#AND IT WAS. LIKE. LIKE IT WASN'T JUST A FEW RAINDROPS

[linabirb]

spaced out a little while i was outside and didn't realize i was standing in the rain this whole time and now i really need to change my clothes but anyway got a silly idea to make a group of ocs which are just one guy who genuinely looks normal, has his life together, acts somewhat sane (at. first) but also has THE worst i can fix her mindset ever and a group of really cute girls who he dates in different timelines (OR in one single timeline. it's just one big epic polycule) and all of them have their issues and they genuinely love him but they're also like "he's so so nice to us we should make him question his morals and turn his life into hell and repeatedly ask him if he's helping us because he actually loves us or just bc he likes to feel in control and he wants us to stay vulnerable so that we'll never leave :)"

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Eight

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

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A/N: I think I went too hard on this, but I also feel like it wasn't enough. I really wanted to play around with dialogue more. I was going to have the Bats hit Smalltown in this, but I think it would be best if the confrontation(s) had it's own chapter. Let me know what y'all think!

A/N: This is my longest writing yet. Just a heads up. Hope that's all good!

Warnings: Yandere themes, alluded murder, platonic bed sharing, OC usage.

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The way the raindrops on the windshield seemed to chase each other didn't even registered to you as your heart continues to palpitate in your chest. Your hands shaking on the steering wheel as the numbers on the mile markers continued to change, and they weren't growing any steadier with each passing one. The way the excitement to gyrated inside your chest as the old truck continued on the patch-work road made you feel lightheaded. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could get addicted to.

It didn't stop the nausea curdling in your stomach, but you chalk that up to this being your first true act of rebellion. Even if you felt it was justified. It wasn't like they were going to chase after you, though. They had made their priorities clear. Clear as Gotham's smog filled skies. You weren't going to allow yourself to waste away in that manor filled with more secrets than people when there was a life outside of it that you had once been a part of.

It wasn't until you were certain a full day had past that the storm had finally dissipated, both over Gotham and over your mind. The trepidation in your belly at long last fading into a sense serenity. Even if it was only a fleeting thing. Water rarely stays still for long when the storm comes.

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Back in Gotham the family had finally dragged their bone-weary selves back to the cave. Some collapsing in the nearest got. Some dragging themselves upstairs for their comfort of their bed. But, surprisingly, it's Damian that drags himself to your room. The past two days had worn him down and he just wanted his sibling, even if it meant disturbing them. Even if they were mad at him.

It doesn't register to him that your bed is empty. That some of your things are missing. He crawls under the covers and curls into the pillow like a temperamental cat. Resting his eyes temporarily he says. You're his sibling, you shouldn't mind. (He had heard you laughing on the phone about how your other little brother used to do this on occasion. He wants to know what that’s like)

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As everyone rest their heads back home, unaware that the worse was yet to come even after the lighting had passed, you start to turn down familiar roads. Roads you had memorized every bump of once. The roads that lead you towards a home you had missed and things you used to know.

There's a few new bumps and pot holes that you don't recognize, but you're too excited to see them as the warnings they were.

As you pull into the driveway of Nana and Grand Daddy's house, you can see Nana standing outside. Waving for you in front of the two-story bedroom house Daddy had designed and built for them years ago. The place was well cared for despite the creaky steps on the front porch that you had spent many hot summers on. Blowing snow across the yard to keep cool.

When you finally park the truck and hop out Nana's already rushing towards you with surprising speed for her old age. Already your arms are opening for her when she suddenly scoops you up and locks you in an tight embrace.

"I missed you." You mumble into her shoulder. Trying to fight back a few tears as the scent of her bitter perfume fills your nose.

"I missed you more. We all missed you more, sugarplum." You hear the gravel in her voice as she gives you one last squeeze. Holding you so tight that for a moment you feel you can't breath. But, before you need to gasp for air, she pulls back slightly. Her aged brown eyes looking you over appraisingly. "You sure ya' don't wanna rest up a bit? You look thin, sweetpea."

A soft noise escapes your lips in a puff.

"I'm sure. Still too wired from the drive." You reply as you wipe those few stray tears that somehow trickled down your cheeks. Your best efforts to keep them contained failing.

Everything around you feels different. It's home, but there's something about it that is different. The smells are the same, the sights are the same, even the sounds are the same. But, you chalk it up to the way the Gotham air still clings to your skin and the silence of the manor that has left your ears sensitive to the slightest shifts in change.

"I… I kinda feel bad about leaving how I did." Comes your immediate confession as she continues to hold you like you're made of soft gold.

Even if it seemed unnecessary to say, it felt nice just to blurt out how you were feeling to someone who actually listened. Besides, Nana had always made you tell her what was bothering you if there ever was something. It was a habit to tell her things by now.

"Leaving Gotham, I mean…. running away in the night without warning, Nana."

"Nonsense, baby." Already she's brushing your cheek and trying to soothe the worry and fear. Holding your face between her hands so all you can focus on is her.

"You ain't done not a thing wrong. They was being unreasonable. Besides, you can just call them later and tell them your alright." For a moment, you feel like she's lecturing you. Like she used to when you where little. About being safe and staying near her at all times when you went out into town with her. But, now you're grown and she still does it.

"Are you sure, Nana? Because I know You, and Momma, and Daddy used to get on to me about asking permission before doin' things-"

"Ah-ah," She irrupts your before you could finish, "This is one of those incidents where it's better to ask for forgiveness, I promise. Besides, I know you asked first. Not your fault they was being unreasonable. Not your fault at all, baby." Nana's voice going from stern to a soft coo as she starts to lead the way into the old house.

You take a breath of the place, smelling the seasonal candles that you usually had lit this time of year. Noting the slight changes in decor. Projects that Nana probably had Grand Daddy completing while you were gone. There's even more pictures on the walls. Some more of Momma and Daddy, and even more of you. Nana had even printed out the ones you had sent her on your phone while you where in Gotham.

It was nice she missed you so much that she made you the center piece of the picture gallery, but still it felt odd. You had been hoping to see more pictures of your brother, Jean Luke. To actually see what memories he had made without you. But, you don't comment. You just head towards the kitchen. Sitting in your usual spot at the counter to continue talking with her.

You can smell her cooking. Nana really wasn't the best cook, but she went all out making a few of your favorite dishes with as much effort as she could muster out of her bones.

"So, how's Lukie been doing?" You mean to start conversationally, but your tone drifts to sounding more concern when the reminder about the lack of pictures on the wall crosses your mind and the thought that maybe he actually hasn't been coping well since you’ve been gone pops into your head as well. "I know what he tells me. That he's doin' fine when we’re on the phone, but how is he actually doing, Nana?"

"He's doing better." She replies while checking the oven, a slight sigh in her voice. She caught your tone of concern. "Still misses your Momma and Daddy. Bless. But, he's doing better. He'll probably feel ever better now that your back." She gives you a grin before sliding you a cutting board and a knife.

Already you fall into step, peeling and chopping the things she hand you.

"I'm not actually back, back." You mention, biting your lip when you catch her freeze.

"What you mean, baby?" Her soft voice doesn't match her tense shoulders. The lines on her face growing taunt.

"Well, it's just I kinda feel bad about how I left things with Bruce and 'em. And, I still gotta finish high school." You start to explain. It is true. You had a whole day to try to think about your actions. Getting out of Gotham had helped you process your feelings about the place. You still didn't like Gotham, but you'd been told all your life that family was important. You just didn't know that the family that had told you that wanted you to put them before all others.

"Oh, baby, you won't be needing none of that. Besides this is where you belong. We need you here. Them city folks just don't understand you, baby." You're about to protest when she continues on just before your lips could part to speak.

"Besides, Tanner's really been missin' you. He about turned himself into a frog when Mae showed him a picture of you in that pretty little outfit she made for ya’. The boy about croaked." Nana gives you that meddlesome look you knew to well. The one she gave you when she spoke about her church friend's grandson's. The one that always made you bush.

It was a clever distraction, and not at all a lie. Nana had watched Tanner turn green with envy at the sight of you in that dress and with your date. And, he about sang when he heard about your date's death right after. The town all had to forcefully stop him from driving back to Gotham to just to comfort you.

"Nana, you're being silly again. He don't like me like that." You brush off the flush with practiced easy, giving her a stern look of your own.

"Things change, baby. You're grown now. Everything's gonna be different, but just the same." She muttered that last part so low you could hardly hear it. Just as your about to question that statement, she changes topic once more.

"Now, you wanna stay we me and your Grand Daddy tonight?" The question stunning you for a second. You hadn't even thought about where you were going to stay when you started your way back here. But, the longing creeps back into your chest once more.

"Actually, I want to stay at the old house. I- I miss my own bed." You once again find yourself confessing, though it goes much deeper than that. Nana likes it when you let her see even surface level things, usually she's able to draw the proper conclusions from them. However, this time Nana tenses for the briefest moment, but then relaxes almost instantly after. You nearly miss it.

"Of course, baby. Of course. Take Lukie with you. It'd do him some good and I'd hate for you to be alone all up in there. The loneliness might get to ya." She seemed to place a bit too much emphasis on bringing your brother with you. But, you weren't going to complain.

After all, "It already got to me, Nana. It already got to me." You whisper to yourself before letting Nana regale you with all the latest town gossip.

It's not long until you're making plans to help set up for your brother's and by extension your own birthday tomorrow. Happily chatting away until Grand Daddy and Jean-Luke walk in the door.

Instantly, receiving a soft kiss on the forehead from Grand Daddy along with a tight grip on your shoulders and a firm, "Missed you, sugarplum." Before he slowly lets you free to help Nana and quite speaking to her.

You turn to your brother, little Jean-Luc, and reach for him with the swiftness of a breeze. He seems to hesitate before returning your hug with an almost intense ferocity that strangely makes you think of your last hug with Dick. Like he doesn't want to let go. Like he's almost scared to let go.

You let him hold you a good long while, standing there in the kitchen. It should feel like a relief to hold him again. Yet, you have the sudden urge to carry him away. Something that makes the winds inside your chest tell you to flee. You mange to swallow it down, but not the tears. Those freely pour down your cheeks as you both whisper about how much you missed each other back and forth. You notice how oddly quite he is. It's easy to blame that on the grief you both still feel, but it's different.

Sitting at the table and enjoying the meal feels different. Everything is different. Including the way Jean-Luke grips your hand when you tell him your going to stay at the old house and how he can come if he wants.

You almost want to laugh at how fast he leaps into the front seat of the truck. The grin on his face the most genuine you've seen since you got here.

Driving up to the old house made you ache. A deep ache that you felt from you chest to your palms. The dirty from the buried grief you felt being disturbed. As you glanced at your little brother’s face, the one that looked so much like Momma’s, you could tell he felt it too. Which bothers you because he shouldn’t have had to bury his grief like you did yours.

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Back at the manor, in the short time it had been since Damian rested his head on your pillow. He noticed it was too still. You were always moving in the manor. Always breezing through the halls. Yet now things had gone still. Not just in your room, but through out the manor.

His green eyes had opened, and sharpened. You should be here resting with him. Where were you? He hadn't bothered to keep track of your belongings before, but some things felt out of place. After a brief scan of the room, he made his way towards the cave. His senses on high alert for you. Straining to overhear your usual chattering on the phone or your pattering feet on the carpeted halls.

But, there was nothing. Most everyone was asleep or dozing and the stillness bothered him. The cooling realization filled him with each step as he walked down into the cave.

Sitting at the computer, Bruce goes over the footage of the previous nights. The storm was suspicious, and the churning in his gut and the way his hair stood on end didn’t help those suspicions. But, when Damian had entered the cave, those suspicions went from whispers to screams.

"Damian, get everyone to the cave. Now."

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"Missing? What the hell do you mean missing?" Dick was the first to respond to the news, standing at attention and livid despite having recently been woken up by an anxious Damian. Well, as anxious as Damian would physically allow himself to be in front of anyone.

"Damian brought it to my attention and the truck is gone from the garage." Bruce replied. Normally, this would sound like his usual paranoia flaring, but no one questioned him this time. Just the grim look on his face and the way his shoulder's tensed let everyone know that this was a completely serious matter.

Exhaustion immediately melting form everyone as the mission suddenly shifted.

"Barbara, pull up the manor security cameras from the night first night of the storm."

She speedily rolled her chair over to the computer and started pulling up the footage. It was only because she had years to develop her self control that her fingers didn't shake as she typed on the keys.

I should have been watching them. I should have checked on them.

The footage begins to show the exact moment that their sweet sibling left their room with a large bag of their shoulder and a excited grin on their face.

Why are you smiling like that? Why are are you happy to be leaving them? Why are you leaving? Why are you leaving?

A million thoughts flash through each of their heads. All filled with variations of despair and worry. Those are quickly amplified when the camera video finally goes out due to the multiple lighting strikes that hit the manor and the generators.

"They left right when the manor's and cave's generator were hit." Tim jumps in into detective mode right away, not wanting to linger on the disparaging thoughts in his head. And, the budding anger in his chest for allowing this to happen. And, for you leaving them. Him.

"Why are their eyes glowing?" Duke points out, coming out of his head finally when his eyes catch the flicker of a glow on the screen. It was a blessing that the cameras were so state of the art.

"What?" That snaps everyone else out of their heads. All of them moving behind Barbara to see what he's talking about.

"Their eyes," He bends forward of the keys, lightly pressing his finger to where you face is on the high definition screen. "They're glowing."

"Babs…" Dick murmurs into her left ear, his eye's never leaving your frozen smiling face.

"On it." She nearly hisses right back. Fingers actually shaking this time as she zooms into your face and changes a few setting of the camera to see the light waves that were captured.

And, right there on the screen, was the hint illumination in those large eyes of yours.

"Holy shit, you're right." Stephanie is the first to speak. Stumbling back as she starts running a million different scenarios through her head. The other's following. Some still sitting enraged or worried about what this might possibly mean.

Possible hypothesises start being blurted out.

Mind Control?

Hypnosis?

Magic?

God, I hope not.

Aliens?

Even worse than the magic.

"Maybe someone from that town manipulated them?" Cassandra suddenly suggests, having silently watched the footage of you play over and over again. You looked excited, genuinely excited, and it broke her heart that you did. But, there was a part of her that was still hopeful. That maybe you left because you didn't know any better. Didn't realize how much they adored you. They'll fix that. They fix that as soon as they get you back.

"Was anything tampered with when that asshole dropped off the truck?" Jason grumbles while rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course he is livid. You fucking left. Sure, he liked putting the fear of God into you and could even tell you were unhappy at times, but you're an idiot if you think it's safe out there. And, you need to come home. Fuck, he'll even apologize and make up for scaring you. Please, just come back.

"No." Tim knows this because he made sure to check. Bruce may not have wanted to touch the truck and forbid them from messing with it. But, that didn't stop Tim from snooping on you at the very least. He just wanted to pretend he was in your fondest memories. Only until he could help you make newer better ones.

"Maybe a drug? Some chemical compound?" Duke eventually suggest, praying it isn't so.

"We could run a test? Just to check." Already Barbara begins pulling up the programs necessary, while Tim sets up the lab equipment. Dick is already running up to your room to grab any strand of hair he can find that might have been left behind. And, maybe checking to see if they were all wrong and you really didn't leave them. Him.

"Run them all."

That draws everyone's attention back to Bruce. The man had been standing stoically in silence. Brooding in silence as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

You left him. You left because of him. This wasn't some disagreement on how he did things as Batman. This wasn't because you were trying to get back at him. You left him willing because of what he had done as your father. No one has ever willing left him like this before. Not his children. Not his parents. Not anyone he has ever allowed himself to actually care for. It makes him mad, but more than anything it makes him want to collapse in on himself. He won't. Obviously. But, he's going to bring you back home. He's going to fix his mistake while he has the chance and you will give him that chance.

"Bruce… That includes a DNA test."

"I said all of them."

"What?" It's Damian who finally speaks up. For the first time since he alerted the other's of your disappearance. "Why would you do that? It's unnecessary."

It's a betrayal, he thinks. Not on your part. You may be too soft and too kind and too fragile and too simple minded. But, he knows you’re his. He may have gotten over his obsession with the blood in his veins, but the blood in yours connects you to him in a way none of his other siblings can have. He doesn't even think to question it. Doesn't want to. And, for a moment, he feels utter betrayed by his sire for thinking to doubt it.

"Damian."

"NO. It is unnecessary." He doesn't glare, but the anger is plain on his face. How dare father question?

Regardless of what Damian wants, Bruce nods to Barbara and Tim when a downtrodden Dick reenters the cave with a hairbrush in hand. You really were gone.

"Do it."

"Father-"

"Damian. They are our family, regardless of the results."

Bruce will love you regardless. He did a DNA test all those years ago. He knows your his, but he needs to make sure your still his. That something didn't change you or take you from him.

For Damian it's a tense minute. He knows you'll be family. No matter the results. But, he wants to share something with you that only an exclusive few people on this Earth or in this life ever will.

"Fine."

After that, it's silence for the next forty-three minutes. The programs running on the BatComputer dinging softly as each one is completed. Barbara's fingers rub together as she watches each one.

Tim doesn't bother looking, too anxious to sit around and wait. Already, he is on a spare computer looking into God knows what. Whatever it is, the rest of them can tell it's about you. Just by seeing the way his pupils are blown wide and darting about his screen.

Dick stands tense. Normally he would move about. Pace or do something. But, it seems wrong right now. The discomfort in the stillness is nothing compared to his current distress at knowing you're gone.

Stephanie debates internally on ripping the spare computer away from Tim. Wanting to see what he's found on you. Wondering if he knows if you're alright or not. Wondering if he's just watching looped footage of you and not sharing.

Duke is thinking. Really, he's contemplating what's happening. This is going to spiral into something. He feels it. He might not be the most experienced or most trained, but he knows something is changing. And, for once, he's not scared of the idea. Mostly because he knows by the end of this you will be back home. They won't allow you to stay lost.

"DNA test shows their a match to you, Bruce. And, we compared them to your old test of them too. Still a match."

Damian nearly beams, but manages to hide his relief under a smug smile.

"I told you, father."

"I didn't doubt." And, it is true. He never doubted you were his. But, he is still searching for an explanation.

"No drugs. No anything in their system that would register, but-" Barbara stops when she notices the screen. The anomaly on it. The one test that triggered. A question being possibly answered from the result and a million more arising if true.

"Oh."

"What is it?" Jason breaks the silence that's once again gone over everyone. The sense of unease bubbling through them all.

"I ran their DNA through all the usual test, and there was one single positive one."

"Which one?"

"Meta gene. And…"

Oh.

"It's active."

"Son of a bitch."

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As your brother and you start getting settled in for the night in the old house, airing out the stale air, pretending the dusting isn't there, you wonder around a bit. Similar to how you would back at the manor. Only this time there's no historical paintings on the wall. Just pictures of your own history laid out before you.

You'd never been more grateful for all the photos taken by you mother. All the times she would chase you down with a brush or comb in hand yelling at you, "You need to make sure you have nice hair for the picture. Or, the one's with terrible hair will be the one's that forever."

"But, what if I want them to last forever?" Your voice had been young and cheeky then.

"What if I just want them to last a little bit longer?" Now that voice was older and much more solemn.

Quickly, you shake the thought from your head. Setting your bag back in your old room for the night. A quick glance at the old space shows that someone's been in it recently. Probably your old friend Mae, judging by the amount of clothes spilling from your closet and dresser. She was always stuffing things in here for you. It makes you smile fondly to know that she missed you despite your phone calls early every day.

As you walk back down the hall, you find Jean-Luc standing outside your parent's old room.

"You wanna come with me to see them?"

"Yeah." The word soft, full of unshed grief as you both walk out to the back. There's an old live oak with Spanish moss out there, and two dead people that were loved and buried underneath it.

"Daddy always liked it when you made it rain when it was sunny out." Lukie whispers, recalling all the times you won the water-gun fights.

You remember the summer showers. The snowy Christmases. The way you used to blow the pollen away. The hurricanes you tamed. The tornadoes you saved the town from . The memories make causing the rain difficult. But, when you walk through the slightly overgrown grass towards the two stones the tears fall easy while the rain falls hard.

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"I pulled up all the weather patterns for that region and the theory is starting to look more factual by the second." Tim's already taken the helm, old weather radar scans on the screen. Files on Smalltown and it's people pulled up for display.

And, an entire screen dedicated to you. You. You. YoU. yOU. YOU? YOU

"So, it's confirmed they caused the storm. But, why?" It's Stephanie that asks while pacing back and forth next to the all of gear. Her worry and disbelief illuminated by the display lights.

"Princess was probably pissed." Jason says while cleaning his guns. The parts neatly laid out on the table while he shines and greases each piece. Twice. Thrice. Over and Over.

"But, why?" Dick is finally in motion, tapping his foot as impatiently. He knows they need all the information and a plan before they can get you back. But, the wait is straining him.

Barbara gives him a single look in reply. One that they've all shared often enough to know the meaning of.

"They hid it pretty well." Duke mushes. Strangely enough he's happy with this information. Everyone else in this family is technically a normal person, just with maxed out skill stats and trauma. Now, you two can both be normal childhood bros and meta buddies together.

"Cass, did you suspect anything?"

"I didn't ask." Which translates to, she knew, but didn't want to say anything that would drive you away. Seems kind of pointless now that you're gone, though.

The bitter silence reigns once more, before Tim speaks up.

"Incoming. The Asshole is getting a call from Nana." A few clicks and they're listening to the sound of your old childhood crush and your dearest Nana speak. The topic? You.

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That night you curled up with Jean-Luc in your parents old bed. Like you both used to when nightmares made cowards. You had to dig the old bedding out of the storage. The scent of the detergent Momma used to use faint on them. But, the two of you burrowed underneath the duvet like you were trying to hide from the world.

"How you feelin'?" You whisper to him, the room only illuminated by the stars in the window and the faint bathroom light.

"It's weird without Momma and Daddy. Everythin' is weird now and scary." He mutters in reply. He practically plants himself into your side.

"I know. I feel that way about it too."

"No, I mean… here. In town it's weird. Eveybody be actin' weird since you left." There's something in the way his voice shakes that makes you think he's not making this up

"What do you mean about everyone actin' weird, hun? I thought you were spendin' time with everyone. Nana said you were hanging out with Mae and Tanner. I know Mae is odd, but-"

"Nana's being weird too. And, Grand Daddy. She don't let me do nothin' fun at all these days. Says everything's to dangerous, and if somethin' happened to me you'd be upset." The child interrupts, sounding remarkably like his age with his complaints. But the low sound of his voice sounds less like mutterings and more like a cautious whisper.

"Well, that's cause Nana loves you. She don't want nothin' to happen to you, baby." You try to reassure him, as you've always done.

"But, she's always going on and on about you. She's almost as bad as Tanner." The way he says that name makes you pause. Tanner's been mention quiet a lot since you've been back. And, you've only been back for a couple of hours.

"Tanner's gone on about me?" You try to sound bashful, try to sound like its a compliment. But, the blush doesn't come.

"Yeah." Lukie practically roots himself into your chest where your heart is beginning to pound. "Always going on about you and the future and ranting about Gotham. He… he's kinda scary. I saw him and Grand Daddy a few months ago dragging something into the swamp. It looked… it looked about as long as a gator, but it wasn't a gator. It had clothes on."

"Baby, what do you think it was?" You somehow keep your voice steady as your arms wrap around him. Clinging to him and shielding him.

"I don't think I wanna remember. I just want everything to go back to normal."

After that, you let the wind outside the house howl. The way it blows through the trees with your fear keeps you up. Eventually you force the rain once again. Trying to lull Lukie-boy and yourself to sleep. For a brief moment, a flicker of a thought before you drift off into an uneasy slumber you think...

Should I have stayed?

And, your not certain if your talking about here or Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I'd say there's about two more parts of this left, then we'll be really focusing on Pregnant!Reader for a bit. Got a blurb list in the works for it and a few ideas. And, I really really really need to clean out my ask box. Oops.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist

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[acid-ixx]

a birth-day unlived, an afterlife unknown: part one. (again &. again drabble)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

in which your birthday was as lonely as ever, and you're left spending time alone with your thoughts and not a single birthday greeting; and the concept of an afterlife doesn't seem all too scary anymore.

