lost puppy being offered a home.

“Do you want to save your wife or not? Get up and let’s work!”

Something switched inside of Miguel. Maybe it was the way Lyla did not hold him accountable, maybe it was the determination in her voice, but one thing was for sure: he was going to save you, no matter what.

“Alright.” He stood up, making his way to his work bench in two strides. “What do we need to do?”

“We need to recalibrate the Essence Cells – tweak their energy signatures. If we can stabilize Mary’s temporal fluctuations, maybe we can minimize these glimpses into alternate realities.”

“More Essence Cells aren’t the solution – they’re making everything worse. The Essence Cells must still be reacting to whatever remnants of the other antidote still remain in her body. She hasn’t glitched in a while, so maybe they’re dying out, but I can’t risk it. We can’t.” Miguel mumbled, scribbling over more papers, and comparing them.

“Okay, what about changing our approach?”

“We’ve done that before, Lyla, and it didn’t work, and [Y/N] is in pain, and – “

“Stop being so stubborn and listen to me!” Lyla yelled. “Remember to keep your heart out of this – you’re a scientist, remember? Be logical. Instead of amplifying, we need to anchor. Maybe the Essence Cells are intensifying the glimpses because they’re acting like amplifiers. We introduced them to strengthen her defences, remember? They’re amplifying her immune system. Maybe we need something more stable.”

Miguel nodded. She was right. He needed to remain clear-headed – panicking would not do. Logic and reason would help him. “You might be right – but what could possibly anchor these fluctuations without harming her? Lyla, we’ve tried about everything.”

Lyla chewed on her little pixelated pencil.

She flickered all around the lab, appearing and disappearing in front of papers. She scanned some and left others alone. She organised all the information that proved to be relative, before pasting it to Miguel’s computer.

“Of course!” She cried out. “How did I not thing of this before?”

“What? What is it?” ´

“Miguel, your blood!” Lyla appeared in front of him, nodding so vigorously, her heart-shaped glasses fell off. “It carries your genes, doesn’t it? If we use a controlled amount of your blood, we might be able to create an antidote that stabilizes the Essence Cells, anchoring [Y/N]’s experience to a single reality!”

Miguel frowned. He hadn’t thought about using his blood. In his head, it meant he’d be injecting some more of the same genes that were hurting you in your body.

“I don’t understand. How could my blood possibly work?”

“Your blood contains the original genetic code we’re trying to counteract. By introducing it in a carefully measured way, we can neutralize the amplifying effect of the Essence Cells – “

“And stabilize [Y/N]’s physiology.”

“Exactly! And that’s not the only thing – with your blood, we can create an antidote that not only stabilises her condition, but also creates a protective barrier around the baby!”

“My genes were what got us in this whole mess in the first place,” Miguel mumbled. “But perhaps by using it, we can design the antidote to shield the baby from the harmful aspects of her glitching, while still allowing the natural and healthy development of their unique traits. My unique traits. Lyla, you’re a genius!” Miguel shouted, swinging towards another one of his work benches, this one filled with vials and needles.

“I know, I know. But say it one more time, just to make sure you mean it!”

A few members of the Spider Society gushed and worried about you, refusing to leave your side. Pavitr still held your hand, even though his was turning purple and getting numb. Gwen slowly petted your head, keeping you grounded by telling you stories and anecdotes about her day. Hobie was trying his best too – he had a soft spot for you and tried to make you laugh every few minutes, just to make sure you were okay.

The glitching had stopped for a while, but not completely. You thought of them as contractions that took longer and longer to come as time went by. Just where the hell was your sweet Miguel?

Almost as if answering your prayers, he burst in the room, holding a needle in his hand. Everyone immediately got out of his way, and he kneeled next to you. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and scanned your face for any further injuries, which you did not seem to have. Good. If all went according to plan, you wouldn’t feel any pain any longer.

“I’m here, mi vida, I’m here.” He whispered softly, guiding your arm towards his chest.

“Miggy, it hurts,” you whispered back, dry tears staining your lovely cheeks. He kissed each, before settling the needle on top of your skin. “I don’t want it to hurt again, please don’t….”

“I know, my love, I know. But I have to do this.” Miguel placed his forehead against yours. “It’ll stop. I promise, it’ll stop. You’ve been so brave up until now, haven’t you? You’ve been so brave for our child. It’ll be so lucky to call you mother.”

“Gabriel.” You nodded, trying not to tear up again.

“Yeah, Gabriel. He’ll be so lucky to call you his mother.” Miguel wiped the sweat out of your brow, slowly pushing the needle inside of you. You winced in pain and shrieked, back arching off the bed as the baby inside you stirred and stirred. Miguel ignored your cries and pushed through. You needed this, you needed this antidote, because this one would work. After so many failed attempts, this was the antidote patch that would finally work.

Miguel wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if it did not.

He prayed to whoever deity was up there, and watched as you slowly regained your breath and laid down on the hospital bed once more. Your posture was relaxed, calm. It was as if a big weight was lifted off your body.

“My love?” Miguel asked, brushing some strands off hair from your face. “How are you feeling?”

He was expecting any kind of reaction. Tears, screaming, silence.

Nothing prepared him for what happened next.

You started to laugh.

To laugh.

To truly laugh, after so long.

You giggled and giggled, hands reaching around your belly.

“I’m – I’m amazing, Miggy!” You laughed and looked at him, with tears in your eyes. But this time, they were tears of happiness. “I hadn’t felt this great since before I was pregnant!” You laughed again and nuzzled his nose with your own. You ignored everyone else in the room and smiled as your husband took your face in his hands and kissed your breath away. You responded with just as much fervour, stopping mid-kiss to chuckle. “I feel amazing, Miguel. Thank you. Thank you so much. You did it. I can feel it my love, you did it.”

Miguel let a few tears of relief roll down his cheeks. You kissed them away and invited him to place his hands on top of your belly.

“Can you feel it?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“Not much. Are they supposed to be kicking?”

“No,” you smiled, shaking your head, “Not at all. He’s calmed down. All thanks to you.”

Miguel kneeled once again and smiled.

You were doing fine. You were well, and so was your baby.

Later, Spider-Doc would come to bring the results of your new analysis. The baby, even though still carried Miguel’s genes, now did so with stability. He was healthy and you were no longer glitching.

All was well.

Until you were dragged to the same hospital room a few weeks later.

Miguel doesn’t remember much.

It was honestly all very fuzzy.

All he does remember though, are a bunch of voices yelling at each other, and how he had refused to leave your side. Hell would freeze over before he even considered leaving you.

“[Y/N], we’re going to need you to push now, is that okay?” your delivery nurse (a Spider-Woman, since Miguel refused any other hospital to see you – after all, the Spider Society had the best doctors – and, well, best everythings.)

You nodded, sweat clinging to your whole body. Miguel was next to you, and you were holding his hand as tight as you could.

“C’mon mi amor, you can do this. You can do this, alright?”

“Mhm!” You whimpered.

“Ready? One, two, three – “

You screamed, pushing as hard as you possibly could. Your eyes were watery, and you were shaking your head repeatedly, begging for this torment to stop.

“One more time [Y/N], come on!” The nurse repeated, looking at you and nodding encouragingly.

“Uh-oh,” Spider-Doc blurted behind Miguel, which made the latter tense up immediately. Uh-Oh? What did he mean, Uh-oh?

“The baby’s oxygen levels are low; we may need to intervene.”

“What?” Miguel’s head turned in the doctor’s direction. “What’s happening? Doctor, what’s happening to my wife?! Tell me!”

Spider-Doc looked at the other doctors in the room, and they all nodded at the same time.

“Get him out of the room.”

“What?!”

“Miggy!” You cried, not letting go of his hand.

“Miguel, you need to leave right now, we can’t have you in here. You’ll just cause more complications, add stress to the doctors, and consequently, your wife.”

“Doc, with all due respect, there’s no way I’m going to abandon her when she needs me the most.”

That was the last thing Miguel said before the door’s room was slammed in his face.

Well. So much for never abandoning you.

“Pendejo de mierda…”

Miguel sat down, leaning his back against the wall, and staring at the ceiling. There was nothing he wanted more than to be in that room with you, holding your hand and promising you all was going to be fine. He was your husband, for shock’s sake. He wanted to protect you, and he sure as hell couldn’t do it from outside the room.

He turned his head and tried to listen to whatever noises might be coming from inside. The soundproof qualities of the hospital seemed to be proving useful, since he couldn’t make out a thing – which only made him even more nervous. What if you were scared? Panicked? What if you needed him? What if the doctors needed anything? Any information on your blood type, on your pregnancy? He had all these answers.

And most importantly, he wanted to be there for you.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door next to him opened ever so slightly.

Spider-Doc looked around, before settling his gaze on the ground next to him.

“Miguel?” he asked, to which the other man immediately stood up upon hearing.

“Yes? Is everything okay? How is my wife? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Spider-Doc smiled, opening the door more, and making way for Miguel could come through. “There were a few complications with the baby, namely, the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. That’s why the oxygen levels were low. Thankfully, we intervened at the right time. Your wife is fine, and so is your baby.”

Miguel sighed deeply in relief. The weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. That’s all he wanted to hear.

“And, according to her, your presence is needed. Urgently.”

He did not wait a second before walking inside the room, looking around to access his surroundings. No one seemed to be panicking, there were no nervous nurses and doctors rushing about. And then he heard it.

The piercing cry that seemed to come from one of the extremities of the room.

He approached, carefully, almost as if scared. After all, he wasn’t sure of what he was going to find. But whatever he might’ve thought about, did not hold a candle to the real thing.

In the hospital bed next to him, were you, lying down. Your forehead was glistening with sweat and your breath was still evening out. Your eyes were red and puffy, and so were your lips, from all the tears you’d spilled. When you looked up at him, they sparkled again, threatening to water once more.

“Hey,” you whispered, meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” Miguel replied, staying still.

“Come meet your son,” you said and looked at the baby neatly bundled near your chest. Miguel stepped forward, and if his breath hadn’t been stolen before, it definitely was now.

Close to you, you held a tiny, tiny little baby. There were a few strands of curly brown hair on top of his head, and his eyes were closed, tiny fists closed in the same fashion. He wailed them around, shattering cries erupting from his throat. How come such a small baby could make so much noise?

You shushed him softly, caressing his cheek and whispering soothing words. The baby seemed to listen, because he became quietly right after, big, sparkling eyes coming to stare at you curiously.

“They’re yours,” Miguel nearly choked out, stepping forward. “Our baby has your eyes.”

You smiled at your husband and nodded, cooing at your child.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

Miguel’s eyes widened.

“He?”

He could barely believe it.

“Told you. Maternal instinct is never wrong,” you chuckled, gushing at how your son held onto your finger as if it were his lifeline. “Would you like to hold him?”

Miguel nodded, and you carefully handed the baby to him. Big, bad, scary Miguel O’Hara was melting as he held his teeny tiny baby in his arms for the first time.

“Careful with the head,” you chided softly, to which he obliged.

Miguel stared at the baby in his arms. Well, more like the baby in his hands. He was so big; his hands almost covered his tiny body entirely. Miguel brought him close, smiling. The baby’s tiny lips were opened, eyes almost as if scrutinizing his father. Miguel chuckled at the sight – a few minutes old, and he was proving to be just like him already.

Miguel looked between the baby and you.

“Gabriel,” he whispered, searching for recognition in your eyes.

You granted him just that, accompanied by a smile.

“Gabriel. Little Gabriel O’Hara. He looks just like you, doesn’t he?”

Miguel nodded. He pulled up a chair and sat next to your bed, still holding little Gabriel. You reached out to him, tracing patterns on his arm.

“He’s perfect, [Y/N]. He’s just perfect. Thank you so much. I thought you’d given me the greatest gift I could’ve ever asked for when we first got married,” he took his eyes off Gabriel to glance at you. “But like always, you’ve managed to surprise me. You gave me a son.”

Your smile widened and used your free hand to caress the baby’s small head.

“I’m sorry I gave you so much trouble,” he continued, voice dropping in agony. “If it weren’t for me… If it weren’t for these bloody genes…”

“Shh – don’t say another word.”

“[Y/N], please, you must know – “

“I won’t hear it.” You looked at him directly in his eyes. Those lovely, lovely brown eyes that you loved waking up to, and had sometimes even fantasized about your son inheriting. “I love you, Miguel. All of you. And I would do it all again if it meant I got to have you and our son right here, right now. You were right, it all worked out. Everything is fine. I have you, and I have our son. Our little Gabriel. And everything’s going to be alright.”

Miguel teared up himself.

Had this been his reward? What had he done to ever deserve you? Whatever it was, he was forever grateful.

He gazed down upon his son, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Gabriel’s dark eyelashes rested peacefully on top of his cheeks, and his pouty lips were slightly parted. He was perfect. Perfect in every way. He looked every bit like himself – but there was a soften on his features that reminded him of him.

“He seems so peaceful. You can’t fool me you little rascal, I know the troubles you caused your mother. You’ll pay for it someday,” Miguel joked, earning a giggle from you.

“He’s every bit like his father then. You’ve gotten me some troubles yourself, mister.”

“That I have.”

You two remained like this, in silence, for a few minutes, basking in this beautiful moment. It had been a rocky road, but you’d made it. Here you were, still standing, safe and sound. And here was your little Gabriel, resting peacefully on his arms.

Everything was right as it should be.

“I love you.” Miguel spoke. There were no words to describe what he was feeling now, but he thought this was a good way to start. “I love you so much. I love you and our son and our little family. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”

“I love you too Miguel. And our son.” You smiled. Shock, you looked marvellous. You always looked beautiful, and he was sure he’d never seen you look so beautiful first when you got married, then on your wedding night, and then the day you told him you were pregnant. But right here, right now – this was the most beautiful he’d ever seen you.

“I’ll take care of you two forever, mi vida. Te lo prometo. I’ll be by your side until the end of time.” He reached out to wrap an arm around you, bringing you as close to his body as he could without hurting you.

Miguel had always been a truthful man.

But right now, as he held the entire world in both his arms, he swore he had never been so truthful as he pledged his undying love for you and Gabriel.

“You saved me, Miguel.” You mumbled, turning your face away from your son to look him in the eye. “You were my antidote after all.”

Miguel shook his head, kissing your forehead. You were terribly corny – a trait he found immensely charming in you.

“And you were mine.”

Everything was just fine.

Miguel had you, and his son.

He had you and Gabriel.

Everything was perfect.

A/N: And that's it! That's the ending! I hope that you guys liked it, and that it lived up to your expectations. I definitely missed writing for Miggy! My requests are open, so feel free to send in any ideas you might have for him! I'm excited to see what you guys have in mind!

Anyway, thank you all, and I hope you have a wonderful day ahead!

Taglist

@tarjapearce , @estella-satn , @meganswife , @cold-blooded-girls , @marcswife21 , @edgycatx

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse fanfiction

333 notes · View notes

arachine · 1 year

Text

— what's going on down there?: a dick analysis

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their human forms + avatar forms

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol

ᥫ᭡ note :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means they’re not to be taken seriously.

— jake “ima slut you out” sully

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: as we all know, jake’s life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remained—that dick! jake is a survivor, through and through—his personal motto is: if it ain’t broken, then it’s still working—and boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower.

