#if only she were still alive😔 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clairewritesfanfics · 2 months ago

Note

hey! I have a tiny request

What would you think the Invincible!Variants would react if they see an Invincible!Reader?

Like, on their universes (Y/N) would be dead but it just happens that in one of the few universe where they are alive is one where she is invincible and now she is fighting in the invincible wars with them :D

(it’s my first request so I’m kinda confused on how it works 😔)

a/n: I went for a sillier approach with this one so it’s different from my usual narrative style (and by extension, sloppier than I would’ve wanted) but it was so much fun to write. I also took a few liberties with how Reader is able to fight because I only write Y/N as an OP baddie or an Everyman. There are no in-betweens in my delusions. Basically, she uses technology to fight, but she wears the Invincible colors in honor of her dead Mark. Happy reading.

Angstrom Levy watched as the mirror images of his sworn enemy gathered together.

“I think we have all the Mark Graysons that we need.”

“Great.” The one whose cowl lacked any lenses cupped his fist. “Time to spill some blood.”

“Not so fast.”

“What?”

One last portal shimmered to life next to Angstrom and from it stepped out someone who was most definitely not Mark Grayson.

Angstrom motioned towards you. “Invincibles, meet Invincible.”

You wore a pair of goggles over your yellow cowl and there was a utility belt around your waist. You looked more like a cosplayer than a genuine Invincible.

You were you but you were not you. Not the one they knew and loved and lost. The person they adored would have never donned such an outfit.

You raised a weak hand in salutation. A wry smile offered. “Hi there.”

Every single version of the man tensed with emotion, their fists clenching beside them. Some of them stared at you, frozen. Others wanted to slam the teleporting freak to the wall.

“What’s the meaning of this, Angstrom!?”

“You said you only needed Mark Graysons, so–”

“–why is my dead wife here?”

Angstrom motioned for them to cool themselves. “I needed Invincibles. This one isn’t like any of you, but she took up the mantle when he died.”

Silence fell over the room.

Then, the one with a Mohawk protested, “She doesn’t belong here. She’s still just a human, isn’t she? Wearing a colorful costume won’t change that.”

You stood motionless despite his harsh words.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you,” Angstrom said. “She destroyed her Earth in the span of an afternoon.”

Their eyes flickered over to you, but again, you showed no emotion.

“She’s here as… back up, in case you all fail.”

Five Marks flew towards him but stopped when you stood between them. Even with these many Viltrumites, you stood firm. Without your goggles, they could see you clearly. Gaunt, nose a little different, cheeks more sunken than what they were used to. Tired.

Angstrom smiled.

Even if these fools knew that the person they loved was gone, they couldn’t bring themselves to raise a hand against your ghost, so they backed off.

Head Cap

Oliver slammed himself against the man’s back, but the Invincible copycat merely rotated his shoulders. “Thanks, I think you fixed it,” he let out a sound of pleasure. “Now, let’s fix you.”

The boy raised his arms to guard.

Several pros came to intercept, hitting this Mark with everything they got.

Before Oliver could move to help them, pure white beams struck his saviors. He could see through the gaping holes in their torsos before they fell over. Only he and Invincible were left standing.

His brother’s lookalike lifted his head, grinning as he raised both his thumbs in approval. “Thanks for the assist, babe!”

Oliver followed his gaze up.

It was… it wasn’t his brother, but the woman hovering above them wore the trademark yellow, blue and black Mark used to wear. The same bug-eyed goggles covered your eyes. Your lips were in a straight line.

You landed between the two guys.

“You don’t have to stay and help me kill this one, I got it all under control.”

You threw a disc at Oliver, and it formed a blue, transparent cube around him. Despite his efforts, he could not punch through the walls.

“Do you know who this child is?”

Mark cocked his head.

“He’s your half-brother.”

“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, his sadistic smile turned resentful. “Dad’s other project, huh?”

“Mark couldn’t do it. He hated his brother, but even for him killing an infant was uncharted territory.”

“And he asked you to do it? What an asshole.” He sounded almost protective.

You laughed. “He didn’t ask me to do anything, I just didn’t want him to be sad anymore.”

He stared at Oliver, still hitting the cube, even ramming his shoulder at the wall.

“...How did it feel?”

“I can’t remember to be honest, all I remember is Mark thanking me.” You recalled him holding you in his arms and kissing you all night. “Nothing else matters to me but him.”

He snuck a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye.

You returned to the air. “The kinetic field around the kid will expire in a minute. So if you're going to kill him, be prepared."

Mark watched you fly away, fists clenching beside him as he thought about the other you, the one who was so soft she couldn’t bring herself to kill the mice in the kitchen. Gentle until the day she died.

Flaxan Mark

One good electromagnetic pulse was all you needed to disarm the GDA. Concentrated antimatter bullets would ensure that their undead army won’t be returning.

You decapitated Donald and Cecil in one swift motion. You didn’t have any strong feelings for either of them so there was no need for a painful death.

You watched Mark sit up, rubbing his head.

“Are you all right?” You asked, walking over to him.

He met your gaze, quiet as he examined you.

This Mark seemed more composed than the others, more mature, too.

“I watched the footage.” You gestured around you. “You must really hate this place to gut it so mercilessly.”

He looked at you and said, “They killed you.” He raised his hands, looking at something visible only to him. “While I was gone, they took you. Wanted to see if they could use our baby to make someone better, someone more loyal to the humans.”

He closed his fists. “They deserve to burn, all of them.”

You folded your hands behind your back. There was nothing you could say to that.

No Goggles

Mark laughed maniacally as he struck down monster after monster. “Come on! You can do better than that, can't you? Come on, this is amazing! Kill me!”

A finger snapped from a distance and a bright light pierced the darkness, scaring the creatures away. “Hey, come back!”

“Mark,” called out an exasperated voice.

He gasped when you walked towards him, looking disappointed.