OR — you're not as alone as you think you are. sometimes, even you are clumsy enough to not see through the bigger picture.

your birthdays always come by on a stormy day.

it felt reminiscent of how it's only the surge of raindrops which were your only accompaniment, each pitter-patter of the droplets on the locked windows felt like the tears wetting your cheeks; unrelentingly neverending. the thunder that crackles through the billowing air rupturing outside reminded you of the boisterous, impatient thumps in your chest.

it was cold, but at the same time it was not. every part of you was an insistent dichotomy, truthfully. you wrap yourself in blankets to help soothe your shaky breaths, hide your silent whimpers, and yet sweat entangles itself on your forehead, mingling with dried, salty tears streaking across your cheeks.

it feels like another one of those days once again, probably because it was. the world never really stops itself for you, never applauded you just because you were brought into this world.

alfred wasn't here to greet you during the midnight as he usually does, thinking about it doesn't stop the ache. nothing ever stopped it.

not even a familiar cupcake in sight, not his insistent voice which calls you through thin walls just for you to finally come out of your little cell, not a single presence except you and your noisy thoughts.

your birthday was a rumor to gotham's more curious eyes, a forgotten one, in fact, once nobody could discover just when exactly were you conceived; when the start of your miserable life laid wake. when your mother had to give birth, alone, in a bathtub with nobody to witness her hurried shrieks, tangled hair splashing throughout reddening water, and the way she had to physically feel the rip from across her body because of course, anaesthetics were none such a commodity in this city.

the only one who took enough effort to remember was alfred. he was closer to you, but his efforts weren't enough to crumble past your guarded walls. but you take what you can, take his gracious attempts at trying to bond with you, even if just for a few minutes then at least, at least you could say you were loved; kids like you can never be too greedy anyways.

so even if it meant an unusual shift, even if it meant bearing through a new kind of paranoia sifting through your anxious thoughts that, finally, alfred has had enough dealing with a problem child like you; you sigh and move so your back faces the door, blankets covering your sweating body from head to toe.

maybe if he does visit, the first thing he doesn't have to see is your tear-stricken, pathetic face.

maybe.

yeah, it's just like all the other days—

a painful reminder of your past, truly, and a mockery to your present.

— you just never expected it to still hurt as much as all the previous years. maybe 'cause you had company, maybe because the light shone a bit brighter when there was another person in your room to comfort you.

you never thought it in yourself that it could still hurt as much— this solitary isolation beating through your veins.

you watch outside your tiny room, feel the air tinged with impending doom, yet quite frankly, it seems as if your body refuses to breathe in that feeling, not when it was like you were created from that sole emotion alone. even the moonlight felt uninvited to witness the scene before you: your little body barricaded, starving and quenched, goosebumps littering all over your skin, who could not comprehend the joy in excitedly waiting for a special day. especially not when midnight felt like dread, dread at waiting for dick to come fulfill his promise, light blue, distracted eyes looking elsewhere, at the portraits, at his watch, at the silhouette of damian's glaring eyes down the hall, but down.

down at you, childish wonder still present in your eyes - you'd rather he looks down on you, just so it means you were at least important enough to be hated. how you wish to be acknowledged - pinching the fabric of his loose tee. a lump formed in your throat, you can't afford to lose this moment, not when it this was so rare, so precious to you. this was one of those special days your idol came to visit, you can't.

"c-c'mon, please...?" maybe if you were convincing enough, maybe if you'd cause a scene, maybe throw a tantrum or two, bite at his skin until it rips, until you see the barely conceivable flesh hanging off of skin and exposing bone— maybe he'd come to hate you, then torment you for the rest of your life, but ah, at least that meant you'll be less lonely for this evening.

would dick had love you better if you were less shy, then? would damian hate you less if you'd have put up more of a fight? would jason still see you beyond the curtains of entertainment if you had learned to speak up? would tim, steph, barbara, cass, or duke finally grow the guts to talk to you if you were a bit more like them?

put on a mask, throw in some punches. get some bones broken, lose a tooth or two, twist a limb, gain ugly purple bruises along your body, maybe even die, breathe one last time and yet never once regretting to take the mantle if it meant having one of them look at you proudly.

if you weren't such a coward, you'd like to think that that would be the line you'd have to cross to have bruce at least stare at you.

trapped under lock and key, you could never revisit the pain boiling beneath your skin, you wish it was as easy as it was to do so, similar to how they ignored you, never making an attempt to visit you. a second passes after the tick of the clock reaches 12, then it's lightning striking through the outposts. your heart beats out of its cage at every minute that clicks, but ultimately, the first thing you'd feel was an ever-so familiar disappointment.

'nothing again. not even a knock against the door. i think it's time to move on."

no alfred to greet you a quiet happy birthday, no jason terrorizing your tiny room, no voice other than your hushed whispers, a pathetic attempt at greeting yourself yet ultimately failing to even utter a single word; nobody. not a cupcake, not even a candle to blow on, not a word spoken.

you wish you could say it doesn't affect you as much, but the tears flowing out your eyes were solid evidence that yes, it does hurt, it hurts even more now that you realize you were truly alone right now.

and maybe you could try to convince yourself that cupcakes were so last year, like steph always said under her breath; a joke or two in your crippling mind, but every time you think beyond your silent birthday, all you ever see are their happy faces without you— off to celebrate another achievement that was never yours.

another loud boom! then the faint sound of sizzling passes through the cracks and into your ears; your room was silent enough to pick up even the faintest of noises. maybe if you were lucky enough, then the next lightning bolt would preferably strike you through the windows, causing you to burn. maybe your death could warrant at least a couple of eyes on you?

oh, but what are you even joking about? nothing ever changes in your routine.

you felt eternally cursed in this neverending trap.

that was how your story always went.

the first words you'd said after the clock struck past twelve were curses for this damning family, and yet you all too easily gave up, hiding under blankets as you grab your phone by the bedside table; anything to distract yourself from another failed year, another unspoken birthday as your screen lights up to another unread article, and yet in bold letters, it highlights the title about another one of the wayne's chaotic rendezvous at just a newer gala—

oblivious to the set of eyes just right outside your windows, the pair of ears hearing every disjointed breath, every spastic heartbeat, you scoff at the shifting, beating winds knocking past the frosted glass, unaware that it wasn't caused by natural phenomena, unaware that just outside of your bedroom, was another voice which greets you a happy birthday, a candle of his own lit, untouched by the rain's drizzle.

"if you believed in the afterlife, what would your vision of it be?"

a shudder escaped the back of your throat. the cool air escaping through and into the windows - accompanied by the bluish glow of the moon reflecting off expensive vases - felt crisp against your skin. the tips of your fingers felt slippery as it perspires on the wood of your pencil, tapping carelessly on the ridge of the table as you thoughts drift off to.. well, something.

you, seated on your rickety chair, looked outside, past the burgundy curtains, and onto the imagery of the forests, your mind preoccupied with priorities far exceeding the need to answer your piled assignments. you're thinking of something, meaning them. the wayne's, their associates, batman and his vigilante partners, bruce and his unruly children, without you.

it's one of these days again, patrol night, where the entire family— their little team, you bitterly acknowledge, are out once more. out, meaning they're there, together, huddled in their own world. you can picture it, piece together dick's - nightwing's - smile he offers the little childrens he saves, smiling at them with the same glow he offered you all those years ago. a treasured memory, but just a memory nonetheless that you'd wish to bury.

you heard from alfred: jason decided to hang out with them, too; that's why he wasn't lazing through the library as usual. hearing that information come out from alfred didn't help the pricking jealousy blazing throughout your skin, even when the butler had to stop you from digging nails deep and piercing through your already scarred palms.

sometimes, you feel like an idiot for even thinking you deserve your favorite brother's time. sometimes, you don't even know why you even chose to care about why they chose to spend time without you anyways. why he matter more to you when he's just like all the others.

when, after all, he's already part of their own cocoon, an established nest, a bat with his little robins. a single father with his children, and you— an enigma in their eyes, no less.

but unlike the mysteries tim loved to solve in his free time; you just weren't interesting enough.

detectives like to discard useless details anyways. you're part of the invaluable bunch— a weed, as damian once called you.

these days, quite frankly, had you feeling like a cuckoo bird, too, a lone stranger dropped off into an unfamiliar house, forced to be raised by utter strangers whilst trying to fit in. but instead, your presence felt invasive, leeching off their income; bruce's wealth was at your disposal and yet you fear even spending a single dime; you fear that if he'd had noticed, he'd get the wrong message, mistake you as a thief, throw you away despite the nagging thought that alfred would be there to defend you to his utmost effort.

but that's the point, you're not entirely convinced that you matter as much to the butler anyways.

it's bruce's words over anybody else's. and those rich, dark blue eyes in which you'd use to drown yourself staring at through the television held the same, damning glare as batman.

so then you'll still be forced to live in poverty, right? jumping through dumpsters to find this day's dinner, live off of ripped clothes and rotting cardboard boxes.

then sooner, you'll meet death face to face way too early. it'll pity you for your miserable life, speak empty words like your body would soon be, but it'll inevitably take you away.

so what do you think your afterlife would be?

it's one of these nights again, you stare at your notebook, at your unfinished assignments on the previous page, and you bite the insides of your cheeks, at the question gleaming under the sheer glow of the lights, mocking you, ridiculing you, tempting you to— to die, all about death, all about the afterlife.

what comes after everything? would you at least see your mother past blinding lights?

the question lies forebodingly in your notebook. it was a tuesday, maybe, where it's been last assigned; you can't recall, memories had all been blurred by how intangible your days blended into— but it's already a thursday and yet you have nothing to write on your barren notebook.

your pencil nearly slips through your shaky grip, yet you steel yourself from fully letting panic eat you away, write out in barely legible letters:

'if there was, ma'am, i hope my mother would be there on the other side of the bridge i'd cross. then maybe, in the afterlife, i wouldn't be as lonely anymore.'

'— and i hope i don't see their faces in the afterlife, too. i hope they won't do anything to bring me back; that'll be a fat chance, though.'

you scratch out the last sentences, but it gives you enough euphoria writing that out. makes you feel petty, even if the emotions of triumph don't last as long as it does despair.

knowing that you had to beg alfred on what they planned to do despite his insistence that it will only hurt you further, what they're currently doing this evening; that they're probably out there eating batburgers, laughing at each other for getting a toy of each other, and you're just here: seated on a creaking chair, finishing assignments, being normal.

blearily blinking the sleep away from your eyes, you sigh and shut your eyes, then you close your notebook after and shove it haphazardly inside your bag, splayed clumsily on the floor.

that'll be your outline, for now, all you want is sleep. you'll rush through your essays tomorrow.

after all, this temporary passage of time: sleep, it felt a bit like death, doesn't it?

you jump on your bed, hearing its familiar squeak and feeling its low dip. the thing you lay on feels a bit too small nowadays, a cruel reminder that you were forgotten enough that a bigger bed, at least, is due but never permitted.

ah, but what can you do anyways? it's not like begging could warrant even a single change. you'll just have to make do with what you have, as always. that's how life is to a kid like you. you're born in the slums, you'll still live life like you are in one.

as you throw your too-small blanket upon your shoulders, you shut your eyes, ignore the perspire dripping down your forehead and how your legs buzz with uncomfortable heat. you try to throw away the images of one of bruce's gentle smiles, try to bury the ugly desires that just for once, he'd be the reason your bed dip, not from its age but from his weight— and he'll wipe away the sweat from your head, and kiss the crown of your hair. he'll whisper soft words, tell you sweet dreams, that you'll have them soon enough in your arms, that whatever suffering you'd gone through for a decade would be worth the effort.

that fantasy's enough to make you hope you won't wake up.

at least you'll have a solid answer to give to your teacher if or once it does happen today.

you're too far gone in your dreams to hear your bolted down windows creaking, too far gone in sleep to even question another presence looming over your sleeping body, too far gone in misery to comprehend them sitting in your bed, soon laying down beside you, as they take you and wrap.you around their arms— cooing at the slightest tweak in your lips, the smallest smile your gracious face could offer him.

dedicated to my pookie wookie @neerathebrightstar <3

a/n: y'all leave your suspicions or speculation? this was written in an hour, sooo.... will there be a part two of this? yes! there will be, and it would be focused on the batfam's perspective instead. why did i post this? it's because i wanted to delve deep into just how lonely the reader actually is, but at the same time, not really (also because editing this concept that was rotting in my notes app was easier than dropping a chapter that had over 10k words since my wifi is down). i dropped a lot of hints of the reader being stalked, but it's not obvious so good luck with that!!!

[kiwriteswords]

You can hear it in the silence [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 5k|| AN: After the gifset, I needed to play around with storyline! I tried to remain as sensitive to the topic as possible, so I hope it is seen as an exploration into Hotch's characterization and not as an attempt to glorify or mislead anyone on the topic! Tags/Warnings: female reader, hearing loss, hard of hearing, Hotch losing his hearing, spoilers to season 4, hearing aid, age gap, established relationship, mentions of sexual themes, canon typical themes Summary: As Hotch struggles with gradual hearing loss from an old injury, you stand by him through his stubborn pride and hidden vulnerability, guiding him gently toward acceptance, healing, and a deeper love.

You tucked your legs beneath you, sinking into the plush corner of Hotch's sofa. Warm, golden lamplight spilled across the room, softening the otherwise sharp angles of his apartment. 

There was something intimately peaceful about the quiet--

The muffled rush of cars passing outside, a faint echo of jazz filtering from his speakers, and the occasional tap-tap-tap of raindrops against the window.

He stood near the kitchen, sleeves rolled carefully to his elbows as he stirred the simmering sauce, the spicy, hearty aroma drifting pleasantly toward you. 

Watching him cook was an indulgent pleasure you'd grown quietly attached to. Hotch cooking felt both endearingly domestic and intensely personal, a side of him few had ever glimpsed.

He glanced up and caught you staring, and you didn't look away. Instead, you raised your eyebrows slightly, a playful smirk ghosting your lips.

"What?" His mouth curled into a soft smile, his dark eyes glinting in quiet amusement.

"Nothing," you teased gently, resting your chin in your palm. "Just admiring the view."

He chuckled softly--

A rare sound, warm and rich. 

The low hum vibrated pleasantly across your skin, drawing heat to your cheeks. "Dinner will be ready soon. Think you can survive until then?"

"I think I'll manage," you replied, stretching lazily and shifting your gaze toward the bookshelf behind him. "But it wouldn't kill you to hurry up. I'm starving."

"Careful," he said, deadpan but with unmistakable warmth, "I might be tempted to slow down just to teach you patience."

You hummed lightly in response, content in the easy banter. Moments like these--

Unhurried. Quiet.

They made everything else disappear. 

With Aaron, you felt profoundly safe. 

Secure, in a way you'd scarcely dared hope was possible.

Hotch turned slightly away, and you watched curiously as he tilted his head just slightly, brows knitting in brief confusion. 

It was subtle--

A momentary lapse in his carefully composed expression.

"Everything okay?" you asked gently, your voice cutting through the silence.

He straightened, expression immediately smoothing over, shoulders squaring. "Fine. Thought I heard something."

You studied him quietly, unconvinced but choosing not to press. 

Yet, somewhere deep in your chest, a faint unease flickered. It wasn't the first time you'd caught him reacting that way--

Tilting his head. Eyes briefly distracted as if straining to listen to something faint or far away.

You pushed the concern aside, smiling softly instead. "You know, if you're losing interest in my excellent company, you can just say so."

His mouth tugged upward again, but his eyes remained slightly guarded. "Never."

"Good," you breathed softly, allowing your playful tone to smooth away the subtle tension lingering in the air. "Because you're stuck with me."

He moved closer, placing two bowls carefully onto the coffee table, the steam drifting upward, mingling with the cool air. He eased onto the sofa beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. 

Warmth radiated from him-- 

Soft and reassuring. 

You reached instinctively for his hand, feeling the slight roughness of his skin as his fingers wove through yours.

He lifted his free hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing tenderly across your cheekbone. His eyes held yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your heart fluttered, breath stuttering for a moment as his quiet, sincere words settled deep in your chest. You gently squeezed his hand, leaning into his touch, savoring the moment.

Yet, despite the tender exchange, a quiet, uneasy feeling lingered--

His brief moment of hesitation from earlier replaying in your mind. 

You'd noticed it happening more frequently: moments where Hotch seemed to drift, as if missing parts of conversations, his gaze slightly distracted. 

You remembered briefly overhearing something from Rossi years ago--

A cautious conversation mentioning something about the explosion Hotch had endured, how doctors had warned of hearing loss over time.

How, per usual, he didn’t follow orders, and it bothered him from time to time. And how, most of all, he’d never admit it. 

The BAU briefing room buzzed gently with early-morning energy. 

JJ and Penelope stood confidently at the front, flipping smoothly through photos and maps projected onto the screen. Beside you, Emily scribbled quietly into a notepad, while Morgan drummed his fingers softly against the table, eyes focused forward. Rossi looked less than entertained watching the slides unfold, and Spencer was rambling on about something. 

You settled comfortably into your usual seat, your thigh subtly pressed against Hotch’s beneath the table--

A quiet intimacy in the bright, professional atmosphere.

Hotch sat beside you, posture rigid but composed, pen poised over his yellow legal pad. His suit jacket was neatly buttoned, every hair meticulously in place, but the slight crease between his brows told you something was troubling him.

Occasionally, his knee pressed gently back into yours, wordlessly reassuring, even as he kept his eyes fixed on JJ and Penelope.

JJ tapped the screen softly, her voice measured and clear. "Local PD found another victim early this morning in Annapolis. Same MO: blunt force trauma, wrists bound, no defensive wounds. The unsub is cautious, controlled--clearly experienced."

You glanced at Hotch, noting how his gaze flickered briefly down, brow furrowing deeper, jaw tightening ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his expression was fleeting but unmistakable.

Penelope continued smoothly, gesturing to the screen, voice steady but quiet as she explained something more about the latest victim. Her age, occupation, and the location where she'd been found. 

Yet Hotch’s eyes narrowed, head tilting minutely toward his right shoulder, almost imperceptibly angling his ear toward Penelope’s voice.

Something twisted softly in your chest--

An echo of that vague, uncomfortable worry from days before.

"So we're thinking he's escalating?" Emily asked, pen poised mid-note.

JJ nodded slowly. "Yes. At this rate, the window between kills will shorten. If we don't catch him now--"

She stopped suddenly when Hotch cut in, voice clipped but uncertain, betraying an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Wait, JJ--repeat what you said before."

The room fell quiet, eyes briefly flicking toward Hotch. JJ recovered quickly, professionally smoothing over the awkward pause. "The unsub is escalating. The gap between each kill is narrowing, and we anticipate he'll strike again soon."

"Right," Hotch said stiffly, his eyes flickering down briefly to his notes, cheeks faintly flushed with something--embarrassment, frustration, maybe both. "Continue."

Your stomach twisted slightly. Beneath the table, you subtly shifted your knee, gently nudging his in quiet reassurance. Hotch responded almost unconsciously, nudging back, his hand tightening around the pen.

Morgan’s eyes flickered briefly toward you, then Hotch, expression unreadable but concerned. You pretended not to notice, instead focusing intently on Penelope’s continued briefing. 

Your mind, however, lingered uneasily on Hotch’s brief lapse. 

Was it becoming more frequent, or were you just now noticing how often he seemed to miss bits of conversation?

Penelope wrapped up, clicking off the projector as she gathered her files. Chairs scraped softly against the carpeted floor as the team stood, quietly murmuring. 

Emily and Morgan moved toward the door, and Rossi paused to speak with JJ in low, quiet tones. Spencer shuffled out behind with his files and book. 

You stood slowly, eyes lingering briefly on Hotch as he remained seated, focused intently on his notes, frustration radiating faintly from the set of his shoulders. 

The room had emptied around you both, leaving you together in silence, the quiet hum of electronics filling the tense space.

You moved carefully closer, gently leaning a hip against the edge of the table near him. "Hey," you said softly, voice deliberately casual.

He didn’t immediately respond, still staring down at the legal pad, jaw tight. Then, finally, he exhaled softly, looking up at you with carefully guarded eyes. "I missed something important."

Your heart tightened at the quiet frustration in his tone. "It happens," you said gently, attempting to ease his tension. "You've got a lot on your plate."

Hotch's mouth tightened briefly, clearly resisting the reassurance. "No, I--" He hesitated, shaking his head slightly, eyes briefly drifting downward. "This is different."

Your chest ached at the quiet admission. You reached instinctively toward his hand, your fingertips grazing softly against his knuckles. 

"Aaron," you began softly, voice gentle yet firm. "If something’s going on, you know you can talk to me."

He glanced up sharply, eyes intense, briefly clouded with vulnerability, embarrassment, fear--

Emotions he rarely let you see so plainly. 

Then he swallowed, clearing his expression quickly, forcing the careful neutrality back into place. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You hesitated, knowing he was holding back, but recognizing the stubborn tilt of his chin--

The silent, firm resolve behind his eyes. 

Pressing further right now wouldn’t help.

"Okay," you whispered softly instead, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "But I'm here when you're ready to talk."

Hotch met your eyes again, quiet gratitude softening the hard lines of his face. He squeezed your hand gently, silent acknowledgment passing between you both. 

For a moment, you simply stood together, the quiet tension slowly dissolving into something warmer, gentler.

Yet, beneath that warmth, a quiet worry lingered--

Because despite his reassurance, you could sense something deeper brewing, 

Something difficult. 

Painful. 

That Hotch wasn't yet willing to face.

And something, you feared, that might soon be impossible to ignore.

The air was thick with tension, humidity clinging to your skin, pressing in like a tangible weight. It was late afternoon, but thick, gray clouds made the sky heavy, draping the crime scene in muted, eerie twilight. Tall grass swayed gently around the abandoned farmhouse, whispering secrets with every subtle breeze.

You moved cautiously, weapon drawn, heart steady but pulse thundering quietly in your ears. 

Morgan was ahead of you, shoulder pressed against the worn, splintered wood of the house's side wall. Hotch stood just to your right, face etched with sharp determination, jaw clenched tightly as he raised his gun.

"Hotch," Morgan hissed urgently, voice tight with anxiety, one hand held up cautiously, signaling you all to halt. "Stand back--there’s movement inside!"

Your eyes shot quickly to Hotch, stomach tightening painfully as he continued forward, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s hushed warning. 

His eyes narrowed, searching the shadows of the building's interior through a cracked window.

Your voice caught in your throat, your heart suddenly seizing in panic.

Then, in a rush, everything unfolded at once. A shadow moved sharply inside. The unmistakable glint of metal flashed--

A barrel aiming directly toward Hotch. 

Fear surged through you. 

Hot and immediate.

"Hotch, down!" you shouted desperately, lunging toward him. 

You collided roughly, shoulder meeting his chest, shoving him forcefully out of the way. His body hit the ground beneath you, solid and warm even as the sharp crack of gunfire echoed violently through the humid air.

Splitting your ears with a painful roar.

You lay there, breathless, heart slamming against your ribs, your body shielding his as silence suddenly descended--

Heavy, deafening.

Then beneath you, Hotch shifted abruptly, groaning in evident pain. You scrambled off quickly, eyes immediately scanning him for injury, chest heaving in sharp, panicked breaths.

"Aaron," you gasped, voice strained, searching his tense expression urgently. "Are you hit?"

He shook his head, teeth clenched hard, eyes squeezed shut briefly, brows knitted together tightly. "No, it's--I’m fine," he rasped, clearly anything but.

A flicker of raw agony danced briefly across his features as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, jaw tense. He winced visibly, a hand instinctively pressing against his ear--

The injured one. The one from the explosion all those years ago.

You watched helplessly, fear tightening your chest as Morgan rushed closer, his voice filled with concern. "Hotch, man, you didn't hear me?"

Hotch's eyes snapped up sharply, dark and defensive, embarrassment and frustration flickering just beneath their surface. "I heard you," he lied tightly, voice strained, glancing toward the farmhouse. "It's nothing."

Morgan's jaw tightened, unconvinced. "Doesn't look like nothing."

Hotch shot him a sharp look, face rigid, pushing himself onto his feet with visible effort. He swayed briefly, fingers still pressed tightly against his injured ear. 

You gently grasped his elbow, steadying him, your pulse racing beneath your fingertips as you felt the slight tremble in his frame.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice filled with quiet urgency, desperate for him to listen. "You need to--"

"Later," he cut you off. Sharply. Voice hoarse, and frustration evident but hidden beneath firm authority. "Let's clear the house first."

You bit your lip, stomach churning in helpless worry, but nodded silently, acknowledging his need to regain control. You stepped back, forcing yourself to refocus, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s gaze linger briefly, heavy with gratitude and quiet vulnerability he wasn’t ready to voice.

As Hotch moved past you toward Morgan, Rossi appeared suddenly beside you, his eyes quietly intense with a knowing look. "He's getting worse."

Your chest tightened painfully, and your voice dropped to a careful whisper. "He won’t admit it."

Rossi exhaled quietly, his gaze following Hotch's tense movements as he tried to regain composure. "Eventually, he'll have to."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken fear settle deep in your bones. Your gaze stayed locked on Hotch, noting the slight wince he couldn’t fully hide each time a sound echoed too loudly, each sharp voice crackling through the radios.

Quietly, privately, you worried--

More afraid now than you'd ever been. 

Afraid not only of what this meant for his job.

But more painfully, of what it meant for the man you loved so fiercely and the future you had quietly hoped you'd share.