⟳ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and that’s all that matters!

⟳ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when he’s flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesn’t really care? i mean, trimming isn’t foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices it’s gotten to be too long…but, i don’t think it’s something that he does often. to him, it’s just hair. he’s on his grown man shit, you know?

02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncé lyric? yeah.

03. any veins?: absolutely covered in ‘em

04. how he fucks with it: i’d like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseur—come on, it’s jake we’re talking about here. can’t nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillows…mans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: the masses may attack me, but it’s time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressive…

⟳ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!

⟳ color: self explanatory tbh, it’s fucking blue. as blue as papa smurf’s ass.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that because he’s an avatar, he grows hair there. even if i’m wrong, i’m right. i don’t give a damn what james cameron says. he’s basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! just…the idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shit…does something to me. idk. don’t ask me why i’m so nasty, blame my deadbeat father.

02. curved?: is a banana yellow? there’s your answer.

03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so many…so, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said.

04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now that’s got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like he’s on a mission. what’s that one tik tok audio? “rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.” yeah, he lives by that.

— miles “on your knees, cadet!” quaritch

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. he’s huge. like pussy splitting huge. i don’t care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches!

‘booooo’ you say, well, guess what? it’s the truth, and i’m just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, he’s just that guy.

⟳ width: surprisingly average. but it’s okay, sometimes you can’t have the best of both worlds.

⟳ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, i’m gonna stick with that and say that it’s a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i don’t know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. it’s a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of gre—anyway, i digress!)

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so he’s all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i don’t think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fade…just imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah.

02. curved?: yes, and since he’s older, it’s probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. it’s definitely useful for something!

03. any veins?: god, i don’t know why, but i have it in my head that he’s on steroids. he’s just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fit…but he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick.

04. how he fucks with it: don’t let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but he’s still a young man at heart—and he’s definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because he’s got a size kink—and definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when you’re fucking him, don’t expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: so big you can see it from space; that’s how the RDA mfs know they’re close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, it’s still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inches—maximum.

⟳ width: probably twice as thick as a human’s forearm. and god, it’s sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match.

⟳ color: blue blue blue…like wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and it’s probably really straight because na’vi hair is straight as fuck.

02. curved?: sir, yes sir.

03. any veins?: what’d i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc he’s so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.

04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so i’m betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: can’t stop, won’t stop.

— norm “what’s the sq root of 69?” spellman

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: i’m sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but he’s not that big. when he’s soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard.

⟳ width: skinny dick.

⟳ color: dawg he’s so white, it’s like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when he’s aroused, it looks like there’s something wrong.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: like jake, i don’t think he really cares.

02. curved?: straight like a pencil

03. any veins?: like two, and they’re really prominent because he’s so fucking pale.

04. how he fucks with it: i don’t think human norm is getting puss, let’s be real.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.C—nerds with big cocks. it’s just the universe’s way of saying thank you, they just…they just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. he’s now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when pete’s looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandora’s atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking.

⟳ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.

⟳ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: no, he’s too busy in the lab and getting na’vi puss.

02. curved?: unfortunately no

03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.

04. how he fucks with it: norm’s got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like he’s scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think norm’s a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women who’ll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, he’s a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!

#jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch smut #avatar x reader #avatar x reader smut #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water smut #atwow x reader #atwow smut

3K notes · View notes

bosbas · 3 months

Text

Alternate Ending: I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

series masterlist original ending || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x wife!reader WC: 5.2k words (whoops I got carried away)

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, benedict being so down bad for this woman, unrequited love, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy/birth

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: The timeline for this ending diverges after chapter 12!! This is how life would look like if Chapter 13 and onward didn't happen.

March 3, 1820 - B,

I apologize for my delayed response – I’m sure you’ll understand that I was a tad occupied giving birth. But she’s finally here! It was easier than the other three, so I'm personally delighted, though Anthony seemed just as stressed as usual. And, as usual, he'll most likely be resting for the next five days. If he ever stops looking at her in awe, that is. It would be quite adorable if I didn't need to wrestle her away from him to nurse her every few hours!

Although, I will say that Anthony being taken with her has worked out quite well for me. I was able to finish my novel and get a full night's sleep last night. I'd love to see you soon if you're up for it. You can meet her and we can discuss your latest painting, which I heard was absolutely breathtaking. Anthony and I will both be home for the next week at least, so feel free to pop by any time.

Yours, Y/I

You finished addressing the envelope to Benedict right as Anthony walked into your bedroom holding the tiny form of your newborn daughter. Twisting in your seat to face them, you cooed when you saw her fast asleep in his arms. She was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and you couldn’t help but marvel at her tiny fists opening and closing absentmindedly as she slept. She looked so peaceful in Anthony’s arms, and it was terrifying to think that a human being this small would grow up to be an adult and that you would have to guide her through it. Well, she would have Anthony too, you thought. And the thought did a lot to quell your fears.

For as long as you had known him, Anthony had been a steadfast figure in your life. He’d been the eldest of the Beaumont-Bridgertons, and he certainly acted like it, too. The responsibility he felt for his family was evident in everything he did, and it was one of the qualities you admired most about him. Now, seeing Anthony cradle your newborn daughter with such gentleness and awe only solidified your feelings for him.

You had decidedly not been in love when you had married him, but one couldn’t simply have four children with someone and not develop at least a little affection for them. The two of you had been wonderful friends even before you were married, and you still were, but along the way, it seemed that you had learned to love each other in your own funny sort of way. It wasn’t the sort of all-consuming love you had for Benedict all those years ago, and that perhaps you had still in a corner of your heart. But it was comforting and safe and built upon a deep respect for one another, and your life was all the better for it.

Perhaps you and Ben had never been destined for a life like this, you thought. Your childhood intention to wed Benedict had been just that: a naïve plan. That night in the studio with Benedict, after he had found out in the most unfortunate manner that you and Anthony were courting, you had needed something safe and constant. And Benedict had given you the complete opposite. For so many years, he had been your anchor, but that night you felt like the ground had fallen away below your feet and you were in free fall. You had so much love for Benedict that you didn’t even know where to put it. You could feel it from your heart to your fingertips, and it was terrifying. You thought about Violet and Edmund in that moment, and how destroyed Violet had been when Edmund passed. The thought of that happening to you and Benedict made you sick. The thought of taking the risk and putting your heart in his hands only for it to crumble.

Maybe running away from Benedict at that moment was the cowardly thing to do. Maybe you should have faced your fears and given in to the overpowering love. Maybe you should have kissed your best friend and dealt with the consequences later, holding his hand the whole way through. But you hadn’t. You had sought out safety instead, running up the stairs to Anthony’s room and knocking incessantly until he opened the door, eyes startled and hand holding a handkerchief to his cut lip.

“We’re getting married,” you had declared, breathing ragged and arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked, hoping you meant you and Benedict but suspecting otherwise given that you were currently at his door looking furious.

“You and me. And we’re going to do it as soon as possible.”

Anthony uttered a soft, “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. “And Benedict…” he added in a questioning tone.

“No,” you said firmly. “No Benedict.”

He had expected you to say more, but you just stood in front of him, unmoving.

“I suppose I can start the arrangements,” Anthony said finally. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I am sure.”

God, Benedict must have truly done something stupid, he thought. “Very well, then.”

“Good night, Anthony. We can inform our families of our engagement tomorrow morning.”

He just nodded in response, still too stunned to fully process your words.

You cleared your throat and your stoic façade faded slightly. “And thank you, Anthony. For everything,” you said, suddenly very aware of what being married to Anthony might mean.

He shook his head. “No, no. It was nothing. You are family.”

A month later, you were married at the church near Aubrey Hall. Benedict barely stayed long enough to see the two of you say your vows, citing an urgent problem with his cottage in the countryside. His family was kind enough not to question his obviously fabricated excuse, but he couldn’t miss the endless looks of pity sent his way. He had been hurt. Well, you had hurt him. You hurt him when you walked away from him, and you hurt him when you announced your engagement to your family without telling him first, but most of all, you hurt him when you chose Anthony even after two decades of history with Benedict.

Maybe none of your fears would have come true, and you and Ben would have been happy. Maybe he would have treated your heart with the same love and care with which he always treated you. But it didn’t do to dwell on what could have been. Your marriage with Anthony was real. It was concrete and it was grounding, and you couldn’t imagine a more stable presence in your life.

Bringing you out of your musings, you felt Anthony kiss your cheek in greeting and ask, “Do you want to take her?”

You nodded eagerly, setting down the letter in your hand so you could hold your daughter. “I’m surprised you’re willingly letting me have her,” you teased, laughing as Anthony all but collapsed onto the loveseat across from you, clearly exhausted.

He had been an awfully attentive father the past few days, ecstatic to finally have a girl after three boys. Though she had brought out a heightened sense of protectiveness he couldn’t seem to shake. It was rather endearing to see him so frazzled over a baby that weighed less than eight pounds, but you suspected there might be something more to it.

“She’s so tiny!” he defended, gaze fixed on her admittedly minuscule form in your arms. “I can’t help it…” He trailed off, deep in thought. You glanced up at him, noticing the change in his tone and his hunched posture. After five years of marriage, you had him memorized, and reading him came as naturally as reading a book.

“Is anything the matter?” you asked gently, already having a general idea about what was plaguing him.

But he shook his head, murmuring a soft no and focusing on the writing desk behind you instead. “Is that for Benedict?” he inquired, nodding in the direction of the letter.

“Yes, I’m just telling him that she’s here and asking him to come visit,” you answered, still eyeing him carefully.

“So, he’s coming to visit, then?” pressed Anthony, eyes back on your daughter, who was currently sleeping soundly in your arms.

“Well, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Why do you ask?” You changed tactics, trying to seem nonchalant about your concern.

“Alright. That’s good. Yes, that’s good,” he muttered, seemingly satisfied with your answer but his mind was obviously miles away.

Growing increasingly worried, you stood up and carefully laid your daughter in her crib, ensuring she remained undisturbed. With her settled, you approached Anthony, who hadn't shifted his gaze from where you had been sitting. Kneeling beside him, you reached out and gingerly placed your hand on his. The touch seemed to quiet his restless thoughts, and he turned to meet your eyes, acknowledging the weight of his anxiety.

Anthony spoke softly, carefully. “I just want to make sure that you and the children are taken care of. In case something happens to me. I want you to have someone.”

You should have known that this was what plagued him. During the first year of your marriage, you settled into a comfortable dynamic with Anthony. It was not quite love, but something like it had blossomed between the two of you. However, it was after the birth of your first son, Arthur, that Anthony reached a breaking point. He realized that his grand plan to marry someone he didn’t love to avoid any undue heartbreak was not, in fact, foolproof. Even if there hadn’t been growing affection between you, Anthony completely fell in love with Arthur from the moment he was born. It was like nothing he’d experienced before; beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was terribly frightening.

He had shared his fears with you–he’d had no choice in the matter when you were as stubborn and insistent as you were–and you had shared that you, too, were scared. But you trusted one another, and so the two of you navigated parenthood in tandem and Anthony’s fears subsided. Regardless, you could understand that the birth of your daughter brought back this fear in full force, and he felt a greater need to protect her from danger than he would with his sons.

“Anthony, I won’t need someone. You’re right here, and you always will be.”

He shook his head, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. “How can you know that?”

You pursed your lips, brows furrowing. “Even if you aren’t, it won’t be your fault. You’re a wonderful father. And a wonderful husband.”

With a deep sigh, he clasped your hand and stood up, bringing you with him. “Just promise me you’ll ask Benedict to take care of you if I go?”

Your heart softened. Knowing he needed to hear you say it out loud, you nodded, “I promise.”

---

March 5, 1820 – Y/I,

One would think Anthony had been the one to give birth instead of you! I’ll pop by today to give him a talking-to. And to meet my lovely niece, of course.

Yours, B

You found yourself in the nursery this afternoon, your three boys gathered around you and your daughter fast asleep in her crib. It was a lovely day out; sunny but not too hot, but the boys hardly noticed. Instead, they sat still, completely enthralled as you read from your current novel. Though you adored reading to your children, you found children’s books rather boring and repetitive. Thus, you had shifted to reading them excerpts from your own reading material. It made the endeavor much more interesting, and the boys seemed to love it too, evident as they hung on your every word.

“‘Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder,’” you read, and your sons gasped, not quite understanding the meaning of the word but easily catching onto your surprised reaction. You continued, “‘and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I ask-’”

“Surely I’ve heard wrong and you’re not reading to your children about murder!” came Benedict’s voice from the doorway.

Immediately, three voices squealed in delight and Frankenstein was completely forgotten as your sons rushed over to their uncle. Charles was only one year old, but his brothers’ excitement only fueled his clumsy crawl toward Benedict’s waiting arms.

“They don’t exactly know what it means, Ben,” you laughed. “Besides, it’s wonderful literature. And it keeps them entertained.”

He picked up Charles in one arm and Arthur in the other, making his way over to you as Bernard clung to his leg. “Well, I’m sure you know better than me, darling,” he commented and kissed you sweetly on the top of your head.

“Isn’t that usually the case?” you teased, standing up to properly greet your best friend. Though you hadn’t joined the welcome committee, you were positively glowing now that Ben had arrived. It had been over a week since you had seen him, and you had missed him terribly. You smiled brightly, instantly at ease in his presence.

Eyebrows raised and eyes shining with mirth, he teased back, “You forget I have three very bloodthirsty boys on my side who have just learned what murder is.”

You looked at Arthur, who was completely focused on attempting to undo Benedict’s cravat, and Charles, who had two fingers in his mouth and was unsuccessfully attempting to put in a third, then glanced back at Benedict.

“Quite bloodthirsty, aren’t they?” you deadpanned as you gently pried Charles’ hand from his mouth.

Ben couldn’t help the waves of laughter rolling off him as he observed your sons. “It seems they still have a way to go before they get there.”

Then, spotting the pink crib across the room, he gasped and set down Arthur and Charles and somewhat successfully shook Bernard off his leg. Walking over to the crib, he stared at her, completely awestruck.

"She’s so tiny!” he exclaimed, careful to keep his voice down so as not to wake her.

You giggled, making your way over. “That’s exactly what Anthony said,” you smiled at him.

But your smile did nothing to soothe the dull ache that had blossomed in his chest as he remembered all the things he could have had with you. The pain was not as unbearable now as it had been five years ago, but he was inclined to think that it would be there for the rest of his life. In the back of his mind, Benedict wondered if he would have been as good of a father as Anthony. He supposed he would never know, having devoted himself completely to his art and extinguishing any lingering hopes Violet had that her second son would ever marry. But you seemed happy, and that was truly all that mattered.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he smiled sweetly back down at you. “What’s her name? Something starting with a D, I’m sure. Otherwise, Anthony will have lost his mind.”

“Yes, naturally,” you giggled. You tugged on Ben’s sleeve to bring him closer to the crib. “Benedict, meet Diana Bridgerton.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bridgerton,” he murmured, intently observing your daughter as she slowly blinked her eyes open.

“Quite eager to meet her uncle,” you observed, but Benedict was too mesmerized by her to respond properly.

“She’s got your eyes,” he whispered after a few seconds, turning back to you and placing an arm around you. Your arm snaked around his back, and you drew him in a little closer.