He flew over to wrap his arms around you. “Shit, I wanted to talk to you earlier but there was never the right time, plus we had to destroy the whole world and all that, but God, you really are a babe wherever, or maybe whenever is the correct word–”

You pinched his lips. “We should leave first. Try to talk less, okay?”

He nodded obediently and you let go.

A portal cut open the white void, revealing a blue sky.

Before you could leave, the faintest whispers called out to you, “Mo…ther…”

Mark blinked and glanced at the corners where the darkness lingered. “Am I crazy or did those things just call you mother?”

“Yes and yes.”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the Shadow-Verse and onto the sky above Chicago.

“Whoa…” Mark looked down at his feet. “Am I walking on air? Not flying but walking?”

“Yeah.” You sat down and watched him do cartwheels.

“How long can I keep doing this?”

“For as long as I let you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Reaaaally?”

“You can run, jump and do all the cartwheels you want until you drop dead and you still won’t fall, not unless I let you, but I’m getting tempted so you better start flying now.”

He chuckled and sat next to you, pulling his knees to his chest. “You’re dead in my reality.”

“I know.”

“You killed yourself.”

“Is that so?”

“It really fucked me up, in the brain and stuff.” He made a swooshing motion, pointing at his temple.

“I can imagine.”

He fell silent and watched you watch the world get destroyed below you.

He then asked, “Why did those things call you mother?”

“Honestly, I don’t know why they would. In my world, it makes sense. I created them, then I carved out a piece of time and space where I could discard them when they proved useless to me.”

He blinked. “Wow. You created the Shadow-Verse?”

“Well, the one in my world, yes. As for the ones here?” You shrugged. “My hypothesis is that there was a window between the pocket dimensions, causing them to mix.”

“That’s so cool!”

“I know. And Angstrom thinks he’s all that.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“You’ve been asking a lot.”

“If you can do all this, why didn’t you just hop worlds? Get yourself a new Mark? I’d be happy to be kidnapped.”

You chuckled and then looked up at the sky. “Who knows.”

Omni-Mark and Shiesty

The two of them were ganging up on this timeline’s Mark Grayson when Eve pushed them away with a giant pink wall.

You grabbed her cape and then dragged her away from the three. “You’re dead weight to him. Stay here if you want to live,” you ordered.

When you turned around, a heavy shackle enveloped your arm, chaining you to herself with a thick fuchsia rope.

You sighed. “Truly an idiot in every reality.”

“I saw you–you’re with those guys. I don’t know why you saved me but I know that you’re bad news.”

You gave her a look that reminded Eve of an unforgiving winter. Her heart pounded violently as she struggled to breathe. She's faced death before, faced villains as strong as Mark himself, but nothing made her buckle the way you did at this moment.

She swallowed her fear despite her shaking hands. “Surrender now.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll have to take you by force.”

“Oh?” For the first time since you’ve arrived in this damned universe, you smirked, turning your whole body to face hers directly. “You’re welcome to try.”

You tapped the pink construct, shattering it into a thousand fragments. In a split second, you were pinning her down the ground. "Is that it?"

You grabbed her chin and forced her eyes to look directly into yours. “I am unimpressed.” Your goggles shone red and Eve screamed.

She rolled around the dirt, cradling her head and gasping in pain.

“Eve!”

Your suit’s electromagnetic force field flashed blue as the Invincible of this world tried to hit you. “What did you do to her?!”

“No need to look so angry,” you said, face blank. “This is a mercy compared to what I did to the other one.” That Eve died brutally, but so quickly you didn’t even get the chance to laugh.

You then vanished from the ground, reappearing between the two hovering Marks. “Let’s go.”

Shiesty turned to you. “Why?”

“There’s no point in fighting him now, he’s going to choose her, probably hide away for a few hours.”

“What makes you think that?”

Omni-Mark answered instead, looking straight at you, "Because we would've chosen you if we were in his place."

Aftermath

All of the Marks kept their eyes on you while they waited for Angstrom. Some of them had the decency to be subtle. Others, like the adorable little freak who got stuck in the Shadow-Verse, looked just about ready to hump you.

Bored, you turned your attention to the Mark without a mask, suit tainted with blood. “You look at me differently than the others do.”

His hands twitched but he kept them close together in front of him as he answered, “It’s just… you weren’t a woman where I come from.”

“How fascinating. Not outside the realm of probability though. If anything, me being a girl in these guys' universes is odd.”

He tilted his head. How cute.

“Contrary to popular belief, a child’s biological sex is not a 50/50 chance. It’s slightly more likely to be a boy than a girl.” You leaned towards him. “Tell me, was I any handsome?”

Taken aback, he blinked. Then he closed his eyes, smiling before he faced you again. “You’re always breathtaking.”

Your brow twitched and you looked away, crossing your arms.

The others watched, unhappy. Various emotions layered onto each other, growing heavier with the silence.

“What’s taking him so long?”

Tired of waiting, you folded one leg over the other. A whole tea set manifested before you, turning the tense silence into awkward awe.

Shiesty floated closer to you while you dropped a sugar cube into your teacup. “Hey, uh, I didn't get to ask earlier, but what the Hell did you do to Eve?”

The teacups dispersed, delivering themselves to the different variants. Too confused to do anything else, they accepted their shares. The little jar containing sugar cubes bounced between them, a parade of silver teaspoons right behind it. A three tier platter stayed in the middle of the circle they formed.

Shiesty took a mini quiche and gave it a taste.

The veil fluttered, revealing a slither of his jaw.

Unconsciously, you reached over to trace the corner of his face.

He flinched and you pulled back. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I last saw Mark this close. Anyway,” you started, gently blowing on the tea, “I took away her powers.”

“I see.” He plopped a sugar cube into his cup before he realized what you just said. “What? You can do that? All you did was flash a red light at her!”

Omni-Mark stared at his tea for a while. He then said, “You lobotomized her.”

“I did.”

The other Marks turned to you. “What?”

Shiesty gave them a brief explanation of what happened. “You should’ve seen it, it was hella hilarious–and hot. The other guy couldn’t even land a punch.”