You exhaled shakily, gripping your weapon tighter, forcing back the quiet, fearful ache in your chest. 

Because right now, he needed your strength. 

Your steadiness. 

Your silence.

The lights in your apartment were dim, casting comforting shadows across the room. Rain fell softly outside, droplets tapping gently against the windowpane, offering a quiet rhythm that ordinarily would soothe--

But tonight, tension hung thickly in the air.

Stubbornly resistant to any comfort.

Hotch sat silently at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed low, fingers clasped tightly in front of him. 

His tie was loosened carelessly, his usually crisp shirt wrinkled from restless movements. You watched quietly from the doorway, your heart aching sharply at the sight--

This towering, steady presence in your life suddenly appeared unbearably…small.

You approached carefully, your steps nearly silent across the carpet. "Aaron?"

His eyes lifted slowly, dark and heavy with exhaustion and something else--

Something raw, 

Fragile.

Something you'd never seen before. 

You gently sank down beside him, your knee softly brushing his thigh, offering a quiet, grounding comfort.

"Talk to me," you whispered, your voice carefully steady despite the tightness in your throat. "Please."

For a long moment, he said nothing, his jaw tight, the muscles beneath his skin tense as he struggled to gather words. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, thick with emotion he struggled to suppress.

"I couldn't hear him," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Jack...he stood up there, proud and excited, and I couldn't hear. a. single. word."

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerable confession, your fingers instinctively reaching for his hand. Gently lacing your fingers through his. 

His hand trembled faintly in yours, and that subtle movement sent an aching, helpless pang through you.

"The ringing," he continued quietly, his voice shaking subtly beneath its calm exterior. "The pain...it won't stop. It's constant. I can't sleep. I can't focus. I've missed things at work, important things--and now..." He swallowed tightly, eyes falling closed briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Now it's stealing moments with my son."

He shook his head bitterly, frustration and shame mingling in his eyes as he refused to meet your gaze. "I ignored it. I thought I could handle it. The doctors warned me after the explosion. Told me this could happen eventually, but I thought--"

"Aaron," you breathed, squeezing his hand gently, desperate to ease the pain radiating from every tense muscle. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known it would come this quickly."

"I ignored every sign," he interrupted sharply, voice thick with self-directed anger. "I was too stubborn, too proud. And now--now it’s costing me things I can't get back."

The admission fell heavily between you, laden with quiet agony. 

You moved closer, turning slightly so your knee pressed more firmly against his thigh, desperate to offer comfort. 

Grounding. 

Anything to ease the pain that radiated from him in palpable wavves.

"You can't change what's happened, you whispered, carefully choosing each word, voice gentle but unwavering. "But you can still take steps forward. Let me help you, Aaron. Please."

He finally turned, meeting your gaze fully, eyes vulnerable, haunted by embarrassment and shame he struggled deeply to hide. 

His voice was barely audible, weighted with a defeat you'd never imagined possible from him. "I've never felt so powerless."

Your heart shattered quietly at those words, the painful honesty behind them overwhelming you with tenderness and sorrow. 

Your hand lifted instinctively, gently cupping his cheek, thumb softly tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

"You aren't powerless, you murmured, voice quietly fierce, unwavering in conviction. "And you're not alone. You never will be, as long as I'm here."

He exhaled softly, leaning subtly into your touch, eyes falling shut for a moment, surrendering briefly to the quiet solace of your closeness. When his eyes reopened, they were softer, the rawness replaced by something tender and grateful.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, voice cracking gently.

You shook your head softly, heart aching fiercely at the vulnerability of his words. "You deserve far more than you'll ever let yourself believe."

Slowly, cautiously, Aaron leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours. Your breath caught, chest tight with emotion as you absorbed the quiet weight of this moment--

His quiet surrender, his trust, his raw vulnerability laid bare.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes briefly, fingers threading softly through his hair, grounding yourself as much as him in the intimacy of this moment. "Then let me be brave enough for both of us," you whispered firmly, gently brushing your thumb across his temple.

You felt the faint tremble ripple through him, the quiet surrender as his walls slowly cracked further open. He drew in a shaky breath, nodding subtly against your forehead, quietly allowing himself--perhaps for the first time--to rely entirely on someone else.

And as you sat quietly beside him, holding tightly onto the man who'd always seemed unshakably strong, you silently vowed you'd help him rebuild what he'd lost. 

Piece by piece. 

No matter how long it took.

The doctor's office was pristine and starkly clinical-- 

A sharp contrast to the warmth and comfort of your home. 

You sat beside Hotch, gently leaning your shoulder against his as you waited. He had tried earlier to insist that you didn't need to come--had tried to spare you the burden--but you'd met his protests with a quiet, unwavering smile.

"I'm going with you, Aaron. End of discussion."

He hadn't argued further. 

He knew better. 

Now, sitting quietly beside you in the bright room, Hotch’s knee bounced anxiously, the steady rhythm betraying the nervousness he carefully concealed. 

You reached over quietly, fingers finding his, weaving together in quiet reassurance. His grip tightened immediately, as though your touch alone kept him grounded.

The door opened with a quiet click, and Dr. Bennett, an older man with gentle eyes and a warm presence, entered, nodding warmly as he settled onto the small rolling stool in front of you both.

"Good to see you, Aaron," Dr. Bennett greeted him kindly, glancing briefly toward you with an understanding nod. "And I see you've brought moral support."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly, a small, strained attempt at a smile. "She insisted."

You squeezed his hand gently, smiling softly back. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Dr. Bennett nodded knowingly, looking down at his chart, “It seems like you haven’t had your eat treated since,” He flipped through the pages, “2008.” The doctor looked to Hotch, who just kept a blank face,” turning his attention back to the chart before placing it on the counter,  "Let's take a look."

The room fell into careful quiet as the doctor gently tilted Hotch’s head, using a slim otoscope to peer carefully into his injured ear. 

Hotch remained perfectly still, tension lining every muscle. You watched closely, noting the slight furrow of his brow and the quiet tightening of his jaw.

After a moment, Dr. Bennett leaned back slightly, setting down the instrument and meeting Hotch’s gaze seriously. "There’s significant scar tissue buildup, Aaron. The original injury must have been extensive. Combine that with years of exposure to gunfire, constant travel on planes, and frankly, the passage of time...it's no wonder you're experiencing these symptoms now."

Hotch's expression hardened subtly, a brief flicker of unease shadowing his dark eyes. "So, what does that mean?"

Dr. Bennett exhaled softly, folding his hands carefully. "Realistically? You’d greatly benefit from a hearing aid. It won't restore what's been lost, but it can significantly improve your quality of life. Ease the discomfort, lessen the ringing and strain."

Hotch visibly flinched at the suggestion, discomfort and distaste clear in his tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping quickly to the floor. Your heart tightened in response, understanding immediately the quiet shame and embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him.

"A hearing aid," Hotch repeated quietly, the words thick with distaste, as if saying it aloud made it more rea--

More painful.

You rubbed your thumb gently over the back of his hand, speaking softly. "It could really help, Aaron."

He glanced at you sharply, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, his embarrassment raw and unshielded. His voice was quiet, barely masking his frustration. "It feels...like admitting defeat."

You leaned closer, voice gentle but firm, meeting his eyes directly. "It's not defeat. It's choosing yourself--choosing your health and your life. You deserve that, Aaron. You don't have to carry this alone."

His gaze held yours for a moment, quietly searching, vulnerability shimmering behind the carefully constructed barriers. He swallowed tightly, exhaling softly as his shoulders slowly relaxed. You saw the shift--

The quiet surrender.

And the reluctant, tentative acceptance.

Dr. Bennett smiled softly, recognizing the delicate tension between you both, sensing Hotch’s internal struggle. "Why don't you take some time to think it over? It's a significant decision, but an empowering one."

Hotch exhaled slowly, nodding once, his voice quiet and rough with emotion. "I appreciate it."

The doctor quietly excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the gentle quiet of the room. Hotch's hand trembled faintly in yours, and your heart ached softly, recognizing how difficult this moment was for him--this man who had always been the protector, the authority figure, so quietly proud, now having to acknowledge something he couldn't control or conquer on his own.

"You don't have to decide right now," you whispered softly, lifting your free hand to tenderly brush through his hair, gently soothing the tension in his neck. "But I'm proud of you for taking this step."

Hotch swallowed again, eyes briefly drifting shut, leaning subtly into your comforting touch. His voice was quiet, nearly breaking. "It's hard."

Your chest tightened painfully at the raw vulnerability in his admission. "I know," you murmured, voice barely audible, aching with fierce affection. "But you won't do this alone, Aaron. Ever."

He finally turned toward you fully, his eyes softening, guarded walls slowly falling away. His free hand rose, fingers gently cupping your cheek, thumb softly brushing your skin in quiet gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, the words thick with emotion. "For being here."

You turned slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, letting your lips linger gently. "Always."

Rain pattered lightly against the windshield, gentle but persistent. The rhythmic sweep of the wipers matched the quiet rhythm of your heart as you watched Hotch from the passenger seat, his expression shadowed, his hands gripping the wheel just a bit tighter than usual. 

The streetlights blurred through the rain-streaked windows, painting muted streaks of amber and white across the dark interior of the car.

"You know," he began suddenly, breaking the heavy silence, voice edged with quiet frustration, "I’m not even fifty yet. People in their forties shouldn't need hearing aids."

You suppressed a soft smile, knowing exactly where this was headed, and instead settled comfortably back against the seat, turning your head to face him fully. "Aaron, hearing loss isn't an age thing. You know that."

He made a soft noise, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, shaking his head stubbornly. "Still, a hearing aid. It's something older people need. It's--" He hesitated, clearly struggling with embarrassment. "I don't want you to look at me differently."

Your heart twisted softly, tenderness swelling beneath your ribs. "I won’t," you murmured reassuringly, your voice gentle. "I couldn't."

He shook his head again, lips pressed tightly together. "You're already younger than me. You already look--"

"Aaron," you interrupted gently, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. "I've never cared about the age gap. Why would a hearing aid suddenly change that?"

He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed stubbornly on the road ahead, jaw tight. "Because you'll be standing next to a man who can't hear without help. It just feels...like weakness. I don’t want to be someone you feel you have to take care of."

You softened even further, thumb brushing soothingly across his thigh. "Letting someone care for you isn't weakness. You've been strong alone for so long--you don’t always have to be."

He fell quiet again, the silence filled only by the soft hum of the tires on wet pavement, the steady rhythm of raindrops tapping gently overhead. 

You watched him closely, allowing him the space to process his thoughts, knowing his stubbornness and pride needed room to fade into acceptance.

After several long, tense moments, he spoke again, his voice quieter now, vulnerability beginning to edge into the firm lines of his expression. "I just don't want it to change how you see me."

You squeezed his thigh softly. "I fell in love with you exactly as you are--nothing could change that."

He was quiet again, fingers flexing slightly on the steering wheel. Then he exhaled sharply, voice rougher, lower, weighed down with self-awareness. "I can't keep missing things," he admitted slowly, reluctantly. "On cases...with Jack..." His voice softened even more, cracking faintly, "And with you."

Your heart clenched gently, breath catching softly in your throat at his quiet admission. 

He swallowed tightly, glancing quickly toward you before returning his gaze to the road, embarrassment evident beneath his careful composure.

"I'm tired of being exhausted," he whispered roughly, almost to himself. "Tired of the ringing. Tired of missing Jack's life. And--" His voice tightened further, vulnerability clear, "--tired of being so exhausted from not sleeping that I can't even make love to you."

His words pierced deeply, the raw honesty stealing your breath and filling your heart with tenderness and quiet ache. You leaned closer, silently offering comfort, your hand tightening softly on his thigh.

 "Aaron," you whispered gently, reassuringly, "it's okay. I'm right here."

His shoulders relaxed subtly, tension beginning to slowly drain away. "I know you are," he admitted quietly, finally meeting your eyes briefly at a red light. "That's why I know I can't let this get worse."

"I suppose a hearing aid wouldn’t be the worst thing," he finally conceded quietly, eyes fixed ahead but voice lighter now--almost resigned. "If it means I can stop missing out on the things that matter most."

You smiled warmly, affection surging gently through your chest. "Exactly."

Hotch’s lips finally curled upward, the faintest, tentative hint of a genuine smile. He lifted one hand from the wheel, gently grasping your hand on his thigh, intertwining your fingers carefully.

"And if it means I can properly hear all those sweet things you whisper to me," he murmured, humor and warmth finally beginning to edge back into his voice, "then maybe it’ll be worth it."

You laughed softly, relief flooding your chest at seeing him finally relax. You squeezed his fingers gently, heart swelling with quiet joy. "I promise to speak clearly."

He lifted your intertwined hands, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, gaze lingering warmly on yours at the next red light. "I’ll hold you to that."

And in the quiet warmth of that moment, beneath the gentle rhythm of rain, you felt the weight of his worries begin to lift, replaced by something hopefu--

Something stronger than fear.

Or embarrassment,

Or stubborn pride.

Something you knew, with absolute certainty, would carry you both forward.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @sweethotchlogy

[nightplvmes]

birthday girl

caleb one shot (love and deepspace) ⋆｡° | caleb knew you were sad because your birthday was ruined due to the rain… so he decided to prepare a surprise at home. ⋆｡° | pairing : caleb x fem!reader ⋆｡° | word count : 1.2k (1270) ⋆｡° | autor note: this is a reader birthday special, you can save it and read it on your birthday, there's a sylus version on my mastelist and I'll eventually do the rest of the LIs :3 likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :) ★ masterlist here

You hadn't said it out loud, but Caleb could see from your face that you were sad. You'd always said you didn't like your birthday, but he knew a part of you was lying. You liked to celebrate it in a small, intimate way, yet you didn't hate that day, no matter how hard you tried to tell Caleb otherwise.

He confirmed that when he saw you leaning back on the couch, your gaze fixed on the window in front of you, and your eyes seemed… lost. You hadn't planned anything specific for your birthday, except to go to a place you'd seen online, explore the exhibits there a bit, and then go out to dinner that night. The problem? It had started raining horribly an hour before you both were about to leave, and they'd closed the outdoor exhibit for the day, and in your mind, the day had been ruined. So much so that you hadn't even wanted to go to dinner.

Caleb had disappeared into some room in the house for about an hour. You could only hear him moving things or furniture, but you hadn't gone to see what he was doing. Until he took a seat next to you and put one of his arms around your shoulders. You settled into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder, your gaze still completely fixed on the way the raindrops hit the window.

"I can go out and get some dinner," he murmured, kissing your forehead. You knew what he meant. He didn't want to say it, but he was trying to cheer you up. But if you were honest with yourself, you didn't even feel like eating. You shook your head, your gaze still fixed on the window.

"It's okay, I just want to stay home," you sighed. You didn't want to admit that the awful weather had discouraged you, even though you were almost sure Caleb had noticed it on your face and that's why he'd suggested something to eat.

The two of you remained silent for several minutes. The sound of falling water was all that filled the room. The water falling from the sky was getting louder and louder, and you knew the rain wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"I have something to show you," Caleb finally broke the silence. He moved a few inches away from you, forcing you to sit back down on the couch. You looked at him blankly, wondering if it was because of what he'd been doing for a few minutes and the amount of noise you heard in another room.

"Caleb, I already told you I don't want to do anything today," you sighed, rubbing your eyes. You didn't want to be mean, you didn't want to be rude to him, but you really didn't feel like doing anything.

"You'll like it, come on." He took your hand and practically forced you off the couch.

You gave up almost immediately. You followed him down the hallway as he continued to hold your hand. All you could think about was that after whatever Caleb showed you, you could just go to bed for the rest of the day and maybe watch a movie together. You weren't hungry yet, but you could order some dinner at—

Any of your thoughts were interrupted when you looked at what Caleb had done in the living room. There was a room on the first floor of the apartment that you two still didn't know what to do with. You had suggested putting a piano in it, but no one played it, and there wasn't time to learn. So they had just left it empty for now.

Only, at that moment, it wasn't empty.

There was a large blanket covering part of the floor. The flowerpots you had throughout the house were now surrounding the room, and the only three pieces of furniture in the room, along with the boxes of stuff, were on the ends, out of the way. But that wasn't all. On the blanket was food, three gifts on one side, some of your favorite stuffed animals that Caleb had won for you from the claw machine, and some candles that helped the cloudy and somewhat sad atmosphere.

Tears pooled in your eyes, but you pressed your lips together to keep from crying. You turned to look at him. You wanted to say something, you wanted to ask what was going on, but nothing came out of your mouth. Caleb seemed to notice almost immediately, so he quickly explained.

Then, it seemed so familiar.

You remembered.

"It's a picnic at home. I know you were excited to go to that exhibit, but the rain ruined it. So I thought we can have this picnic at home." He took your hand and led you to the blanket on the ground.

You took a seat, looking around, trying to think of when he'd had time to prepare all of this. Or how he'd come up with it so quickly—at least your mind wasn't working as quickly.

"It's our first date," you murmured, causing Caleb to stop completely. He was arranging the food in front of you, but the moment those words left your mouth, he could only look up and blink at you.

On your first date, you had both gone to a beautiful park and had a picnic. It had been one of your favorite days; it had come to mind when you saw the blanket on the ground because it was exactly the same one.

"You remembered," you nodded without hesitation. He seemed surprised, which surprised you. Did he think you were going to forget it? It had been your first real date.

"I could never forget it. Besides, you didn't have to do this." Before you could say anything else, he interrupted you.

"Stop saying that. I would do anything for you." He leaned down to press his lips against your forehead but remained motionless for several seconds, enjoying the closeness. "Happy birthday"

You felt like your stomach was about to collapse, and you couldn't eat anything else. However, when Caleb walked back into the room, holding a cake, his steps were slow to keep the candles from going out—you knew you were going to have to eat something else.

It took Caleb several seconds to sit down next to you again without dropping the cake, but he'd refused your help when you tried to take it from him.

"I didn't buy a cake," you said, frowning, remembering that you hadn't, in fact, bought a cake. However, it had your name on it, said Happy Birthday, and had some decorations in your favorite color.

"I made it this morning, while you were still sleeping. That's why I tried to keep you away from the refrigerator." A huge smile spread across your lips. Yes, Caleb had spent the entire morning taking things out of the refrigerator and giving them to you to keep you from taking them yourself and seeing the cake he'd baked that morning. "Make a wish." He finally brought the cake up to your face, the light warmth of the candles hitting your face.

You looked at Caleb but didn't know what your wish should be. You had everything you wanted, even him.

You closed your eyes and repeated the words in your mind before opening them and being able to blow out the candles.

You just wanted everything to be the same.

[kissbyoon]

⠀𖼥ৎ⠀“april shower” ₍ y.jh ₎

───── ABOUT the heavy rain doesn't seem to stop anytime soon, so why not just make a run for it?

⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, est. rs, humour ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: bf!jeonghan x f!reader ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: skinship, kissing (lmk if more) ⋆ 𝒘𝒄: 0.7k

A/N: part of @bella-feed's 100+ followers event!! <3 so glad to be a part of it, tysm bella! This was pretty rushed, since I've been busy with alot of things at once, but I did my best! I could've written a full fic if it weren't for my schedule :( | @sanaxo-o @dokyumms

You watch as Jeonghan shivers in the cold, his t-shirt—that looked so good on him just a moment ago—now drenched in rainwater.

“I told you we should’ve brought an umbrella,” you sigh, rubbing his shoulder to provide some sort of comfort even though you were almost completely wet by the rain too.

“I thought it wouldn't rain,” he mumbled in a pouty voice, putting a hand over yours. “They said the same thing yesterday but there wasn't a single drop of water from the sky.”

“Okay, now, that isn’t the problem, hannie.” You say, moving your hand away gently to pinch the drenched t-shirt he wore. “You’ll get cold if you stay like this.”

“Well,” the corners of his lips curled into a sly smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It's already drenched, so making a run for it wouldn't hurt.”

Clicking your tongue, you hit his head gently with a faint smile. “Are you sick in the head?”

“Maybe, but it's either this or we are stuck here in this rusty bus stand for the entire day.” He sighs dramatically.

His words did make sense. The bus stand you both were stuck in due to the sudden heavy rainfall wasn't the best, but it did protect you two in some way. If only Jeonghan had listened to the weather forecast and brought an umbrella, you wouldn't have to suffer standing here now. The worst thing was the fact that your shared apartment was just a few blocks away, but it wasn't possible to reach there without splashing rainwater all over your lower body and drenching yourself in the rain.

But your boyfriend's suggestion didn't sound so bad either.

Biting your lower lip and folding your arms, you squint your eyes at him, considering his words.

You sigh, unfolding your arms. “That’s a good idea bu—”

“That's it!” Jeonghan chirps, already grabbing your hand.

And before you could realise, you two are running in the rain, water splashing everywhere. The raindrops fell on you almost harshly, but the excited grin playing on his lips made up for it. You laugh along with him, gripping on his hand tighter.

“Slow down! We’ll fall down!” You had to shout as the loud noise of the rain and splashing was deafening.

“C’mon, we're almost there!”

After what felt like two more minutes of giggling and running in the rain, you two finally reached the front porch of the apartment, coming to a halt.

Both of you were still laughing while panting to catch up with your breath.

“Do I look handsome like this?” Jeonghan asks, smiling slyly while flexing his plain white shirt that was drenched in the rain.

You look at him as if he was insane, but couldn't fight the smile. “Can I say no?” You joke, causing him to pout.

“You can't,” he says, then leans forward, puckering his lips. “But you can kiss me as a reward for being so smart.”

That made you laugh, and you reached up to cup his cheeks. “That wasn't so smart, but I'll do it since you're so desperate.”

He didn't bother to argue back, but leaned into your touch and waited for you to kiss him. But as you press your lips against his, his arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you in for more than just a peck.

You smiled into the kiss, but decided to kiss him back anyway.

A few seconds later, he slowly pulled back and grinned.

“This is so romantic, we should run back there and run back here again.” He says, but bursts into laughter when you hit him in the shoulder.

“You're crazy, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“You loveee me~”

“You're unbelievable.” You chuckle, pecking his lips.

KISSBYOON 2025. © all rights reserved. @maestro-net @kstrucknet

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮���𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

[whoops-all-jennas]

More than a Game - t.c.

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary - Tara is dared to talk to you by her friend group during class. She regrets it and wants to make it up to you

This was inspired by @kaisacobra fic "I Dare You"

Warnings: slight bullying

Part 1 Part 2

The sound of cars passing by and the patter of raindrops on your umbrella is the only stimulation you have on your walk to school.

You usually wear earbuds but you discovered this morning that you accidentally left them in your pocket when you were washing your clothes, ruining your favorite earbuds.

You already know that today is going to be miserable, it never rains here so it must be a sign.

When you get near Woodsboro High, some assholes splash you by running over a puddle with their car.

You put your arms up in shock as you're now drenched. You see them snickering from their car, and fueled by your sour mood, you flip them off as they continue driving away.

You managed to get to school and make your way to the cafeteria for some breakfast. The chatter of students is the only other noise besides the squeaking of your wet shoes.

When you can see the line you see the cafeteria workers closed the line as the bell rings.

"This day literally can't get any worse." you mutter to yourself. As you leave the cafeteria one of the straps of your backpack broke.

-

"Look what the storm dragged in" Liv said mockingly to her friends at her table, just loud enough for you to hear as you drop your backpack next to your table near the back of the classroom and plop into your seat.

Tara's friends in this class consists of Amber, Chad, and 'Liv'. She wasn't really friends with Liv, but she was in the friend group so she had to try to get along with her.

"Why don't we talk to her? make her day better?" Liv said to her friends again with a malicious smile.

Tara knows this means 'act like talking to the quiet kid is some sort of game and treat them like a pet.'

"Come on Tara, you do it." Tara looks between her friends.

"What, no she's clearly having a bad day." Tara whispers loudly to Liv as Amber is now butting in.

"So?" if Amber had gum she would be chewing it in the most exaggerated way possible.

"What do you two have against y/n?" Chad says, now entering the conversation.

The next few seconds are silent until Liv breaks it. "Fine, I'll do it." Liv is about to stand up until Tara stands up first.

"No, I'll do it." Tara starts heading towards the open seat next to you before anyone can object.

Tara knows how Liv can be, so she thought it'd be better for you if it was at least herself instead.

"Hey." Tara says while taking a seat next to you.

You glance at her, acknowledging her existence, and then go back to getting ready for class. You pull out your laptop which is covered in stickers of different shows and stuff you like.

Tara looks forward to her friends who are watching back, Liv and Amber are amused but waiting for something to happen and Chad looking back a little worried.

"I like your laptop, I'm also a fan of-"

You interrupt her, your patience wearing thin. "I'm really not in the mood for this today." You finally look at Tara again. "I'm not an idiot, you can go tell your friends we're 'best friends' now or whatever." You say while making quotation marks with your fingers, annoyance lacing every word you said.