Leaning down to place his cheek on your head and hugging you tighter, he spoke softly, “I thought you might name her Daisy. Flower names and all that. Besides, it starts with a D.”

Benedict didn’t quite know where the comment had come from. You hadn’t mentioned flower names in years, but the thought had suddenly popped into his brain quite unexpectedly and he had been unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. He knew he was so incredibly lucky to know you and to love you and to have a friendship with you, but it was at times like these when he wished he didn’t know you quite so well. At times when knowing you was only a reminder of what he lost.

In that moment, you were thankful to be facing Diana’s crib instead of Benedict, because you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes. The flower names. Of course Benedict would have remembered. You had never truly regretted marrying Anthony, but what you had with Ben transcended anything you could ever have with anyone else, and sometimes it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t your person anymore.

Shaking your head to will the tears away, you responded, “No. No, I could never.”

“What? You always said you wanted to name your children flower names.”

“No, Benedict. I wanted to name our children flower names.”

He felt all the air in his lungs escaping all at once. It felt as if someone had reached deep inside of him, taken hold of every organ inside his body, and squeezed very tightly. Wanted to name our children. Our children. Our. Just a simple word, three letters in total, had managed to leave him completely disarmed.

It was silly, really. You were married and had four children with his brother, of all people. And Benedict was still completely and irrevocably in love with you. He rather thought that he would always love you, in some form or another. Benedict suspected that Anthony knew this too, though his older brother was far too tactful to ever broach the subject.

Seemingly unaware of Ben's internal turmoil as he tried to reduce his feelings to their usual dormant state, you grabbed hold of his hand and led him away from Diana toward the door. “Nurse Edwards can watch the children while we go downstairs to have some tea. I must hear about your painting displayed at the National Gallery! I wish I hadn’t been about two days from bursting so I could have gone to see the unveiling.”

---

November 17, 1820 – Benedict,

Y/N has fallen ill, and I am away on business unable to tend to her. Go to Aubrey Hall as soon as possible and make sure she’s alright.

Please.

Anthony

Benedict could barely hear the rain pouring down outside his carriage over his racing heartbeat. Anthony’s frantic note had left Ben in a state of panic. He had left for Aubrey Hall immediately upon receiving the note, but he still worried that he might be too late. What on earth had frightened his older brother to the point of asking Benedict for help? A million possibilities, each one as devastating as the other, raced through his mind.

The sight of your home interrupted his catastrophizing, and he swung the door open and ran toward the entrance before the carriage could come to a complete stop. Benedict was somewhat aware that he was getting completely drenched in the rain, but his mind was far too focused on getting to you to care.

The front door was already open when he reached it, and Benedict burst through, barely hearing the butler’s, “Upstairs in her bedchamber, Mr Bridgerton,” before he was frantically climbing the stairs to get to you.

Once he reached your door, Ben stopped quite suddenly. He didn’t want to startle you by bursting in unannounced, so he waited a few seconds to catch his breath. Finally, he turned the doorknob slowly, hands shaking nervously as he entered your bedroom.

In between shockingly vivid dreams and a splitting headache, you vaguely registered what looked to be Benedict’s tall frame standing in your room. You shook your head, confused by his presence and not quite trusting your own eyes, but the effort left you breathless and you coughed violently.

“It’s alright, darling. You just rest,” he shushed you, shrugging off his drenched coat before he came to your side.

It killed him to see you like this, pale and sweaty as shivers wracked through your tired body. He had never seen you look so ill, not even when you came down with influenza when you were ten years old, and he was trying his hardest to hold himself together.

“Have you called for a medic?” his voice came out a bit strangled as he asked your lady’s maid, Rose, who had been nervously fidgeting off to the side.

"Yes, Mr Bridgerton. It's pneumonia," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "The best we can do is keep her comfortable and give her fluids until her fever breaks."

He nodded, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. But you had drifted into fitful sleep, and your shallow, ragged breathing was only making him more worried.

Nevertheless, he had to think clearly. Anthony was away, meaning that Benedict was now entirely responsible for you. The realization steeled his nerves, so he straightened his waistcoat and released a controlled breath, ready to face whatever came his way.

“Where are the children? I trust Nurse Edwards is with them now,” he said firmly.

Rose nodded. “They’re asleep now, but she is there in case they need anything. They’re taken care of,” she reassured.

“Very well. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance to them.” Then, clearing his throat, “Ring for tea, please,” he instructed. “And bring me towels and a bowl of lukewarm water.”

She nodded, hurrying out of the room. Benedict moved closer to your bedside, his heart twisting at the sight of you in distress. He didn't hesitate, pulling a chair close to the bed and sitting down beside you. Gently, he reached out to feel your burning forehead, but you immediately flinched, the pain evident in your eyes as they shot open.

“Too cold,” you rasped. “Please don’t.”

He cursed under his breath, heart cracking slightly at your reaction. But he withdrew his hand immediately, settling instead for sitting on a chair next to your bed, watching you intently for any signs that your condition was worsening.

You looked awfully pale, paler than he’d ever seen you, and your lips had turned a concerning shade of purple. Though even when you were drenched in sweat and shivering, you still were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he thought. Even now, years after you had married another man, you remained his muse. The heartbreak he experienced that summer had been an admittedly excellent source of inspiration, and his new works helped propel him forward in the art world. It had served as a distraction, proving especially useful when Ben heard the news that you were pregnant for the first time so soon after the wedding. But now he supposed that art was no longer a distraction, and had instead become his life.

Maybe it was better this way, he sometimes thought. Maybe fate had never intended for him to be with you, though he couldn't fathom why the universe seemed so cruel. But the conclusion that he most often came to is that this was some sort of punishment. And he supposed he rather deserved it. He had continuously run away from the person he loved most, his best friend, the love of his life, time and again while you had only waited patiently for him to love you back.

Looking down at you now, he still felt the need to take care of you. The instinct would never go away. But it was a shame that the only reason he was allowed to do it now was because your husband had asked him to.

Your lady’s maid cleared her throat, standing at the doorway with the items Benedict had requested. He waved her in and had her place the tea on your bedside table, but he took hold of the towels himself and dipped one of them in the bowl of water.

“How long have you been here?” Ben asked Rose, taking in her exhausted appearance.

“Since midmorning, Mr Bridgerton,” she responded, stifling a yawn. "But I'm happy to do it. Lady Bridgerton seems to need it, too."

“Well, I think you ought to go to bed now, Rose,” he responded, gently placing the damp towel on your forehead. You let out a soft sigh of relief, and the tightness in Benedict’s heart loosened the tiniest bit.

Hearing his words, Rose could have collapsed right then and there. “Thank you, Mr Bridgerton. Please call for one of the servants if you need anything,” she said gratefully. And then, before he could change his mind, she hurried out of your bedroom.

The towel had seemed to rouse you from your sleep, and you sat up weakly so you could take in your surroundings.

You opened your eyes, happy to find Benedict still in your room. “Hello, there,” you croaked, but he shushed you, immediately holding a teacup to your lips. You took a hesitant sip, but the warm liquid ran down your throat so soothingly that you grasped the cup with your own hands and drank the entire thing.

Ben laughed softly, delicately taking the teacup from you so as not to touch you, not having forgotten your earlier protests when he placed a hand on your forehead.

“How long have you been here?” you asked Benedict, a particularly strong shiver making your teeth chatter. Noting his look of concern, you rushed to reassure him, “I’m fine, Ben. Promise.” However, you didn’t know how convincing you had sounded, given that you started violently coughing immediately after the words left your lips.

“I can see that. You look great,” teased Benedict.

“I bet,” you shot back, and he was unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “I’m–” you started, but another coughing fit prevented you from continuing. He looked at you, eyes overflowing with worry, and exchanged the towel on your forehead for a fresh one, hoping it would provide at least some relief.

Once your coughing fit subsided, you were overtaken by a wave of exhaustion. Sliding back down into bed, you turned to Benedict. “I think I need to sleep if that’s alright,” you said softly, eyes already drooping shut.

“Mmm, I think so, too,” he agreed.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing your joined hands to your chest. “Please stay, Ben,” you said, eyes already closed.

His heart nearly skipped a beat, having completely forgotten just how right your hand felt in his. “Always,” he murmured, reaching over to kiss you on the forehead. Benedict settled into the chair beside your bed, carefully watching you to make sure your breathing remained even.

An hour later, a particularly intense shiver ran through you and you woke up to find that you were still clutching Benedict’s hand. He was staring at you intently, and you felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness for him. Even though you had married Anthony, he was still here by your side, ensuring that you were safe. Even though you probably looked about two minutes away from death, and even though he probably had much more interesting things to do, he was here.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you whispered, not quite sure you wanted him to hear but needing to say it anyway.

His brow furrowed, not quite sure why you were apologizing. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, I am. I’m so sorry,” you said, barely registering the tears running down your face and mixing with your sweat.

Ben wiped away your tears with one hand, the other still holding yours. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

You shook your head and the towel fell from your forehead once again, which he immediately replaced with a new one. “I don’t regret marrying him, but I regret hurting you,” you choked back a sob. “It was cowardly of me, and I’m sorry.”

Benedict was at a loss, your confession bringing his complicated feelings to the surface. But before he could find the right words, you had fallen asleep once again, eyes closed peacefully and your breathing even. He sat back in shock, attempting to process the meaning behind your words while still being careful not to move his hand too much so you could sleep peacefully.

Benedict sat there for what felt like hours, his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt weighed heavily on his heart as he watched you sleep, your hand still clasped in his. Surely you were at least a little delirious, he reasoned. How could you apologize for something he had caused?

Hours later, the morning sun filtered through your curtains and you stirred awake. You blinked your eyes open, a bit disoriented as you took in your surroundings. You glanced down, seeing Ben sitting in a chair next to your bed, fast asleep in what looked to be an incredibly uncomfortable position. Your hand was still clasped in Benedict’s, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. You felt a pang of guilt at the sight and cringed slightly as you remembered your tearful apology the previous night.

Sensing that you were awake, Benedict stirred, half opening his eyes to make sure you were alright. Wincing as his neck cracked, he sat up and asked groggily, “How’re you feeling this morning, darling?”

“Much better, actually,” you responded.

A sudden wave of panic washed over you. “Who’s with the children?”

“Don’t worry! They’re alright. Nurse Edwards is with them,” he assured you. “Perhaps it’s for the best; they might get to engage with some books actually meant for children.” He kept his tone light and teasing, not entirely sure if you remembered your apology and not wanting to open up the conversation if you didn’t.

“Oh, thank you,” you sighed in relief, relaxing against your pillows once again. Then, swatting his arm, you scolded, “And they enjoy the literature, mind you!”

“I suppose you are feeling better if you had the strength to hit me,” he remarked amusedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could have hit you last night. Easily.” But your expression turned sincere. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t mean to be a burden; I know you’re working on a new piece.”

“It’s nothing,” he waved his hand. “You could never be a burden.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “And I meant what I said last night. It was ill-timed, I know, but I am truly sorry.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head. “There is nothing to apologize for. I didn’t treat you the way I should have and I was the one who hurt you. I’m just glad I can still have you as a best friend.”

You smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “We seem to be quite good at that, don’t you think? Being best friends.”

“Oh, the best,” he smiled at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

—

orginal ending || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List: @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirlloriannaa @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhilll @sadprose-auroras @merlieve @khaylin27 @cherrytop02 @little-duck @angerpearl @shondlenoodle @lyssamay52 @bags10 @angerpearl

152 notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 6 months

Text

The Art of Etiquette Part 2 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You try to back out on being a debutant so you can stop taking lessons with Mr. Jeon but your mother is going to do everything she can to make you follow through Paring: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Like one cuss word but thats about it lol a/n: Let me know how you guys are liking this! I was planning on posting this later but I wanted to see if posting around this time would be better :) p.s. roughly edited lol

"Mom! Mom! Where are you?" I yell as soon as I get home. "I'm right here so please stop yelling, you know that there is no yelling in this household" she scolds. "Okay, then why did you yell at me when I got a bad grade on my midterm paper?" I throw in her face. "Watch your tone y/n I am still your mother" she retorts. "Now what is it?" she says quickly turning the conversation back to it's intended course.

"I can't do this" I say and start making my way to the living room with her soon trailing behind. "Do what?" she sighs once we've both sat down. "This whole debutante thing, it's not for me" I say hoping it would pacify her but knowing for a fact that would never happen. "You're doing it!" she says, wanting to end the conversation already.

"No I'm not!" I argue back "I'm not cut out for this thing. This life of high society and playing nice with strangers, pretending like you actually care about what they're talking about. I just can't pretend to be someone I'm not" I explain but unfortunately she'll have none of it. "Did something happen at your lessons today?" she asks, hoping to find the cause of my anxieties.

"Nothing happened" I huff, standing up and making my way to my room. "Obviously something happened since you always seem to have something to say about everything even at the most inopportune times" she says, obviously exacerbated by the memories. "Are you talking about the time I added staying alive to the set list at grandpa's funeral?" I question chuckling at the memory.

"See this is exactly why you need those lessons. It's time to grow up, and if you're not ready to do that yet then I'll just have you get a job and start paying your own tuition so you can learn on your own what it means to be an adult" she threatens. "James said that he would pay for my tuition if I decided I wanted to go back to college. You can't take that away from me!" I argue and stop in my tracks, surprised and upset that she would even stoop that low.

"Since you still feel the need to whine over small sacrifices such as these then it looks like we should probably start giving you some more responsibilities so you will grow up. Just take the damn lessons y/n, it would really make your father and I happy if we could introduce you to everyone properly" she explains softening her tone towards the end.

"But he-" I start, wanting to tell her what my instructor made me do but we're cut off by the sound of James getting home. "How are my two lovely ladies doing?" he asks while giving my mother a kiss on her temple. "Oh we're fine, y/n was just telling me how much she enjoyed her first lesson right?" she says giving me a stern face, daring me to say otherwise.

"Oh yeah they were great Mr. Jeon seems like a very nice man" I say giving him a half smile, forcing the answer out of myself. I hate lying to him, especially since he's been nothing but nice to me so far. A lot nicer than my mother that's for sure, so I would hate to mess things up with him.

"Well that's great news! Especially since he called me just now and asked if you would like to take more lessons with him. It seems like he's taken a special interest in you and wants to really make sure you're set up for success. Would that be something that you would like?" he asks, thankfully leaving the decision up to me but with the glare my mother is giving me it seems like from her point of view there's only one obvious answer for this question.

"That works for me. Whatever you both think would be best is be fine by me" I say, doing my very best to sound as genuine as possible even though I'm dying inside.

"Wonderful! He's asked if we could do three days of etiquette and two days of dance lessons during the week and on days closer to events we should do dance lessons on the weekend before the event as well. That schedule work out alright for you?" he asks while taking out his phone to no doubt sending a message to Matthew to contact Mr. Jeon tomorrow morning so he's prepared for my newly scheduled lessons as well.

"Yes that's fine but where will I be taking my dance lessons?" I question now confused as to why Mr. Jeon would speak to James about them as well. "Oh I didn't tell you?" he's your dance instructor as well" James says and leaves to his office to take a phone call.