“Whoa, backup.” It was Mohawk this time. “Lobotomized her? As in brain surgery? In the field?”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t that complicated.” You watched a superhero do it before–granted, it was a cartoon but it gave you the idea for a powerful skill.

You opened your palm, showing a holographic display of the human brain. “Superhumans are just mutated humans, and for someone like Eve whose mutation is psionic-based, all I needed to do was find the abnormal gyri in her brain that differentiate hers from that of ordinary people.” Several portions of the brain glowed. “My goggles can let me see through things, like human skulls, and they’re built with a precision laser perfect for neurosurgery.”

“I don’t get it,” Omni-Mark said. “Why didn’t you just kill her?”

You traced the rim of your teacup. “Eve, like many heroes, ties her self-worth and identity to her powers. I already killed her before. I didn’t feel anything…”

You smiled at them, it was a sweet and innocent smile that took them back to nicer times. “Rather than murder, forcing her to live a life where she is no longer special feels more satisfying. For someone like her, losing her gift must feel like the sky is falling.” You do regret not being there to see her face when she realizes what happened. Will she cry? Scream some more? Fall into despair?

You covered your curling mouth. “Ah, what a shame.”

a/n: I'm sorry, I couldn't include all the Marks, and I'm really sorry for the sloppy writing. I was going to write more scenes, specifically for Retro/Gogglesinvincible/the one who Rex killed, but I wrote this between breaks and I really wanted to post it immediately.

Dear Readers, if you have any questions or further requests, feel free to send them now because i will be closing my ask box this upcoming Sunday. MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

482 notes · View notes

littlelovelunette · 5 months ago

Note

Hi.. I've never really seen this before but could we get sevika x reader but she's incredibly just puppy like for r.. Silco level loyal and she's just such a loser for her because maybe they're childhood sweethearts reunited after all these years and sevika just doesn't have the energy to pretend all tough on r. I mean like it still seems like Sevika is this incredibly rough n tough woman gaurding some new girl who returned to zaun but in reality sevika just can't handle being away from her cuz it's post-silco death😔👉👈

Behind Closed Doors— SEVIKA

When Sevika returned from work, you were on the living room couch binge-watching some thriller, "Hey, baby," you greeted briefly glancing at her. Sevika didn't say anything. She kicked off her shoes at the door before she walked to you, kneeling down before you and palming her head on your lap.

Sevika looked up at you with her pitiful grey eyes, a very small almost unnoticeable pout starting to form on her lips.

"My big baby," you giggled and helped her up on the couch so she could lay her head on your lap instead.

Your fingers pressed across her temple and forehead, a soothing massage on her aching head. The amount of blows your poor woman had taken to the skull working for Silco while he was still alive... she still deals with issues due to that.

Well, at least she wasn't constantly endangered anymore.

You knew, Silco's death had been a mental blow to Sevika. And after that, she'd lost the ability to be all tough and rocks around you. You liked it, she'd shed that bit of herself whenever she was with you and it made you feel like you were the only person who could see the rawness of her. (Insideout)

"Dunno what I'd do without you," Sevika grumbled, burying her face in your lap, flesh hand wrapping around your waist.

"You'd be smoking and drowning yourself in a bottle," you responded, sifting to get comfortable, you opened up a blanket and draped it over Sevika's muscular frame. You liked taking care of her.

Sevika hummed out something like agreement. You smiled and pressed a kiss onto her forehead, "You're stronger than that, I know you are."

"So sweet," Sevika grumbled again.

In normal circumstances, you'd think to tease her about the way she was so vulnerable with you right now, but Sevika looked so... so puppy like and pitiful, you couldn't bring yourself to do that.

That'd be straight up cruel.

"Rest, pretty," you whispered, stroking her hair.

"No one's ever called me that," Sevika mumbled after a while making your heart almost break, she sounded so sad.

"People don't see this, do they?" Your vocie was soft against Sevika's ears and she liked it like that, her arm around your waist tightened.

"Nuh-uh," Sevika's response was almost inaudible and you could feel her arm loosen as her entire body relaxed.

Finally, she could rest. She could be herself. She could be with you. Her safe space.

587 notes · View notes

yoiisa · 2 months ago

Note

HEEELLAURRR

can I request headcanon bllk boys anyone of your choice including sae 🙏🏻 with wifey reader during post pantrum depression since no one writes about it 😔 and it’s the boys just helping her out here and there??

ofc!!, I’ll do sae, bachira, isagi, and kunigami

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: TW for depression, anxiety, self-loathing language, and feelings of inadequacy. Reader is struggling w depression in this fic, so proceed with caution for sure! major angst (argument between couple in Isagi's) with tiny doses of fluff throughout, hurt with only a tiny bit of comfort (except for kuni and maybe isagi)

if you ever find yourself struggling with ppd please call 1-800-944-4773 or visit postpartum.net i have so much respect for mothers out there, but please remember that the best mothers take care of themselves as well as their babies!! you got this babe, and with that let's get on to the fic

➜ at first, having a baby with sae itoshi was fine. everything was going smoothly- well, as smoothly as having a newborn could ➜ still, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that festered in you. it was dark and cold and rose like bile in your throat that you had to swallow down ➜ the monotony of every day settling in on you was only feeding the dread inside of you. waking at the ass crack of dawn for a diaper change or to feed, and then running around all day caring for your daughter's every whim and desire ➜ sae helped where he could, but obviously there were some tasks only you could accomplish, and it was driving you to a brink ➜ eventually, he had to leave to go to Spain for some work, and you swore up and down that you could handle him being gone for a couple weeks. he was reluctant to leave you alone, but duty called after all, so he left ➜ and suddenly, that darkness consumed all of you and it was too much. you just . . . snapped