"Sorry I didn't mean-"

You cut her off again as you groan and put your stuff back in your backpack and quickly head out the door. The negative energy emanating off you.

As you're about to leave, your other backpack strap broke and fell to the ground.

You groan more loudly and annoyed than before, quickly grabbing your now not so 'back'pack and carrying it in your hands.

Tara looks to Amber and Liv giggling and looks back to you as you leave. She sees you dropped your chapstick, so she gets up and picks it up.

She heads to the door to see where you went but you were already gone.

Tara heads back to her friends, she tries to hide it but there's guilt on her face.

"That was awesome, did you record that?" Amber says while pointing at Liv.

"Shit I totally should have." Liv and Ambers faces have too much joy in them.

"You guys are assholes" Chad directs mostly at Amber and Liv.

"Lighten up a little, we were just joking around." Amber says with a smile on her face while Tara sits down in her original seat as the last bell rings indicating that class was starting.

'I'm an asshole.' Tara thinks to herself, not being able to focus during class.

-

Tara gets in the car with Chad and Mindy after the school day ended, she didn't see y/n for the rest of the day.

Tara usually gets a ride home from Chad and today wasn't any different, well at least in that aspect.

Chad has a worried look on his face when he looks at Tara in the back seat. He can see the guilt of today eating her up.

"I think you did the right thing, even though how it ended I know you had good intentions." Tara just nods with a forced smile.

"What are you talking about, what happened?" Mindy gets herself in the conversation.

"I don't really wanna talk about it." Tara replies and this quickly ends the conversation while Chad turns the car on.

"Hey Chad, was y/n in class in your first period? she wasn't in A/V class today but I swear I saw her this morning in the cafeteria." Mindy directs her words at Chad seeing that Tara doesn't really want to talk right now.

Tara rubs her hands across her face at hearing where the conversation is going before she looks out the window.

"She was there for a bit, but she left early." Chad responds. "Why what's up, I didn't know you two knew each other."

Chad glances towards Mindy for a second before focusing on the road again. "We were assigned together on a group project in A/V and we just kinda hit it off. Like behind that quiet and shy wall she has at first is this chill and talkative girl, when you get to know her first of course and she's comfortable around you."

Tara groans quiet enough for no one to hear as she throws her head back against the seat.

'Great, another reason to feel like an asshole.' She thinks to herself and soon the car comes to a stop in front of her house.

"I know we usually hangout after school, but you seem kinda out of it so I understand if you want to be alone for now." Chad looks back from the driver seat.

"Yeah, I kinda wanna be alone for now." Tara says quietly.

"Thanks for the ride." Tara gets out of the car after grabbing her backpack and heads to her house as Chad drives away.

When Tara gets inside she pulls out y/n's chapstick that she dropped. After getting a glass of water and settling down for a minute she grabs her phone and goes to Mindy's Instagram page.

She clicks on her followers and searches 'y/n' and quickly finds your account. Your account is set to private but your pfp is a picture of yourself with Mindy covered in fake blood.

Tara giggled at the picture, That was probably for the A/V project Tara thought to herself.

She requests to send a message starting with a picture of the chapstick and the caption 'u forgot something'.

After sending the message she turns the TV on while the anxiety of sending you a message slowly builds up as Tara keeps checking her phone.

After about 10 minutes Tara gets a notification from y/n

y/n: "thanks for picking it up"

Tara quickly starting typing but saw you were typing another message

y/n: "im sorry for kinda blowing up this morning"

Tara erased what she was typing and started a new message

Tara: "No no I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm sorry for trying to talk to you when you clearly didn't want to be talked to"

Tara stares at the screen contemplating her next move before typing again

Tara: "How about I make it up to you? I saw you're a fan of horror movies how about we go watch a movie sometime"

Tara slaps herself after sending the message, but there isn't anything she can do about it now because she can see you already read the message.

After a few minutes Tara swears to herself after realizing you stopped typing and Tara was left on read.

-

You stare at the message you received from Tara with a confused look on your face.

"What?" you mouth to yourself before switching to messaging Mindy.

y/n: "hey mindy, your brother is friends with that one girl right? i think her name is tara"

You stare at the screen waiting for a response and are soon awaited with Mindy seeing the message and 3 dots moving in a bubble

Mindy: "yeah why?"

y/n: "what's she like? have you talked to her before? she's asking me to do hangout with her but i also know she's friends with amber and liv and THEM i know i don't like."

Mindy: "she's definitely the nicest out of that group, I have no idea why chad chills with them but tara i can actually have a conversation with and not have put up an act yk?"

Mindy: "what do you mean Tara is trying to hangout with you?"

You stare at the message contemplating what to say next until you start typing.

y/n: "well today she sat next to me and tried to talk to me. she's with liv and them so i assumed she was doing that thing where people talk to the more awkward students as a kinda game?"

y/n: "i kinda blew up on her and now she's messaging me saying she wants to watch a horror movie with me"

Mindy: "she's definitely not the type of person to do that willingly if that's what you're asking"

Mindy: "the teasing i mean"

Mindy: "if you're asking if you should do it it's your choice. I don't think there's any ill intend."

you stare at the message for a second before giving a quick reply

y/n: "thanks, this helps a lot with my decision :)"

Mindy: "ofc! anytime :)"

After a little more contemplating you go back to the messages with Tara.

y/n: "sorry for leaving you on read for so long lol"

y/n: "what movie did you have in mind?"

-

Somehow on the same day you agreed to go to Tara's house to watch a movie tonight with her. She lives a lot closer than you expected, walking distance close.

As you approach her door you hesitate on knocking for a second. After a few seconds you opt to messaging her saying you're here.

Tara opens the door with an awkward smile. "Hi, come on in make yourself at home."

You wave at her sheepishly, it feels better to see her treat you a bit more genuinely. It also doesn't hurt that she's pretty.

You take your shoes off and follow her to the living room. When you see a bowl of popcorn and the TV set up for a movie you instantly feel a weight off your shoulders.

You now know this isn't a setup or anything to tease you more. "Did you need anything to eat or drink?" Tara says, who is clearly a bit nervous, not as nervous as you are though.

"Just water, thank you." You awkwardly smile at her as she heads to the kitchen.

"Make yourself comfortable!" You hear her say from the kitchen like she knows you're just standing here awkwardly which, granted, she's right. So you take a seat on the couch.

Her house is very cozy, the lights are a warm color and they're not too abrasive.

Tara soon enters with two cups of water and sets them down on the coffee table.

"Is there anyone else here?" You say realizing how quiet it is.

"No, just us. my mom's at work so." Tara sits next to me and grabs the remote.

"We can watch whatever you recommend." You say and she looks at you a bit confused

"But this is for you." You exchange eye contact with Tara before you speak.

"I know and what I want to watch is what you recommend."

You give her a more genuine smile.

"Alrightly then, we're watching the Babadook." She gives you a smile before getting the Babadook setup on the TV.

During the movie you realize that you and Tara actually get along really well once you both got comfortable.

You kinda feel bad for blowing up on her today. You look towards her and admire her face, she really is so pretty.

"Everything okay?" You didn't realize you were staring until she spoke, your face starts to heat up.

"Yeah everything is fine." You said way too fast and broke eye contact immediately going back to the screen.

You can feel her eyes on you, she is definitely smirking but you are way too scared to look back. Instead you go to grab some more popcorn which Tara follows.

She touches your hand in the popcorn bucket, it wasn't too slick either it was clear that was what she was trying to do.

Either way, it doesn't make you any less flustered. "Sorry!" You quickly pull my hand back, if you getting caught staring was considered blushing then they needed a stronger word for how your face looks now.

"Its okay." Tara says with a sort of smugness in her voice.

Tara gets her water from the coffee table and takes the opportunity to sit closer to you.

Your shoulders are now touching and the extended contact is causing your heart to do flips.

"You okay? you look a little warm." Tara says teasingly. "Yeah I'm doing good, this movie is really good so far." A desperate attempt to get the attention off yourself.

Your faces are really close now and you can feel her breath on you.

Tara goes to make her next move, she reaches for your hand till she heard the front door open.

"Tara I'm home!" She heard her mother say from the front door.

Tara made space between you two quickly before her mom came in the room. Tara now being the one to be flustered.

"I see you have a friend here" She says, instantly able to see something was happening just by the look on Tara's face.

"Hi, I'm y/n." You interject awkwardly between the knowing stare that Tara's mom gave her.

"You can just call me Ms. Carpenter." She says waving before going up the stairs giving knowing glances on the way.

"I'm sorry about that, my mom can be a bit, you know." Tara makes eye contact with me, her face still flushed.

"Its okay" Trying to reestablish the previous mood. You both silently continue the movie, never really going beyond what previously happened between us.

The movie was just about over and it was getting late. Shortly after we finished the movie.

"I had a lot of fun, we should hangout more sometime" Tara says with a smile while she opens the door for me.

"Yeah I'd like that." We both look at each other not quite sure what to do or where we stand currently.

We both just awkwardly wave at each other as I start to walk home.

When you get inside and get comfortable in your bed you take a look at your phone.

There are two Instagram notifications, Tara Carpenter requested to follow you and another message.

"You forgot this again"

With a picture of your chapstick.

an: hey guys! im sorry if this isn't too well written, this is not only my first time writing a fic but first time writing because I wasn't forced to write. hope you enjoyed :)

[letorip]

can you write something short and fluffy :( like jenna or wednesday being tired or something

j's lullaby

"darlin' i'd wait for you, even if you didn't ask me to"

===+++===

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: jenna comes home incredibly late and can't wait to collapse into your arms after a long day

warnings: nada, entirely just fluff and comforting someone's exhaustion

word count: 1.2k

A/N: sorry for getting to this now, it was requested months and months ago. feels good to write something sweet for once, and without somewhere to branch off to. i like writing my stories, but it's fun to leave so much up to the reader. maybe i'll do more of these.

===+++===

===+++===

Even from inside the warmth of your apartment, it was impossible to be unaware of the raging storm outside. You could hear the pattering of raindrops upon the stucco roof in small thuds that had faded gently into the background a good thirty minutes ago and given no indication of letting up anytime soon, either.

Not that it would have mattered. You stood in the kitchen with the kettle going on the stove, attempting to read a rather enthralling chapter of your book in the dim, warm light that hung over your microwave, and then rereading it for a third or fourth time when the words became an unintelligible mess in your head, whether it be from the lack of light or sluggish ability to think.

It was a little too late to turn the kitchen light on, not that you were a big fan of the overhead light, but it would've brought a crude harshness to the drowsiness you were attempting to fight off.

Even night owls had their limitations. Sleep snuck up on you at the wispy edges, pulling down on your eyelashes. The clock on your microwave ticked to 4:28, and you turned the page in your book, hearing the kettle's whistle begin to take frequency, one you were sure the neighbours could hear.

In retrospect the somewhat thin walls were the only thing imperfect about the place, with giant windows and warm, teakwood floors. That and your kitchen's tile floor being kind of cold in the morning, but even then, both you and Jenna wore socks in the house, so it wasn't much of a drawback. You would only live there for a few weeks more anyhow, before you both went back to Los Angeles. In the meantime you could cope with the plush floor rug that Natalie had sent.

With one thumb on the thin page of your beaten up novel and the rest of that hand pinning it to the countertop, you lifted the kettle gently towards your old ceramic mug with the chip in the corner and a teabag’s string hanging over the side. The hot water steamed and gently wafted over the apples of your cheeks, and it added a further weight, the room filling with a flowery smell.

As you grabbed a small spoon from the drawer, the front door’s knob audibly turned, creaking open on its hinges and letting some of the nighttime noise flood in, if only for a moment. You grinned at the noise with an excitement that would’ve been impossible to mask, stirring your drink and calling over your shoulder, down the hall. “Hey, in here.”

The door swung shut behind her and a few, tired steps later, Jenna stood in the doorway. You stayed focused on the task at hand, stirring your tea, but you could feel her eyes stay locked upon your face. She wandered over, coming up behind you where you stood and wrapping her arms around your torso, pressing the plane of her cheek against your shoulder blade.

She held you tightly, as if she wanted to melt together. “You didn’t have to wait up for me. It’s almost 5 in the morning.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” you shrugged. “I wanted to.” Her arms wrapped around you just a bit tighter, holding you there and sighing into the soft, worn fabric of your old shirt.

“I made tea,” you hummed. “Do you want any?” She shook her head into your back, almost purring in contentment.

“‘M too tired,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, you got back late,” you said, pushing the tea mug away and turning around to get a good look at her. She was beautiful, that was a given, but she also looked exhausted, with thick, dark eye bags and the tips of her dark bangs a little bit wet from the rain outside.

“Tim wanted to talk about the big scene we have coming up,” she whispered. You hummed again, watching her with a little bit of concern and she looked back at you with a fondness.

“Come on, off to bed with you,” you straightened up, holding out your hand for her to take, and grabbing your book with a finger left between the binding to hold your spot.

She rolled her eyes with a gentle huff but did not protest, letting you lead her gently into your bedroom. There were still a few candles you had lit for just in case during the storm, filling your room with a yellowish, warm glow, and you blew them out while Jenna got changed into her pyjamas.

“Oh, your mum called, by the way,” you said with a gentle smile, pulling the sheets back to sit on the edge. You pulled your woollen, thick socks off and flung them towards the far wall; you could pick them up tomorrow.

She gave you a sleepy nod, wandering towards the bathroom and sliding the door open. “Just checking in?”

“Yeah, wants you to call her tomorrow… which I guess is now today. She wants to her all about work.” You thumbed open your book while you waited for her to finish brushing her teeth, reading a few lines before she reappeared about a minute later, flicking off the light.

Jenna walked right over, pulling the sheets back and then practically collapsing on top of you, her head nuzzling into your neck. You could feel the cold edge of her nose pressing gently against the edge of your jaw, and it sent a small shiver down your spine. You put the book on your bedside table, sliding your eyeglasses off of your weary ears and stacking it on top, along with clicking the lamp off.

You would’ve planted a kiss upon her forehead, but she seemed all too comfortable for you to shift your position, and you were quite certain— though you couldn’t actually see— that her eyes were already closed and she was letting her exhaustion take over.

“I missed you, today,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“Hm.” You both sat in silence for a minute, and you were convinced she had dozed off until she spoke again, even quieter than before. “Tell me about your day, love?”

“Well, let’s see,” you sighed. “Got up around 10, maybe? Did laundry—”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face further into you.

“Mhm. Went to the shops. Made dinner. Watched that show I told you about.”

“Did you write, today?” The words were sluggish and slow, and you could tell she was lulling to sleep more and more.

“Nope,” you said with a small chuckle, and you felt Jenna smile against your neck. “I’m still waiting for that burst of creativity, y’know? I’ll find it when I find it. What about you? How was your day?”

But she didn’t answer, and you were perfectly fine with that. You could ask her in the morning, after all. And you could drink the cold tea you had completely forgotten about then, too.

short, sweet, and pretty cute. i'm happy with it. i think oneshots are incredibly fun. also calm yourself, i'm still finishing kiss with a fist [iv] i cannot stress enough how much i'm excited for it but it is NOT ready yet

[willowsnook]

Only one bed??? (LN)

lando norris x teammate!reader

a/n: anytime i saw this trope on wattpad back in the day i went feral so enjoy me reliving my past

Raindrops were quickly streaming down the plane window next to you and your hands were gripping on the handrests, knuckles turning white. Because of a post race meeting going way over time, you and your teammate were the last to leave Monza and had not made it past the storms that headed towards Monaco. The jet was silent, just you, Lando, and the plane staff but no words were spoken. You wouldn't necessarily say that you and Lando were enemies but you definitely weren't friends. More like awkward teammates.

It bothered you though. It seems like Lando had a special relationship with almost anyone he had been teammates with besides you. You had tried to be outwardly friendly when you joined McLaren but were met with indifference. After the first few months you gave up and settled into this routine. The team was disappointed too, they had expected Lando to mentor you as a rookie but that hadn't happened. The sound of the plane's speaker turning on brought you out of your thoughts.

"Sorry guys, we are going to have to make an emergency landing in the next ten minutes due to this storm."

You felt your pulse quicken and you looked over to Lando who gave you a worried look. Tugging your seatbelt tighter you closed your eyes for what felt like eternity until the plane landed. Following Lando out and down the stairs, you both rushed to a car that was waiting, piling in the back seat.

"There's a hotel a mile from here, I'll take you guys there and we should be good to go in the morning to Monaco," the driver said and you both nodded. The world was raging outside and you wondered if the car would even make it to the hotel. It wasn't a nice building, very standard for a small town you imagined but at the moment you'd be happy with anything out of the storm.

Dragging your carry on behind you, the clerk blinked up in surprise at the sight of you both walking in, dripping all over the floor. You gave her an exhausted smile.

"Hi, we need two rooms please," you said and she looked to her computer.

"Unfortunately, I only have one available," she said and you laughed, refusing to believe it. She raised an eyebrow.

"Are you serious?" You asked looking around at the dinky lobby wondering how it was even possible this place was filled up.

"Yeah, we had a lot of people stop to ride out the storm," she snapped back. "Do you want it or not?"

"Yes, we'll take it," Lando said, moving around you and laying down his card. He nudged you towards the hallway once she gave him the key. Taking the key from him you swiped it to the door pushing your way through. You stopped short once you saw the inside.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," you said and Lando ran in to the back of you. Things could really not get worse.

"One bed Lando," you said laughing hysterically. "One fucking bed! Amazing, just what I wanted."

You were losing it and you could tell he knew that by the wide eyed look he was giving you. A loud thunder crash boomed from outside causing you to jump into Lando who reached out his arms to steady you. You looked down at his hands and he quickly removed them before moving around you and unzipping his bag.

"What are you doing?" You asked warily and he didn't look up.

"Getting ready for bed," he replied. "It's one night, y/n, we will manage."

Sighing you kneeled down to unzip your bag, pulling out your pajama set and heading to the bathroom to change. Washing your face and brushing your teeth, you tried not to think about how awkward this whole situation was.

Lando looked up at you from where he had already situated himself and tossed his head back groaning.

"You can't be serious," he said and you gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"You can't wear that." he said and you frowned looking down at your clothes.

"Why?"

"I can see your whole chest in that top," he complained crossing his arms.

"Then close your eyes," you snapped pulling back the covers. You started moving the extra pillows in between you.

"What are you doing?" Lando asked.

"Making a pillow wall," you replied settling in.

"Are you really that scared of touching me?" He said irritably.

"It's more for your sake considering you hightail it out of any room I walk into," you bite back and he doesn't say anything, just looks away towards the window.

Snuggling into the sheets you watch tik toks on your phone for a while before trying to fall asleep. That task feels impossible due to the flashing lights and lack of heat in the room. Sighing you reach over for your phone to see that it's not even midnight. You let out a frustrated groan.

"What's wrong?" Lando mumbles sleepily.

"Nothing, I just can't sleep," you whisper back at him. The bed shifted and you turned to see Lando looking at you, propped up on his elbow.

"Are you cold?" He murmured, waking up.

"A little," you sighed and he started moving the pillows, scooting closer to you. "What are you doing?"

"Just come here," he said and you gave in, letting him slide behind you, his arm going across your waist. Warmth instantly flooded your body.

"You think the team would be shocked to see us like this?" You asked and he let out a little laugh.

"Yeah, I would imagine so," he said, tracing circles on your arm with his thumb.

"Can I ask you something?" You asked looking over at Lando.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you like me?" You whispered and he frowned.

"I do like you," he said looking sadly at you and you shook your head.

"I'm not stupid, I see how you are with everyone else," you said. "I just don't know what I did."

Lando sat up, pulling you with him until you were seated and looking in his eyes.

"It's not you y/n, I promise, it's me," he said and you rolled his eyes.

"Very helpful Lando," you grumbled and he shook his head.

"I got scared when they signed you because I knew the expectations that it brung for me," he said and you looked at him confused. "You are the rookie, I'm the veteran but I'm just not ready to be the veteran. I feel like I still have so much to learn but now I'm supposed to be teaching you."

"Why didn't you say anything? All of that is so understandable," you said, frustration growing. He looked down.

"It's just easier now to keep you at a distance," he said. "If you were a guy it would be so much better."

"Are you fucking serious right now?" You said angrily and his head snapped up, eyes filled with panic.

"No no I didn't mean it like that," he stuttered.

"Then how did you mean it?"

"Come on, y/n," he said gesturing his hands out. "You know you're hot, the whole grid knows you're hot. You distract me so avoiding you keeps me focused."

Lando looks sheepish as you glare at him not saying anything.

"You've made the first half of my F1 career borderline miserable just because you think I'm hot?"

"Yeah I guess so," he said eyes flickering down to your chest.

"And now you are blatantly checking me out," you whisper yelled at him and he put his hands up to cover his eyes.

"It's kind of hard when you are sitting here half naked next to me," he groaned.

You tried to move back to your side of the bed but another round of thunder boomed outside causing you to jump back. Your legs being tangled in the blankets threw you off balance and you landed down on Lando's chest. When you lifted your head up, your lips were inches from his lips.

He smirked and you tried to push yourself off of him but he held you tight against him.

"Lando," you warned and he smirked wider. "Don't even think about it."

He hesitated but you didn't move away. His eyes flicked up to yours questioning and when you didn't say anything he leaned forward meeting your lips.

The kiss started off soft but soon grew more aggressive. You slid over to straddle him and felt him harden under you, gasping into the kiss. You pulled back, breathing hard sitting back and he leaned up to kiss you again but you pushed him back.

"Promise me, things are going to change," you said and he smirked.

"I guess there are a few things I can teach you."

[lmlknn]

Little Baby

Pairing: Bonten! Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Baby! Male! Reader

Warnings: Platonic relationship, mention of drugs, bad words (?), fluff.

Summary: Manjiro found a little abandoned baby, no matter how cold his heart is, he is not willing to abandon him when he can save him.

English is not my first language, any spelling or grammar mistakes please let me know.

He had to go talk to a potential ally; this was probably the part he hated most as the leader of Bonten.

The night was already dark, and the jerk who had turned out to be the leader of another mafia had put him in a bad mood. He preferred to walk through the busy streets of Tokyo, seeking solace there.

The rain soaked him, giving him a feeling of comfort. He ducked into an alley as a shortcut, frowning at the sound of a baby crying.

He slowly approached a cardboard box almost destroyed by raindrops. He bent down and lifted one of the box's lids; inside was a baby with a soaked blanket.

The tiny infant cried relentlessly, its eyes wide open in shock. Manjiro picked up the tiny baby and cradled it in his arms.

He ran through the streets of Tokyo; He had to get to Bonten's mansion quickly and give the little baby in his arms a good bath, because the last thing he wanted was for him to get sick and die.

He ignored the incredulous looks from the other Bonten executives who turned to him when they saw him running in, completely soaked and holding something.

He entered his room. The baby, fortunately, had stopped crying after feeling the warmth emanating from Manjiro's body.

He began filling the tub and removing the baby's few clothes so he could put him in.

"It's okay. I'll put you in for a bath, and soon you'll be warm and ready for bed." Manjiro gently rocked the baby.

The baby had large gray eyes, and the little hair that had begun to grow was the same color.

"You're very small, probably not even a year old." The baby's tiny hands played with his cheeks. Manjiro's opaque orbs glowed like they hadn't in years.

He stripped off his own clothes. He had no idea how to bathe a baby, but to avoid accidents, he was going to get in close with him so he could do it right.

Sitting the baby on his lap, he began pushing the water toward the infant's tiny body, adding the shampoo and being careful not to get the soap in his eyes.

The baby made small, happy noises; Manjiro couldn't help but wonder how he still had so much energy.

He didn't know how long he'd been abandoned in that alley, but he was sure he hadn't received any food.

"You're strange, aren't you hungry?" Holding him by the armpits, Manjiro spoke to the baby in front of him. "Ababa." Clearly, the baby wasn't responding.

He finished washing both of them and, with no clothes left for the baby, decided to improvise with one of his t-shirts.

Once the baby was dry and dressed, he settled him into his bed, with pillows around him to prevent him from falling and hurting himself.

He turned around and walked to his closet, taking out his clothes so he could get dressed. He finished putting on his shirt, and the sound of his door opening alerted him.

"Chief, is everything all right?" The voice belonged to Haruchiyo, and Manjiro was quick to open the door. "It's all right." The pink-haired man scanned the room, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the baby in the center of the room playing with its tiny feet.

"H-how, w-what's a baby doing here?" The shock prevented him from properly formulating the question he wanted to ask. "I found it on the street, so I brought it with me." Manjiro's answer puzzled him further.

"Just like that?" he asked. "Yes."

Manjiro turned his back on Sanzu, walking back to the baby. He took the baby in his arms, looking at it adoringly.

Sanzu's breath hitched; Manjiro's eyes shone with pure love. "Chief, will the baby be staying with you?" Manjiro glanced at Sanzu, almost warning his of the power of his words. "Of course he will. Tomorrow I'll introduce him to the others. Now go."

