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peakyblindersxx · 4 years ago

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whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby reader insert #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders

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ellitx · 4 years ago

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Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?”

Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask.

“We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

“Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

“That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?"

The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust.

“That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

“Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

“Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever.

Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random.

Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels.

“Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

“What flower is this?”

You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness.

For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

“It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

“I haven’t seen these before.”

Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.”

“Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left.

Peace and harmony at last.

Freedom is finally with you.

You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

“I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

Now that made him fully awake.

“Me?”

The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

“You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

“[Name]…?”

“Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up… I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

“I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

“Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love.

He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face.

Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

“I love you.”

His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world.

Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

“I love you,”

You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

“I love you.”

Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before.

Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti #yandere #Illusory Sense #elliwrites

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anntoldst0ries · 4 years ago

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shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard, dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

Tag list: @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @terrm9@starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @jamespotterthefirst @lisha1valecha @writer-ish @maurine07 @drakewalkerfantasy@iemcpbchoices @liaromancewriter @lem-20 @lucy-268 @oldminniemcg @queencarb @qrkowna @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @utterlyinevitable @stygianflood @udishaman @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @binny1985 @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @archxxronrookie @tinkertailorsoldierspy @schnitzelbutterfingers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @theinvisibledreamergirl @custaroonie @irisofpurple @chasingrobbie @ethandaddyramseyx @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict @takemyopenheart @aworldoffandoms @potionsprefect @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #Ethan Ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #mental health awareness

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thatesqcrush · 5 years ago

Text

Possibilities, Part 2

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Lucy Huston

CW: language, fluff

WC: 1750

AN: I am so stoked that so many people enjoyed part one and this pairing. It was meant to be a one-shot, but here we are. I am excited for this ship, toot toot!

Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @amirightcounselor @glimmerglittergirl @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @neely1177 @niyashell @tropes-and-tales @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarletsoldierrr @kscarlett1 @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @redlipstickandblacktea - anyone else just ask.

****

It had been three months. Three months of texting, secret dates, and hidden, flirty looks when in each other’s presence. It would take every fiber in Lucy’s being to not jump into Rafael’s arms when she saw him - whether it was at Liv’s apartment or at the precinct when she was picking up Noah. Likewise, for Rafael - he would be in the middle of discussing a case with Liv when he would simply lose train of thought at the sight of Lucy. Even if she didn’t say anything, Rafael knew her scent intimately - and his olfactory receptors would go into overdrive.

Rafael was tasked to a particularly tough case and it meant many days and nights into the office. It was to his surprise when Lucy showed up at his office.

“Cariño, what are you doing here?” Rafael murmured, shutting the door to his office.

Lucy pressed her lithe body against Rafael’s and he wrapped his thick arms around her, enveloping her completely. Her hands pressed against his chest, tugging slightly on his suspenders and she stood on her tip-toes to press as kiss to Rafael’s lips. Rafael used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue darting again at hers. She sighed, melting into his embrace and they enjoyed their private moment before breaking away.

“I miss you, that’s all,” Lucy replied softly as she used the pad of her thumb to rub off her lipstick that had smeared onto his lips.

Rafael pressed his face into her hand before kissing it. “I know. I miss you too.”

A staccato knock on the door interrupted their reverie, causing them to jump. “Barba—“ Liv charged into the office. She halted when she saw Lucy.

“Lucy? Hi? What are you doing here?” Liv questioned, her brows furrowed.

Lucy felt her face flush and her mouth went dry as she wracked her brain to formulate an answer.

“She thought you were picking up Noah here—“ Rafael jumped in, glancing at Lucy. Lucy gave him a half smile, nodding along.

“Right! And then I realized I got my days mixed up,” Lucy continued, mock hitting herself on the head. “I was just on my way out to go get Noah from the precinct.” She ducked her head and rushed past Liv, grabbing her purse from Rafael’s couch. Liv opened her mouth to reply but Lucy was gone. Rafael was certain if this moment was a cartoon, smoke would be emanating from her heels.

Liv looked at Rafael who shrugged in response. Liv shook her head before focusing on why she was there - she needed a warrant and fast.

***

A week later, Rafael and Lucy walked onto the vibrant green grass in Central Park, where the waited for the Philharmonic to perform. Rafael opened up the large blue checkered blanket. Lucy sank down to her knees, smoothing out the blanket before she began to remove the plethora food items they brought with them: mixed berries, soft cheeses, prosciutto and salami, and a loaf of French bread. She sat out the Bolero wine and Rafael opened it with the wine opener. Rafael grabbed the two glasses and sat them on the blanket gently, before he removed his shoes and socks. He sat with his knees up, legs spread apart and Lucy sat against him, her legs outstretched. Unbeknownst to them, they were spotted by curious eyes from a distance.