Sae knew leaving you alone was a bad idea. He'd seen the ways you'd been tiring yourself out, running after Yuki, and without him around, he worried seriously for your health. Nonetheless, you'd insisted that he go to Spain for his work, instead of just trying to handle it all from Japan itself. "I'll be fine, you don't need to worry," you insist, you're head on his chest. "She's been at home for 4 months now, I've gotten our routine down to a science by now." Sae played with your hair, twirling the locks around his fingers as he hummed, "Okay. I'll go then." As he was leaving, he made sure you promised him that if anything happened, anything at all, that you would immediately call him and tell him. You'd just waved him off, which did absolutely nothing to quell the dread in his stomach about leaving. He knows you don't notice how attentive he really is to you, but he notices everything about you. He worships the smallest details that make you who you are, that make you his wife. With that in mind, it's so incredibly frustrating when you think he doesn't notice how your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore, or how your skin has become dry because you haven't been drinking enough water. It's 2:41 A.M. when he gets the call. It's been a week since he'd left for Spain. He peels his mask off and blinks blearily at his phone, which vibrates along his hotel's night stand. It should be around 9 where you are right now, which is pretty early for you to be calling him . . . unless something happened. Sae instantly sits up alert, his heart racing as he answers and puts his phone to his ear, "Hello? Y/N, what's wrong?" You're silent for a moment, which allows him to hear Yuki screaming her lungs out in the background of the call. Finally, you croak, "Help. Please, she won't stop crying. She's been up since 1 in the morning, and I . . . I don't know what to do." Sae's breath hitches. "I'm coming home." He can tell the guilt is eating you alive as you whisper his name, but he doesn't care. He cuts off any protests you might have with a, "My girls need me. I'm coming home. I'll get on the next available flight. I'll see you soon. I love you." His heart shatters as you don't return the affection, instead just sobbing into the microphone, "I'm sorry."

➜ part of the reason bachira meguru fell for you was because of your smile ➜ you exuded happiness and joy with every step you took and he was drawn to that aura like a moth to a flame ➜ but after having your baby, bachira noticed that the glow you had once was drained from you like a sponge. you traded in your glowing eyes for dark circles and your frown seemed perpetual ➜ worse yet, he noticed how rarely you smiled at your son ➜ at the beginning, when things weren't as bad, you would offer up the occasionally tiny smile, but you'd become so distant from the boy as of late. you'd become distant from him as well ➜ and he hates it. he did what he could to try and pull you back to his side, to get him to tell him what's wrong, but nothing was working, and it was starting to make him feel in over his head as well ➜ he cracks eventually and calls his mom, completely lost on how to help you navigate your depression

It all happens in a blur. One minute, Bachira is walking into your son's nursery to put some laundry away and the next minute, his entire world tilts as you whisper, "I don't love him." You're standing over Kaede's crib, just staring down at the little swaddled thing. Your husband is at your side in an instant, his hands squeezing your arms as he's begging for an explanation. You practically fall into his chest, your legs weak as you fall to the floor. You're not crying or anything, it's like your body's too weak for even that. All you can manage is the quietest, "I don't . . . feel how I'm supposed to when I look at him. I don't know what's happening." Bachira and you stay curled up together on the floor for a while, until Kaede starts crying. You tense in his arms as the shrill sound pierces your ears. Bachira shoots up from the floor and tends to your son, leaving you lying there as helplessness washes over him. Once you've gone to bed later that night, he instantly is on the phone with his mom. "I don't know, is something wrong with her? Should I be scared for Kaede? I don't want him to get hurt," Bachira sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I don't think Y/N will hurt him," Yu sighs on the other end of the line. "She's probably just overwhelmed right now. A lot of women go through this when they first have their kids. We get told a lot that motherhood is this wonderful thing, but a lot of times, the amount of work it takes is exhausting and is completely glossed over. The stress of it all can cause new moms to get really bad depression. It can make you want to give up on everything sometimes." Bachira bites at the skin around his nails before asking meekly, "Did you want to give up on me?" "No," Yu replies fondly, recalling the days of Bachira's infancy. "Believe it or not, you weren't a fussy baby at all. It made being a single mother easier at first, but when you got older, well, you know." Bachira nods as Yu continues, "Why don't I come over for the next week or so? I can help Y/N take care of Kaede, and the two of you can also get some alone time, if I take Kaede off your hands for a while." "Seriously? You don't mind?" Yu shakes her head, her smile widening. "It'd be my pleasure. I'll also talk with Y/N as well. Hopefully she'll feel a bit better. I knew someone who had post partum depression . . . I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

➜ isagi yoichi hates feeling powerless more than anything in the world ➜ it's part of the reason he was able to adapt so well in the world of soccer after all. he encounters all kinds of players on the field, and he needs to be flexible with himself in order to make sure he doesn't sink underneath all the talent ➜ but babies are different. they don't operate on logic or patterns or anything like that. they feel everything in excruciating levels and the same can be said for depression ➜ when isagi notices that something's up with you too, in addition to the learning curve of having a newborn son around, he also gets thrown in way in over his head ➜ the two of you begin to have arguments a lot as a result. he is upset because the entire pregnancy, you'd been raving about how you couldn't wait to have a kid, and now? now all of that was gone ➜ after a particularly explosive fight, he finally sees the pain you're going through as well, best believe he'll do whatever he can to make sure you get the help you need ➜ after all, he can't do this by himself