Sanzu left the room with clumsy steps, not daring to give the pair behind him another glance. Everything he'd fought for had been achieved by a baby in less than three hours.

And despite the anger that filled him, the baby was beautiful. Its beautiful eyes shone brighter than a thousand stars, its face was soft, and Sanzu couldn't help but feel his heart soften.

If his king had decided to keep the baby, he would now be his little prince. And he would protect him at all costs.

The next morning, by Manjiro's order, all the Bonten executives were sitting at the conference room table. "What's this for?" Akaishi asked. "Mikey was the one who ordered us here; no one knows why," Kokonoi replied.

"You don't know anything either, Sanzu?" The king was busy playing with his pink locks. "I need to get my ends trimmed soon." He muttered.

"Are you drugged, you beast?!" Rindou demanded. "Of course not! Even if you doubt it, I don't do drugs before eight!" Sanzu quickly responded. "Then answer the question!" Ran chimed in. "I don't know anything, taking care of my beautiful hair is more important!" He yelled back. "Beautiful from where? It's all burned!" "How dare you, beast, jellyfish hair!?" "You, idiot! What is wrong whit painted hair like that!?

"Calm down." Manjiro's authoritative voice kept everyone still and quiet. It would have been fine if it were just for his commanding presence.

"Aack!" "Oh?" "A-a baby?"

The executives' attention was on the baby in Manjiro's arms. "This is Sano (M/n). My son."

Screams of surprise filled the room. "Your son?!" "You got someone pregnant?!" "You kidnapped him?!" "It's a joke, right?!"

"I found him in an alley yesterday. It was raining, and I couldn't just leave him there. He's my son now, and as a result, you have to protect him." The baby played with the collar of Manjiro's shirt, oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room.

None of the executives objected to the new order. The baby didn't even look at them; he was too focused on his father.

"Can we come closer and see him?" Kakucho asked. Manjiro nodded slowly, as if afraid of sending the baby away.

The Haitani siblings, Kokonoi, and Kakucho were the first to stand up. After sharing a knowing look, they raced to see who could get there first and, failing that, meet the baby first.

Rindou pulled Kokonoi's hair, Kakucho was pushed by Ran, Ran's ankle was pulled by a Kokonoi on the floor, and Rindou fell to the ground after tripping over his brother.

"Ack!" "Ah!" "Animal!"

Before they could continue fighting, Manjiro left the room with a frustrated sigh. "They're idiots..." he muttered.

"Ow! Get off me, Rin!" the eldest Haitani exclaimed. "It's their fault I couldn't see the baby!" "No one saw it, Kokonoi!"

Sanzu tried to hold back his laughter, being much more discreet than Mochi, who was laughing loudly at the rest of the executives on the floor.

[kamelika]

match made in berlin

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

your first meeting with kaiser (tw: abuse mentioned)

Rain falls on the somber city of Berlin. A young boy with blonde hair sits under a canopy of a store, bod curled up, head rested in his arms, shivering. The store owner walked outside not long after and spotted him, recognizing him as the kid who stole his bread a few weeks prior.

"It's you!"

The shopkeeper yelled, which surprised the famished kid, making him jerk up.

"Scram, get 'outta here, kid!"

The child scowled at him but quickly ran away. He was now all alone, under the sky, in a dark alley, with nothing but his trusty football. He looked down at the ground, until suddenly... The rain stopped.

Well, not completely, he supposes, he can still hear the sounds of raindrops striking the ground. He looked up and was met with an umbrella equipped with a drawing of a blue rose. He turned only to be greeted by you, eyes tinted with concerned, a nice, tidy outfit secured onto you.

"Uhm... Are you okay?"

You spoke, voice laced with sympathy.

"What's it to you? Scram, get 'outta here."

You flinched at his words, not being used to people talking like that, his soft blue eyes contradicting his sharp tongue. But who could you blame? Those were the only words he knew, being raised in a harsh environment.

"You're mean... I just wanted to help you!"

You pouted, drawing out some bread from your bag. You were pissed at him now, refusing to look at his face. He hesitantly took the food, not accustomed to such a kind gesture. You still avoided his gaze, hoping he'd say sorry, but it never came, and soon your eyes landed back on him again.

At first, he was hesitant to even take a bite, bater a not even a few seconds later, he ate the bread with glee, barely even chewing on it before swallowing.

"Careful! You might choke!"

You blurted out. He merely replied with a brief stare, before continuing to eat, a bit slower this time. You two chatted back and forth, and you learned his name at last. 'Michael Kaiser'. Such a mesmerizing name.

"Michael."

You mumble his name, letting it roll of your tongue.

"Eh, that's so hard to say. Can I just call you Mihya?"

He raises an eyebrow, exerting a face of 'what kind of abbreviation is that???', but quickly shrugs it off with a nod. He finishes the bread, and you two stayed and chatted together, umbrella still above his head. You two took turns holding the umbrella, since your hand got tired. The both of you chatted until the rain came to an end.

"That's a cool ball."

"I know."

"Can you play?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome! Can I see you play?"

"Fine, I guess..."

You two walked to somewhere with more space. He set the ball on the ground and he showed you a brief trick sorry guys I don't know soccer well lmao, i cant really explain football parts in full detail, in which you were easily amazed by. You didn't know how a kid that young was so talented.

"W-Woah. You're good!!!"

"Uhm, yeah. I know."

You two continued chatting for hours on end, and he showed you a few more tricks before you had to go.

That spot quickly became a usual meet up spot for you two. It was an unspoken routine for you to stop by there after school ended.

Whenever he was harmed by his dad, you would treat his wounds, and overall make his day much brighter and enjoyable. You always made sure to eat only half your lunch to share the rest with him. You were the anchor of his life.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Suddenly, he stopped appearing. You quickly learned that he was arrested, and you tried your best, but couldn't do anything about it. You begged and begged the officers, but they merely ignored you, seeing you as an immature child. You knew Michael didn't do that. Sure, he stole, but you could swear with your life he wasn't the perpetrator.

Years flew by and you grew older, maturing and slowly forgetting about Michael. Just as you completely forgot about his existence, you were walking to high school, passing by the place you and Michael used to meet before spotting a familiar figure. You took a good minute before finally recognizing him. It was Kaiser, but taller, with 2 rattails sticking out on the back of his head, equipped with blue ends. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to him. You figured he'd left everything in the past behind, knowing about how wounding it was. You know you'd at least have to say 'hi', but no matter what, the words wouldn't come out, and you were so frustrated with yourself because you didn't know why you couldn't greet him. You hesitantly walk away, hoping he'll stop by again tomorrow and you'll greet him then. As soon as you walked into his view, he called out.

"Y/n?"

You froze. Honestly, you were kind of relived he was the one who spoke out first. You slowly turned to face him. You gulped.

"Mihya."

[next>]

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

a/n: my writing style is inconsistent lol

requests r open bbgs

[whorrorbellee]

Beautiful Boy

aemond targaryen x strong!reader

chapter two chapter three

"You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fist full of your hair, your chin rises upwards.

You find yourself in the RedKeep, keeping the bed warm for the one eyed prince.

Warnings: violence, fingering?afab reader, only description is long dark hair, Starvation. Stockholm syndrome(eventual)cnc,dub con,sa

Word count: 7k

There's a pregnant pause and then a soft gurgling noise. A burning ash smell fills the air in the expanse of the riverlands, you stay nestled between the walls of the keep, smoke rises from the grounds, a loud marching of what you can only hope is the Strong soldiers that come to save the few around Harrenhal. Maybe the Castle was cursed as people believed it to be. The death toll had only added up after Harren Black and his sons had withered away in the dragonfire. First the attack from Daemon and his army, then the Targaryens had only abandoned Harrenhal is such fleeting moments, You believed there was more death to come. Only years had passed since your brother and fathers death when you were Two and Ten, Larys had only hidden you away after he was confirmed heir for Harrenhal after Lord Simon Strong (your great Uncle) would pass. 

How you wish he could see the destruction of his hold after he had executed your Family for treason ,although the castle had been withering away under the rain for years. Lary’s mendacious nature had you squirming under his tend, knowing he would set you with a match that would only make your skin crawl, when the time had come. 

The stench of Dragon fire comes closer, and you slide down the cool wet stone wall of Harrenhal, hand over your mouth, you sweep the length of your dress closer to your body, you find yourself in a precarious situation, wedged into the many nooks the building had to offer. You gaze down at the mossy grass, the sky darkens in a cloak of ash and you almost believe it to be over, then the rainfall had come, sweeping the castle into a darker shade, it washed the blood away from the walls. 

Aemond stood at the edge of the ruins, His lone eye surveying the wreckage that stood before him. The aftermath of dragon fire had been a sight to behold, even after he had witnessed it so many times. His eye catches upon a lone figure in the distance; close to the edge of the keep upon the mountain, hidden away just out of sight, so intriguing. A flash of a Light green gown, rustling against the stone brick after a crack of lighting befell the castle. The sight had provoked him after bearing witness to the slaughter of all who laid here at Harrenhal. 

His long fingers traced the hilt of his dagger, he drew it close to his body as stalked towards the keep, passing the rubble and cadavers that lay upon the bloodied grass. He moved silently, his eye drawing in on his prey, he was a Predator after all. Before you knew it you were unknowingly cornered, He came to the nook where you had hid yourself, “come out, I know you're there,” He called out, voice low and dark. 

You clench your hand closer to your face, squeezing over your nose to still your breathing, fingers digging into flesh. It wasn't safe for you to come out, not yet. Not when you were unsure of who had called for you.You sniffled, raindrops running down your face. 

Aemond found his patience wearing thin. He could hear your shallow breaths, heart so loud he was sure he could hear the beating rhythm of your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. The tension builded in the air;thick and stuffy. He steps closer to the nook, your eyes widening as his boots crunched against what was left of the desecrated building. 

“I won’t ask again,” He said, Lifting his dagger away from his body, “Come out, or I will do it myself. I doubt you will enjoy that very much.”

You rise slowly at his words, feeling like a fresh doe on your legs, you peek your head round the corner. His eyes meet yours, gaze unwavering as you reveal yourself. Your eyebrow raises in a piqued interest and you slowly slide yourself out the nook you had buried yourself against. He was not a Member of the strong army, But he wasn't part of the queens.

“The king's army?” You sigh, “Daemon isn't here, they've left in the midst of your war” Your eyes gaze upon his face, meeting the horrific scar that ran from his brow to the bottom of his cheekbone, You feel his strong gaze on your own face, his lone eye roaming over your figure, you wonder if he remembers your watchful eye at the Red Keep, those years ago as he trained with a sword. 

Aemoned chuckled softly, he stepped closer towards your form, dagger clutched in his right hand as he assessed you. He could see the slight tremble in your form, a small inclination of fear within your eyes. “You’re observant, I’ll give you that,” His tone was cool and neutral. He takes another step forward, muscles flexing under his leather as he raises the blade to your chin, tilting your face to meet his eye. 

“I’m flattered, but it doesn't take a genius to know that this, is your blood-shed.” You feel the edge of the blade against your skin, it's cool in the humidity of the storm, Your hands run along the frills of your soft cotton dress, now wet. 

“You're a smart one, are you?”He chuckles dryly, he moves the dagger away from your chin, it slides down the expanse of your neck, hanging around your collar bones for a moment too long. “Mouthy too.” He steps even closer, body heat radiating off him like Hot fire on a cold day. “That’ll get you in trouble” 

“And yet I'm the last standing amongst this battlefield”. You pull away from his danger, swinging your body in the direction of the surrounding walls. “Though there wasn't much left to stand”

Aemonds lips curl into a smirk. “Cocky too”, He muses. He sheaths his dagger back into the scabbard, it makes you feel some sense of disappointment to be known now as not a threat. “You’re not wrong” he concedes, the scent of ash and fire fills the air as he chases your body with his own. “But don't forget, you are alive because i allow it”

You smirk, feet stepping over bodies and slabs of stone from the wreckage “well, I suppose it's time for me to leave, It was wonderful meeting you.” You nod your head. 

Aemond’s eyes widened in surprise as you began to descend the hill, his hand shooting out to grab your arm, grip firm and bruising. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere” He commands with irritation, he spins you around forcing your back into the mossy stone wall, leaning in close trapping you against himself “I’m not done with you��

“Gosh, men really are all the same. You think I have to listen to your orders because you believe you hold more power over me? You may be a prince but i won't take an order from one who's lost an eye to a child”

Aemond's face enrages at your words as you smirk. His grip on your arm only grows tighter, and you struggle to breathe through the pain,His eye narrowed at your insolence. 

“Watch your tongue or i'll have it” He pushes you further against the wall, body flush against yours, his breath warms as he speaks. “I don't take kindly to being disrespected like that, especially not by mouthy wenches like you.” 

You laugh in his grip, “Mouthy wench? If my brother was dead I'd be set to inherit the very ground you stand on” you sigh, eyes gazing away from him to look upon the grounds. “To bad you torched it ”

His eye widens at the revelation, grip tightening even further, you're surprised you can still feel your hand. He leans in closer, face mere inches from your own, “You’re a highborn?” He studies your face for an inkling of a lie, but only truth prevails. “And yet, you're hiding in the ruins like a commoner” He mocks.

“Only because you slaughtered my family and army, Did my brother Lary’s Strong give you the order?” You almost wince as you say his name, it had been so long since you had seen your brother, now he was a Lord working under the new king. 

His gaze hardens at the mention of Lary’s, eyes filled with spite. “I'm not a lapdog, I'm the prince. And yet you speak with such disdain for your own brother, why?” he queries. 

You smooth back your hair, Aemond steps back finally giving you room to breathe. “He wishes to marry me off to the next man he can, I suppose I'm trouble for him.” 

“Marry you off, eh?” there's a hint of a smirk on his face, you watch as his white hair blows against the wind. “Who does your brother think is worthy for your hand”

You shrug, hands wrapping against your body. “It's not he who has to be worthy, But I, I'm sure he would sell me to a Peasant farmer if he could, for free no less.” you sneer at the thought, the smell of sweat and shit. 

Aemonds chuckles darkly at your words, his eye roams over the soft features of your face. He reaches to brush a strand of dark hair behind your ear. You flinch. The sentiment is oddly gentle in comparison to the mere moments ago where he had held a dagger against your jugular. 

“Fiery, most Highborn girls would throw themself at the opportunity to marry a prince” he mumbles “and yet you resist?”

“Resist? You act as though you haven't killed my family and destroyed everything I have ever known, all because of the boy who took your eye, the one you accuse of being a bastard son to my brother!” you grit your teeth together in destain. “and yet you ask for my hand? As what? A prize? Or a warning to the people that resist you?” 

His eyes darken, jaw clenching at your words, he grabs you by your shoulders forcing you to look him in the eye, his touch feels like fire, itchy and spreads up into a red heat across your cheeks. “You think this is about revenge? This war is more than you and your family” His grip tightens, Face mere inches away from yours. “Besides, I have no interest in taking a spoiled, defiant women as my wife”

“Then let me go” You spit.

He glares at you with rage, “You think it's that easy?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, “just let you go, You think I can simply let you go after all this?” he pauses as he steps closer to you. 

“You won't wed me, you won't kill me, you won't let me go, what do you want with me? To make me a slave? A prisoner?” 

"A slave? A prisoner?" he repeated, his voice low. "No, nothing so cruel." He leaned closer, his body now fully pressed against yours, the heat of him almost burning through your clothes. "I have much more... interesting use in mind for you"

“Gods, you disgust me”

"Oh, do I now?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "And yet, here you are, trembling under my touch. Tell me, is it fear that makes your heart race?" 

“It is my hatred for you” you scoff.

"Your hatred, is it?" he said, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone. " I can almost feel the heat of it, the fire burning inside of you." He leaned in again, his breath hot against your ear. "But fire can be tamed, just like a dragon.”

“I’d rather die than let you touch me”,you push your weight on to him, he eases giving you enough room to sprint for the gates; an exit. You nearly trip against your feet as you run. 

He curses, hand on his dagger as he runs after you, his longer legs catching up, he pulls you into a bruising grip. Dagger against your throat. Aemond chuckles as you struggle.

“You thought you could escape me, did you?" he said, his breath hot against your ear. "How naive of you." He steers you towards the open field, unbecomered by wreckage. 

“Tegon, Vhager,Tegon!” (land), Aemond spits out. 

There is a large flapping of wings, The sound claps loudly like a Bomb exploding, you hide your face in your hands as air and dirt rises into your face, The great dragon lands, dirt and stone crumbling under its feet from the weight. He tightens his grip on your arm, pulling you closer to the dragon that has landed before them. The beast roars, its scales glinting in the sunlight.

"Now behave yourself. We're going for a little ride."

"What! No" You kick your feet into the dirt, Struggling in his grip, nails scratching at your attacker. 

Aemond grits his teeth at the feel of your nails on his skin, the sharp pain causing him to tighten his grip on you even more. "Stop struggling!" he snaps, "You're only making this harder for yourself."He forcibly pushes you forward, towards the dragon, dust rising as your feet scrape along the floor. "Get on Vhagar,"

“Please, No, I beg you, let me go” 

“Please no,” he pouts mockingly. “you’re coming with me whether you want to or not.”he pulls you closer to Vhager, heat radiates of her scales, “Climb, or i'll throw you over the back myself” 

You shake your head at his command. He grits his teeth. Aemond's patience was wearing thin, yet again. He let out a frustrated growl, his hand tightening around your arm to the point of pain. You yelp. "You're testing my limits, you little wench," he snarled. "Get on. The. Dragon. Now!"

He pushed you closer to the Vhager, her eyes watching you closely, huffing billows of smoke out her nose, He almost shoved you up her side "I won't tell you again."

“No, I won't go with you!”

He raises his other hand and grabs your hair, giving it a sharp tug, you yelp at the pain,hot heat on your scalp, you look back at him. His nostrils flaring."That's it," he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. "You're leaving me no choice." He grabs you around the waist and hoists you up onto the dragon's back, ignoring your protests.

“Fuck you” you spit at him. He climbs onto the dragon, his form pressed tight against your back, you flex your shoulders, flinching away as his arm grabs around your wrists.

“Hold on tight” His breath is hot on your neck.

“Please just let me go” Aemond smirked as he easily bound your wrists together with the cord, securing your hands in front of you.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," he said, his voice low and amused. "You've proven to be quite the disobedient little wench." He pulled you against him, his chest pressed firmly against your back. "No, I think it's best if I keep you bound and under my control." Your eyes widen.

“Gods, you’re a whore” 

“naejot se jēdar, Vhagar” (to the sky) The dragon's wings beat powerfully as they took to the air, the wind whipping around you both. Ground growing distant below them. He chuckles at your insult. “I might have to gag you as well if you keep up with that language” 

Your eyebrows raise at his words, “you wouldn't dare!”

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he said, his voice a low growl.His hands slid up your body, his touch almost possessive. "Perhaps a strip of cloth over your pretty little mouth might help you keep that sharp tongue under control or maybe something else~" He pulls your chin to look up at him.

You shake at his words, “I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man in this realm” you bite your tongue “I'd rather throw myself from this dragon” Aemond's fingers dig into your skin. He chuckled darkly, chest rumbling against your back.

 "Oh,you have quite the mouth on you, don't you?"His tone mocking. "Throw yourself from this dragon? What a shame that would be. All those beautiful bones and curves dashed against the ground." He ran his fingers through your wet hair, his touch almost gentle. "But I wouldn't let that happen."

It feels like mere hours, you look towards the open skies, the sight of Kings Landing coming to view as you part from the storm. Aemonds eye follows your gaze as you notice the red keep come into view, the sight blurred from your defiant tears. Vhagar’s great wings clap against the air as they begin their descent into the pit. You begin to understand the gravity of your situation. 

Vhagar lands, dust settling mere moments afterwards, Aemond climbs off the dragon pulling you with him. The cord only employs extra security of your restraint. Your wrists pull against the cord only tightening the harsh rope. Your gaze hardens as you stare at him, hiccuping as tears run down your face. Without warning his hoists you up into his arms, throwing you over his shoulders. 

You thrash around, his hold still firm ignoring your wiggling. He carries on down different hallways, each step closer to the throne room. “One eyed Cunt” you whisper. He stills, hands gripping firmly at your flesh. Growling as the knights open the door to the great hall.

“Now be good and keep that mouth shut” Aemond shrugs you off his shoulder letting you hit the floor, your eyes gaze up at the Iron Throne, swords melted down to form a horrid sight, Aegon sits upon it drunkenly "Brother!" he slurs, watching your body slumped on the ground of the castle" you've brought me a gift?"

Aemond grimaces at his brother's drunken state,his foot nudging you to stand. Face a picture of disgust, “Not exactly a gift My grace, she's mouthy one, needs a firm hand”

Aegon let out a chuckle, his eyes raking over your body. "she'll do nicely," he slurred.You shake your head at his words, remembering how his eyes used to scour your body when you were younger.

“No, Please.Anybody but him” You look up at Aemond from your knees, Aemond's eye watches you, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze seeing you squirm and panic.

Aegon chuckled again, his gaze never leaving your body. He motioned for Aemond to bring you closer. "Don't worry" Aegon said, his voice thick with drunken desire. "I'll be gentle."

You shake your head, tears only gathering against your waterline. “Please! I’ll do anything not to be owned by him” You grasp Aemonds legs in your hand, pawing at the material, he looks down upon you seeing you beg. Aemonds lips curl at your obvious desperation, revelling in your pleads. He glances at his brother, his eye mocking."Oh, she's quite the pleader, isn't she?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aegon let out a scoff, his gaze still fixated on you. "Such a lovely little wench," he mutters.

Aemond leaned down, his face just above yours. Hand gripping the back of your hair, pulling you up to look at him. "Anything, hm? How desperate are you, darling?"

you begin to sob at his words "Anything, please" a meer moments ago you would have found yourself enraged by begging for a man. 

Aegon turns his head towards you, he mutters "Accept me as your king and Aemond can have his way with you, im sure theres plenty whores who would love to take my cock"

Aemond smirks at his brother’s response, Watching you sob beneath him, He pulls your hair till you stand, Now a tangled mess. His eye flickering with mockery. "Go ahead, then. Accept my brother as your king. Beg him like the desperate little wench you are."

You bow, taking a knee in front of the throne, “I~”there's a hiccup,“I accept Aegon as the true king of the seven kingdoms” You look up at Aegon, He smiles in satisfaction. his gaze locked on you as you knelt before him. He raised his goblet in mockery, his expression pleased.

"There you have it, brother," he slurred. "She's all yours." He knocks back the goblet, red wine running down his pale face.

Aemond smirks, his hand still gripping your hair tightly,he gestures for you to stand, releasing the grip on your hair. “My Grace, where is Lord Lary’s Strong?”

“Probably sulking somewhere, why?” He waves his Goblet in the air awaiting for it to be filled by a servant. “`Why?” 

“This is his sister” 

Aegon’s eyes fall down on you,he raises an eyebrow, you think about how horrible you must look, stained with ash and mud. Hair a wet mess from the rain. He cackles. “Sister? And yet she is here before us like an insolent pup. It runs in the family, I say.”

“I’m glad we have common ground for I also hate my Impudent brother, he's always been a stuck up man”

Aegon chuckles, “I'm sure you will be glad to see him then, i can't wait to see his face when he sees his little sister bound at our mercy”

You pull against your restraints once more “I’m not exactly precious material, I'm sure when he sees me in your Kinslayer cunt hands he'll be more than happy”, Aemonds hand clasps tightly around your mouth to silence you, you whine. His face mere inches from yours again, you wonder if he gets off on this.

"Watch your tongue" he growls,"Insulting me will only make things worse for you."

Aegon chuckled, clearly "I have to admit," he said, his words dripping in eagerness. "You're more fiery than I expected."

The wait seemed to drag on for an eternity. Aemond keeping his hand firmly over your mouth, grip unrelenting, silencing your protests. Eventually, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the guard returned, leading Larys Strong into the throne room, his expression stern and composed despite the circumstances, he hobbled on his crutch. Aemond's smirk widened at the sight. " Lord Larys Strong," he taunted.

Larys, turns to aegon nodding his head “My king”

Aemond smirks, his hand still tight on your mouth you can taste his sweat,"Ah, Larys Strong," Aegon said, a smirk on his face. "Your sister here has been quite a delightful addition to our court."

Larys' gaze flicked to you, his usual stoic expression, Not a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Sister," he said, his voice cold. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" 

Aemonds hand releases your mouth and you take a deep breath in, raing your eyebrows “What have i gotten myself into?”You point to yourself,  “I've been kidnapped” 

Larys looks right through you, turning his head “By whom?” 

You shake your head at him, lips pursed “By Whom? Who do I stand with now? Bound? Taken out of my own home after it had become a wreckage!”