“Mom? Who is Uncle Rafa with?” Noah asked, pointing from the path he was on with Liv. “That’s Uncle Rafa, right?”

Liv squinted. “Yes,” she replied. ‘But I can’t see who he is with.’ “Let’s leave them be - we have to go.” Noah nodded before continuing on his bike, slowly pedaling away. Liv squinted one more - the face of the woman was familiar, but she was too far away. Liv cocked her head once more before chasing after Noah.

***

“I insist you stay for dinner,” Liv told Lucy. “Noah’s been asking.”

“Well, if Noah has been asking, how can I say no?” Lucy replied, bending down to smile at Noah. “Come on, let’s go get washed up.”

As Liv finished setting out the table, there was a knock on the door. She wiped her hands on the towel hanging off her stove before making her way to the door.

“Rafael,” Liv greeted brightly. “To what do I owe pleasure?”

“Wanted to bring over the Jackson case file...” Rafael began, stopping short at the sight of Lucy and Noah who had returned. Rafael tried to stop his mouth from twitching into a smile.

“Uncle Rafa! Uncle Rafa! Are you going to have dinner with us?” Noah pushed passed Liv to greet Rafael. Rafael smiled at the young boy before looking at his friend.

“Rafael is very busy—“ Liv began but Rafael cut her off.

“I think I can stay for dinner.”

“Hooray!” Noah shouted, running back to Lucy. Lucy met eyes with Rafael and she smiled.

***

“So Lucy, are you doing anything fun tomorrow night?” Liv asked as she passed the salad to her. Lucy nodded, chewing thoughtfully before she answered.

“I have plans with a friend.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Noah asked, his mouth full of spaghetti.

Lucy flushed. Rafael coughed on the wine he was drinking, red droplets splattering everywhere.

“Noah!” Liv chastised, as she handed a napkin to Rafael. Rafael patted himself, annoyed that his clothes were sprinkled with red wine, but he was curious to see how Lucy would respond.

Lucy let out a small laugh. “He is a special friend, yes.” Briefly, her eyes met Rafael’s once more. “Very special.”

Later, as Lucy tucked Noah into bed, Rafael helped Liv clean up from dinner. He scraped the remains of the salad into the trash.

“So I saw you the other day at the park,” Liv commented. Rafael’s back was to hers, and he froze momentarily. He turned around, relieved that Liv hadn’t turned around herself.

“You seem happy,” Liv commented. “I want that for you.” She turned around and gave Rafael a genuine smile. “Where did you meet her?”

“A coffee shop,” Rafael replied. “Just pure happenstance.”

Lucy was walking up the hall when she heard the two of them speaking. She paused in her steps, and craned her neck to listen. Her heart pounded in her chest as she heard Liv quip about having dinner together.

She rounded the corner, and tried to appear jubilant. “Liv, Noah’s in bed - if you don’t mind, I’m going to head home.”

Liv nodded. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you Thursday. Get home safely.”

“Do you want to share a cab?” Rafael suggested. “I’m almost done.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. I’m okay. See you around Rafael. ‘Night Liv.” Lucy rounded the hallway and let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding once the elevators doors shut.

***

Lucy padded around her apartment, dressed for her date with Rafael that next night. She wore a black long sleeve, mock turtleneck bodysuit that had a thing bottom. The body suit was sheer except for the sleeves and panel at the breasts, that had lace details. It had an open back and she paired it with a pair of black skinny jeans and black booties. Stacks of bangles adorned her wrists. Her hair was normally pin straight, but she used her curling wand to create large, bouncy soft curls. She lined her eyes and was in process of finishing applying her lipstick when her buzzer sounded.

“Be right down,” she spoke after Rafael said hello through the speaker. Rafael wore dark fitted jeans and a burgundy cashmere sweater, with the sleeves pushed up. He was leaning against the cab, hands in pockets. Lucy’s breath hitched at the sight of him.

“Counselor,” she greeted with a wink.

“Te ves muy hermosa,” Rafael purred in Lucy’s ear before pressing a kiss to her lips. His breath on her ear, sent a warm shiver down her spine. “Thank you,” she squeaked. “Where are we going?”