"No fucking way am I dancing with that man" I say turning back to my mother once he's out of earshot. "Did he do something that made you feel uncomfortable?" she asks, just now deciding to finally ask why I didn't want to take the lessons. "No he's just a dick" I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Really, that's the reason? What did you expect? He's meant to teach you to act like a lady and let's be honest, a nice sweet approach isn't going to work on you" she says and makes her way to who knows where, to do who knows what. With how big this house is it could honestly be anything.

~~~~~~~~

"So is he hot?" Jesse asks, clearly interested in how things went yesterday. "I mean I guess but he's too rude for me to even begin to pay attention to that" I huff, frustrated at the thought of him alone. "What's his name?" he asks, taking out his phone to look him up.

"I don't remember but his last name is Jeon" I say taking a bite out of my sandwich. "J-o-h-n?" he questions, confused at the unusual surname. "No J-e-o-n. I'm pretty sure he's Korean" I say and slide over to his side to see what he can dig up on him.

"Jeon Private Etiquette Tutor" he types in and hits enter. "Woah" both of us say, seeing how many articles and pictures of him with actors, CEOs and public figures. "This guy must be loaded" Jesse says, clearly stunned at who he's worked with. "And he's hot! Damn girl you really won if this Jungkook guy wants to see you five times a week" he says and keeps on clicking through everything he can get him hands on about him. "And seven days a week when there's some stupid event I have to go to" I groan just thinking about how many hours of my life I'm going to waste with him.

"He's only 27, I wonder if he's single" Jesse says winking at me. "For me or for you because you can have him" I scoff making him laugh. "No take backs! Well, unless he's straight. Then you can have him back. No matter how heartbreaking that might be" he says, wiping away fake tears. "Sorry to break it to you babe but he probably wouldn't go for either of us" I say placing a hand on his shoulder and getting up to leave.

"Hey! Where are you going? We don't start class for another half an hour" he yells after me. "I gotta go change since he wants me to be 'dressed like a lady' when I come and I won't have time after class" I yell turning to face him as I walk backward for a second. "Alright, have fun Barbie" he yells as I get further away to which I respond with a shake of my head as I make my way over to my car.

"Acceptable" he says taking in my form. "Although the hem is far too short" he says looking down at my legs again before looking back up and making eye contact with me. "It was all I could find on such short notice" I explain but unfortunately he isn't satisfied with my answer.

"Excuses will get you no where, you either do it or you don't. I'm sure you could have put in a little more effort into finding something more suitable if you had tried. Let's remedy the situation by the next class shall we?" he finishes off sarcastically before turning his back to me and walking over to the sound system in the corner of the room and I take the chance to stick my tongue out at him in retaliation.

"You do you realize there are mirrors in this room correct?" he asks, clearly not amused with what he had seen me doing. "My apologies Mr. Jeon" I settle on, not bothering to give an excuse this time. "But are you really?" he asks, walking back towards me slowly, his voice an octave lower, catching me off guard. "N-no" I answer truthfully, nervous with the way he stalks towards me with clear displeasure enveloping his entire existence.

He leans towards me talking directly into my ear, clearly using tactics to show his dominance over the situation. "Let us be honest with each other then. It would be a waste of both of our time if we were to do otherwise" he say sending shivers down my spine and I hate that it's something I couldn't have controlled even if I wanted to. "Is that clear?" he asks, his warm breath hitting my neck making my mind feel clouded, leaving me confused on how to respond to him leaving me only being able to nod in response.

"Good" he says leaning back, giving what I had hoped for was a little more room to breathe. "Next time use your words" he says tilting my chin up just as he had done at my last lesson. "Yes Mr. Jeon" I say quietly, leaving him satisfied with my cooperation and straightening back up to go back to what he had been working on.

'What the fuck was that? What the fuck was that? What THE FUCK was that?' I ask myself over and over and over again. I'm startled out of my circular train of thought and am met with what I can assume is some sort of waltz music running through the twin speakers on either side of the wall that the sound system is placed against.

"I can't dance" I voice out, sticking to my word and answering the question before he bothered to ask. "I thought as much, ballroom dancing is a lost art amongst the youth of your generation" he says adjusting a few more things before coming back over to me.

"You speak of my generation as if it was much younger in comparison to yours" I respond crossing my arms over my chest in defiance. "Were you perhaps curious enough to inquire about me?" he asks finally turning around to face me, making his way back over to me as he had done before, having caught me red handed leaving me changing my position, holding my hands together and having them rest against my thighs.

"I had just assumed based off of how youthful you look" I respond, giving him a forced compliment, not wanting to admit to what I had done. Well, really what Jesse had done but again he would see right through me. "Haven't we agreed to be honest with each other?" he questions reaching his hand out and easily pulling my hands apart. Placing one of mine on his shoulder and the other held in his hand, leaving his free one to rest on my waist.

"Do as I say and hopefully we'll come out of this without any injuries" he says practically daring me to make a mistake. "But of course" I say and straighten my posture to match his and follow his lead as best as I can.

prev / next

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie @hehurst23 @caro134340lina @ye0nvibezzn @olimpiiaa @hrtsj1m @junecat18 @ellesalazar @babycandy111

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

#kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook and reader #jungkook and you #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan

97 notes · View notes

oosleepyfaeoo · 1 year

Text

How could you be so blind? - Final Chapter

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Blind!Reader

Summary: Aemond sees you as the most beautiful woman in the world but you can't see that. (sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: a LOT of fluff

Words: 1k A/n: English is not my first language. Masterlist

Part IV

“Normally, I would trust you when you say you have a surprise for me.” You say while playing softly with the hem of your dress. “But we have been driving almost for two hours and you have yet to tell me where we are going. I’m starting to think you are gonna kill me somewhere.”

Aemond laugh and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you where are we going, right?” He hums. “Don’t worry, love. We are almost there.”

It’s been almost six months since you and Aemond started dating. You both wanted to take things slow and be careful in public, not wanting to get the attention of the paparazzi.

You told him you didn’t want to be a part of his famous world just yet, finding it suffocating to be under so much pressure from a higher-class society gaze. Aemond agreed quickly, understanding your feelings about his way of life completely.

The only people knew about you two was Helaena, who couldn’t stop jumping in excitement. She is overjoyed to finally see her brother happy and that you are the source of that happiness. Cregan wasn’t surprised at all, saying that how Aemond followed you like a puppy made it evident that you two would end up together.

You still can’t believe that you were with Aemond. The sexiest, most powerful man in the world. He is almost desired by all women and men. Every time you go shopping with him, there’s always a giggling mess of a girl asking for an autograph.

Sometimes you think that you might not be good enough for him since having a blind partner might not be a perfect perk to have.

But every time Aemond notices your dark thoughts, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap. Filling your face with sweet kisses and murmuring how lucky he is to have you, that nothing in the world could make him happy as you did.

You feel the car come to a stop, Knight letting out a bark while he scratches his large paws against the window. Cleary excited to finally go outside.

“Hey, buddy! Don’t ruin my car windows!” Aemond huffs, trying not to laugh when Knight gives him a side-eye.

He walks out of the car, helping you get out before opening the door for Knight to get out. The massive dog starts running around, howling happily.

A smile forms on your lips as you hear Knight having the time of his life. The smell of pines and fresh earth's scent hovered around you.

“Wait! Are we in the countryside?” You were vibrating from excitement. You loved the countryside, it was your dream to buy a cute little house and live there peacefully. To grow your own little garden.

Aemond grabs your hand and leads you into the house. “Hmm yes. I just bought this cottage, knowing you love peaceful places.”

“Please tell me you just didn’t buy this house cause of me?!” You asked.

“Hmm maybe....” He laughs.

You huff and punch his arm gently. “You know I hate when you buy expensive stuff cause of me.”

He pulls you to him, his hot breath fanning against your face. “You deserve everything I can buy for you, Y/n. I can even buy the moon for you.” He kisses you softly, humming lightly against your soft lips.

You giggle into the kiss, making him smile. “I doubt you could buy the moon, Aem.”

He raises his eyebrow and kisses your nose. “Are you challenging me, my love?”

Your laugh stops when you hear his serious tone, knowing fully well that he might buy the fucking moon for you.

“Don’t you dare, Aemond Targaryen!” you warn.

Aemond turns and opens the door, letting you both walk inside the lovely cottage. “Oh my... My full name, that only means trouble.”

You gave him a silly face and began to walk around, Knight always beside you. Making sure you don’t hurt yourself.

The smell of fresh wood hovered the air as you explore the place. You carefully touch every piece of furniture in the house, and notice that they have some rustic details with a little bit of modern features.

Aemond lights the fireplace and begins to prepare dinner while you sit on the sofa by the fireplace.

“How long we will be here?” you asked as you pet Knight’s head.

“Only during this weekend.” He says as he grabs two cups of wine and walks to you, letting the food cool down a little. “But... we could stay here forever...”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Forever?”

“I-I... What I mean...” Aemond couldn’t stop shuttering, his palms are sweaty from the anxiety of what he will ask you. “What I'm saying is that we could move here together.”

You two stay silent for a while.

You were too stunned to speak. Of course, you are excited about his proposal but at the same time, you think it might be a little early to move in together. You are just scared that he might get frustrated living with a blind person. That he will realize you will be a burden to him.

“You are finishing your studies this year and I'm going to start to working at home so I thought we might...” He looks at you with his eye full of hope. “I know you are having those thoughts and no. I won’t get tired of you if we live together... I-I'm just tired of leaving you every night or day to go to my home. I always feel so empty when I get to my apartment after being with you. I just want to wake up every day with you in my arms. To see your beautiful smile first thing in the morning.”

You take a deep breath and take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. This next step scares you deeply and you still think that it's still early but... he’s right. It kills you every time he goes home after a date, you just want to stay with him forever.

“I-I want it... I want to live with you.” You murmur.

“Really?” He cups your jaw, caressing gently your cheek. “Do you really mean it?”

You nod, and tears start to prickle the corner of your eyes. “Yes! I really mean it!”

He crashes his lips against yours, pouring all his love into the kiss. A soft moan escaped from you, letting him push his warm tongue into your mouth.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his lap, your fingers playing with his soft locks.

He pulls back, both of your lips swollen and red from the passionate kiss. “God... I love you so much.”

You blush furiously at his words, his deep voice always makes a mess of you. “I love you too... To the moon and back.”

He smirks as he gives you another deep kiss. “That much huh?... Maybe I really should buy you the moon.”

You bite his lips gently, making him moan loudly. “I swear to God, Aemond. If you buy the moon, I will go back to my apartment.”

“Only if I let you, sweet girl.” He pulls you into another kiss, laying down on the sofa with you on top of him.

“Food?” You asked between kisses.

He moves his hands down your waist to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “Food can wait.”

Oh boy... It will be a long night.

So here's the last chapter!! I hope you guys like it!

Tag list: @iiamthehybrid @cryptid-l0ver @papichulo120627 @thewintergoddess @bellameshipper @sweet-sunflower64 @bbyaemond @zenka69 @immyowndefender @dc-marvel-girl96 @deltamoon666 @uniquecroissant @melsunshine @sugarrush-blush @pineapplechuncks @heirofdemetra @sarcasticsweetlara @malynn @yentroucnagol @puffycreamcakes @kravitzwhore @padfooteyes @glame @tssf-imagines @fangirlninja67 @dahlias-and-marigolds @it-is-getting-better @mimischaos @m-indkiller @parkchaeyoung1997 @azaleapotterblack @danielle-leah1997 @bellaisasleep @rorawinters @yearninginpages @yentroucnagol @allyly @hanula18 @dopejellyfishfury @snh96 @itsabby15 @starkjedi @kyla44 @leef-leech @iloveallmyboys @aemondswifeisme @powellssaturn @judgementdayfan1 @mariamxdxd1212 @seamonkie

216 notes · View notes

erule · 2 years

Text

High school heartbreaker | s.h.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: You were in love with Steve when you were in high school together, but he didn’t know about that. Now you meet him by chance at college and you wonder if things could change.

Warnings: kinda rom-com with some clichés probably, unrequited love, A LOT of angst, fluff, mention of nose bleeding, mention of smoking, language, jealous!Steve, mutual pining in the end, happy ending, Robin, Eddie

Word count: 3K

A/N: hi! I wrote this based on a true experience, except for the fact that this ends well. Steve is my favourite character in Stranger Things and he was beyond perfect for this story. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Hope y’all like it. Enjoy! x

First day of college and you’re terrified.

Why? Well, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

So, three months ago, you said goodbye to your school, then to your friends, then again to your best friend (who was supposed to go to college with you, before she betrayed you to follow the “cool guys”) and, last but not least, your high school crush. He was the first person you met on the bus on your first day of school, then he became your friend, but even if the two of you were never really close, somehow your heart managed to fall in love with him. The issue with that? He was in love with someone else. Of course. He dated Nancy Wheeler and you were just the friend that sometimes comforted him during their fights. You were important. So, the last day of school, you hugged him and said: “To new adventures, Steve. Maybe we’ll meet again in the future” and he just smirked at you. It was the moment you knew that he never loved you.

Anyway, now you’re on your own again after all of these years, while Steve’s probably far away with Nancy, having the time of his life. That’s how being a teenager should look like, right? Society tells it every day, but it doesn’t happen to everybody. You can also be alone and succeed, but it doesn’t mean that you’re lonely.

You finally arrive at class. The professor still has to come along, but people are already saying that he’s annoying. How great. You wonder what they’re thinking, while they’re talking with their friends. It seems like you’re the only one without one, as usual. High school was a lot of things, but at least you had your best friend to go through everything. Now it’s different. College can be scary, but you just have to breathe. So you take a deep breath, eyes closed, for three seconds. When you open your eyes, you see that the professor is entering into the room so you turn to your right in order to take your block notes.

“Hey,” somebody says and when you look up your heart begins to race faster than ever, while your brain still has to process who just spoke.

No way.

“What? The cat ate your tongue?”

Your eyes grow wide, but fortunately the professor ask for some silence to begin the lesson.

“Steve?”

He gives you a smile.

“The one and only”.

And this, this feeling of being on fire, is exactly how you know that your crush on somebody has never gone away.

You’re in the bathroom, door closed. This is not something that was supposed to happen today! How can he be at your college? Studying the same things as you? This has to be a nightmare. Does it mean that there’s also Nancy around the corner? No, this is going to become really painful really fast. You thought that you had already being punished enough, when you were forced to see him with Nancy every damn day for the last three years at school, but it seems that you weren’t.

You see a pair of shoes under the door and you gulp. Nancy?

“Hey, are you okay? You seemed pale when you arrived,” somebody says.

You’re so relieved that it’s not Nancy, that you open the door and hit the girl. She yells something, when you see that her nose is bleeding.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! Here, take a napkin,” you say, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, it’s not painful as when I saw my best friend wear a sailor’s uniform for work,” she said, but you just looked at her, confused. “Anyway, I hope that you’re okay”.

“Me? You’re literally bleeding!”