His eyes narrow in on Aemond, and then he laughs, “ And what do you plan to do with my sister?” 

"What's it to you, Larys?" Aemond says "Your sister is in my hands now, and i can do whatever i with please with her, i'm sure you'll be glad to not have her in your keep" 

Lary shrugs, his hand gripping his staff, “Do whatever you want with her, Though I beg of you to take her hand, a Strong and a Targaryen would make a fine match" Larys utters , he limps away leaving you to your kidnapper.

You gasp, shocked at Larys' casual dismissal of you. Aegon chuckles, taking another drink from his goblet. "How thoughtful of him to think so highly of your value." he said, his tone mocking. 

Your eyes well up at the sight of him leaving knowing it was your last chance to leave his hands,You think quickly. Jabbing an elbow into Aemond’s side and making a run for it. But he had played this game before with you, he grabs at your arm, bringing you back into his chest. “The more you struggle the worse it’ll be for you”you kick your feet at the stone.

Aemond drags you out of the throne room, his grip on your wrists firm and unyielding. He leads you down the corridors of the Red Keep, his stride long and purposeful.

You try to struggle and pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he effortlessly pulls you along.

“Where are we going?” 

Aemond casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his smile widening at your question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, his voice dripping with poison.

He continues leading you down the halls of the castle, passing by guards and servants who give you curious looks. Soon, you find yourself in a part of the castle you're unfamiliar with. 

“The dungeons?” Your boots dig into the stone floor trying to pull yourself from his grasp, but he's merely too strong.

His smirk widens, eye glinting with dark amusement. "Very observant of you" he ridicules.

He leads you down a set of stone stairs, and the smell of damp stone and confinement becomes more intense. The air grows colder, and you find yourself in the dimly lit dungeons of the Red Keep. You shudder as you pass men’s intrepid eyes and womens weary faces  “so you do want to take me as a prisoner, and what leave me to rot till im begging for you?”

Aemond laughs at your words, his grip still firm on your wrists. He stops in front of a cell and pushes the door open. He shoves you into the cell and locks the door behind you, leaving you in the cold, damp darkness. He leaves without saying a word.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the only sound being the occasional clanking of chains and the faint cries from the other prisoners. You shiver in the cold, your knees to your chest, mind racing. Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the corridor. The light sound of boots on stone, and your heart starts to pound. Wondering whether he had come back already, you hear the drip of moisture from the stone ceiling.The footsteps draw closer, and you watch anxiously as a guard stands in front of your cell, followed by Aemond, who stands behind him, a smirk on his face. The guard unlocks the cell, and Aemond strides in, leaning against the wall. "Get up," he orders, his eye locked on you. You rise slowly with stiff legs. 

Aemond looks you up and down, his gaze hungry and predatory. "There, that's better," he says, his voice low. He steps closer to you, cornering you against the wall. His hand rises to your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek, you wretch your head back to avoid his touch.

"You look... messy," he says, his tone almost cruel. "Unkempt hair, dirt on your face. Not exactly a pretty picture" He leans in closer, his breath hot against your bare neck and then he turns suddenly, grabbing your wrists in his hands taking you out of the cell, "and clearly in need of a bath." 

Aemond leads you through a door and into what you only assume is his chamber, the scent of rosewater hangs in the air. In the centre of the room, a large steel tub is filled with steaming water. He pushes you towards the tub, his gaze dark and possessive. "Strip," he demands, his voice harsh and commanding. 

“Sorry?”

Aemond's eye narrows, "You heard me," he snaps, his voice cold. "Strip. Now."

He leans against the wall, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin shiver.

“Can you atleast turn?” You ask, biting your lip.

“No” 

You bite back a snarl and turn your back, Unlacing your dress quickly and then pulling off any undergarments. Aemond watches you intently, his eyes cutting into your back,

Your nipples harden at the chill in the air. Once you're completely undressed, he steps closer to you, his hand brushing against your bare shoulder. "Get in," he orders.

You sink into the hot water, feeling your muscles relax instantly, the smells of oils fill your nose but the knowledge that Aemond is watching you makes you feel uncomfortable, you pull your knees to your chest, wet hair surrounding your body. 

He moves closer, pulling up a stool, eye fixed on your frame. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers through a strand of wet hair that has fallen across your face. "You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fistfull of your hair, your chin rises upwards. 

“Don't test me, you're in my possession now. I can touch you however i please” He lets go of your hair, the back of his hand tracing the cheek he had just hit. 

Aemond stands up, grabbing a bar of lye soap and a cloth from a nearby table. He kneels down beside the bathtub, dunking the cloth into the water, and then lathering it up with the soap.He begins to slowly and methodically wash your body, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle. His eye watches your every reaction, taking in every shiver and flinch. You stare straight ahead. 

Aemond finishes washing your back and then moves to your legs, his hand gliding up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. He pauses, his eye flicking to your face, his expression hard. "Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No”

Aemond chuckles at your response, his smirk returning. "I didn't expect you to," he says, his tone mocking.

He runs the cloth over your legs, his hand moving higher, gliding up your inner thigh. His other hand snakes round your chest, moving to your shoulder, pinning you against the side of the tub.

“Stop!” you push against his hand but it only grips tighter against your shoulder, you feel the blood rush to the spot his fingers press into.

"I don't think so," he says.

His hand moves higher, and his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh between your legs. He looks at your expression, watching your face for any sign of fear or pleasure. You struggle against his grip, but it's useless, his strength is much greater than yours, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin.

“Please stop,” you cry out.

His hand continues to move slowly, his touch becoming more intimate.

Aemond looks at you with mock sympathy. "Please stop?" he repeats, his tone drenched in sarcasm. "You're so sweet when you beg like that." His grip on your shoulder tightens even further, and his hand moves higher, brushing against your most sensitive spot. "But I'm not going to stop," he says, his voice low and commanding.

He continues to move his hand slowly, his thumb pressing against you in a way that makes you gasp, you spite yourself. His eye is fixed on your face, watching your reactions closely.

"You might as well give in," he says, his voice soft and persuasive. "It will make things so much easier for you." 

His hand moves again, stroking you in a way that sends ripples of pleasure through your body, despite your attempts to resist. His body is fully pressed against yours now, his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck. You struggle in his touch, holding back a moan. His hand from your shoulder moves to clasp around your neck. 

His hand moves faster now, his fingers and palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge. His other hand grips your throat, holding you in place, as he continues his assault on your senses. You try to hold back, biting back moans. He grins in your efforts, fingers working your clit faster, You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and Aemond can tell. His hand moves even faster, driving you towards the peak of ecstasy. “Just let go” he whispers against your neck.

“No!” you whine.

"Just let it happen.", it drives you to the brink of insanity, and you don't think you can hold back anymore, his thumb brushes against you, and everything you had been avoiding snaps, he feels you squirm underneath him, teary eyed, silent scream. He lets out a satisfied laugh. Fingers still moving against your skin, it begins to feel like too much. 

“Too much, please”

Aemond's hand finally slows, his touch becoming gentler as you come down from your high. He pulls away, standing up and watching you with a smug grin on his face, his fingers run against your closed mouth. “Open”

You shake your head at him, put his fingers into your mouth anyway, you gag, he laughs at the sound and pushes further into your mouth anyway, drool pools at the side of your mouth, he releases you with a wet pop and you slump into the side of the bath, watching his next move.

His hand moves down your neck, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, his touch leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. “Get dressed” he points to the clothes horse with a new gown on it laid out for you. 

He watches you stand and dry yourself with a cloth, Aemond watches you dress your back turning as you try to lace your dress together, he grabs your shoulders and makes quick work of pulling the string tighter,watching as you gasp for air you feel like you can barely breathe. Ribs collapsing in on themself. 

“Back to the dungeon then?’

He nods, Leading you back down to the dungeon. Through winding hallways. You reach the room you were once in. You stumble forward, Aemond shuts the cell door, the clanging echoing against the walls of your cell, he leaves you, room barren apart from the cot in the corner. You sit on the Cot, it feels as though the walls are closing in on you. You try to calm your breathing, but the realisation of what Aemond had done hits you more than anything. He had pulled pleasure apart from your body with ease. 

The hours pass slowly, you try to sleep but all you can do is toss on the straw mattress, by morning a guard throws a piece of bread in your cell. It hits the dirty floor, brown mud and flys encasing it, you don't eat it. And then more hours pass and the same thing happens, you chew at your nails. The candles burn slowly, a fly buzzes, the smells of sweat and dirt closes in on you. 

It feels like minutes and days, time is all muddled up, you’re asleep one moment and the next your fingers are encased with dirt and blood, people shout out and cry. The candles get replaced. You haven't spoken in so long, eating hasn't even crossed your mind yet takes toll on your body, you begin to dream of twisting shadows and watery lands, cities beneath the ocean, a skeleton pierced with a sword through the eye. 

It feels like months have passed, and you believe yourself to be going mad, the isolation has turned your thoughts wild, your beginning to lose your grip or reality, you pray to the old gods, begging on your knees to the guards who pass by, but the days pass as usual. 

You hook your hands around the rusted prison, reaching a hand out to still the guard making his rounds, he turns to you. He stops in his tracks, eyeing you cautiously."What do you want?" he asks, his voice gruff and filled with irritation.

Your throat feels raw and scratchy as you try to talk, only coming out in quiet whispers “please,I~ need” your throat feels like sand. 

The guard shakes his head and continues on his rounds, ignoring your pleas. You're left alone once again, tears prick at your eyes as you sink into the thin mattress, you wail.

The loneliness and despair seem to close in around you, suffocating you.

More weeks pass and you barely move in your cot, bloodied fingers tracing the wall. There's a set of footsteps that stop outside your cell, candle light casting a shadow on to the wall, it pulls you out of your daze. 

You sigh, the shadow moves closer to your cell, face obscured by the darkness. “Are you still alive there?” it is but a whisper, low and soft.

“Yes” you mutter, you shit in your cot, gazing up at the figure. 

“You dont look like you've eaten much” they peer down at you, the tight dress now hangs off your shoulder. You sit up. 

The man pushes back the hood of his cloak, uncovering his face, his hair bright white. You can see that he's wearing an eyepatch over one eye, and his expression is unreadable.

He looks at you for a moment, his gaze taking in your dishevelled, malnourished appearance.

“Aemond” you whisper, your voice crackles. 

His face softens, hand reaching through the bars to grab at your hand, you nearly flinch at the contact. He pauses, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Easy," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not going to hurt you." 

You gaze up at him, he pulls out a key from under his cloak, unlocking the door.He steps inside. Standing there for a moment, his gaze fixed on you as you look up at him. "Can you stand?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You nod, Feeling like a newly born doe as you struggle to stand, legs buckling from under yourself, he reaches out and stills you, hand around your waist. He smells like old books and dragon fire. 

"It's alright," he says, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you."

“How long?” 

Aemond thinks for a second, he leads you out the cell slowly, steering you down the dungeons, he’s patient as you step up the steps slowly, his hand near your back for support. “Nearly three moons”  You nod at the revelation. He continues to guide you down the castle hallways.His steps slow, matching your pace. 

"You look terrible," he says, his voice blunt but not unkind. "Have they been feeding you?"

“Scraps of mouldy bread every morning” you bite your cheek.his grip tightens on your waist. “you left me down there” you cry, your lip wobbles. The corridors wind on until you find yourself in front of a big oak door. 

He speaks softly voice filled with a hint of regret. “I had too.” 

“Had too?” the knight opens the door, it creeks slightly, you walk inside books toppled over on chairs and tables, along with scrolls. The fire roars, a platter of food is laid out on the oak table. He guides you over on the bed in the corner. You let him fuss with your dress until you're in some kind of cotton nightgown, he touches you like your glass, He pours you a glass of water. You sip slowly. 

“You wanted me to break in there”

"Yes," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to feel broken”,his hand runs tenderly across your face, you still yourself trying not to chase it with your cheek “And now look at you, like clay in my hands, mine to hold however i see fit” You look up at him with wet eyes, his thumb rubs gently over your cheek. He steps closer to you. He runs his thumb over your lips. “You must be hungry.”

You nod, He steps away, moving over to a table in the corner of the room where a tray of food has been set out. He picks up a plate and brings it back over to you, setting it down in your lap. “Eat” You eat slowly, picking part of cheese and meat. You find yourself filling up quickly.

“Are you tired?” 

Your head nods quickly, the thought of sleep is terrifying to you in such a big room. “You may sleep here.” He peels back the covers, taking the plate from your lap, you climb in, and he tucks the covers up to your neck. You feel exhaustion wash over you, although you're so close to him there's a sense of loneliness within you, you turn to your side. “Relax” he whispers.

“Can you hold me?” you stutter. 

Aemond seems surprised but you seem so desperate for human connection after so long he slides his arm under you, pulling you closer, you're pressed into his back tightly. He tries to soothe you, hand running through your hair, but it only knots. Your body grows less rigid as you begin to fall asleep in his arms. He watches you succumb to sleep, body growing limp. 

[12amintoronto]

𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 ... pedri gonzález x reader 🌧️🤍

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wc: 0.8k

synopsis: it is a rainy sunday morning and pedri is in a cuddling mood, just wanting to enjoy the slow morning with you

contents: absolute fluff, sfw, female reader, established boyfriend/girlfriend, physical touch & quality time, spanish pet names and phrases

notes: request fulfilled for @paucubarsisimp 🩵🩵 i hope u like it bae!!

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mornings of this sort have always been your favourite. pedri's too, because even if he couldn't exactly tell you that right now because he was fast asleep in your arms, the serenity that graced his face did all the talking.

it was 8am, still dark outside for the clouds were of full coverage, near opaque, not letting a ton of light in - but you liked it, rainy mornings brought you peace as much as you absolutely love the sunshine. even pedri - that is something you two have a fondness for, along with one for each other of course, which made the moment special in a way that felt immeasurable.

you had woken up just a few minutes ago and took the time to take it the things you love surrounding you.

you listened to the rain outside pattering against the outside of you guys' bedroom window, the occasional rustle of trees.

pedri's presence was most prominent, though, for you could feel his weight as his head was rested just in the crook of your neck, one of his toned arms rested and reached over to your side where he held you.

you looked down at the boy and smiled to yourself thinking about how lucky you are, but you knew very well if you told such a thing to pedri he would counter you - "no, cariño... i'm the lucky one."

instinctively, you brought one of your hands up, making the effort to be as gentle as possible to not wake him... and you tangled your fingers in his soft black hair.

even asleep, he was so receptive to that touch somehow. it was his absolute favourite kind.

pedri's bare chest rose as he was beginning to adjust to the new day - easily, for it wasn't possible for the sunlight to filter through the clouds into your window, with rain coming down the way it was.

"cariño..." he murmured, his tone still sleepy. pedri looked up at you with the tired brown eyes he had that you love looking at beyond measure in the mornings.

"hola~" you greeted him back, already smiling as was he. oh, he was feeling your touch raking through the hair on his head now.

that was all that it took for you to activate this great clinginess in pedri, as he let out a soft "mmm..." while he slow blinked, another affiliative behaviour of his you found absolutely adorable.

he already felt as if this kind of closeness to you wasn't enough, and squeezed your body closer to his, which felt particularly sweet because he was topless, and you were comfy in your silky slip dress. you roamed your hand up and down his bicep that flexed slightly as he held you by the waist with that same arm.

"qué, pedri? already not wanting to let go of me..." you teased your boyfriend.

"never..."

"is that right, now..."

"sí..." he affirmed for good, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.

"okay, mi amor... stay...

...because i don't want to get up either." you admitted. pedri laughed softly at that, and it only sounded cuter when coming from his clingy half-asleep self.

moments passed, those of which consisted of you just holding your spanish boy in your arms, allowing the both of you to feel at ease, while you shared the sensory pleasure of listening to the raindrops lightly beating against the window. every time you had taken a breath in you picked up the soothing scent of pedri's cologne.

in intervals pedri would nuzzle against your neck more to also take in your sweet and comforting scent, never forgetting to lazily press a good bunch of kisses onto your neck, jaw, and even your collarbones. his lips really lingered amongst all of those places on your body.

with the hand that you had tangled in his hair, you brought it down just slightly, not retreating from touching pedri. you rested that hand on his cheek, which felt so smooth to the touch for he had shaved his stubble just last night.

he murmured quietly as soon as he felt that sort of touch. "mmh, mi niña..."

"what, you like?"

"keep doing it, cariño... stay..." he agreed.

you had a bit of a chuckle and continued to stroke your thumb on his clean shaven cheek like you had been for the moment. gently, you kissed the top of pedri's head and then smoothed a bit of his hair away from his face so you could kiss his forehead. he hummed.

you knew for sure the both of you were not going to, nor willing to get up from this cosy position.

even breakfast could wait, because as long as your pedri had you and you had him, the love you two shared on a slow weekend morning was all you two needed to run on.

[bookvvitch]

How To Make Two Lovers Of Friends

Words: 11,569

Synopsis:

Aizawa is taking a much-needed break after the war with Shigaraki and All For One. He isn't looking for anything in particular; that is, until he spots you in a goth themed coffee house. A whirlwind romance ensues in this one shot, filled to the brim with sexual tension, fluff, and smut.

Alternative/goth fem! Reader

Fair warning, this one is the first fic I'd ever written, so it isn't my best work. It does hold a special place in my heart though and I hope it's enjoyable for someone!

Morning light came dappled through the windows as you took your favorite seat at the coffee house, just like you did every morning to start your day. This coffee shop went by the name Bauhaus; probably a nonsequedor to most, but a familiar homage to a band for you. It had this witchy aesthetic, filled with books and old vinyls that made you feel at peace. You never really saw places like this when you still lived in America, at least not in your neck of the woods. How absolutely lucky that you lived just a few blocks away!

You ordered yourself the special for this month: The Headless Horseman, an iced pumpkin and caramel breve to celebrate the upcoming fall season, a welcome respite from the August heat. Smoothing away the creases on your black velvet dress, you thanked the barista, who you typically made small talk with but were not quite on a first name basis with just yet, and took your seat once again to finish reading your book. The leaves rattled in the wind outside and rapped against the building like old bones in a wooden sarcophagus.

"A storm is coming soon," you say quietly to yourself.

Gentle thunder thrums in the distance like the soft beating of a lambskin drum, and a small grin makes itself at home on your lips.

Perfect reading weather.

Adjusting yourself on the bench beneath your legs, your mouth curved at the edges, eliciting a slight hum from your lips. 

Ah. 

Spooky, scary peace.

Outside the confines of the coffee house, though, the weather was much less enjoyable. The heroes Eraserhead and Present Mic both trudged through heavy raindrops, soaked like wet dogs, caught off guard by the sudden change in weather. Aizawa scowled at his mess of dark hair getting drenched.

"Damn, this weather is nasty!" Said Mic, voice unintentionally booming.

He looked around and scouted for shelter as the thunder rolled, and settled on the closest bit of light he could see, pointing his finger at Bauhaus so as to motion for Aizawa to head that way.

They stopped at the overhang to dry off a bit before entering when Aizawa got a peek inside the shop. He took note of the band posters and bookshelves littering the walls, the violet-hued plants hanging from the ceiling and shelves, the generally alternative vibe that exuded from the place.

"I don't know, Hizashi," he stated hesitantly, shifting his weight to his good leg.

"What's the big deal? It's not like you'll look out of place," Hizashi was frank, opening the door with no apprehension. He gave a quick chuckle that sounded like taps on a hot microphone.

It was true, Aizawa typically dressed in all black. Now that he was taking a break, though, he didn't always have his capture weapon on him. He was instead accompanied by a patch over his eye and a prosthetic leg. He felt like he usually stood out like a sore thumb these days, which was problematic for someone who had always tried to keep such a low profile in the past.

Aizawa fiddled with his eyepatch and thought about how nice it would be to blend in once more. He had always tried to stay out of the spotlight, but after the intense battle with Shigaraki, it was harder to avoid the media. Maybe a place like this wasn't such a bad idea. He continued to zone out as Mic spoke much too loudly for the space they were in, as usual, and talked (mostly to himself) about if he should get a coffee or a smoothie.

Aizawa grew slightly embarrassed by his friend's actions as he looked around the room to see if his boisterous voice was bothering the other patrons. It was 6am, still early, so Bauhaus was lingering with the vestiges of sleep, waking with the rest of Musutafu. There was a green haired person on their laptop in the back corner, tucked away, uninvolved in the rest of the shop and seemingly unbothered. Empty seats. A full cup on a table that meant someone would be right back.

Then there was you.

Right beneath the window seat near the front of the shop, a purple vining plant hanging above you, crushed velvet bell sleeves rested upon the table as your fingers gripped the pages of a well-worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. Your face was aglow like the moon, scattered with a few freckles that danced across rosy cheeks, long lashes that arched over your half-lidded eyes. The bass of the music swelling over the speakers seemed to engulf Aizawa, thumping in his head, your silken locks being brushed to settle behind your ear as his mouth suddenly dried.

Then, as if on que, you looked up at him just in time for him to hear "oh Lucretia, my reflection", and everything seemed to stand still. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. You had these gorgeous doe eyes, these pouty little lips that gave a gamine smile to him while he held his gaze for much too long, he was sure of it. You were a vision. A blooming Queen Of The Night. A siren out in the storm.

"Quit staring at her and tell me what you want to drink!"

Aizawa was snapped out of his delusion. Flustered at the comment, he groaned, his eye twitching. Unwilling to break the eye contact with you just yet, your smile grew, and you exchanged glances with him again, causing pink heat to bloom over his face. You sat down your book and made your posture more swanlike as you maintained eye contact with him. His breath hitched at this.

You snuck looks at him for the rest of the time the two were in the shop. You weren't enough of a go-getter to approach him--nor were you brave enough to blatantly ask him out--but you really hoped that maybe he would come in again.

————

As mortified as he was by Mic's statement, he knew he had to try to see you again.

Not because he wanted to get to know you or anything.

No.

You just seemed... interesting. You seemed interesting and he felt very comfortable in Bauhaus. In fact, it probably had very little to do with you at all. He was more than likely just transferring these feelings of comfort onto you. After all, it's been a while since he's been able to go out and not feel like he was the one being stared at.

Yes.

This is rational.

This is why he needed to go back. You were just there by happenstance.

Every single weekday morning--and on weekends when he wasn't watching Eri--for an entire month, he was at the shop.

That's just how comfortable he was there. That's how good their plain black coffee was. That's what it meant to have a routine.

It was just a coincidence that he couldn't help but to notice you.

You were always there in that same cozy nook. Some days you were dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans. Some days you were in a plaid skirt and combat boots. Some days you were in a mossy green dress that went to the floor. Some days you wore causal yoga pants that were surely comfortable but made him sweat like a sinner in church. He never knew what exactly he would see you in next, but it was usually the same kind of style. And you always had a book to read, which Aizawa greatly admired. You were studious and attentive with your literature, but also a little bit goofy, judging by the laughter between you and the barista when you picked up your drinks.

But he had also come to find that you were very kind. Although you didn't appear to be a hero, you helped in other ways. You would pay for people's orders if they didn't have enough to cover their purchase. Twice, he watched you pay for the food of a homeless man, and then you sat with this man as an equal, outside on the curb, as the two of you ate breakfast sandwiches and talked. You were softspoken and gentle in your manner of speech, making him feel as though you were reading him to sleep as you talked between bites of food.

He noticed you had the biggest soft spot for animals, though.

You would watch out the window at around 6:15 to see if your little cat friend would show up that day. You would give them a drink of water from your own bottle and cap, offer them bits of bread and meat, and coo at them in a lovely sing-song voice as they ate. The cat didn't want to be touched, they were scarred and matted all to hell; but you were patient every single time. What a beautiful soul you seemed to have.

Aizawa was normally pessimistic, but you made him feel hopeful in humanity. He was certain that you had flaws, as people do, but your acts of kindness always made sure he had a good start to his day. He was always ready to protect you if you ever needed it. The world could use more good people, after all.

One morning in particular, as Aizawa picked up his drink, he noticed a man lazily stroll up to you at your regular nook. This happened to you every so often now that you were in Japan. You were approached by men, and very occasionally other women, maybe a handful of times in your entire life back in the United States. Your best guess is that here you were considered "exotic" since you looked different from most. You almost never saw someone with features like yours, and you were certainly taller than most of the women here, with noticeably longer limbs; all things that weren't exactly beauty standards in America but seemed to garner attention in Japan.

Unfortunately, the attention wasn't usually the kind that you enjoyed, and this guy was no different. He was dressed in an athletic shirt and basketball shorts. Not that you were one to judge, because hell, sometimes you showed up in pastels if the mood so struck you. People weren't bound to the confines of fashion. However, in your experience, men dressed in this clothing who came into Bauhaus tended to be... unsavory. Usually someone looking to fulfill their fetishes.

"Ooo, Cara Mia," he taunted as he approached you.