Rafael climbed into the cab after Lucy. “Want to get out of the city?”

***

Lucy and Rafael were cozied in a booth in the back of Hotel Delmano, a cocktail bar in Brooklyn. The bar was outfitted with opulent chandeliers and old, smoky mirrors. The various rooms had turquoise or muted red walls adorned with portraits of old, stately-looking people.

Oysters and other small plates like olives, cheese boards, and pâtés rounded out the many drinks that were had. Rafael’s had one hand wrapped around the lowball glass and his other hand rubbed concentric circles on Lucy’s thigh. Rafael moved her hair to expose her neck. He nuzzled the sensitive skin, pressing small kisses along the slope of her neck.

Rafael cupped Lucy’s chin, and drew her to face him. “I knows it’s only been three months — I knew the we started talking at that coffee shop, that there was something about you I needed. But it wasn’t something about you. All I really, truly needed was just you. You make me happier than I thought I could be.”

“Oh Rafael,” Lucy began before the shrill of Rafael’s phone ringing interrupted her. Rafael gave her an apologetic look as he glanced at the phone. He held a finger to his lips and mouthed ‘Liv.’

“Barba,” he answered sharply. Rafael furrowed his brows as he listened intently and Lucy instantly knew their night was over. Lucy motioned for their check. The waitress brought over the bill and while still on the phone, Rafael took care of it. “Actually I am close by — that’s another story for another time.”

He hung up, and gave Lucy an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I’ll need to rain check.”

“It’s fine. You’re needed. Go.” Lucy pressed a quick kiss to Rafael’s lips and gave him a small smile. “Be safe.”

Rafael turned to leave but then stopped and swept Lucy into a deep, passionate kiss. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Lucy watched Rafael leave and opened her phone to order an Uber home. As she grabbed her clutch, she noticed Rafael’s phone was on the table. “Fuck,” she grimaced and ran out of the bar.

“Rafael! Rafael!” Lucy shouted running after Rafael. She burst out of the bar, and noticed him rounding the corner. Lucy continued to run after him. “You forgot your —“ she caught up to him and realized he was standing in front of someone — and that someone was Liv. Lucy was horrified.

“Lucy? What are you doing —“ Liv began, confused but the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She pointed her finger back and forth.

“So how long have you two been fucking?”

TBC.

#rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fanfiction #barba fanfic #rafael barba x lucy huston #rafael barba x lucy #barba x lucy #my fanfiction #my writing

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x-reader-theater · 7 years ago

Text

Why’d You Do It?

Relationship: Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Summary: Life just isn’t worth living, so you decide to stop.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, swearing, wanting to comit suicide, suicide, and attempted rape. Yes I know. It’s a lot of fucked up shit.

Word Count: 3,293

A/N: Look at that! Look at how fast I wrote that! I know, this is a male reader, so I’m sorry to my female readers, but a new one for you will be coming out soo, and if you just want to read it just because, good on you. There just needs to be more gender diversity in this field. And yes, I know it’s short, I just really wanted to write this fast. The next one should be coming out in a bit. If you have any ideas, please send them in!

Edit! Just realized I had my reference tags still down there! Sorry for the mistake! I use them because I forget everything I see an hear, so they’re really helpful! Sorry about that! XD

The wind was freezing, whipping around you on the cold autumn day in late October. Even your down jacket couldn’t protect you from the piercing cold air that chilled you to the bone. Looking up you see a dark sky covered in grey clouds, tinted yellow by the city lights, and the slight silver color of the moon just peeking through the thick layer. Looking out you see your city, Queens New York, the city you grew up in, the city everyone thought you were going to get out of. They were right.

Looking down, the funny feeling in your stomach didn’t dissuade you from your position on the edge of the building, your toes hanging off and your arms, holding onto the guardrail, the only things from keeping you from tumbling off. You take a deep breath in and smile, thinking of all the things that will be better once you leave.

Your parents won’t have to deal with you, meaning they won’t have to pay for another mouth to feed so they can save up money for your sister to go to college. She always was the good one. Your teachers wouldn’t have to keep you after class every day to talk about how you’re failing, and how you need to do better. Your ‘friends’ won’t have to put up with your incessant questioning and you following them around everywhere because you have nothing to do.

You leaving is the best thing for everyone. Even for you.

You sigh again and a single tear falls from your face.

One hand leaves the rail.

You hear someone behind you and grab on again, spinning around.