"Yoichi please-" "I just don't understand," Isagi groans, kneeling in front of you. His hands are on your knees and his face is bowed. "I . . . I thought we agreed that this is what we wanted? Why are you backing out now that Ryuji's already here?!" "Who said I was backing out?" you ask incredulously. "Haven't I been doing everything I can? I've been feeding him, changing him, comforting him when he cries. I haven't showered in a week for fucks sake!" "And you look a million miles away throughout it all! You have this face- this horrible distant expression! I just don't understand, didn't you want this?" You slip up and shout, "Who would want this?!" and Isagi flinches back. The two of you stare at one another in horror, before your husband's face contorts to something between grief and anger. "The hell does that mean?" he growls and you lose it. You start bawling and screaming, "Who wants a life confined to just this?! To sore breasts and shit stains and hair pulling and the crying- he won't stop fucking crying! I can't make him stop, you can't make him stop! I don't know what to do!" You fall onto the floor, your hands stabilizing yourself on Isagi's shoulders as you continue to wail. "I want to be there with him! I want to hold my son and be happy to be a mother, but I just can't. Everything feels so big when I hold him, and I feel so small. I hate myself for it! I see other mother's and feel horrible, like why can't I just be them?! It . . . I hate myself so much. I'm horrible. I'm so horrible." Isagi's heart shatters as you cry and he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. You tuck your face into his neck and inhale, breathing him in in a way you haven't done since long before Ryuji was born. You stay like that for a while before you croak, "You need to leave me." "What?" Isagi blanches. "I'm not cut out for this whole motherhood thing. I'm so scared one day, I'll do something terrible to Ryu. Something that'll hurt him. I'm not safe to be around. You need to leave me." Isagi stills, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Finally he manages, "I'm taking you to a doctor tomorrow. A psychiatrist at the hospital hopefully. Ryuji will go to my parent's house for a while until we can figure out what to do next." Before you can protest anything, he kisses your forehead. "And that step will not be to leave you. Not in a million years, so you can just forget about that."

➜ kunigami rensuke would quite frankly be the best person at helping you deal with your depression ➜ he knows the intensity of depression, and what it can do to people, especially when they are feeling isolated and alone. he did go through the wild card program after all ➜ he thinks back to how he was during his wild card training and the nel, and to know you're experiencing that kinda intense depression right now pains him beyond the telling ➜ ultimately, he just stays by your side no matter what. if you need space from your daughter, he's quick to help you get some quiet. if you need a shoulder to cry on, he'll hold you for as long as he can, letting your tears soak his shirt without a word of complaint ➜ after all, you've given him the gift of your daughter, so the least he can do is take care of her mother, and his wife, as well

You're sitting up in bed, your eyes closed and a cup of tea in your hands. It's only half drunk and starting to cool, but the cup is still warm enough to keep your hands from freezing, so you hold tight. Eventually, Kunigami steps into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face as he sees you. He walks up to you and sits beside you, his head resting on your lap. "Is Sakura asleep?" You ask, petting his orange hair. He hums in confirmation and peeks up at you through his lashes. You take note of the dark circles under his eyes and you look away, guilt eating at you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, and he tilts his head. "For what?" You purse your lips before sighing. You set the tea off to the side and close your eyes. "For making you do all the work. I wish I . . . I was a better mom and wife." He shoots up, immediately his hands going to your cheeks, brushing away imaginary tears. "Hey, hey none of that. You're an excellent mother, and a wonderful wife. Why on earth would you think otherwise?" "Because you've taken all the hard jobs like putting her to sleep and changing her-" "Because you've already done more than enough for her and for me. You keep her alive- hell you gave her life- and you continue to do other things around the house, like cooking amazing food for me. I couldn't ask for anything more, truly." You lean into his hands. A tear leaks from your eyes as you ask, "Really, Ren?" Kunigami nods and presses his forehead against yours. "Just keep doing what you're doing. If I need help, I'll ask, and if you need help, ask. I don't ever want you to feel like you're not doing enough or that you're alone. You're not, you never will be, not while I'm here." You sob, and he kisses you through it, his lips soft against yours. For the first time in months, you feel like you can properly relax.

a/n: this is prob gonna get a tad bit personal, but i just wanna reiterate how much love and respect I hold for mothers out there. all of the women in my fam have problems with their reproductive health, and it's likely that I will too when I'm older. Despite this, they've never been anything but incredibly mothers and role models and I love my mom, my aunts, and my grandma dearly

i also want to be a mom when I'm older and I encourage everyone who also wants this to do some serious research into what pregnancy/motherhood entails. it's rough out here for us girls and no one is gonna support us the way we will ourselves, and part of that means being educated on our bodies, despite the lack of proper research done with them a lot of times

anyways, rant over. love y'all and stay safe to all the mamas out there!

193 notes · View notes

queenofmorningstar · 3 months ago

Text

See You in Hell

Lucifer x Overlord! f! Reader

Summary: A Satanist believer in life, you'd hoped to meet Lucifer who'd fight for the sinners...but what happens when he's not what you expected?

CW: Eventual Smut, Slowburn kinda??. Modern Satanism beliefs (no cannibalism of children type of shit sorry😔), Religious Themes & Imagery. Canon–Typical Violence, Reader has shitty life when alive, Human! reader death, Angst/no Comfort (in this part). Reader manipulates for her own benefit (she’s an overlord, smh)

Word Count: 2.5K

CHAPTER ONE

It had rained the night before, and the sidewalks still shimmered with thin puddles that reflected the colourless sky. You walked with your hands in pockets, head bowed.

Another rejection email this morning. Another unpaid bill. Another voicemail from your mother, heavy with disappointment even in its silence. You hadn’t answered. What was the point? The world had grown dull around the edges—everything grey, everything pointless. You were only out for a walk because you couldn't stand the inside of your apartment anymore.

That’s when you saw it.

A crooked, weather-worn table stood at the end of a cracked driveway, soaked cardboard signs taped to its legs: FREE STUFF in uneven marker. The yard sale was clearly long abandoned. Most of what remained was garbage…a chipped coffee mug, broken costume jewellery, yellowed paperback novels with curling covers. But something tugged at you as you trudged ahead.

Wedged beneath a stack of waterlogged magazines was a book. It sat right in the centre, dry despite the damp area, like the rain had avoided it on purpose. Black as soot, no title on the spine or author. Just an inverted pentagram etched into the front in faded gold.

You opened the cover. The pages were handwritten in fluid, elegant, crimson ink, almost... alive. You looked around. No one was watching. No one would miss it.

It started small.

You read the first chapter that night, sitting on your bed with the book propped in your lap. The words didn’t ask you to repent.