An Addams Family reference would have otherwise been right up your alley, but when he said the quote, it felt icky somehow. You knew he had to have kept this line in his back pocket regardless of who he came across, anyway. You were in a long sleeved sheer top with a lavender camisole and pair of black bell bottoms. More Stevie Nicks than Morticia Addams. So you did the rational thing and ignored him. You weren't there to be someone's Big Tiddy Goth Girlfriend.

He didn't like that much.

"Hey. I'm talking to you," he spat his words at you with barely concealed contempt.

"I heard you," you flicked your eyes up at him sharply.

Aizawa's body tensed in preparation to spring into action, taking a step forward in your direction. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

"I was just being nice. Not like anyone else is going to talk to your ugly old ass," his words were meant to bite at you, but you didn't budge.

"Old? Why, because I dared to live past 16? God, you are disgusting," you sat down your book and shook your head disapprovingly, "creeps like you are always projecting your own insecurities. How sad for you. Fuck off,"

He looked shocked, furious, like he was about to scream something in your face--but stopped abruptly when you started to hum. It was a haunting melody, something akin to a nocturne.

"I think you should go now," you stated plainly.

With this, the man walked out the door in what appeared to be a fugue-like state. And you calmly went back to your book.

Huh. Maybe you didn't need Aizawa's protection.

You just kept getting more and more intriguing.

On his fourth straight week of coming in, a Friday in early September, you decided to finally talk to him since it seemed like you were both regular patrons of the shop now. You made sure to finger-comb your hair before you turned to look at him. He was in his usual black on black sweatpants and sweatshirt, this time with his hair pulled back to reveal his jawline. He was very handsome, you thought.

"Hey there, you," you said after he placed his order of a single black coffee.

He turned around, a bit shocked at the sudden start of such a casual conversation.

"I see you in here a lot lately. I'm not sure if you have the time, but would you like to come sit with me?"

You smiled delicately in an attempt to seem welcoming.

"It would be nice to have some company for a change," you say.

His dark eye bore into you like a bullet coming straight for your gaze. After a moment of collecting his words, he finally settled on replying back:

"Yeah, sure. That would be fine,"

Aizawa tried his best to remain calm and cool, stoic even, refusing to let something so nonchalant shake him.

However, truth be told, you felt a bit shaken yourself. You weren't sure if he would accept your offer or reject it and then stop coming in. You could be so straightforward sometimes, and you felt like you could accidentally make things awkward. But you had a feeling he might at least be interested in getting to know you after your initial interaction with him.

You introduce yourself as you stirred your latte with a tiny silver spoon.

"Shota Aizawa," he gave in return.

"Nice to finally meet you," you say with a slight tease in your inflection and a mischievous look.

A blush crept across his face. God, of course you remembered when you two first saw one another. It felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles thinking about it.

"Do you like sitting under the stars?" You ask to cut the silence.

Aizawa looked perplexed. It seemed like an odd thing to ask him. Maybe you liked the outdoors?

"I've never actually been camping. Never really seemed that fun to me," he was eager to continue talking to you, though he wasn't sure exactly why.

You had this glint in your eye, like you knew the punchline to a joke you hadn't even told yet, along with a playful smile. Setting down your cup, you pointed up. That's when he noticed that the ceiling was matte black and painted with silver glittering stars.

"It's one of my favorite things about coming here," you disclosed this information to him, almost as if it were a secret.

It was then that he knew for sure that you weren't like most people.

You two met like this, discussing books and hobbies and music, for another month and a half. Every morning at 6am you could expect to see him waiting at Bauhaus for you, rain or shine. You would get some kind of breve or latte and he would get a strongly brewed black coffee. Sometimes you spoke for an hour before one of you had to go, sometimes you two were there until you were both hungry for lunch. Although the days all started at Bauhaus, occasionally, the day would take the two of you to a nearby ramen shop, a corner store, or a short walk down the block. Anywhere you wanted to go, he was there.

————

He now knew that you liked horror movies and would read just about anything you could get your hands on, that you loved animals, you moved here two years ago to help with the mental health crisis in Japan as a grief counselor, and you thoroughly enjoyed humor.

You came to know that he liked cats, was a teacher, liked the smell of rain, he was generally pretty introverted, read comic books as a kid, and had a liking for dark jokes. He had mentioned that he was a hero, a pro hero actually, when the shop was empty one morning. You said that was "so cool" and beamed with pride that you knew him, but you seemed unfamiliar with the Erasure Hero.

You continued to treat him exactly the same.

This was mesmerizing to Aizawa.

Today was one of the days that stretched on like a sleeping cat in a sunny patch. You'd already met once in the morning, breaked for work, and then met again in the late evening. The golden-hour sun was pouring in its warm light, backing you like some kind of seraphem, and painting him in a spreading halo of honeyed peach. The way the flecks of rainbow from the slanted glass flitted over his skin bewitched you.

And you, there at your place, drenched in marigold light that kissed down upon your flawless skin, made him shudder. Your eyes nearly glowed in the light. You appeared fragile, breakable, like spun glass; though he knew you were sturdier than your languid demeanor would let on.

He stuffed down the feelings he was starting to have for you like a snake eating a too large mouse. This was more than just lust, infatuation, or attraction. As scary as it was, he liked you. The butterflies stirred in his belly when you called his name from your window nook and the moths fluttered in yours when he said "I thought I might find you here, y/n," with the slightest upturn of his mouth. You were both nervous about this tension that was building between the two of you, but he was more reserved, whereas you tended to wear your heart on your sleeve. You knew that you would have to be the one to address it.

"Aizawa," you say to him, circling the rim of your cup with your fingertip as you place your other hand in front of his on the table, "I have some errands to run tomorrow... would you maybe want to come with me? It can be hard for me to carry heavy things all the way into my place on my own, and I really want to get some pumpkins to carve,"

This seemed utilitarian enough that he might feel more at ease accepting the invitation, but still deliciously domestic.

Aizawa felt the breath leave his lungs. Going to a pumpkin patch? Carving pumpkins? Like a cute little date?

"You don't have to, if you don't have the time," you stated reassuringly.

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that," His voice broke as he uttered out an answer, "I can go. I'll make the time if I don't have it,"

"Great! Can we meet up around 10?"

"I'll be there,"

"You always are,"

The air hung around the two of you with a lightness for a few seconds. Aizawa could see his reflection in your big glass-like eyes, causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest. You gave a small laugh, crinkling your nose, very aware of the closeness of your faces. He felt like maybe he should kiss you. But did you even like him that way? You could just be friendly and kissing you would be a huge mistake. Everything would come crashing down if he did that. Your trust would be gone. You would be gone. He couldn't take that risk.

But oh, how you wanted him to lean in and touch his lips to your own. You wondered how his stubble would feel against your skin, and if he would taste like that black coffee he was always sipping on. A knot formed in your stomach, this familiar aching, a longing, a fear of the unknown feelings he had for you, and excitement that he might feel the same way. How long had it been since you felt this way? Was it ever this intense?

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, your heart racing. You could feel that something was bubbling up. Something was about to happen. You were going to lean in closer when the door to the coffee house flew open, and in walked Hizashi.

"I thought I'd find you here, Eraser! You sure love this place lately!" His voice nearly shook the entryway.

Tension gone.

Goodbye, mood.

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, fully aware that Mic was about to say something daft.

"Watcha got here?" Mic asked enthusiastically, gesturing toward you with a gloved hand, "Shota, do you have a girlfriend you never told me about?"

Fucking Mic.

Aizawa looked pale, sick even.

Of course he wanted you to be his girlfriend. Especially when he was about to go to sleep, or saw some stuffed animal he knew you would like, or when he was in the shower and thinking of how he'd like to see those sultry eyes looking up at him as you put your mouth on his...

"Hizashi, for someone who's entire Quirk is based on sound, you are so damn tonedeaf," Aizawa cut his thoughts loose with this retort.

"Woah, easy there," Mic continued, "I didn't mean to ruffle any feathers. If you guys aren't hooking up, how about I shoot my shot then?" He waggled his brows at you.

Aizawa gritted his teeth and his eye twitched. Like a deer in the headlights, stunned at this brazen show of complete and total assclownery, he sat still in his seat as Hizashi made fools of them both. The lanky devil just didn't know when to stop tap dancing on his last nerve.

Present Mic leaned over the table as you furrowed your brow in response.

"Wanna see why they call me Magic Mic?" He gave a wide grin with this question.

You made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

"Why, did I pique your interest when you saw me bathing on the roof? Did my beauty and the moonlight overthrow you?"

"Bathing on the roof, you say!" Another waggle.

"Careful there, Sisyphus. That boulder's heavier than it looks," you chime back, scribbling something on a napkin.

Aizawa was amused at your quip. It was impressive how quick on your feet you were in conversation, and how well you handled yourself. He knew that Mic was blabbering on in the background, something about alternative chicks and their spicy attitudes, but he couldn't concentrate on anything other than you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Aizawa," you stated while getting up from your seat, "here's my number. Text me and I'll send you my address so you can meet me at my place, okay?"

Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat and then nodded in agreement. He took the napkin in his hand and noticed you put a little heart next to your number.

Fuck.

Please let this be a date.

————

The next morning, at 10am sharp, Aizawa reached the front door to your apartment. He didn't even need to look at the number when he saw the fall wreath, covered in leaves and mini pumpkins, suspended from its metal hook. He slicked back his raven hair with his palms, attempting to keep his locks captured in a ponytail, all the while his stomach churned in anticipation. He gave a knock at the door, and you were there almost immediately. Had you been waiting for him?

In reality, yes, you had been. You were ready by 9:30 and then paced around your room before you sat by the door and waited for him to show up. You gave him a big grin as you greeted him, admiring his forearms with his sleeves rolled up. You looked him over, half covered in the shade of your awning, hair pulled back, his trim figure cut well in his dark jeans and gray sweater. Oh my god, he even shaved! That was so cute to you. He shaved for your pumpkin patch adventure. You swooned and felt that tension in your belly build back up. It made you feel like a teenager again, having a crush like that. You kicked at some rocks on your porch in a bashful display.

God how he wanted to put his hands on you when he saw you stepping out of your doorway. You were wearing a burnt orange sundress, a black cardigan with pumpkins lining the bodice, thigh high black pantihose, with black Mary Janes and a wide-brimmed felt hat. You always knew what flattered your figure, what colors brought out your eyes and complimented your skintone. He felt so typical, like such a stereotype, because that sundress was doing something for him.

"You okay with me driving?" You asked, taking a step closer to him.

He tensed at the prospect of being touched by you, and nodded in agreement. Grabbing your keyfob, you pressed twice to start your vehicle, a completely black car with darkly tinted windows. It was very bold, very dark, and very you.

"You can mess with the volume however you'd like. I don't mind," you told him as you started flipping through your music on the car's touchscreen radio.

Aizawa took note of how eclectic your music was. You seemed to like songs with lots of bass and rumble, and you listened to plenty of Sisters of Mercy, but you also had music that took him off guard: hyper-pop, musical numbers, heavy metal--a smorgasbord of songs on a hodgepodge of a playlist. He could never quite pin you down. As soon as he thought he knew your next move, you pulled an Uno Reverse card, and it was enthralling. He liked a challenge.

He was captured by you as you settled on Love Me by The 1975 and enthusiastically sang along to every word, miming exaggerated faces when the beat picked up. You rolled the windows down and threw your hat in the back seat to feel the wind through your hair.

You glanced over at him briefly as you sang, smiling, glowing, just letting loose with him in a way that felt more intimate than he would've imagined a car ride could feel. Your hair flipped, twisting around your face in the breeze.

He noticed how careful you were with your car, how gingerly you braked at stoplights, and joked "I think my grandpa might actually drive faster than you do,"

"Hey," you replied "I pay a lot of money for this car," you felt a bit embarrassed tagging on the next part of "besides.. it's important to follow traffic laws."

He couldn't help but admire how pragmatic you were about this. You were so soft. Willing to stand up for yourself, but always making sure everyone else was safe. You had a hero heart.

You went back to singing to music, this time Can't Hold Me by Emily King. You always seemed so in your element when music was involved.

"You have a really nice voice," Aizawa stated without thinking. It rolled off of his tongue in an easy sort of way that didn't normally come naturally to him.

"Oh, thanks. It's part of my quirk I guess,"

"You have a quirk?" It was more of a statement than a question. He was pretty positive he'd already seen your quirk in action.

"Well, yeah; but I don't use it much. It's one of those quirks that when you tell people about it they think you're a villain," your voice trailed off a bit and he looked at you with one raised brow.

A sigh escaped your lips.

"If I sing a certain melody, I can make people do whatever I want. They become really pliable and easy to manipulate. But I can only use it on one person at a time, and it's only the one song, and you would know if I was using it," you tried your best to make sure he knew you weren't using it to make him talk to you, or to make him come with you today.

"Quirks are what you make of them. And I don't think that you would ever purposefully hurt someone, y/n. You're better than that,"

On impulse, upon parking the car at the pumpkin patch, you grabbed his hand with Eat Sleep Wake by Bombay Bicycle Club playing softly in the background. The first real physical contact you two had that wasn't accidental. It was warm, and sweet, and electric. Breathing felt like there was a weight on your chest when you realized what happened, and it caught in your throat when he squeezed your hand back.

Eat.

Sleep.

Wake.

Nothing but you.

God, please just kiss me, you thought. Kiss me. Better yet, take me into this pumpkin patch and peel these pantihose off with your teeth. You were getting to the point where all of this constant winding you up had you wanting him to fuck you absolutely stupid.

Aizawa felt warm, feverish. Like he was going to melt through the seat of the car and burn to cinders on the ground. He was smoldering like a pile of ash in your hand. Goddamn it was hard to concentrate now. Where was he at? Was there a world around the two of you? Did he even care? He wasn't sure if it was right to think of you like this, though, and it happened nearly every day since meeting you. That part of him had been lying dormant for what felt like years and now suddenly these feelings were coming for him with a vengeance. He wasn't sure what to do.

"We should.. we should grab some pumpkins. Do you... like the lumpy ones?"

Shit. Did he really just ask you that? God, you must have thought he was stupid.

But you didn't. You were eating this up.

"Dude. I love me a lumpy pumpkin," was your reply.

The two of you took in the crisp autumn air and October's bright blue sky as you sipped on a warm apple cider from the drink stand. Much to his initial disapproval, you finally got him to take a sip from your cup. His heart skipped a beat drinking from the same spout where your mouth had been just a few seconds prior. You took two small pumpkins from the display they had on top of some hay bales, slipped them into a big burlap tote bag, and then headed to the field to pick out bigger pumpkins for carving.

"Do you think frogs have friends?"

"I... what?"

He wasn't sure if you were being genuine with this question.

"Well, cows make friends, and.. I don't know, I was just thinking about how maybe when frogs start to get ready for the cold weather, they find another frog that they like, and then they hibernate next to them in the mud," your statement was matter-of-fact, "or I guess technically the frogs we have here go into a state of topor, not full hibernation. But still,"

Aizawa was taken aback at this topic. You were actually wondering about the loneliness of amphibians.

"Y/n, I don't think frogs get lonely. I doubt they have high enough brain functioning to care,"

"Or maybe they do, and we'll never know, because nobody stopped to find out,"

He enjoyed that you always spoke your mind. Even if someone didn't like what you had to say, you just started a conversation based on whatever thoughts you had in your head. You were smart, but whimsical. It was so easy to talk to you and have a logical dialogue without feeling like it was getting stale.

You kicked at rocks, marveled at the fall leaves, and had this general sense of wonder. Aizawa found it fascinating how dichotomous you were. You were kind of mysterious, but you still had this youthful charm about you. He found himself to be more apathetic than anything. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't see the beauty in the things around him, he just didn't tend to pay attention at all. He was always burning the candle at both ends and pushing himself to his absolute limits, so what was the point? Who cared of frogs had friends?

"I wish I shared your passion for life," he commented.

"My grandparents were like this, and they raised me, so I guess it rubbed off. Actually, they're kind of why I came here. My grandpa always spoke about how beautiful Okinawa was. After they passed, I jumped at the opportunity to come see Japan for myself,"

You hadn't talked about anything that wasn't skin deep in what seemed like an eternity, and you felt like he was really listening, processing your words.

"Oh!" You stopped in your tracks, "I can't believe I forgot to give you this,"

From the bottom of your burlap sack, you pulled out a bag of salty black licorice.

"This is for you,"

His favorite snack.

Aizawa reached out his hand and took it delicately, as if it were precious to him.

"How did you know?"

"I saw you eyeing some once at a corner store. When I saw they had some here, I had to get it for you. They make it in house, so I bet it's delicious!" You sounded so excited over a bag of licorice.

Feeling a bit silly over frogs and candy, you blushed, cheeks already slightly ruddy from all of the walking.

"But we should probably go back to picking out some pumpkins, I guess," your words came out much smaller than you intended them to.

His heart swelled. You were paying attention to him, too.

The gourds were all shapes and sizes, all the colors from striking persimmon to pale yellow, from perfectly round to as lumpy as the night was long.

Clearly, you picked the lumpiest.

Loading your goods into the car, a flash of color at another stand caught Aizawa's eye.

"You stay here. I'll be right back," he commanded.

"Okay. Just let me know if you want any help,"

The stand was full of handmade trinkets: wooden hair combs, decorative mirrors with widdled handles, and silk kimonos. One garment stood out to him--emerald green with goldenrod flowers patterned over it--that, for some reason, made him think of frogs. This would do nicely.

Upon his return, he found that he really wasn't sure how to give you a gift. This was certainly not his forte. He couldn't even remember the last time he gave someone a present. Then again, he couldn't recall that last time he had received one before this day, either. Besides, you were worth the uncomfortability.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't form. You looked slightly amused, which made him even more nervous.

"I have something for you. To repay you for the gift you gave me earlier," his voice uttered out much smaller than he remembered.

The joy that spread from cheek to cheek was practically tangible for him as he handed you the paper bag. Your eyes were alight like fireworks.

"You got me a present?"

You felt a fluttering in your chest. You didn't even care what it was, he explicitly thought of you, and that made you happy in earnest.

The container was compact enough that you figured there was some kind of candy to be retrieved from it, but you opened it to see green and yellow fabric. You were stunned when you recognized it from the stand you two had passed on your way out. It had to have been expensive.

"Aizawa.. this is too much. I-I can't accept this," you stammered.

"Yes you can. Like I said, it's for the licorice,"

"This isn't exactly in the same category as candy, though, I--"

"Just try it on," he interrupted you, his hand raised as if to stop any further protesting.

And you thought about protesting--you really did--but caved, knowing he wouldn't give up until you accepted it. Your attempts to dispute his gift would be futile. So you marveled at the silk garment, feeling its slick material between your fingers. You'd never owned something like this before. You took off your cardigan and draped the kimono over your body, savoring how soft and airy it was on your skin, feeling like a princess.

"I'm not sure if this is a color you like, so if you don't like it, we can go exchange it," his voice had a hushed tone.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"No. No, it's perfect. I absolutely love it. Thank you so much, this was so sweet of you," your words rang out like a bell.

The breeze picked up and blew the soft locks of your hair as you stood there in your gown, picturesque, cottony clouds lining the skies.

You looked like a painting.

"Alright then," you said with vigor, "takoyaki is on me!"

————

When you returned home, you carved Aizawa's pumpkin together (a very classic orange pumpkin, perfect for Jack O Lanterns), swatting your cats off of the counter as they came to sniff at the seedy innards laid out on a sheet of parchment paper. You felt at home like this. You felt safe, content, like this is how life was meant to be.

You watched him as he placed the carved Jack O Lantern out on your porch, and took notice of the strands of raven hair that were falling out of his messy bun, delicately sweeping over his strong jaw and neck. The knot in your stomach returned, and with it came a sensation like you were on the downhill slope of a rollercoaster. It was a feeling of passion welling up inside of you, ready to tear open at your seams.

And you wanted more.

You wanted him to want you.

Worried that he might go home now that the sun had set, you asked if he would want to watch a movie with you. He was elated at the idea of cuddling up with you on the couch. How could he say no to that?

"Okay. What did you have in mind?"

"Have you ever watched Hocus Pocus?"

"No, never heard of it,"

"What?! It's a Halloween classic! I'll change into some house clothes and then we'll get started. Be right back, Shota,"

A chill ran down his spine, prickling the back of his neck at the sound of you saying his name. You called him Shota. And now you were comfortable enough with him to change into pajamas. He felt almost floaty.

Aizawa was expecting you to come out in sweatpants and a t-shirt, something comfy, something plain. He enjoyed the prospect of you coming out in soft pants and fuzzy socks. There was something so heartwarming and cozy about it that he--holy fucking shit.

You came out, as casual as humanly possible, in a pair of tiny little sleeping shorts and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt with no bra. The shirt was soft, but snug, and showed off every curve of your body through the semi-sheer fabric. He had already gotten a good look (or ten) at your ass in a nice pair of pants, but this.. were you trying to kill him? You were already all legs, and now the shorts... Aizawa scanned your body to see that you were wearing stockings that hugged your legs and made divots in the plush flesh of your upper thighs. They were Ninja Turtle green and woven like a tubesock.

Of course you were wearing these fuck me socks. That way, you could definitely say that you were completely covered from head to toe, that these were normal house clothes. Nothing here but regular old pajamas. And look, see, you totally did like green!

Your couch was small, but Aizawa sat on one end, hoping that you would sit alllll the way on the other end so that he could curl up as much as possible and you wouldn't see... things. But you weren't having it. You wanted to be able to cut the tension with a knife. You wanted to make sure this sexual frustration was palpable until it drove him to action. So you snuggled up next to him and rested your head on his chest.

He took notice that the shorts nearly disappeared when you sat down, and thought about what they might look like if you were bending over. Your tits looked great through your clothes, but your ass drove him wild. He wished for the TV to mess up somehow so you would have to get down on all fours to fix it, maybe even spread your legs just enough that your sex would peek over the side of the material, sopping and messy and begging for him.

Oh lord Jesus, Vishnu, Thor, whoever the fuck was up there just give him strength. Give his waistband extra elasticity and give his poor heart a rest so that maybe you wouldn't hear it pounding through his chest. But you did hear it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you placed your hand on his thigh and traced your fingertips down to his knee while you stared ahead at the TV screen.

Under the guise of laughing at a witch riding a vacuum cleaner, you squeezed his leg, and he jumped in his seat.

Oh.

This was torture for him.

And you liked that.

A lot.

He made a pathetic attempt to stealthily lean into you, just enough so that he could get a better whiff of your hair. You smelled like vanilla and something a little floral and spicy, like a jasmine rice desert. The thought crossed his mind that you might taste just as sweet.

"Doing okay, Shota?" Your voice this time was chesty, sensual, almost like an invitation rather than a question, and you could feel him shudder in response.

There it was again. Shota. He fucking loved the way his name dripped from your lips like honey. He nodded in agreement and you patted his leg to let him know you felt the nod.

You could feel your shorts heating up and your breathing changing pace when you heard him let out little sputters of air at your touch. It was intoxicating, hearing him get excited, smelling the sweat building between the two of you in this blissful hell of your own making.

Small beads of liquid made a wet spot up near his waistband while he took in your body heat, trying his best to focus on the screen and not the friction of you against him, or the fact that he could see your nipples plainly through your shirt. Readjusting yourself, you stretched and let out a whine in the process, and your elbow brushed up against something in his lap.

With a quick grunt, he stood up suddenly, and said "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back,"

You gave him an "okay", and paused the movie for him. Maybe it was just in your imagination, but you could swear you saw a tent in his pants when he got up.

What you wouldn't give to toy with him for just a little while longer.

He shuts the door behind him slowly, calmly, before he's pawing at the buttons of his pants. A curse leaves his lips as he wrestles his leaking member from the confines of his boxers. 

"Little fucking cocktease," he grits, burying the words into his lower lip. 

God, he just couldn't take it anymore. He thought about you moaning, whining, mewling into his ear, your bodies entangling. How would he take you? If he had the option, he thinks he'd really like to watch you ride his cock, see the look on your face when you take all of him inside of you.

"Gonna have you begging for it. Fuck, do you even know what you do to me?" His voice trails into a groan, and he folds forward, bucking into his hand and holding onto the sink to steady himself.

A few whispers of your name fall from his lips, and he swipes at the slit of his aching length, smearing his precum along his shaft for lubrication. He's close. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, he's already feeling that knot within him frayed, about to snap. Just a few more strokes and he's jerking back his head, ropes of his release now dripping across his palm.

He finished in record time, expecting to have a sense of relief, but only finding that he craved more. Guilt took ahold of him when the thought crossed his mind that he shouldn't be thinking of you this way. This was so shameful, what he just did, making his hand all sticky from thinking of you. He rinsed his face with cool water to get rid of some of the sweat, and exited, stating that he needed to head home due to not feeling well.