“Sir? Please come back over the rail. We don’t want you to get hurt!” Spider-Man says and you scoff.

“That’s the point,” you mumble and he takes a step closer. You grip the rail harder.

“Pardon?” He asks and you shake your head, more tears falling.

“What does it matter if I tell you,” you whisper, turning around again and looking at the churning water below, which before today, never looked inviting. The ack swirls were always unappealing. Today however, they were the only thing that you could rely on.

“Please sir, I don’t want anything to happen to you!” He steps closer and you close your eyes, shaking your head.

“There’s nothing you can do. The damage is done!” You yell and scoff again. “Just leave me be. I’m dying soon.”

Spider-Man takes a step back and asks, “What?” But it was too late.

Convincing yourself to take the leap before you turned back was no easy task, but you did it, making sure not to look back, opting to close your eyes instead of watching it happening.

The rush of air is adrenalizing, and you, for the first time in years, truly feel happy, as your back cracks on the edge of the pavement, your lungs are filled with water, and everything goes black, the sound of screaming all that can be heard, as you sink lower and lower to your death.

Gasping awake and coughing blood and water out of your lungs was the last thing you thought you’d be doing. You thought you were dead, gone, not part of this world anymore, but that was clearly not the case, you look around for a body, but there’s nothing. You pick up the sand and see you’re still corporeal, that sand can still slip through your fingers and the air still chills you to the bone.

Getting up, you’re a but wobbly, but find your footing on the coarse sand. You look around and see no one. The entire beach was empty, which figures, seeing as it was just as cold as the night you died. Or didn’t die. You didn’t know.

Walking up to the road you see it’s twisty and winding, but quickly connects to the main city streets. You follow it, looking around and seeing it’s a part of the city you don’t know. It’s dense, like all of New York, but it was different than Queens, that’s for sure.

You walk around, trying to find something that familiar, but there’s nothing, nothing that you remember.

Walking down an empty street you notice the sun setting, meaning you could have been dead for a day or longer. The fact you weren’t freaking out as much as you should, was frightening.

You walk through an alley, just trying to find a place, you feel someone grab your arm, and slam you into the alley walls, your vision blurring for a good moment before sharpening again.

The person leans in close and you smell the alcohol on their breath as they talk into your ear, their deep and masculine voice gravely. “Are you a delicious looking boy,” he whispers and you struggle to free yourself from his grasp, but it’s no use. He’s much stronger than you are.

He begins kissing and biting at you and you scream, but he covers your mouth with his hand as you begin sobbing. He pulls away and Tsks at you. “My my, aren’t you a screamer. You have to be quiet through, we don’t want anyone hearing so we can keep having fun!” He says and you so even more. He’s pushing on your jaw and you can hear it start to snap, then snap back into place, then snap, then snap back into place. It was a vicious cycle that seemed like never ending pain.

Suddenly he’s pulled off you, getting a trashcan lid to the face. “No that’s no way to treat someone!” They say and you look up and see Spider-Man, standing over the man, pinning him to the ground with some of his webbing. He looks up, satisfied with his work, but when he sees you, his cartoon like eyes on his mask widen, and he runs over to you, touching your arms and face.

“Hey there sport,” you pop the T and give him a two fingered, half salute, awkwardly smiling.

“We need to talk.” His voice is suddenly more serious and you look down, as if being shamed by someone.

His arm wraps around your waist and you cling onto his neck, burying your face in his neck. You hated heights. He swing around the city, looking for a building, and when you feel him touch down, you look up, into the eyes of Spider-Man. You stare at him for a moment, noticing how the mask clings to his face just slightly and how the large eyes of the mask dilate, almost as if they’re camera lenses, focusing.

You shake yourself out if and take a step back, unhooking your arms from his neck. You come to the edge of the building and Spider-Man grabs your arm. You just sit down on the edge, kicking your feet back and forth.

Spider-Man sighs but eventually joins you, looking out over where you now we’re, which was Queens.

After a few minutes of silence, he turns to you curious. “Why’d you do it?”

You scoff and wake him away, saying, “You don’t want to hear my whole life story.”

“Yes I do,” he says and you look up at him, surprised. No one’s ever wanted to hear you. Not even the people who you thought loved you.

“Well…” You begin your tale and what feels like hours later, you’re still sitting at the top of the building, watching things pass below you. Spider-Man’s just looking at you, and you can see the shock in his masked face.

“I-I didn’t know. Sorry,” he says and you scoff.