They didn’t tell you were broken. They didn’t demand blind obedience, or sacrifice, or guilt. Instead, they looked you dead in the eye and said: You are not evil for wanting. It taught you to believe in yourself, and all the flaws that made you human. To worship yourself first.

By the end of the week, you’d underlined passages, scribbled thoughts in the margins, whispered some of the manifestation rituals and lines.

And slowly, so subtly you didn’t notice at first, things began to change.

You started saying no . To your mother’s guilt-laced messages. To your boss’s passive-aggressive overtime requests. To the voice in your head that told you were worthless if you weren't constantly bleeding for others.

Your laughter came back—sharp, unapologetic. Dared to look happy without apologizing for it.

Death was a whisper. But when you opened your eyes again…

The sky was red, like an endless sunset bled out. Neon lights flickered with glitchy menace, towering buildings leaned at impossible angles, and demonic figures strolled by as casually as humans in a shopping mall. Somewhere distant, a scream turned into laughter. Gunfire sounded like music.

Hell. You had made it . No chains dragged you down or demons who wanted to throw you in flames. For the first time, you were home.

You didn’t become an Overlord through brute strength alone. That was never your style.

You watched first. Studied the other overlords around you. How they schemed, how they fought, how they fell.You played the long game. Befriended sinners, made them feel safe. Gained their trust, learned their secrets. You brokered deals between rival factions, only to sabotage both and seize the aftermath for yourself.

You didn’t need to shout to be feared. You let others speak for you. Let paranoia do your work. By the time you claimed your territory, you hadn’t just proven yourself ruthless. You’d proven yourself untouchable .

_______________________

Your assistant, an imp in a pressed black suit, rattled off tasks at a speed that made your temples throb. "—and the blood-trade deal with the Sloth Ring still needs your seal. Oh! And the emissary from Sector 7 is furious that you flayed his envoy last week—"

"He interrupted me, " you said dryly.

"—still, they’re demanding reparations." She continued onwards, scrolling through her tablet.“And your new tax policies have incited a small rebellion in the Lower Slums. Very passionate. Pitchforks. Fire. The works.”

“How quaint,” you murmured. “Tell them I’m touched, and send a response.”

“A… response?”

“Impale him. Let’s see him respawn after that.”

The imp shrugged and typed rapidly. You leaned your cheek against your knuckles, expression unreadable. This was the part of ruling you loathed—dealing with the stupidity of lesser sinners.

Before your assistant could launch into another rant about soul quotas, your door slammed open with a thunderous crack. A sinner stumbled in, panting, eyes wild. Your assistant beside you snarled, wings flaring. “How dare you barge in unannounced!”

You recognized the sinner, one of the spies you had in every district.

“Speak,” you commanded, your voice low but impossible to disobey.

“We found him, ma’am. Lucifer Morningstar,” she said. “He’s chosen to remain at the Hotel for the time being. To assist his daughter. Which complicates things.”

Your mind fixated on it instantly. Your pulse spiked, but you kept your face neutral. Lucifer. The Morning Star. The First Rebel. The one whose name you had whispered in every prayer when the world above had turned its back on you. When you were alone. You had whispered his name not in reverence, but in solidarity. You both were seen as social outcasts, always kept at the side-lines. You wanted to know…did he feel the same rage as you? Was their grief identical?

You had never seen him, not once since you arrived. So you had wanted—selfishly and hopelessly—to meet him. You had almost given up, and you had come to theorize that maybe Hell was a living entity and it was protecting its king.

Was he still a dreamer? Still infuriatingly brilliant, and beautiful in the way only fallen things could be?

Now you had a way in. A reason to be in his orbit. You smiled, and felt alive more than ever. "Clear my schedule; I have a visit to make."

_______________________

The Hazbin Hotel exterior was a tall, elaborate amalgamation of arched windows and turrets. It was the princess herself who opened the door. “Hi there!” Charlie chirped, turning with a wide, happy grin. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Are you here for… redemption?” she offered, hopeful.

That word always came with a foul taste. You arched a brow, amused. “Redemption? No, darling. I didn’t come here to seek salvation. I don’t beg for anything from heaven. Hell is my home.”

Charlie blinked. “Oh! Sorry—I just thought, since our guests—”

You waved dismissively. “I’m here as a patron.”

Charlie’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “A... patron?”

“Yes, yes. Your hotel is….utterly fascinating.” You walked ahead. “You’ve made quite the splash, and well, I love where the action is. And I wouldn’t mind killing exorcist filth myself.”

Charlie regained her composure as best she could, straightening her jacket and stepping ahead with you. “Well, I—um—thank you! I mean, wow! If you don’t mind me asking–”

“Charlie,” Vaggie said sharply, her voice low but insistent. “Can I talk to you? Now.”

Charlie looked over, startled. “Can it wait a second?”

“No,” Vaggie said, her gaze flicking towards you. “It really can’t.”

Charlie gave you an apologetic glance. “Excuse me—just a moment.”

You only gave a graceful nod. Charlie followed Vaggie a few feet away toward the stairs. Not out of earshot, but just far enough to pretend it was private.

“What is it?” Charlie whispered.

“That’s her ,” Vaggie said, her voice tight. “You know who that is, right?”

Charlie blinked. “I mean… no?”

“That’s the Overlord who took over that chaotic district without a single army and made it her own, a feat no one has ever achieved. She’s manipulative, calculated, and terrifyingly efficient. No one knows how she got to where she is so fast. Some say she made a deal with something worse. Others say she is that something.”

“But she wants to be a patron,” she whispered. “Isn’t that good? ”

“No, Charlie,” Vaggie cut in. “It means she wants something. She doesn’t set foot anywhere unless there’s leverage to gain.”

Charlie chewed her lip, clearly torn. “She hasn’t done anything wrong…”

“Yet,” Vaggie snapped. “You want my advice? Send her away. Nicely. Now. Before she decides to get interested. Because once she’s interested, she stays. ”

Charlie looked back again. Your eyes met Charlie’s across the room and you smiled, not cruelly, just knowingly. But still, she said, “No. We don’t turn people away, Vaggie. If she wants to be here, we let her. That’s the point.”