“It’s nothing. Some jokes on my friend and I’m gonna feel better instantly. You’ll see. Come with me, you should meet him,” she says, while looking at her nose in the mirror. Now it seems better.

“Okay, thanks. This day feels like a nightmare to me already,” you say. She furrows her eyebrows.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I don’t know anybody, except for my high school crush, who wasn’t supposed to be here anyway,” you confess her and now you feel relieved, somehow. Talking about it makes it seem more stupid and less of a problem.

“High school crushes are the worst, trust me, I have a lot of experience in this topic. But tell me more! Did you date them?”

“No, he was dating somebody else the whole time. It was exhausting,” you say, then you look at her and you wonder if you saw her in high school too. “What’s your name, again?”

“I didn’t tell you. I’m Robin!” She exclaims, before you stop in front of her friend, who’s smoking a cigarette with some guys outside the college. “What about you?”

You freeze.

“Robin?”

“Yeah. What happened? Are you okay?”

You swallow some air, when you look in front of you, only to see him winking at you.

“Is that your friend?” You ask her, pointing at him.

“Yeah! How do you know that?”

Fuck.

“I’m…”

Absolutely screwed.

“Y/N!” Steve says, while walking over you.

“Wait, you’re Y/N? The Y/N?” Robin asks and now you’re more confused than ever.

“How do you know me?”

“Y/N, apparently you met Robin. Robin, this is Y/N, we used to take the bus together. I don’t know if you had ever saw her with me in high school”.

“We weren’t really close in high school, Steve…” You say, feeling a burden over your chest.

“But I saw you,” Robin say, while observing your face. You probably look guilty, right now. Maybe she knew that you liked him, but she has now the confirmation of it.

“We used to take the bus together, that’s all,” you repeated.

“You know, I recall the once you asked me if we were friends and I told you no, but three months ago, when you said goodbye to me, I thought that we totally were. Things change, Y/N”.

Not everything, no. Not your love for him.

“It’s weird, because you used not to know a lot of things about me. You probably don’t even remember what I told you that day,” you say, but your heart knows that you’re lying, because you secretly hopes that he does. That he noticed you.

He shakes his head.

But sadly, you’re never wrong.

“I don’t. Was it important?” He asks you, while he lights up another cigarette.

Robin’s looking at you, but you pray that she can’t see your heart breaking into your eyes. It’s just water, after all. But before that, it’s glass in your eyes. Two pieces of glass that you hold with every strength you have in yourself.

“No, it wasn’t,” you say, with a smile. That fake smile made you survive high school with him.

Then, you apologize to them, but you’re “really busy”, so you “have to go” as far as possible away from this horrible situation. You run to your house, feeling too overwhelmed by everything to think straight, to say hi to your parents, to even breathe.

You were sure that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend in high school. You didn’t expect him to care, you didn’t even want him to acknowledge it with you, but that was enough. He crossed the line, when he tried to be charming again, even if he had a girlfriend. When he winked at you, as he did every damn day in high school. When he tried to be funny with you. You just want some peace.

Two weeks after that, though, you find yourself following Steve again as in high school. You wonder if things can change now, if you can be friends with him like you’d be with another guy, but when you see him winking at you while you’re staring at him smoking, your heart tells you the answer: No. But you try to be that anyway, because you love the way he makes you laugh while you’re trying to study or his dumb jokes about the professors. He always seems so full of self-confidence, he could light up a whole room. Your eyes are always on him as if he was the sun. Too stunning not to look at him. Too stunning to burn your eyes.

“It’s a matter of fact, Y/N: I’m the best at it and you know that”.

“At picking horrible movies? Yeah, I agree with that,” you chuckle.

“I literally work here, Y/N, you’re ruining everything with the clients! Come on, choose something cool for tonight,” he says.

“Footloose is off the list, Steve, don’t give me the puppy eyes,” you reply, while taking Back to the Future.

“Marty McFly? Really?”

“Oh, you know my type: sarcastic, sweet and reckless,” you joke, but the look he gives you is very much eloquent, alongside his crooked smile. Your cheeks are made of Hell’s fire, right now.

“Sounds almost as awesome as me, baby,” he says, but even if his tone is ironic, you doubt that he’s trying to flirt with you, because for a moment it seemed like that.

But you are probably wrong.

***

It has been a month since that day. Robin didn’t say anything to you about Steve, but you know that she understood what’s going on. Luckily, she’s a good friend. You have grown closer to them, but also with another guy, Eddie. He likes playing D&D, rock music and he makes a lot of jokes. He’s really funny, but every time you see Steve, your heart aches in your chest. That’s why you’re thinking about going to another college. You’re sick of feeling that way and the exams are getting closer and closer. Eddie said that he could come with you, since he doesn’t have any friends anyway.

You’re trying to study in your room, when you hear a knock. You turn around, only to see Steve waving at you. He seems to feel the coldness of the air, because it’s raining outside. You open the window, so he can come in.

“There’s the front door for this, Steve,” you say.

“Usually, you say hi to people before you scold them,” he jokes, but you don’t laugh.

“I’m not in the mood. What do you want?”

“Why are you not in the mood?”

“Is there anybody else you can annoy? Robin? Nancy?” You ask, but he glances at you because of the irritated way you said the last name.

“Nancy and I broke up,” he say. Time freezes all around you. You finally look at him, at his face and you gulp. He’s still handsome as he was in high school and this is tearing you apart. It’s incredible how much power he still has over you. He never treated you right before, but you thought to see something that others couldn’t that you loved: his vulnerability, his kindness and his tormented soul. Being the king is amazing, but wearing the crown could feel like a burden, sometimes. And well, you can feel lonely under it. “This Summer, actually”.

You swallow.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t be. Now ask my question: why are you not in the mood?”

You shrug.

“It’s nothing, really”.

“Y/N, talk to me,” he says and the way his gaze caresses your shape makes he seem hopeless.

You sigh.

“I’m thinking about moving away,” you say. He doesn’t move a muscle, but the light of your lamp is drawing some scribbles into his eyes.

You wonder if he despise your idea, but before he can say anything, your phone begins to buzz. He notices it and when he sees who’s calling you, he clenches his jaw.

“Don’t answer that,” he orders.

“What? Steve, it’s Eddie”.

“We’re in the middle of something, Y/N”.

“It can wait”.

“No, it can’t!” He exclaims and you flinch. He breathes out, then he puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just… Oh, come on! Just give me some attention, for once”.

“For once?” You ask him. Eddie stopped calling. “I gave you three years of my life, Steve! I’m still doing it”.

“I know,” he says, without pride. You feel a knot in your throat, now.

“You’ve been knowing it all along, right?”

“No…”

“You made fun of me!”

“No, Y/N…” “You loved to be a heartbreaker at high school, didn’t you? Well, you fucking broke my heart, Steve! I hope that you’re happy with it”.

“I didn’t know!” He shouts. You look at him in disbelief. It’s not possible. You thought that he noticed that three years ago, that he knew everything by now… Did you just confess it to him? “If you’d just let me explain… Oh, for the love of… Robin told me, okay? Robin told me that today. She said that I had to stop you, that I was the only one that could. Our college is the best one and you deserve the best. So I asked her why I was the only one to make you change your mind and she said… You know what she said,” he says, without looking at you, but you want him to tell it. To tell what you’re not brave enough to say out loud.

“I don’t”.

He looks at you and you see that his eyes are glossy as yours. It seems almost too painful for him than to you. He’s praying you with a gaze not to say that, but you’re firm. It’s the closest thing you can ask him to say to you to an “I love you”.

“That you’re in love with me,” he says and a sob escapes from your lips. “You’ve been cruel to yourself, Y/N”.

“No, that’s exactly what I deserve to be in love with someone selfish and egocentric like you”.

“I’m not like that anymore, Y/N. Let me prove it,” he says. “Please.”

“I’m not falling for your lies again, Steve. Now get out”.

“I’m gonna leave college!” He blurts out and you freeze again.

“What?”

“So you don’t have to do it”.

“You’re being insane, Steve. Go to bed,” you say, then you take his wrist in order to kick him out, but his skin is burning. He squeezes your hand.

“I remember,” he says. “And I didn’t answer. I’ve been regretting that moment since you walked out the school. I didn’t know what to say”.

“Steve, it’s okay, it’s not that important…”

“No, it is. It is for you. You said: Maybe we’ll meet again. And I didn’t care, because Nancy was about to break up with me and I was losing my throne. And you were just a stop along the ride,” he says and your heart aches for that. “But I was wrong. You’ve been my friend when everybody else was pretending to be one. You loved me even if I didn’t treat you right. You comforted me when I fought with Nance, because you saw me. And you walked past my flaws, every fucking time. I used to think that the worst thing I did in high school was losing Nancy, but now I think that breaking your heart was. I regret not telling you that I imagined that you liked me, because maybe I would have known you better and I would have felt what I feel now for you”.

You feel overwhelmed by his last sentence. It’s what you have always desired to hear from his mouth, what you have always wished for at every birthday of yours, yet it feels just sad now. Perhaps, it’s too late.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m jealous,” he says and you see in the way he flexes his muscles that it costs him an enormous amount of strength to pronounce these words. “Of Eddie. And I know that I have no right to say this, but I am. He was the first one to know about your decision, while I was the cause of it. It broke my heart”.

“Now you know the feeling,” you say, with a smile.

“I guess so. Y/N, please, don’t go. We deserve a chance”.

You look at his hand, that is still on yours and something in your lungs stops working. It’s like you’re out of breath. The emptiness can’t be filled by air, because that has always been his place to be. Not in your heart, but in your lungs, to be oxygen for you to keep walking. To keep living.

“You’re not entitled to be jealous, but neither was I at the time and yet, I was. So I get the feeling, Steve, but I don’t want to be just a replacement of Nancy for you, because I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. You don’t know how painful it is to love somebody who doesn’t want you. And I’ve wanted you for so much time, Steve, so much time…”

“I know, Y/N, but you have to trust me: I see you right now. I see you, standing in front of me and I think that you’re beautiful. And too smart to date somebody like me, but still, I’m praying that you do it anyway,” he says, with a genuine smile on his face and you feel a sense of warmth into your chest.

“You should stop talking and start kissing me, right now,” you reply and so, he does it.

It’s an explosion in your stomach. It’s a dream that comes true when you’ve lost all of your hopes. It has come the day that you’ve finally felt like everything is in its place: his lips on yours, for example. The rain on the leaves in your garden. The heart in your chest that doesn’t hurt anymore.

He finally fixed what he broke a long time ago.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #erule's masterlist #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington hc #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #joe keery x reader

1K notes · View notes

bunnyyamor · 2 years

Text

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ haunted house | HAPPY HALLOWEEN COLLAB

you go ghost hunting at an abandoned house. you want to catch it on footage a real ghost for your youtube channel. what you didn't know was that there was a ghost, lurking, ready to make any woman succumb to needy lust

ghost! mahito x f!reader ୨୧ ꒰ nsfw...mdni ꒱ spectrophilia, cream pie, money shot, non-con, small blood kink, tiny knife play, pet-names (such as human, little one, baby, good girl), spanking

pls comment + like + reblog; i would rlly appreciate it (๑˘︶˘๑)

“are you rolling?” you fixed your hair, rearranging your microphone on your sweater to be propped up to receive the best audio.

“yeah, we’re good,” your assistant put her thumbs up.

“hello crew! today it is the spooky halloween night. everyone is out trick or treating or enjoying scary parties, maybe even staying home, feet propped up with cozy black cat socks on and some pumpkin spiced coffee as they watch hocus pocus. either way, tonights the night. you lot voted! it’s the scary, haunted house! tonight we are going, ghost hunting! that's right, you’ll see an actual real life ghost tonight!” you moved to the left in order to get the house in the shot. it was abandoned, made entierely out of wood. it seemed ancient with all the new houses being built over a street away. it was dark, the wood seeming black even in the night air. it was run down, wet mold growing on the outside. it was two stories, with a porch in the front. in maybe another world this would of been the perfect picket-white fence house, now it was used as an attraction. it was used to showcase the worlds daredevils to see who would have enough bravery to enter its four walls. “me and my assistant are going to get footage of the whole thing! it doesn’t matter what happens.” you howled, really trying to dive into the scary factor of the whole idea of halloween. “but, let’s not keep waiting. let’s go!”

you ushered the camera to come closer to you. “wait, y/n. you think this is a good idea?” your assistant looked around the property. you could tell she was afraid.

“we’re not really gonna meet ghosts. i just want the viewers to think so. i don’t believe in ghosts anyways. we’re going to be fine! it’ll be quick, easy footage. some fake loud bangs and reactions and people will believe anything.”

you both walked up the porch and knocked. “you never know, there could be a drunk inside.” as you waited at the door, no one opened. so you two showed yourself in. “well folks, it smells terrible in here. and it’s extremely cold.”

“y/n, look.” your assistant pointed the camera at the wall. coverieng the wall was old paintings.

“it’s insane they didn’t get ruin by nature.” you gasped as you ran your fingers over the faded, dusty pieces of art. one was a carriage riding in the snow with horses attached to it, the other looked like a canoe or some type of boat in the lake with women inside enjoying a nice day out. there was a painting of this same house, when it was in pristine condition. “get a load of this shot here. look how beautiful this house used to be, what a shame.” your eyes peered over to the biggest painting out of the others. it was a man, dressed in an old fashioned suit, very vintage. he had blue hair, long that was in two loose ponytails. his face looked sad, unhappy. maybe lost. “poor guy. maybe he looks like this cause he got all those scars all over his face.”

“could this perhaps be the old owner of the house?” your assistant pointed out.

you tapped your lip in thought, “you know, you could be right. folks, i read about the old owner of this house. his name was mahito. people said about him that he was a man with a few loose screws in his head. he had his own beliefs about life and society and that he was a man that would let his opinions be heard. i don’t think the town really liked him nor if he was a good guy. either way, thank you for letting us in your house.” you joked as you waved to the painting. “let’s get a move on shall we.”

you showed the viewers the kitchen and the living room. each room had a history and a story. it was almost unbelievable to you that someone used to live here and that many years ago. “people speculate that his death was caused by a murder,” you widened your eyes for the dramatic effect. “maybe his spirit still lives here. waiting in revenge.”

“don’t joke about that stuff,” your assistant pouted.

you loved the creepiness. this was what your whole channel was about. you wanted to show people the mysterious, the unknown so you followed up on folklores. yeti, big foot, the lockness monster, all stories passed down from generations to generations. this year was ghosts. maybe they weren’t real, maybe they were, either way this was the perfect place to find out.

finally, you were in the bedroom of mahito. it looked collected, almost clean. like no had ever touched it after him. “that seems so unlikely that this place wasn’t touched! there had to be some looters or druggies that came in here. the door was unlocked. they must of wanted to steal everything here.”

the bedroom was huge. it had a glorious, chivalry bed in the middle of the room and most things were covered in gold. you could tell mahito had good taste.

“i think we should leave. i’m starting to get a bad feeling.”

you waved off your assistant, “we’re fine. now i’ll make a banging noise with my feet, alright. it’ll sound like a ghost and then i’ll pretend to be scared. good? okay, action.” you stomped your feet and jerked around back and forth. “did you hear that friends? it sounded like a-”

then another stomp and a loud bang. it sounded like something or someone fell. “-ghost,” you finished your sentance with a gulp.

“y/n, was that you?” your friend shook.

“...no…” you were quiet. again the sound! it was a bump, then footsteps.

“that’s it, i’m done.” your assistant propped the camera on the wooden desk nearby. “i am not risking it.”

“m-maybe it’s an animal. yeah. stop being afraid, it’s probably nothing.”

“i don’t care. i don’t like it here. i’m going. you can call an uber. i quit.” your assistant spat, running down the stairs.