“Sorry? What could you have done? You didn’t know me. You didn’t know my family. There are thousands of other people like me, and you can’t save every single one. Not everyone can come back from the dead…” you trail off, looking at the water. Peter nods and scoots closer to you, so your legs were touching, you jump, almost falling off, but he catches you last minute.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He says and you huff, but let it go. You would still be jumpy for a while. “Is there any place I can take you? I don’t want to take you back home…”

You shake your head. “All I had was that place. They feed me sometimes and I have a place to sleep, but I don’t have anywhere else.”

He looks down, but his head snaps up again, and he says, “What if you come stay with me? I’m sure my aunt wouldn’t mind if we tell her about your situation!”

“No!” You yell. He looks takes aback. “I’m sorry for yelling, but do not tell her anything. No one can know…” you whisper the last part and he nods.

“Okay…” he thinks aloud. “What if we don’t tell her everything, just that you got kicked out of the house and need a place to live. It’s not entirely untrue, and you’ll have a place to stay, food to eat, and a place to sleep. It’s much better than you current living condition, and my aunt doesn’t need to know anything!” He seemed excited, and you smile at him.

“You do realize this means you have to tell me your secret identity. Even if you don’t it’s easy to find out if I’m living with you…” you point out and he just nods.

Pulling off his mask he says, “I know, and it’s risk I’m willing to take.”

When he pulls off his mask you can see he’s very young, probably around your age, with a cute nose, pretty brown eyes, and floppy dark hair. He was very handsome. More handsome than you thought of yourself.

You stand up, and he follows, so you’re face to face with him. You pull him in for a hug, whispering, “Thank you.” He smiles and hug you tighter.

Maybe everything isn’t as bad as you think it is.

It had been almost a week since you moved in with the Parkers. You now knew Spider-Man’s real name was Peter. Peter Parker. It had a nice ring to it, and you liked saying it.

You spent a lot of time in Peter’s room. He gave you a notebook and some pens because you mentioned you liked writing. He was constantly getting you food you said you liked but only got to eat once, he showed you how to play video games, and even showed you his favorite comic book, like Batman and Nightwing.

He did so much for you, as well as May, who cooked and cleaned and was actually nice to you, that you wanted to make something. So, at the crack of dawn, you slowly get up from Peter’s bottom bunk, opening and closing the door quickly and silently. You creep through the halls to the kitchen and open the newly stocked fridge.

Getting to work on omelets and pancakes and bacon, making sure not to make too much noise. You loved cooking. It was the only thing you could do without your parents yelling at you. It was your favorite thing because you always got so lost in it.

After about an hour, you weren’t looking at the time that closely, you hear someone stumble into the small kitchen, and turning around with a full plate of food in your hands, you smile when you see May sleepily stumble into the kitchen.

“[Y/N]?” she asks and you smile. “Did you do this?” She sits down and you place the plate I front of her, and hand her a fork. She hesitantly takes it.

“I did. I wanted to give you something for giving me so much. It’s thank you I suppose,” you say and she smiles.

“You don’t have to thank us!” She said and you smile.

“Well I did anyways, so eat up and tell me what you think!” You say and she grins, taking a bite, and moaning at the taste.

“This is amazing!” She exclaims and Peter stumbles in.

“What’s going on? What smells so good?” He asks and May takes another large bite.

“[Y/N] made us food!” She says around her food and Peter wakes up a bit.

“He did?” Peter asks and you nod, placing another plate of food down next to May, and a fork right next to it. You also put a cup of coffee for Peter and a cup of tea for May and yourself on the table. You join them with your own plate of food.

Peter takes a bite and does the same moan as May, and you smile, taking a bite of your own food. “God [Y/N], this is so fucking good!” He exclaims around his own mouthful of food. You laugh lightly, eating at your own food, and smiling.

“Language,” May says and Peter scoffs.

“But you curse all the time!” He exclaims and May looks at him.

“Yes because I’m an adult. You, young man, are only fifteen,” she says and you laugh.

He huffs out, “Fifteen and a half.” You laugh and Peter’s head snaps towards you, and he grins.

Leaning back in the kitchen chair, you smile at the small family, that was now yours.

You didn’t know when it happened, but all you knew now was you had a big crush on the guy you were living with.

You didn’t know when your stomach started to flutter whenever he smiled at you, when your cheeks flushed whenever he touched you, when you started smiling more and more because of that boy, but it happened, and you were in, deep.