Charlie turned and walked back towards you, heart pounding. She wasn’t naïve but still… she believed. When Charlie finally returned, still smiling, if a little stiff around the edges.

“Would it be too forward to ask for a tour?” you asked.

Charlie perked up immediately. “Oh! Sure! That’d be wonderful. I’d love to show you what we’re building here.”

You offered a gracious nod. “Lead the way, then.”

“Well, well!” came a voice as the shadows manifested. “Isn’t this a surprise!”

Charlie froze mid-step. A familiar radio-static chuckle fizzled through the air as Alastor stepped into view, smile stretched wide. You turned with the same calm grace, expression unreadable, save for the faintest curve of interest on your lips. “Ah, the famous Radio Demon. I was wondering where you’d crawl out after seven years.”

Alastor’s grin twitched, just slightly.

Charlie laughed nervously. “You two know each other?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Alastor said smoothly. “We’ve danced around each other a time or two. Power attracts power, after all. Though some of us do prefer to announce ourselves.”

You gave a soft, amused smile. “And some of us don’t need to.”

Charlie looked between them, increasingly unsure if this was a joke or something far more dangerous.

“I must say,” Alastor continued, tone still light, “it’s charming that you’ve taken an interest in our humble little rehabilitation effort. Not quite your usual flavor, though. Redemption always struck me as far too... tender for your palate.”

“I have varied tastes,” you replied. “And a fondness for lost causes.” Your smile was saccharine sweet. “Anyhow, Charlie needs more people to have her back after the last extermination attempt. And after your display of ‘battle’ with Adam, let's just say…that wouldn’t be me.”

Charlie felt the air grow a little colder. Not freezing but sharp, like the moment before a storm breaks. She quickly stepped between them, smiling tightly. “Okay! So, I see you two are… acquainted. That’s great. Really great. But, uh, we were just about to start the tour, so—”

“I wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” Alastor said, bowing low with a mock flourish. “Please. Show our mysterious benefactor around.”

His smile sharpened as he straightened. He vanished into the hall, a trail of static humming in his wake. You turned to Charlie, expression once again composed. “I’m beginning to like this place already.”

_______________________

The muffled sound of their conversation faded as they moved deeper into the hotel. Back in the lobby, silence lingered for a beat longer than it should have. “Okay, what the hell just happened?” Angel Dust muttered, eyes still fixed on the empty hallway. “Did I just watch two Overlords flirt or declare war?”

Niffty popped her head up from behind a nearby couch she had been scrubbing furiously just moments earlier. “I don’t think that was flirting,” she said, blinking. “The pretty lady looked ready to slit Alastor’s throat.”

Husk, who had been quietly nursing something strong in a stained glass, glanced up with a grunt. “She’s trouble. Big kind.”

Angel leaned forward, expression sharpening. “So what’s the play? She’s classy, scary, the whole femme fatale thing. But what’s she doing here? Nobody drops here for charity.”

“She said she was a patron,” Niffty raised her hand as if answering a teacher.

“Right,” Angel said, eyes narrowing. “Because Overlords are always just feeling generous. I give it three days before something explodes.”

“Three?” Husk scoffed. “You’re generous.”

“I try.”

Charlie was still speaking. You nodded absently, gaze roving past half-cleaned windows and dusty corners. Then Charlie’s face lit up, brighter than you'd seen. “Dad!”

The word rang out like a bell. Your heartbeat spiked. Finally.

Lucifer.

Your mind spiralled inward like a lock turning with a perfect key. This was why you’d come. You had imagined this more times than you could count. But what you got was—

“Mmnhhgh…”

Lucifer shuffled out of a side hallway, yawning like he was just roused from a hangover. His hair was tousled in wild blond tufts, sticking up in odd angles like he’d fought a pillow and lost. He wore a duck-print loose shirt with matching pyjama pants. In one hand was a coffee mug that read, Duck Daddy .

He blinked blearily at Charlie. “Did someone say breakfast?” he mumbled.

Lucifer raised the mug to his lips and took a long, grating sip.

You stood still, frozen with a poise born of sheer will. Internally, something in you reeled. Your anticipation twisted like a knife. This was him ?

Charlie gestured between them eagerly. “Dad, this is _________, And she wants to help the hotel!”

This... this was it?

He hadn’t even looked at you properly. You’d heard rumours, of course. That it was Lucifer who allowed the extermination of sinners, but you’d chosen to find an excuse for it, that maybe he was pressured or something more was at play. But now that you’d seen him, you knew it in your bones that he didn’t care.

And you hated him for it.

You’d imagined yourself by his side. Your divine purpose. But he was just a man. It wasn’t that you had expected perfection , no. But this disinterest, this casual disregard, made you feel as though staring at a faded replica.

“Forgive me,” you said quietly. “Would you mind if I stepped out? I just need a moment. Alone.”

Charlie blinked. “Oh—of course! Um, do you want someone to—?”

“No. Thank you.” You tried not to run away.

“Did I say something?” Lucifer asked, scratching his head.

Charlie frowned. “No… it wasn’t that. She looked… upset. Disappointed.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t even introduced himself properly. Just… waddled in like a fool.

He let out a long breath through his nose and rubbed a hand over his face. Here he was again. Upsetting Charlie’s first patron. Making a bad impression. Failing, once more, to be the Lucifer Morningstar that anyone expected.

He had promised himself that he would help Charlie now that he was staying with her. But it was easier said than done. He couldn’t find the motivation to wake up from the bed, or create anything new and though he wanted to help his daughter, the idea of redeeming sinners was still absurd to him…

You had looked at him . Seen him and left. He let out a slow, humourless breath. Why did it sting? He hadn’t even said anything. His mind spiralled inward, dark and familiar. The voice was always waiting there. They always leave, eventually.

He hadn’t even wanted to come down this morning. But Charlie had asked. Come down, Dad. Say hello. Try.