“yeah, whatever! i didn’t need you. i can take videos myself!” you shouted.

there were no more noises but you picked up your camera, aiming at the closet. “let’s see what mahito’s clothing looked like in that time.” you opened up the door and what stood there made you jump and scream! “it’s a ghost!”

there, eyes directly baring into your soul, was the ghost of mahito. he had a scowl on his face and his eyes glared at you.”i never allowed you into my house.”

“g-g-g-g-g,” you dropped your camera as you fell onto the floor. scooting backwards until your back hit the bed.

“g-g-g-g-g-what? spit it out.” mahito walked out of the closet, hands crossed.

“ghost!” you pointed to him.

“you humans annoy me. what are you doing in my house?”

you stayed quiet, shocked that this was happening.

mahito tapped his foot then retrieved a long,silver knife from his closet. “better start talking or else.”

“i was doing a video. for my youtube channel. i didn’t know you were here.”

“you didn’t think ghosts were real?” he gave a sliverying smile, almost snake like. “well, my dear, we really are real. i’m as real as you are.”

“y-you scare me,” you shook, hands hugging yourself.

mahito flew to your ear, whispering, “good. you should be scared of me.”

you finally found the courage to stand up. as you did, you hastily ran to the door. you needed to escape.

mahito threw his knife at the door, close to your head, “not so fast human. i didn’t say you could leave. try that agian and i’ll slit your throat from one ear to the other. understand.” mahito laughed. he held his belly because he laughed so much, “you should see your face right now. all the color drained! even your lips quivering.” he stepped in front of you and held your chin. he was cold, ice cold and felt almost like a feather on you. was this how it felt being touched by a ghost? his lips landed on yours. moving quickly and biting your lip. he would have proceeded had you not pushed him away. “get off me!”

“i can feel your heart. turns out, you don’t really have one when you’re a ghost. i wonder how it feels again to have blood pumping through your veins and keeping your heart alive. it must feel warm and covered like a blanket.”

“i don’t know what you want, but you better stay back.” you saw beside your head the knife and pulled it out of the door. you swung at him. “i’m warning you.”

“oh no! the girl’s got a knife,” he feined crying. “whatever am i to do.” he stopped and walked into the knife, it not puncturing him at all. in fact, the knife went through him. “i’m a ghost baby, remember.” he grabbed the back of your head and forced you onto the floor.

“stop!” you kicked your legs. “what do you want from me?”

“how bout this? if you let me do whatever i want to you, i’ll let you live. if you don’t i will kill you here right now and haunt all your friends for eternity. understand?”

he was right. you were shaking. your hands were clenched and your heart was beating uncontrollably. but you had to weigh out your options.

“alright, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“good girl,” he patted your head. “smart at last. well first i want you naked and perfectly seated on my bed.”

your breath quivered and you gulped. you must listen. you hesitantly started with your sweater then your jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. “my, my, my, you really are beautiful, aren’t you, y/n.”

“how do you know my name?” you looked up at him.

he wrapped his hand around your throat, putting pressure there. his eyes fixated on the way your neck looked. “i heard you and your little friend. she’s smart. if i let you live then you can tell her she was right and you were wrong.”

you breathing was being shortened from his strength around your neck. his grip tightening every second. “now, i want you out of that.” he eyed your bra and panties.

“yes, sir.” you took them off, feeling embarrassed. yes he was dead and a ghost but for some reason you still were flustered. “is-is this better?” you looked away. face heating up.

he chuckled darkly, “such a good girl.” his head dipped down and kissed you. his pastel blue hair cascaded over your face. your eyebrows twisted and your hands pressed against his chest, clutching his fabric there. “mmmm,” you moaned as his tongue came out and swiped your lower lip, then intruding into your mouth, not asking, just taking. his tongue almost felt snake like. it slithering inside yours, curling and twirling.

“i haven’t been intimate with a woman in years. i too have needs. and you are going to make me feel good.” he said between kisses. his hands held onto the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. his fingers ghosted over your nipples. “so hard? if you’re so afraid then why are you so turned on, human?”

“fuck,” you moaned as you arched your back, trying to close the gap between you and him. it was your body, it was going against you.

“i want you, little one, to make me feel good. if you can make me cum, i’ll let you leave.”

your mouth was opened wide in shock. how were you supposed to do that? you felt so useless. “yes mahito.”

mahito sat on the floor and you joined him. you helped him take his shirt off and then his trousers. your eyes didn’t leave his chest. he was very well formed. his muscles protruding and his pink nipples already hard. he even had abs, trailing down to his hair above his cock which was also the grayish-blue. you took his cock and started to move your hands up and down, wanting him to feel your fingers around him. your finger nails lightly scratched the skin there. you were surprised to see it twitch a little. he moved his head back, eyes closed as he controlled his breathing. you circled his dick, making a ring with your tiny hands as you picked up the pace.

you felt powerful to have a ghost’s dick in your hand. he was enjoying himself and getting turned on.

you maneuvered his cock so that it rubbed against your cunt.

“oooh, that feels good.” mahito smiled wide. loving how you grabbed his cock and started grinding on it. the side of his dick rubbed against your clit. it was making you wet too.

“shit, fuck,” you groaned as all his veins and grooves hit your clit perfectly. the friction making you hot and a knowing feeling in the pit of your stomach. you could tell mahito was about to cum with the way his cock twitched and was swollen.

curiosity got the better of you. you had always wanted ot know what it was like to fuck a ghost. you took charge and laid mahito back and climbed on his hard dick.

“just like that, sink onto me human. i want you to fuck me so good. i haven’t been inside a cunt for years.” he heaved, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

“fuck me,” you felt impaled by his thick dick. it wasn’t long but its girth was wide. he stretched you out completely. your hands rested on his pecs and you started hopping on his cock. your boobs slapped and bounced with each move. you were riding him. loving how your weight causes him to go even deeper inside you. “that’s it, right there. all hot for me. fucking a ghost. better tell your friend or maybe your viewers how it felt to have a ghost inside you.”

“i feel so full, mahito.” you shuddered. he still felt cold to the touch. perhaps your heat could warm him up. mahito’s big hands grabbed the globes of your ass, squeezing your flesh there and slapping it, urging you to ride faster. “that’s it. ride me, human. ride me faster.” he massaged your ass, dragging you against his cock. his hands left your ass and traveled up to your neck. he squeezed tight. your vision became hazy from the breath reaching you, but you still kept fucking him. your clit was hitting deliciously on his dick. you loved how swollen he was inside you. his face contorted into a look of pure bliss. his lips were plump and swollen from his constant lip biting. you added more to that as you bent over and bit his lip. for some reason you didn’t want this but now your body needed it. it craved it. he hit your spot, over and over. you loved how it felt that he was about to split you in two with how big he was. still you kept gaining height then fell down to take him fully in, all the way to the hilt. you did that repeatedly and noticed cream on his cock, was that yours or his? you could smell sex in the air and could smell him, it was sweet almost, this was ghost cum?

mahito grabbed onto your hair, messing it up as he pulled and tugged it slightly. “that’s it. fuck me. fuck.” he couldn’t find the words. you loved bouncing on his dick, loved the face he made. “ahh, mahito. i don’t know if i can take any more.” you winced.

mahito wanted to finish, he had to. again he grabbed your neck and started annihilating you. with his ghostly strength he started pounding inside you from underneath. your mouth was in a wide o as your screams were silent. nobody has ever fucked you like this before.

“that’s it. that’s it. fuckin take it like a good little human. you know you like that.” he growled in your ear as he held your ass cheeks apart as he would exit and entere you. his cock bobbing up, making his balls slapp your cunt. it jumped up and would hit you. you coated it with your juices.

“fuck i think i’m gonna,” you cried. feeling the rise of it all.

“cum. yes, cum on my cock,” mahito urged you, snarling through his teeth. you moaned as you came. circling his cock and crying. mahito clenched your throat and groaned, feeling you contract around him. “that’s it. keep doing that. fuck.” mahito just continued inside you till you felt him about to cum. he exited and started jerking off. non-stop moaning as he cummed all over your chest and stomach. it was so much and so white. it got all over you. it was sticky and thick but still cool to the touch. that’s what was different about him.

“congrats little one. you get to live. but i’m not done with you yet.” mahito licked his lips. you were still trying to catch your breath when something caught your attention. it was the camera. this whole time it was staring directly at you and mahito and it was still recording.

“so, do you finally believe in ghosts?” mahito smirked.

your eyes shot up as you giggled sheepishly, “you heard that?

angel’s little words - i thought about this idea a while back during summer & rlly wanted to do this during halloween. and then i saw @blueparadis and @munsonsins do their collab & i thought it would be perfect! so ty for letting me enter! also isn’t our assistant so smart ＼(≧▽≦)／she left in the nick of time. i hope u liked this tho i get nervous posting different stuff esp since it’s mahito hehe

#cry baby *🧸*#happy halloween #jjk smut #jjk x reader #mahito smut #mahito x reader #mahito fic #mahito x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk mahito #jujutsu kaisen mahito #mahito x y/n #mahito fluff #mahito jujutsu kaisen #mahito headcanons

502 notes · View notes

roseamongroses · 11 months

Text

"AITA FOR EDITING MY BOSS'S SUPERHERO SUIT HOLOGRAM INTO A BUNNY FIT MID FIGHT CAUSE HE DELETED MY SIMS CC FOLDER"

Idc if im the asshole tbh but I think this is funny. I (15F) am a hero intern for this fairly big company, think superhuman secret society typa shit.

The thing is because I'm more of a "in the chair" hero, I spend a fair amount of time in the Headquarter's lab. My work load swings between nothing to fucking do and non-stop crisis mode.

Somedays I literally can't afford to take normal breaks and go home This facility, despite all the money we get, is held together with a paperclip cyber-security wise (and security wise. there's one them that lowkey be stealing but i aint a snitch okay). We do have an AI program (she's great, love her) but she's hella overworked too and essentially babysits the boss in the field, in his personal life, etc.

So forgive me if during the brief moments of peace, I happen be playing the sims. I never use the work monitors for this and the AI is fully aware that this is how I take my "breaks" and is FINE with it.

But one day the boss randomly walked in while I was busy browsing some hair options and lost his shit. "Something, something, anomoly" I don't even remember what he said, all ik is he was growling n shit over my shoulder with his stank ass breath. I didn't even think he was mad at ME fr-- he's just unhealed like that, so i let that shit go this time.

i leave to grab lunch rq and come back. day goes by normally. but when i log back into MY PERSONAL COMPUTER, my shit was gone.

Obviously ik it was him. No one else cares enough to do anything like that. So i go confront him. And of course that villianous ass bitch is cracking a smile talking bout some "you can play dress up at home,". like NO???? SIR I NEVER GO HOOOMMME. IM HERE ALL THE TIME???

keep in mind i do NOT get paid for this. the most i get is experience and a therapy session on Wednesdays, thats it.

unhealthy yes, but he knows that i care about this work and he def knows my home life isn't the best anyways. so idk why he was being so petty about it.

but since we're being petty now of course i had to go lower.

he has this lil hologram suit. it's cute or whatever, super secure. but i just asked his AI for a favor and she let me go ham on the programing.

everytime the program detects his heartrate above a certain level, his costume will change. i have it cycling through a few options, but the bunny suit has been a fan favorite lately.

he's pretty pissed about it and ik he suspects me, but he doesn't want to admit that i somehow got into his superfancy tech and embaressed him. so its a lot of passive aggressiveness and for sulking now. everytime he changes it, i change it back and then some. it's fun.

it has also become a growing meme in the work gcs, tho some of the heros have tried to scold me about it. but tbh idc. none of the costumes impede his work, if anything the distraction helps him catch villians off guard. so pretty harmless, i could do worst. so im taking suggestions on how to keep ruining his day until i get bored of it (or till i get all my cc redownloaded).

update: thank you for all the outfit suggestions!! also to the grown men mad at me in my messages, check ur emails for something fun :)

#atsv #across the spiderverse #margo kess #miguel o'hara #spider byte #spiderman #fake post #writing #hobie brown #atsv lyla #atsv spiderbyte

83 notes · View notes

solomons-poison · 1 year

Note

can you do 19/20 for solomon*///*

Getting Married and Having Kids with Solomon

A/N: I sure can! Ahhhhh I wanna marry my sweet wizard 🥺 Honestly, not sure if OM Solomon would have been married in the past, considering how different his priorities were when he was young (focusing on developing his magic potential, creating the Sorcerors' Society, making pacts, research, etc) so I'd like to imagine all the firsts he's having with MC ❤️ sorry its so late ;;

Featuring: GN reader || Solomon x reader

Warnings: No reader pronouns but brief mention of accidental pregnancy; Solomon is a giant softie for kids; a little angst (it was coming, we all knew it :')... )

══════════════════

To say Solomon is unprepared for this branch in his life, is an understatement. Not that he hadn't spared a thought for the potential at one point or another to marrying and having children, after all especially after becoming an immortal, it gives you lots of time to consider your life choices and goals. But as is always the case, making the goal a reality is very, very different.

He may have once viewed child-rearing as focused on producing an heir, someone to carry on his magical ability and research, and of course marriage would go hand in hand in making that happen. But as the years go on, gaining immortality allowed him to become engrossed in his research and pact-making, so it becomes less and less of a thought/priority in his mind.

After meeting you, however, he finds himself thinking of many things he once gave up on or forgot about, including this. At every next step of your growing relationship, he surprises himself at the new feelings that are awakened. Or at least, they're so rusty to him they may as well as be new. But if there's one thing he knows, it's that as time goes on, he's more and more sure that you're the one he wants to be with like that.

He is all for getting married, and he'll go along with whatever your preferences are. If you want a small, private ceremony, he'll gladly accept that, as your comfort is first and foremost to him. However, if you decide you'd like a big ceremony (and given the number of demons and angels you've befriended, it wouldn't be a big surprise), he's more than happy to accommodate your wishes. Money isn't an object to him, he'd give you the stars if you wished it.

In all honesty, he's not quite in the headspace to be thinking about children after all these years. Especially regarding his immortality, the idea of building a family that you may outlive is daunting; he has these worries about you too, how long he can expect to be with you. If you've both been working on methods to elongate your life, then that will likely influence his thoughts on the matter.

That being said, if you're able to get pregnant and end up with a little... surprise, he will definitely step up to take care of his child. Although it may be sooner than intended, he will likely be very happy about having a child with you, despite his worries.

Otherwise, if you're planning to add to the family, he may put it off a little because of the aforementioned reasons. But don't get it wrong, he absolutely loves the idea of making a family with you, and it is something he is absolutely open to and wants if you want it too.

Solomon is also definitely a big softie for his children. Expect lots of silly magic tricks and creating little science experiments for them to get involved in. He doesn't have a preference on the gender, he's happy so long as there's a little one running around for you two to look after.

All in all, getting married and having kids is definitely something Solomon is interested in down the road. He may just need a little time to prepare himself first.

#solomon x reader #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #solomon hcs #the minx can write ✍️

120 notes · View notes

smartycvnt · 6 months

Text

Look Ahead

Title: Look Ahead

Pairing: Alice Abernathy x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Alice have a talk about what their future may hold.

Word Count: 571

The air was tense as everyone waited for Y/n to finish. She was teh closest thing that the camp had to a doctor. Alice could see Y/n's hands shaking slightly as she closed up the incision. It wasn't a life-saving surgery or anything, just a routine wound closure. Still, it was further than anything that Y/n had actually learned how to do in medical school.