Which is why you suddenly felt jealous whenever he talked about the girls at school. It was always Liz. You could never be as smart as Liz, or funny as funny as Liz, or as pretty as Liz. It was always Liz, but you wanted him too. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he see you liked him.

YOU were the one he spent talking with late at night when you should be asleep. YOU were the one who’d patch him up whenever he got hurt. YOU were the one he’d take with him whenever he wanted you to see something. It was YOU who told him he’d find someone. YOU loved him.

So when he came home that evening with bullet wounds in his back, you couldn’t take it anymore. It started with a crash, and you running into Peter’s room.

“Shit, what happened? You ask and he shakes his head.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, trying to get up, but he stumbles, unable to hold himself up.

You scoff and yell, “Obviously it’s not nothing! You can barely stand up!”

“Shh!” He shushes you and you roll your eyes, helping him up.

“May’s not even here. She had to go in late because they were understaffed,” you mumble, walking him to the bed. Setting him down, he groans and you order, “Take it off.”

He looks at you confused. “What?”

“Take it off, I need to assess the damage!” You say and he nods, pressing the chest piece, and the entire thing slackens, and starts to slip, but like it’s caught on something, doesn’t very far. You take his mask off him, and you peel the suit away from his body, noticing the excessive amount of blood soaking it. Soon he’s in nothing but his boxers, and you blush as you order him to lay face down on his bed, while you ran to grab the first aid kit.

Walking back into his room, quickly getting the wipes out, you gasp as you see the blood coating his back. You rush over and quickly get to work, disinfecting and cleaning what you could now observe as bullet wounds. You grab the tweezers, the best you had, and the lighter, making sure to disinfect it as best you could.

“This is going to hurt,” you say and Peter nods. You reach in with the tweezers and Peter screams. You make sure to mop up the blood with the wipes, and pull out the bullet, quickly covering it with some gauze and taping it. “One down only two more to go,” you say, running a calming hand through Peter’s hair. You see him relax a bit more, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“I need you to stay awake, okay? For me,” you say and he nods again. Not really being able to say anything. You go in for the second bullet, but even with the screaming, and Peter fighting himself to move, you get it even quicker than the last.

“You’re doing amazing. Only one last one to go,” you say and he looks at you, in a way he never has before. Like he loves you. It gives you the motivation to continue onward.

You grab his hand and he grips it tight as you patch up the second hole, and switch the first one out.

“This is going to be the most painful. I need you to be strong. You’re the mother fucking Spider-Man for fuck sake!” You say and he grins as best he can through the pain, nodding once more. You quickly dive in, digging around until you hit something, and even though the screams of pain were heartbreaking, you trudged on, pulling the bullet out and setting it on the gauze the other two were on. You tape up the last bit, switch out the first two for new ones, and collapses on the floor next to where Peter’s head was, and you look at each other for a moment, before you start laughing.

You laugh at how you did it, at how strong he was, and how amazing he looks when he laughs.

You both trail off and just look into each other’s eyes, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, and capturing Peter’s lips with your own in an awkward, side, upside-down kiss thing. But even then, it was perfect.

You finally pull away, and are met with the beautiful smile you grew to love.

“That was…” you trail off, thinking of the right word to say.

“Awesome,” Peter says and you nod, smiling. “I love you,” you say and Peter smiles even wider, if that were at all possible.

“I love you too,” he whispers as he kisses you again.

When May gets home at around two in the morning, Peter was all washed up, and you two were cuddling in his bed, kissing, both in nothing but your boxers, covered by a blanket.

You hear a door close but just continue looking at each other, like nothing mattered in life until now, which for you it did. So enraptured by each other, you don’t notice May until she exclaims, “What the fuck did you do!”

You jump up and you knock your jaw into Peter’s head, and you both rub the now sore spots while also looking guilty about something. You didn’t know what yet, but you could still feel guilty about it.

“Miss Davis said she heard screaming coming from out apartment! Wanna tell me what’s going on?” She asks and you relax and smirk, while Peter looks mortified.

“Aunt May, we were just having sex!” You say and Peter’s head snaps to you, frightened. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

May looks shocked for a moment before it goes away. “Okay, just use protection!’’

“May!” Peter yells out, but it’s already too late, and May has closed the door.

“You know I would have sex with you if you weren’t injured…” you say looking at him and his entire face goes tomato red.

“Quiet you!”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x male!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x male!reader #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #smh #aunt may #may parker #my work #my writing

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