Your heart sank, and the realization hit you that you may have made him uneasy with your forwardness. Maybe he didn't like you that way after all. You hoped that you hadn't just ruined things between the two of you.

Aizawa didn't want to hurt your feelings, and he could tell that he probably did; but he needed to get out of your apartment before he bent you over the couch.

So he left your place after an entire 12 hours together, beating himself up for not making a move, harboring resentment for his own lack of initiative. He was used to coming after villains, but this whole "love" thing really scared him. Love? He mulled the word over in his head. Worried it between his teeth. You two hadn't spent a single day without seeing each other in like two months. And he sure as hell didn't see himself picking out pumpkins with Hizashi any time soon.

He laid there in bed, trying his best to fall asleep, but the day just replayed in his head on a loop. His mattress was normally soft and welcoming, something that could easily lull him to sleep, but tonight it felt empty. Tonight, he felt alone. Until his phone buzzed from his nightstand.

You: is it too soon to text you?

Him: it's never too soon for you to talk to me.

You: good :) I was worried when you left in such a hurry.

You: and I miss you already.

Aizawa sat up in bed after reading your most recent message. You... missed him. He wasn't sure if he was reading that right. The blue light from his phone illuminated his face, now standing apart from the inky blackness of his room. He could feel you radiating from it.

Him: maybe you should stop by my place tomorrow afternoon then.

You: I'd really like that.

You: good night, Shota. <3

Him: see you soon.

————

He made sure to take care of himself in the shower before the next afternoon, not wanting a repeat of the previous night. Best case scenario, now he would last longer if you two ended up fooling around. He even double checked that Eri was in the dorms at UA again today. That was just wishful thinking, though. Sex these days would probably only come from pity for him. Poor washed-up hero, missing an eye, missing a leg. That's the last thing he needed right now.

He cleaned up around his apartment, wiping down the counters and making the area look welcoming for you. Why did he want to impress you so badly? Ugh, this was so embarrassing. He never worried about what people thought of him in any other scenario, but now, here he was, fluffing his brand new throw pillows and applying cologne to his neck and chest.

You knocked on the door, straightening the skirt of your dress, the same one you were wearing the morning you two first met. Aizawa answered the door in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants, his hair loose and his eyes heavy-lidded when he looked down at you. That dress again. Clingy, short, nipped at the waist to show off your curves. Christ, you were beautiful. He welcomed you in, the smell of bergamot wafting from him.

His apartment was bigger than yours by quite a bit. It had a floating island in the kitchen, slate colored walls, a black sectional positioned in the living room atop a white shag rug, and circular lights that were recessed within the ceiling.

"Wow, your place is so nice. Shit. I'm sorry I made you come to my hovel last night," you partially joked, impressed with how well his home was put together.

"That's stupid. I liked being at your place,"

You saw something moving out of the corner of your eye through the doorway of the other room.

"Is that a punching bag?" You asked with a wry smile.

"Gotta keep myself in shape. Want to give it a go?" His voice was low, almost challenging you to take him up on the offer.

"Oh, I don't know. I lift weights but I don't really do a lot of cardio. I'd just end up humiliating myself, honestly," you said sheepishly.

"Come on, y/n, spar with me. I'll go easy on you,"

"Okay, okay," you gave in and walked toward the next room, which you could see upon closer inspection was full of gym equipment. You felt out of your element, but you were willing to make yourself look like a fool if it meant he was enjoying himself.

You gave the bag a light punch as Aizawa held onto it, half afraid that you would mess it up somehow, or maybe even break your damn hand. It felt like it was full of some kind of particulate. Maybe sand? Oh god, you probably looked like some kind of lazy sack, not even knowing how to punch a fucking bag.

"I know you can do better than that. You've got more power in you. Come on,"

You punched again.

"Harder. Don't hold back!" He growled.

That was really fucking sexy, actually, and now you were a little distracted. You balled your hand into a fist, made sure your thumb was facing outside, and used all of this pent up frustration to wallop the daylights out of the bag. Your knuckles made contact with a padded thud, and you let out a small grunt.

"Atta girl," he praised you, his voice like whisky.

God, hearing him say that was like a dopamine hit. You were disoriented. You were already clumsy, and now your brain felt like a can of cranberry sauce splattered out onto a plate.

Aizawa stepped away from the bag, a terse expression plastered onto his face.

"Now act like I'm coming after you and try to pin me. Remember, it doesn't matter that I'm bigger than you. Use strategy to overpower me,"

You mustered up all of your strength, all of your courage, and leapt toward his torso. He didn't try to block you, so you knew he was going easy on you... but you also knew you didn't do it right when you went off to the side and started to veer straight for the wall. He grabbed you by both wrists and wedged himself between your legs in order to cushion your fall, and you landed upright, straddling him as he lay on his back.

You were both panting, eyes dilated, a wildness boiling within you like animals. He let go of your wrists and your hands softly found their rest on his chest as it heaved.

"Y/n," he laughed, "that was awful,"

You rolled your eyes and shifted your weight into less of a stiff position.

"I told you I was bad at this. I am a lover, not a fighter," you pressed your hand to your chest as you spoke. 

Moving ever so slightly on top of him, you saw his eye widen, his lips parted to let a small gasp escape from them. Panic has set in. 

"Get up. Please," his tone is highly-strung and fearful.

He looks genuinely terrified, scrambling beneath you, the only reason you're still in his lap like this due to his apprehension to hurt you by accident.

"Shota, wha--" your question is cut off by the feeling of something poking against your clothed sex.

Oh. 

Oh.

A red hue painted his entire face at the realization of the situation he was in, his blood pulsing through his body rapidly, the sound of it rushing in his ears.

"Why," you said breathily "don't you want me?"

Overstimulated, his brain didn't process what you'd just said to him.

Your lungs feel like they're about to lunge straight out of your chest, your core aching to be filled. You'll have to make sure that he really gets the point. Now was the time to be honest with him, maybe even be a little dirty. It's now or never.

"I want to know.. I mean.." talking felt hard. Your blood supply seemed starved from your brain.

"Do you touch yourself when you think of me?"

He was trembling like a leaf beneath you, caged in by the plush of your thighs. Was this a trick question? Yes, he just fucked himself to you this morning, AND last night in YOUR bathroom. Is that what he was supposed to say? He swallowed thickly, clamoring to gather up some kind of sentient thought to say to you.

"I do," you filled the gap of silence, "I think of you that way. A lot, actually,"

You ground your pelvis up and down his length, the fabric of his pants rough against him, eliciting a grunt through his gritted teeth.

"I.. f-fuck, I-I dunno how to.. answer that," he's been reduced to this mumbling mess on the floor, that silver tongue suppressed by the sweet press of your warmth to his cock.

You took his shaking hand and placed it between your thighs, right on the dampness that was spreading at your center, sopping through what little material covered them. 

"I want you, Shota. I want you bad," your words were like poetry spouting from your lips.

He rubbed you through your wet panties, soaked and clinging to you like a second skin. Were you this wet for him? He delights in the way your breath hitches, how you squirm atop him, your eyes heavy and lustful. Shota gives one last languid stroke up the lace and then pulls them to the side for easier access to your clit. He rubs light circles around it and watches you writhe, taking in the noises you were making, so painfully hard he felt as though he would cum in his pants just from watching you. He stopped his teasing and placed both hands on your hips, the pair of you frenzied for more.

You crashed your lips to his, both of you giving in to a hungry kiss, passionate and blistering with heat, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him into you, starved for his taste. He keened into your touch as if it would soon disappear. Leaving the rough stubble of his cheeks only to grab a handful of his mussed hair, you tugged at it, causing him to moan into your mouth, and you swallowd down each noise greedily. He explored your body with haste, grabbing your ass, sinking the pads of his fingers into your skin. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, so you palmed him through his pants, and with a swift jerk, he threw his head back onto the floor, not even caring to register the pain of it.

"Fuck. Y/n. If you keep going..."

You tugged at the waist of his pants, then dragged featherlight touches across his exposed cock teasingly. He felt you smile against his skin as you nuzzled the crook of his neck, and he lets out a muffled groan that tapered off into a high-pitched whine, desperate and needy.

He let out an involuntary whimper, almost pitiful with how much yearning was within it.

"You gonna cum for me already? Hmm?"

That was it.

He couldn't fucking take it anymore.

Something within him snapped and a growl poured from him, rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest.

With hurried hands, he pulls your dress over top your head, revealing that you were wearing nothing but lacy black panties underneath. You were stunning. Like a Greek statue of Aphrodite herself. He was never able to fully imagine your naked form before, and this was a perfect frame of reference for later. He wanted nothing more than to get absolutely drunk off of you. And he gets you all to himself. He can't hardly believe his luck.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," his voice was raw and saturated with desire, a gravel to it, burning like whisky.

"I want you to touch me," you murmur, suddenly feeling shy in the sweltering heat of his gaze.

"Touch you?" Aizawa said with a chuckle, "I'm going to devour you,"

Before you were given the chance to react, he bucked into you, then slid you from his lap and onto the floor, gripping your underwear and throwing them off on your way down. He took off his shirt expeditiously to reveal his muscular form, and you admire the lines that bisect his abdomen, eyes nearly rolling into your skull when they land at the tent in his pants. He looks big. Like, concerningly big. You ran your fingers across the scars on his chest, which gave an almost tickling sensation, all the way down to the hair that trailed from his naval to his pants. He was beautiful. So fit that he looked like he could play himself in a movie.

Casting the clothing aside, he lays you flat onto the floor, kissing from your lips, to your neck, to your nipple where he sucked and flicked his tongue, using his free hand to caress the other, groping hungrily at your plush flesh. You moaned, breathy and meek, at his touch. Separating from you, his pupil was blown out as your pheromones hit him in the face, and he pulled your legs apart to fully expose you.

"Look at your pretty little pussy,"

He slipped a digit inside of you and did a curling motion until he found the spot that made you whimper underneath him, watched as your face went from shocked to a look of pleading for more, lashes fluttering.

He clicked his tongue.

"And look at you. So fucking needy. So ready for me to take you,"

He removed his finger and used it to play with your clit, making waves of pleasure shoot through your body, a white-hot coil tightening in your core just above where he was touching.

"Sh-Shota... please, fuck me," you begged, nearly mewling.

He hissed through his teeth, peering down at you as if you were prey. The look on his face is wolfish, starving, nearly pained to be holding himself back. There's a wilderness within him that begs to be let loose. You want nothing more than to be destroyed by it, left a carnal mess upon the floor. 

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you can't even sit without thinking of me," he taps your clit with his fingertips, "But first, I'm going to make you cum on my tongue," he was serious with his words, meticulous, making sure you knew exactly what he had planned for you. Sweet, slow burning anticipation sent tingles up and down your spine.

He put your legs on his shoulders and went back to the spot inside of you that made you cry, this time sucking on your clit in tandem, fully encapturing it within his lips. Your mouth was now agape in a breathy scream as you clamp down on his fingers, moving your hips in time with him, riding waves of pleasure as he brings you closer to the edge. He lets out an appreciative groan as you say his name, the noises coming out of you so lewd and sinful that you hope the neighbors don't call someone for a wellness check.

Aizawa absentmindedly pressed himself against the floor, nearly frantic for some kind of touch while he watched you squirming beneath him, but it does little to quell the ache he has in his center. You tasted like sweet tarts and made these lustful gasps, and it drove him absolutely mad to know he was doing that to you, that these reactions were from his own touch.

"Say my name," he speaks this phrase into the throbbing bud at your apex, and you shiver, close to careening off of the edge he'd just brought you to. 

"Shota.. fuck, keep going, please," you mewl, rolling your hips. 

He nips at your inner thigh, velvet flesh pillowing between his teeth, and then drags the length of his tongue up your clit in one torturously long stroke. 

"Louder. I want everyone to know who's about to make you cum," the steel in his gaze is sharp enough to slice you. 

So you oblige him, moaning his name, chanting it like a mantra as he continues to lap at you once more. You can feel the pressure building, building, building until it finally spills over like a dam. He moans at the realization, feeling your pussy spasm under his tongue.

"Oh my god.. Oh fuck, Shota!" You cry out for him as you melt into his mouth.

He's breathless as he pulls himself away from you, mouth slick, still slipping his fingers in and out of you in an allowance to ride out the rest of your orgasm. He looks feral. Like he could tear into you. Destroy you.

He drags his cheek across your thigh.

"Good girl," he grunts, "good fucking girl,"

You look up at him with your mouth partially open, your eyes heavy with want, and with one fell swoop you sit up and pull down his sweatpants to reveal his throbbing cock, wet and dripping from the tip. You take the whole thing into your mouth, sucking, swirling your tongue, cranking your hand around his shaft like you're ready to milk the soul straight out of him. He gasps, moving his hips to pump into your mouth as you open wider, holding out your tongue so you can take in as much of his length as possible. He brought you closer until you were practically flush against him, all the while you were committing the look on his face to memory.

You can tell this is about to break him, so you tighten your grip in a pulsating pattern, moaning on his length to send vibrations through him. His movements are becoming erratic, fervent, and you cannot fucking wait to see him come apart at your doing. You run the flat of your tongue across a particularly sensitive spot along his shaft, your arousal building once more when you see the way he pinches his brows together, how he ruts into your mouth like some inexperienced virgin. You just feel too fucking good.

Suddenly, he pulls himself from your mouth with a vulgar pop, and you're gasping for sweet breaths of air after some of the sloppiest head you've given in your life.

"I knew you'd be good at that," Aizawa chokes out, his dick bobbing in front of you, "but we're not done yet,"

He lightly pushed you back onto the ground and placed your ankles up onto his shoulders, putting his tip right up against your entrance. His muscles twitched in anticipation and you reveled in his godlike form.

"Is this okay?" He asked you, gently.

You laughed a bit at the question.

With all the heat and want you can channel, you look up at him from your place on the floor and rasp "ruin me, Shota,"

He gives you a wicked smile, one you've never seen him wear before, and pushes himself inside of your aching pussy, holding onto your leg for leverage. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, a bit unprepared for his full girth inside of you. It doesn't take long for you to start moving along with him though, and he begins to thrust harder, pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Biting your lower lip, you throw your head back, attempting to keep from screaming as he delves into you. He removes his hand from your leg to grab your jaw, and locking eyes says, "Eyes on me. I want to see the fucking look on your face when I make you cum,"

This coaxes a moan from you, and he gives a gutteral response to his cock being squeezed.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. God, you're so tight, fuck," his voice is husky and deep.

Your cunt hugs him tighter with every word.

He needed more.

Aizawa takes his free hand and starts to rub your clit in circles, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and you can feel that knot in your stomach forming again. You're about to come undone already, and he can feel you clamping around him like a vice.

"Fuck that feels so good," your voice is heady and needful.

His pacing became erratic once more and his ministrations on your clit became almost desperate. He was barely holding on, whimpering, sweat dotting his brow.

"I knew you were fucking teasing me. Coming out in those tiny shorts. Know what I shoulda done? Should've fucked you right there on the couch. Should've bred your tight little cunt," he leans down to fill some of the gap between you, a few tendrils of his raven hair falling to cling to his face.

He pistons into you harder, "Swear to god, I'm gonna fuck every single thought out of that pretty little head. Wanna tease me like that? Take your fucking punishment. I.. f-fuck!" He feels you come unraveled all over his cock as you ride him from there on the floor, making sounds that hitch in your throat like ragged bleats. He made note of your blissed-out expression and then let out a sharp gasp, your walls almost too snug for him to handle.

You whined in a small voice, still finishing, your gaze not breaking when you tell him, "make a mess in me,"

That's all it took for him to lose it, giving into his pleasure and allowing himself to fill you up with what felt like gallons of cum, letting out strangled moans as his entire body throbs.

Panting, he pulls out of you, watching as his release leaks from between your legs. He wasn't usually interested in sex at all after getting off, but seeing you like this, glowing with sweat and hormones, covered in him. It made him weak. He pulls apart your cunt with his thumbs, watches your glistening sex twitch, cum dripping. He's going to remember this if he ever needs to get off in two seconds flat.

The two of you lay in the floor together, floating, riding the high in a breathless haze.

"Be my girlfriend, y/n," Aizawa was the first to speak.

You were taken aback.

"What?"

You never thought him to be the type to be alright with labels.

"I like you. Not just in the way that I want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you. And I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you be with me?"

You ran your fingers across his jawline as a warm smile spread across your face.

"I'll be your girlfriend. But there are stipulations,"

"Anything. Whatever you want, it's yours," Aizawa hopes that his longing isn't too obvious, that he isn't too eager, but another part of him doesn't even care anymore.

"You have to be my boyfriend," your words are like a breeze through a windchime.

His eye takes purchase in your face as he leans into you, the kiss he offers you this time languid, lazy, loving instead of a mess of teeth and lips.

I love you, he thought, pulling away enough that your foreheads touch. God, how I love you. Just allow me to worship at the altar of your body once more.

Before you can stop yourself, and as if you can read his mind, you speak to him in a voice that's almost a whisper, "I think I love you,"

He looks dumbfounded, awestruck.

He finds his voice enough to say, simply, "I love you," followed by a kiss pressed to your nose.

The day that follows is soft and halcyon. You bask in one another like the afterglow is your lifeline, here in your own private world, all stardust and warmth. You don't know what the future holds. You stopped living in a world of 'what ifs' a long time ago. But you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you'll be there with him.

And he'll be there with you.

Like he always is.

[kooqitas]

#pairing: friends-dad!wonwoo x reader.

#genre: smut | #w.c: ~1500

#synopsis: it was just a ride offered by your friend's dad, what could go wrong?

#warnings: semi-public sex (car), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, agegap, spit, humiliation, overstimulation. WITHOUT DADDY KINK, THE NAME WAS JUST A JOKE!

#notes: not proofread, english isn’t my first language! ★ m.list | inbox 

support me on ko-fi if you want, i would be very happy :D

the moment wonwoo's car turned down the street, you regretted accepting that ride.

wonwoo is your friend's father, she's not your best friend, but you've known each other for a few months, you used to go to parties together, and this was the first time you went to her house. she always said that her father wasn't old, but wonwoo is like 15 years older than you? god, how young did he become a father? whatever, you know a hot man when you see one, and of course wonwoo is really hot.

because of the heavy rain, it was impossible to order an uber to your house, so wonwoo offered you a ride since his daughter was going to her boyfriend's house. at first you rejected it, you said you would find a way, but your friend insisted so much that it seemed rude to reject jeon's ride.

as soon as the rain stopped, wonwoo took the car out, you got in the vehicle, buckled your seat belt and regretted it instantly.

wonwoo was stupidly hot and watching him drive was driving you crazy, he smelled so good and his lips were so inviting that you didn't even realize when you started having impure thoughts about the man next to you. your friend's father.

your brain betrayed you, and you started thinking about the thick fingers that were on the steering wheel inside you, slowly opening you up to prepare for his cock. what would wonwoo's cock be like? following the logic of the proportions of his body he would probably be hot... and thick… oh, god!

"what are you thinking?" he asked you.

“w-what?”

“you are cute.” he laughed.

“oh, shut up, i’m not cute, cute is for child, i’m not a child.” you grumbled.

he laughed again, biting his own lips.

“yes, i know very well that you are not a child.”

you gasped. was wonwoo flirting with you? what the hell. no, that’s impossible, you are crazy. definitely crazy. 

“but you know... you can call me 'daddy' if you want too”

“mrs. jeon” your voice was a little shaky.

“no, sweetheart, just wonwoo. unless it's a kink for you…”

“wha- what are you d-”

wonwoo stopped the car, and only then did you realize that he wasn't even following the gps location, you were on a dark street, completely deserted, the raindrops were still falling lightly outside the car, so wonwoo faced you, firmly, making your body shake.

“i'm not gonna do anything you don't want, honey. but don't act like you're not a dirty girl who stared at me lustfully in my own house, don't pretend like you didn't look at my fingers on the steering wheel like you didn't imagine them inside you.” wonwoo said in a scoundrel tone, making you cringe, you no longer knew if it was from humiliation or lust.

“i’m-”

“you? what do you want, baby? will you deny your own desire? or are you gonna assume that you want my cock opening up that pussy, hm?”

“wonwoo…”

“what, kitten? do you want be treated with care? or i can just use you however i want? mistreat you completely, use you for my pleasure?” 

wonwoo's right hand rested on your thigh, looking at you before leaving an unchaste caress there, he laughed when you surrendered, opening your legs in anticipation of him raising his hand a little further, his warm finger in contact with your skin the cold air conditioning makes you horny.

wonwoo took off his seat belt, and slapped his thigh twice, you immediately sat there, without any kind of questioning, he laughed, the mocking laugh making you feel a little humiliated.

"don't you think you're the worst kind of whore? fucking your friend's father? you're so disgusting."

the way he spoke gave you a feeling of heat that you had never felt before, unconsciously you began to roll slowly on his lap. god, fuck any moral ethics, wonwoo was fucking hot and your cunt was starting to get wet.

“that is? does this excite you? knowing that your friend's father is gonna fuck you, will treat you like the disgusting whore you are?”

“y-yes” you moaned.

wonwoo laughed in contempt, clenching your jaw and finally kissing you, his tongue tasted like beer and even though you weren't the biggest fan of the drink you loved it, wonwoo was dominant, he led the kiss the way he wanted, sucking your tongue leaving not so light bites on your lips and it was driving you crazy.

you felt when his firm hands lowered the thin strap of your shirt, exposing your nipples and then he lightly brushed his index finger there, making you tremble in anticipation.

wonwoo continued devouring you with his mouth, the man seemed ready to destroy you with a kiss and if he continued at that pace he would easily succeed, the hot tongue curling with more and more desire in his and the kiss smacks becoming more and more wet in your mouth, his fingers making sloppy movements on your needy nipples.

you felt a hand move down from your nipple to your baggy shorts, and then a finger brushed against your panties, making you moan loudly.

“needy whore!” wonwoo laughed.

wonwoo started kissing and biting your neck, the bites hurt like hell, it would clearly leave a mark, but you were loving it, and the moans and gasps you made made it evident.

"are you gonna tell my daughter who marked that neck? are you gonna tell her that you are a desperate whore who gave your pussy to her father in the car?"

“wonwoo…”

wonwoo placed two fingers inside you, making you scream from the shock of the long fingers entering your cunt, he had no difficulty placing his fingers there, easily reaching your g-spot while still marking your neck voraciously.

"dumb bitch, do anything for cock!"

he added another finger, your eyes rolling back, your body was sweating even with the air conditioning in the car, you didn't care about anything anymore, you just wanted wonwoo inside you. he tore your shorts and laid the seat back a little further, kissing your mouth again.

“i'm gonna to fill this pussy up, you'll go home dripping with my cum like a good toy!”

wonwoo removed his fingers from inside you, putting them in his mouth and sucking out every drop of your liquid, and then removed his belt, lowering his pants and underwear right after.

his purple cock made you salivate, at the same time it scared you, you didn't imagine it would be so fat, it terrified you and made you even more horny, every inch of you would receive wonwoo's dick, he would open you up like no one had ever done before .

"you're gonna take my dick like a good slut, aren't you? i'm gonna be able to spread you wide open and you're gonna thank me, right?"

you nodded, and in the next second, wonwoo was entering you.

at first he was gentle, rubbing sloppy circles on your clit until you got used to his size, but a few minutes later wonwoo was thrusting into you like crazy and moaning like an animal.

"i knew that whore's pussy was gonna open wide for my cock!”

he said as he mistreated your pussy with strong thrusts, you didn't think about anything else, you didn't think about the fact that he was your friend's father, you didn't think about the fact that you were on a deserted street, you couldn't think about anything other than how good it was the feeling of having wonwoo hitting your uterus hard.

he grabbed your waist and made you bounce on him, his firm hand pushing you up and down on his fat cock while your belly tingled.

"god, i’m gonna-"

"cum on my dick, whore, cum because i’m gonna cum inside you, i’m gonna fill that pussy with my sperm."

wonwoo laughed in a machiavellian way, and then spat in your mouth, forcing two fingers down your throat, you accepted them, sucked as if it were wonwoo's own cock while facing him, feeling the lust growing in your belly growing more and more.

when he wiped his fingers of saliva on your hardened nipple, you came, screaming so loud that, even though you were on the deserted street, you were still afraid that other people would hear.

when your body started to shake, wonwoo seemed more motivated to destroy you, and continued thrusting against your pussy.

"my freaky bitch only stops when i decide it's over?" he questions seeing that you just accepted his rough pace. "i like it! my daughter has the best friend in the world!"

wonwoo thrust you a few more times, until he came apart inside you, moaning loudly and throwing his head back, your insides becoming completely sticky with your friend's father's sperm.

you still moved, sensitive from the orgasm, but still rubbing against the cock that wasn't completely softened, you wanted more, he wanted more.

fuck any morals, you needed to enjoy the rest of the night together...

and it was with this in mind that wonwoo searched on the gps where the nearest motel was.