"Stay here for a couple days and rest up. I'll be back to check on infection tomorrow," Y/n told her patient. Alice smiled to herself as Y/n started to walk towards her. They didn't know each other very well, but Alice liked their little arrangement. It was nice not to be alone, and Y/n didn't ask questions about things like other people did.

The two of them walked in silence together back to their little cabin on the outskirts of the camp. Things were finally safe, and society was being rebuilt slowly. Alice had always kind of thought that she'd want to jump back into things, and Claire had done a good job of convincing her that was the right way to go. However, Alice quickly learned that it wasn't for her. Luckily, Alice wasn't the only one who had trouble joining the communities of people forming.

"It's nice out tonight," Y/n said casually. Alice hummed in agreement, but didn't say anything more. She knew that Y/n wasn't quite finished yet, that there was something else on the tip of her tongue. Alice had picked up on a lot of Y/n's little habits over their few months spent together. It felt nice to have someone around to learn about, even if she was still on the fence about letting someone else in after Claire. "It reminds me of how things were before."

"How so?"

"Clear skies are beautiful, but it means something to see those houses lit up in the distance too. There's progress happening. We've opened up a school, and it's another sign that the world will grow again. We've got a fresh start to do things right," Y/n said. She sounded hopeful, like there was something specific that she wanted to do.

"I didn't really have a life before this. Not one I'd be willing to go back to anyways," Alice said. Y/n stopped and cradled Alice's face in her hands.

"The beauty of the new world is that you can do whatever you want. I was going to be a doctor before all this started. Now, I think I want a quieter life. Maybe we could find some land and start a farm. I've always loved animals," Y/n suggested. Alice liked the sound of that, even if finding animals to domesticate was a bit difficult.

"Did you say we?" Alice asked, fixated on that little detail of Y/n's little speech.

"I did because whatever I do, I'd like you to be there with me. We work well together, it wouldn't feel right to try with anybody else." Alice seemed a little lost in thought, so Y/n did the one thing she knew always brought Alice right back to her. Y/n leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to Alice's cheek. Alice cracked a small smile at the little show of affection before she nudged Y/n along to continue their walk back to their cabin.

#my writing #one shot #alice abernathy x reader #alice abernathy #resident evil x reader #resident evil

21 notes · View notes

yangtaros · 1 year

Text

jeno x female reader fluff

soulmates start to feel dizzy when they’re apart for too long until they kiss

part 1 part 2 part 3

“hi czennie!” mark waved at the camera on the phone they use to do lives. the rest of dream waved and started to read comments.

is jeno okay?

jeno looks tired

jeno you good?

“jeno people are worried” haechan quietly whispered

jeno slowly blinked and leaned towards the phone to read comments, after he saw them he leaned back on the wall. “czennie i’m not tired thanks for caring”

the rest of dream has concerned looks on their face. soon they heard a knock on the door of the room they were in. mark got up to answer it and it was a staff. she signaled for jeno to leave the live.

“i gotta go love you all” as he got up he stumbled.

“we are taking you to the doctor right now”

****************************

you were laying on your back on the grass staring at the sky

“y/n i think we should take you to the emergency room or something”

“just give it some time it’ll wear off like earlier”

“i’m giving you 3 more minutes” giselle said while grabbing her phone.

mark: hey, check twitter trends

“wait mark just texted me to check twitter trends?”

“huh” you were so out of it.

“nothing.” giselle went on twitter, “oh… oh wait! something!”

“what”

“get well soon jeno is trending and so is this video”

giselle showed you a clip of jeno stumbling out of the live from earlier. a smile grows on her face.

“there’s some people that think he’s drunk and some are worried about him being overworked”

“wait”

“y/n! he’s your soulmate!”

“nct must’ve been practicing in the dance room next to us!”

“i don’t know how i didn’t piece that together, but we have to get you to him fast!”

“wait so i’m just going to go and… kiss him?

“if you want to function in society… yes! and don’t act like you didn’t like him. weren’t you supposed to hang out with him tomorrow?”

“yes! but like kissing is a big-” you paused, feeling light headed, “never mind let’s just go”

****************************

on the way, giselle called mark and let him know. he relayed it to everyone else, “i thought so” haechan laughed.

the only person who didn’t know yet was jeno. you soon arrived to the er, stumbling to jeno’s room. “i’m nervous”

“don’t be he’s your soulmate you have your life ahead of you to get to know him, now i’ll be outside the door okay?”

you nodded and knocked on the door.

“come in”

you walk in to see him on the bed drinking a bunch of orange juice.

“oh, hi y/n.”

“hi”

“they told me to drink a lot of fluids... sorry to say i think we’ll have to cancel tomorrow”

“um actually i’ve been having the same symptoms you’re having and… and right now it’s kind of at ease”

jeno paused. he realized he was starting to feel fine. “woah y/n you’re-”

jeno stayed silent contemplating what he would say next while he got out of bed to talk to you.

“y/n. can i ask where you went today?”

“i was at sm…”

jeno pondered for a bit

“can i ask if you were close to the dancer studios?”

you took a breath, “i was. you?”

“yeah i was”

jeno inched closer, “i guess there’s one thing to do”

jeno slowly grabbed your waist and brought you closer to him. “can i y/n?”

you nodded and jeno kissed you. he took his time, his grip tightening. you no longer felt any lingering dizziness. when he pulled back he kissed your forehead, “feel better?”

you nodded, “are you better?”

he smiled and nodded, “but let me do it again just to make sure”

you giggled and leaned back into the kiss.

thanks for the love on this and requests for my next soulmate story is now open!

taglist @luvrboyjeno @ohdudehesflirting @thegracerammy

#nct #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct imagines #kpop #nct fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #jeno #jeno x female reader #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jeno fanfic #nct dream #nct dream x female reader #lee jeno

141 notes · View notes

thefloorisbalaclava · 2 years

Text

a forever type of love

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Words: 876

Warnings: Some self-deprecation, lots of kisses, cuddles, Frankie baby just needs some reassurance.

Summary: You and Frankie do not have a typical relationship, but you like it that way.

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve written about my best boy. Luckily, someone sent in a request and changed that!

[frankie masterlist pt. 1][frankie masterlist pt. 2]

Frankie is a good man. No, he’s a great man. You wish he knew this.

Society would try to make him feel ashamed.

After everything that had happened in his life, it was hard for him to find work. It was hard for him to do a lot of things. He struggled to make sense of it all. What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? And you had to tell him that there was nothing wrong with him. What he was suffering from was understandable, and there was no shame.

You both agreed that he would stay home for now. You didn’t mind. He had no idea how happy you were to come home every day, knowing he would be there to greet you. Sometimes it was a shout from the basement as he did laundry. Other times he peeked his head out from the kitchen while making dinner to welcome you home. There was nothing like coming home and wrapping your arms around the man you love after a long day.

You don’t call him a ‘stay-at-home husband’ or a ‘house husband’; no, he was just your husband. That word was important enough on its own.

You loved how he told you everything he did around the house while you were at work. He was proud, and that made you proud. He told you he was interested in planting a garden as you both washed and dried dishes.

“I think growing our veggies would be cool,” he said with an adorable smile.

“I never knew my husband had such green thumbs,” you joked. “Go for it. It might be kinda hot to come home and see you bent over, covered in dirt.”

“Babe,” he chuckled before sprinkling you with some water.

You just looked at him for a moment and smiled. “I love seeing you like this, Frankie.”

“Like what?”

“Happy,” you told him, and he shrugged sheepishly.

“It took some time, but I think I finally found my groove. I have you to thank for that.” He nudged you playfully as he dried his hands. “I couldn’t have done it on my own.”

“I’m proud of you, Frankie, and I love you.” You hugged him, and he tucked a hand under your chin to lift your head so he could kiss you.

“I love you, too. Let’s go. Shower then bed for you, miss.” He tapped your butt, and you both went upstairs.

After your shower, you lay in bed talking to him.

“Oh yeah, I also changed the sheets,” he said proudly.

“These are my favorite,” you said.

“I know.” He touched your face gently.

“You’re the best husband a girl could ask for.” You snuggled closer.

“Am I?” He wrapped an arm around you.

“Mmhmm.” You rubbed your nose against his and smiled.

“Thank you,” he said before kissing you once.

“For what?” you asked.

“I dunno. For loving me, I guess…even though I’m not a typical kind of husband.” His words trailed off.

“What do you mean?” You sat up slightly.

“Uh…it doesn’t matter. Never mind.” He shrugged and stared at the ceiling.

“Tell me, Frankie.”

“I …you work, and I stay at home. I’m not a typical husband. We don’t have a typical relationship.”

“Who said we had to be typical?” you asked.

“Society,” he responded.

“Fuck society. Are you happy, Frankie?”

“I’m…I’m ecstatic. I never thought I would find someone like you, but I also have doubts every…fucking…day.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“Doubts about us?” you wondered nervously.

“What? No. About me. About the possibility of losing you.” He looked at you, and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

“I’m not going anywhere, Frankie. Listen to me, I never wanted typical. I’ve loved you for a thousand years, baby, and I’m gonna love you for a thousand more.” You held his face in your hands. “Yes, I work, and you stay home, and maybe society finds that atypical, but I don’t, and you shouldn’t either.” You stroked his cheekbones.

“But—”

“This is us. This is how it was meant to be, how we were meant to be. I wouldn’t have it any other way, okay?” You smiled at him.

“Okay.” He smiled sadly, then crushed himself to you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “What do they call it…a fucking…house husband? Stay-at-home husband?” he chuckled against your neck.

“I don’t care what they call it, babe,” you told him.

He sat up. “You’ll come home one day, and I’ll be wearing a French maid outfit,” he joked, and you snorted.

“Hmmm…that might be kinda hot, actually,” you teased, and he playfully tackled you onto your back while laughing.

“They can call me whatever they want as long as I get to be yours,” he said, smiling down at you.

“You are mine, Frankie, baby. You’re mine, and I love you.” You kissed him.

“And I love you.” He laid his head on your chest and sighed happily.

“I kinda wanna buy you a French maid outfit now,” you said, holding back a laugh.

“Shut up,” he chuckled. You played with his hair, and he sighed. “I’m so lucky,” he said quietly. “So lucky.”

But you were luckier.

#frankie baby #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #headcanon

257 notes · View notes

mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Text

daydreams' marvel rec list!

wooo! we just hit 200 followers? it's only been like 2 weeks since 100, and i'm so grateful people have decided to stick around and read with me!

of course, i would've never started writing (fanfiction and in general) without having read some of the most incredible works on this site, and i'm here to present to you 22 of my favorite fics!

no smut is included, but there may be suggestive themes. please read the warnings on each individual fic! :)

literally, just check out each individual account, all of their fics are incredible

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

☺ fluff ☹ angst ☝ humor ✰ series

bucky barnes:

under oath ☹ ✰ @ugh-supersoldiers

-> the world needs someone to blame for the deaths that hydra facilitated for decades, and the target is on the back of the former winter soldier. the case is going to trial, and seemingly the guilt ridden bucky barnes can’t care less about the verdict. (lawyer! reader)

for the love of the game ☺ ☹ ✰ @pellucid-constellations

-> bucky barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. you hated him. he couldn’t figure out why. so when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. (college athlete! bucky)

not happening ☺☝✰ @notimetoblog

-> an online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand. (modern! au)

looped ☹ @softlybarnes

-> you are inadvertently trapped in a time loop without any memory of the last five years, including your relationship with bucky. but bucky would stay in the loop forever, explain everything again each day, if it meant getting to stay by your side.

safe with me ☹ ✰ @bitsandbobsandstuff

-> when an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. as bucky barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realize falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected. (bodyguard! bucky x journalist! reader)

better ☺ ☹ ✰ @captainscanadian

-> dr. james barnes has it all: a loving family, caring best friends, and a successful career as one of the best heart surgeons in new york. he has everything he ever wanted his whole life… well, almost everything. one thing he never thought he could ever have was y/n y/l/n. she may have been a lot of things, but he loved her because she made him better. (modern! au)

grumpy sunshine ☺ ☹ ✰ @anonymityisfunwriter

-> you've been in hydra isolation your entire life, and sam is tasked to watch over you. bucky can't understand how you came out of hydra so optimistic and decides he hates you because of it. as you integrate into society, the avengers team, and SHIELD politics, bucky ends up being your biggest supporter. (inspired by taylor swift songs)

café crema ☺ ✰ @wonderlandmind4

-> the first time was an accident. the second time was coincidence. the third time is just unlucky. the fourth time is getting out of hand and the fifth may or may not be with intent. otherwise known as The One Where He Spills Her Coffee. (modern! au)

just one kiss ☺ ☹ ✰ @sarahwroteathing

-> bucky barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. how long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (40′s happy ending AU)

dreamscape ☹ @wkemeup

-> when bucky falls under the spell of a djinn, the line between fantasy and reality blurs. in order to survive, he must fight his way back to the real world - even if it costs him everything he’s ever wanted.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

peter parker:

far from you (full trilogy) ☺ ☹ ✰ @hey-marlie

-> y/n stark is really not here for this european school vacay because in this post-endgame world, she’s mourning the loss of her dad. but one (1) sticky boi peter parker is just trying to be the friend he once was while also trying not to flirt too much because if she rejects him (which she wouldn’t, not that he knows that) while they’re in venice holy hell he’ll just pitch himself off the gondola right then and there. (stark! reader)

was it worth it? ☹ @kelieah

-> you and peter are married and expecting, and after every mission, you ask him “was it worth it?" each time he would say yes. but as peter begins to neglect his family in favor of his work, he leaves his wife vulnerable. is it worth it?

it’s your voice ☹ ☺ @peteprker

-> after spiderman saves you while you were being attacked in an alley, he walks you home and his voice gives his identity away

the favorite ☹ @softspideys

-> you’re convinced your dad likes peter parker more than you, until he saves your life (stark! reader)

clause 3 of the friendship agreement ☺ @youlightmeupfinn

-> you and peter parker have always been the best of friends, even going as far as to enact a friendship agreement like idiots. when you walk in, feeling quite touch-starved and desperate for cuddles, you go for clause 3 of the friendship agreement… cuddles.

your boy who is a friend, peter ☺ ✰ @luveline

-> you and peter are penpals from opposite sides of the country, but you manage to fall in love through letters alone.

the baby project ☺ ☝ @vendettaparker

-> when you and peter begin working on an assignment for your child development class and morgan overhears your discussions, she starts to think that you and peter are actually expecting a baby, leading to a lot of confusion and a very pissed off tony. (stark! reader)

sunset lovers ☺ ☹ @duskholland

-> you've never met your soulmate, but you know his handwriting like the back of your hand—literally. every word your soulmate writes on his skin appears on yours, and vice versa. you're desperate to meet him, but until the universe decides to introduce you, you're stuck with scribbled smiley faces and chemistry formulae. (college! soulmate! au)

close to my heart ☺ @peterbenjiparker

-> physical affection has been a part of your friendship since it began years ago, it was only a matter of time peter questioned why he was the only one…on the receiving end of your hugs and kisses.

my reverie’s affinity remains to be you ☹ ☺ @indouloureux

-> in a world where you see ten seconds of your soulmate’s life in your dreams, you already knew that spider-man was your soulmate. but what you didn’t know, was that you’d be vexed to see who was beneath the mask (enemies to lovers)

sleepyhead ☺ @flourgirl

-> peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@yourallihave @bambamwolf87 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @cowboibeepbeep

#peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker masterlist #peter parker fic recs #marvel fic recs #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes fic rec

309 notes · View notes

bosbas · 6 months

Text

Chapter 8: no one wanted to play with me as a little kid

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (sort of. it's like pre idiots in love. on the cusp of idiots in love), fluff (so much fluff)

A/N: you know what. let's pretend all of the ages/years make sense. kisses to all of you!

December 4, 1809 - Dearest, loveliest, most wonderful Y/I (your initial),

I am so sorry I have not written in almost two weeks, though I did enjoy the very strongly worded letter you sent me reminding me of this fact and demanding a response. I wish I had a better excuse, but truthfully, this term has just been hectic. But to answer the question you so politely asked: yes, I will be home in time for Christmas, and I will be staying for New Year's and your birthday (your birthday is not even two weeks after Christmas, darling, give me some credit!). Though I rather think you owe me a present instead of the other way around after calling me an oblivious toad.

As an apology for my silence, I've attached my reading list for the courses I am taking at Oxford this term so you can also read them. I am sure you will be able to find them in your library but do let my mother know if you cannot find them. We should also have copies in our library. I will be heading back to Aubrey Hall in ten days to see the lot of you, and I will eagerly be awaiting all of your thoughts on this term's reading.

Yours, B

You couldn't help the excited gasp that left your lips as soon as you were finished reading Benedict's letter. You hadn't even managed to leave your entryway before you hastily opened the envelope addressed to you, blurting out a thank you to your slightly startled butler, who had been taken aback by your eager rifling of the mail.

Now that Benedict was at Oxford, you barely got to see him at all, so you were more than a little excited when you read that you would only have to wait ten more days to see him. The three weeks he was home for the winter holiday were the bulk of your in-person interactions with him for the year, as had been the norm for the past three years he had been at university.

It wasn't all bad, though. Proof of that lay in a box in your bedroom filled with every single letter or note you had received from Benedict while he was away at Oxford. Even the short ones, when he was studying for an exam and barely had time to write a coherent response, had found a place inside your box. You supposed the box contained most of your friendship with Ben over the past three years, neatly organized by date from oldest to newest and separated by term.

Sometimes, you found yourself missing Benedict more than usual, and you would read through your favorite of his letters. Often, it ended up being the shortest notes that were the sweetest and ones you would read over and over. Even years after he had sent the letters, you found comfort in his messy scrawl after an afternoon playing Pall Mall without Benedict and his typical banter. But once you saw him at Aubrey Hall every December, it would be like no time had passed at all. You kept him up to date on everything happening at home with your family and his, and he told you wild stories from his time at Oxford.

And although you enjoyed hearing about his life, it was also bittersweet. You were so jealous of him, wishing more than anything that you could go to university, too. But alas, the pesky issue of your gender prevented you from furthering your education. You got as close as you could, though. Benedict would send you all of his readings every term, and you enjoyed discussing the books you read at length when he returned for the holiday season.

This is not to say that your conversations about literature and art were limited to your in-person time. In fact, most of your correspondence was about the books you were reading or the galleries you had gone to. Ben could spend pages and pages talking about a particular part of a painting, the way the artist had captured the way light filtered through the trees. And you loved every bit of it, engaging in your usual discussions. In a way, if you ignored how much you missed him, it was lovely to have a physical representation of your friendship.

However, you would soon stop being constrained to receiving correspondence from Ben every few days, and you could simply knock on his door if you were particularly interested in talking about an aspect of your book. Your time at Aubrey Hall had become your favorite time of year, three weeks of daily interactions with your best friend being the absolute best birthday present you could've ever asked for.

But this year was different. This was the last time you would have to say goodbye at the end of the holidays, seeing as Benedict was graduating in the spring and returning from Oxford permanently. To say you were over the moon was an understatement. You could barely wait to spend hours in his studio watching him paint again or reading aloud to him under the shade of the tree in your backyard on particularly warm days.

---

August 12, 1799 - Y/I, I thought you would like this one. Yours, B

Bypassing Alex and Anthony having a heated debate about who was better at billiards, Benedict headed straight in your direction across the garden, ignoring Daphne, Colin, Theo, and Bastian, who had been playing some team game that devolved into an argument. Benedict patted your head as he came by to sit beside you on the grass, momentarily drawing your attention away from the massive book on your lap.

Grabbing the book from your lap and transferring it to his own, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

You let out an excited squeal, shaking Benedict's nearest arm with both hands. "It's amazing, Ben! An entire book about flowers, who knew? I've spent hours looking at it already, and I'm not even halfway through! It's got so much information I could die. It's incredible. Thank you so much." Though it was left unsaid, Ben knew these were hours you would have otherwise spent alone. The twins were especially adamant about not having you play with them, and Alex and Anthony were too caught up in their never-ending competitions to pay any attention to you. With your mother and his being occupied with the toddlers, Francesca, Cass, and Eloise, who had only just begun to walk and talk, you and Ben were truly the only odd ones out. But it was no bother to him. He loved when you read aloud to him, and you would happily listen to him talk about his sketches for hours on end, something he could not say about any other member of the Bridgerton-Beaumont cohort.

Ben could only laugh fondly at your excitement, internally very proud that he had found a book you really enjoyed. "It's called an encyclopedia. There are loads of them about just about anything and everything in the world," he told you, leafing through the book himself. Gently pushing the book back in your direction, he prodded, "Well, go on then. Show me your favorite flowers so far."

Grabbing the book, you hastily turned the pages until you reached the flowers, starting with the letter 'd.' Standing up, you rushed to the nearest corner of the garden and dug around for a few seconds, coming back with a bunch of small white flowers clutched in your small hands.

Ben let out a short laugh, but you quickly shushed him, whining, "Stop it! It'll make sense in a second, I promise."

"I didn't say anything!" responded Ben defensively, putting his hands up in the air but unable to conceal the smile you had elicited from him.

"Okay. Look at the page. The daisies. They're also called Bellis perennis, but that's in Latin. We have them here in the garden! Isn't that lovely?" you said excitedly, placing the flowers beside Ben.

"Oh, that is quite nice, Y/N," he responded, picking one of the daisies up and placing it behind your ear, eliciting a bright smile from you. "Did you know that a Violet is a type of flower? And so is a Primrose."

"You mean both our mums have flower names? That's so fun. I wish everyone could have a flower name," you responded, excited to have learned new information.

"You could always give your daughters flower names," Ben suggested, enjoying the pure joy you were getting out of this.

"Well, before I have daughters, I would have to get married. And I don't want to do that! I just want to keep reading books. I want to read every single encyclopedia in the world!" you exclaimed, reaching your arms as high as they could go.

Ben laughed, highly amused by your antics. "Just like me, then. Except instead of reading it's painting," he responded as he laid down fully on the grass, looking up at the sky and feeling particularly thankful that someone understood how he felt. On the other hand, you took the opportunity to dump all of the flowers you had picked onto his torso, arranging and rearranging them into different designs. He could only laugh, not at all bothered that his shirt would surely be dirty now, just happy to watch you enjoy yourself.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up as you tried unsuccessfully to stack the flowers on top of each other. "That's perfect, then. We can get married, I can read, and you can paint, and we can have a daughter and give her a flower name."

"That sounds wonderful! I'm glad that's sorted," he laughed, lifting his head to find you flashing a toothy grin. "D'you like the name Daisy for our daughter, then?"

"That's lovely! And you can paint her a painting of a daisy for her room!" you responded eagerly. Benedict hummed in assent, busy imagining the dynamics of a blissful imaginary marriage.

---

January 3, 1810 - Y/I, Happiest of birthdays, darling. Come downstairs, where I have a proper gift and card waiting for you. Yours, B

As you came downstairs, you already feared the fate that awaited you. Every year, your birthday would begin with a very extreme and frankly excessive snowball fight involving all the Bridgerton-Beaumont children. You could trust no one. Alliances would easily crumble under pressure, and people were just as likely to betray their siblings as they would someone from the other family. You and Benedict, ordinarily inseparable, could become sworn enemies in the span of two snowballs. You couldn't even trust sweet Hyacinth, only seven years old, to be loyal to any team, seeing as she was an outstanding double agent, a lesson you had all learned the hard way. It was absolute chaos, and you loved every second of it. It didn't matter how old you were; this was always the best part of your birthday.

As soon as you stepped outside, a snowball the size of your fist hit your right shoulder. Slowly turning toward the perpetrator, you narrowed your eyes once you saw it was Gregory, who had helped you defeat Bastian and Francesca in one fell swoop last year. Clearly, that alliance was gone, and you would have to find someone else to rely on this year.

Since it was your birthday, the fight officially started when you threw the first snowball, and this year, you chose to throw it at Cassandra, your own sister, who had annoyed you at dinner yesterday by incessantly flinging peas at you. Once the tightly packed ball left your hand, all hell broke loose. You were hit in the stomach and leg simultaneously as you fired snowballs in every direction you could, laughing as you did.

You briefly ducked behind a tree trunk, needing a moment to breathe. You took advantage of the fact that you weren't a target to form a massive snowball. You carefully stepped away from behind the trunk, checking that the coast was clear. Without a second thought, you flung the snowball as hard as you could in the direction of the person closest to you.

Unfortunately, it hit Benedict straight in the face, blinding him for a few moments. Your mouth hung open, trying not to laugh because you knew you had packed quite a bit of force into your throw. You ran to Ben's side, apologizing as much as possible without bursting into laughter. He cleared the snow from his eyes and turned to you slowly, an evil grin forming on his face.

"I believe you have just declared war, Miss Beaumont," he said finally.

You screamed and ran in the opposite direction, knowing he would be absolutely merciless. You couldn't even look back, not wanting to slow down. After a few seconds of frantic sprinting, you felt Ben tackling you onto a massive pile of snow. Both of you were laughing hysterically while trying to catch your breath. He turned you over so you were lying down side by side, both of you panting heavily, looking up at the winter sky.

"I miss you," you said finally, turning your head toward him, only to find that he was already looking at you. He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you tightly before he helped you up and brushed the snow off of your coat.

"I know. I miss you, too. But it'll only be like this for a short while longer, and then you can come round every day and read to me while I paint, yeah?" he said, lifting your chin to look at him.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, his brown eyes not letting yours go. Your eyes flickered to his mouth briefly, your lips parting slightly. Looking back at his eyes, you saw something flash in them that you couldn't quite parse, an expression you hadn't seen before. Finally, you nodded, letting him pull you into him and kiss your forehead, enjoying the warmth and comfort you felt as you were wrapped tightly in his arms.

---

September 17, 1805 - Y/I, I can't believe you had a book about the exact artist I was talking about! I'll pop by yours later to say a proper thank you. Yours, B

Benedict walked into your sitting room, sprawling on the couch before you with his arm behind his head, silently waiting for you to look up from your book. But you had just gotten to an exciting part, and your eyes remained glued to the page, ignoring your best friend's attempt to get your attention.

You heard him huff and muttered a soft "Just a second, Ben" as your eyes raced across the page, eager to know what happened next. In response, he slid further down the couch and crossed his arms, eliciting a laugh from you and finally drawing you away from your book.

"You were barely waiting ten seconds, Benedict!" you exclaimed, secretly pleased he was so eager to see you. He was leaving for Oxford in a few weeks, and although you were trying not to think about the reality of him going, you were acutely aware that you would soon be unable to see him every day.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, responding with a teasing, "It felt like ten years!"

In recent months, the two of you had become inseparable. Your days were spent reading next to him as he painted, listening to him talk about his most recent artworks, or going for nature walks if you found yourself in Aubrey Hall. Anything to keep him close by before he left for Oxford, you reasoned. Though you couldn't help the growing affection, you were feeling, finding it impossible to look away when he tousled his hair just so and being a bit too pleased every time he complimented you. Every handsome smile or cheeky wink he sent your way lit you up inside, melting your heart just a little bit.

The problem was, and of course, there was a problem, that Benedict was always like this. Nothing about his demeanor had changed; your friendship was still the same as it had always been. Except now you found yourself spending a little too much time in the mornings making sure your hair looked good in case he popped by unannounced. Regardless, you knew Ben did not reciprocate your affections, so you tried to ignore these feelings as best as you could, folding them up very small and tucking them neatly in the corner of your heart for later examination.

Now, you found yourself on a couch against a wall of Benedict's studio, reading Romeo and Juliet as he was quietly sketching. This was quite possibly your favorite thing to do. Spend quiet afternoons together, reading and painting, enjoying each other's company. You took a moment to look at him as he scrunched his nose, unhappy with a certain aspect of the sketch.

He sighed and looked up at you, nodding toward your book. "What has Shakespeare got to say today?"

"That marriage is a death sentence," you replied, voice deadpan.

Ben burst into laughter. "Oh, come off it. It can't be that bad in real life. That's only a play! Besides, you've still got a while before you have to think about that," he tried to reason with you.

"Well, maybe. But it just sounds so unappealing. I want to do this. What we're doing now. I want to keep doing it. I don't want to be a wife! I just want to read and study," you argued.

Benedict stood up, coming to sit beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, darling. I'm sorry," but he knew you had more to say.

You groaned, pushing your forehead into his shoulder. "I just don't think I'll ever be happy if I'm forced to marry. And I most likely will be, knowing my mother. She'd rather die than have one of her daughters turn into a spinster," you huffed, missing the sympathetic look you got from Ben. "And who will my husband be? A clueless man with no interest in me beyond my ability to be a good wife? I cannot imagine a worse fate."

---

May 8, 1810 - Y/I, I'll keep this one short, seeing how I'll be properly back in a few days! I've been quite busy with graduation, but I'm excited to come home. Yours, B

You smiled as you placed the last letter you had received from Benedict back in your box. The collection was complete. Three years of correspondence between the two of you finally come to an end. You carefully closed the box and returned downstairs, where a big family gathering was occurring in the garden.

As soon as you stepped outside, Ben was at your side, chatting your ear off about one thing or another. He had barely left you alone since he had been back, granting you only a few minutes to yourself, but you couldn't complain. You wrapped an arm around his torso as you walked back to the garden table.

"Oh, you look so darling!" cried Violet, cooing at the two of you.

"You're proper adults now! Both of you! How the time has passed," your mother added, reaching out to hold Violet's hand.

Benedict could only smile, too happy to be back at your side to focus on anything else. He had missed you loads while he was at Oxford, but having your arm around him now, he realized just how much he needed you. Ben placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, unable to help himself as you sat down at the table. He sat right next to you, taking one of your hands into his own so he could play with your fingers as you chatted with Primrose and Violet.

Oxford had been a riot, to be sure, but he was so glad to come home to you.

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti

285 notes · View notes