He was always trying, wasn’t he? Trying to believe in her dream. Trying to support her. Trying to pretend he still had the spark she thought was buried.

But in truth? He believed in his daughter, of course. But these sinners ? He had fought and pleaded for them. For their right to choose. To create. To love freely whoever they chose.

And they spat in that freedom. They killed and lied and committed unspeakable acts. Turned free will into rot. He was stuck in a cage of his own making, watching them ruin everything all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Both Lucifer and Reader are going to work through their shit, trust me.

I’ve researched satanism to the best of my ability, and if you want to read more on it, read here.

Inspired by this post by dear @atlantis-just-drowned

On my ao3 as well ☺️

Do leave likes and comments, cuz it fuels my soul to write more and cuz I've praise kink like everyone else

Do let me know if you wanna be tagged!!

Also thank you for 200 followers!! It makes me overjoyed!

Next>>>

265 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 10 months ago

Note

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, not bothering to glance up from his phone when he walks in. That look—so cold, dismissive—always sets something off in Rafe.

His father’s eyes stay locked on the screen like the phone’s more of a son than he ever was.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, only sighs as if Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders.

“Your mother called today.”

He doesn’t have to ask which mother, Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom, who left.

His brain malfunctions. Static white noise, then, a flood. No rhythm, just shit pouring in. Why now? What did she say? Is she sick? Dead? Alive? Drunk? Remarried?

The name mom tries to form in his mouth and dies halfway out, too human. That’s not what she is in this house.

“What’d she want?”

Did she ask about me?

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. There's pressure behind his eyes, no tears—he doesn’t feel sad.

She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? It doesn’t matter, it's insulting. She always pulled this shit.

“No. I’m not doing this again.”

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” That all familiar burn expands in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

God forbid she dial his number and hear what he really thinks.

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that sternest in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a kid who’s stepped out of line.

“She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” Rafe lets out a disbelieving bitter laugh, “She fucking left us. She’s not my mother."

Ward rises from his seat. “Watch your mouth.”

There it is, the typical shutdown, respect was ever earned in this house, not demanded. Of course Ward defends her, they're not to different after all and it's easier than facing what she did.

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, voice tearing straight from the pits of his personal hell. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored. And you—you didn’t do shit! You let it happen, over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

No, it's not.

“You gonna defend her? That’s what this is? You gonna act like she didn’t walk out on your kids and you didn’t stand there doin' nothing?"

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, louder now, the mask slipping. “Grow up. She left. That’s it. You’re still here crying about it, grow up."

Rafe's heart is beating inside his skull. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him.

"You don't get it. You never did. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing."

His mind is spinning, flashing back to the nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day.

“I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying?” Rafe gris out, low and brutal. “Trying?”

All those years of broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the fuck he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking normal family reunion.

“I don’t care what you think,” Ward says sharply. “You’re going to see her. That’s final.”

“I don’t care what you think, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No fucking way.” He growls, chest rising, holding back a scream. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into. You’re no better than she is,” he spits.

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father."

Ward’s jaw tightens, that danger behind his eyes burning full. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe snarls. “You want me to act like a man? Then fucking hear it. You didn’t protect me. You watched it all go to hell and let me take the fall for everything.”

“You were the problem,” Ward barks, venom surfacing. “She didn’t know how to handle you. Neither did I. You were a disaster—you did that. Not her.”

Rafe laughs but something just died inside him.

“That’s real fucking funny, coming from the guy who was never around enough to know who the fuck I was. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

“This isn’t about you. Sarah wants to see her. Weezie deserves to have a mother.”

Rafe shakes his head, mouth twisted in incredulity. “You think that makes it better? Using them makes this right?”

“Grow the fuck up, Rafe. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the intensive work he's put in, what he clawed through to get clean, the shit he's tried to fix, it's slipping right through his fingers.

He can’t be here, not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. Door slams. Feet moving. No plan, only that itch under his skin is back—the one he thought was gone, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking when he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. At this point, he's not getting enough air in his lungs. His thoughts are overlapping, crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

His fingers go numb on the wheel. Jaw clenched so tight his molars ache. His whole body’s tensed preparing for another hit. Ward's voice, telling him he’s the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind:

He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… This isdangerous, the before. Before you, clarity and peace. He can’t let you see him like this, the old Rafe who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, where he swore he’d never go again. Unfortunaly, right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His body's buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, he needs it to stop on way or another.

So he turns the key, letting instinct and bad decisions take over. There’s a place his body remembers even if his mind’s screaming at him to turn back.

Rafe knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years.

He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping from inside. Nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and liquor in the air. Time never moved here.

He sits there for a second, engine ticking, heart pounding, fists locked in his lap. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that.

Doesn’t matter.

Rafe steps out, heading into his grave with his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the dirt, trying to stay numb. When he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a truck, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club,” he drawls, exhaling smoke. This is funny to him, a joke. “Didn’t expect to see your rich ass again. Thought you traded this dump for something shinier. Where's your pretty little girlfriend?”

He flinches when Barry mentions you. But he can’t walk out now, he’s already here. It’s already happening.

“I need something,” he mumbles, shame burning up his eyes but he doesn’t look away, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises a brow, that smug twitch in his face. “Yeah? You always do. What is it this time—daddy made you cry again?”

Rafe’s teeth grind. “Just give it to me.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor, watching him like an animal in a cage.

“You sure?” he says slowly, dragging out every syllable, some fucked up moral test. “You’re about to piss all that clean time down the drain? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I said,” Rafe breathes, voice shaky, “give it to me.”

There’s a pause, Barry's sizing him up.

Then, with a shrug he pretends it's out of his hands and he's doing Rafe a favor. He gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing, what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of him.

Bag hits the table. Cash. Grab. Move. All muscle memory.

“Knock yourself out.”

Rafe's already digging in, fingers acting on autopilot as he shoves another roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless, it's going to hurt you. But he needs to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line, it burns like ice. And then—nothing.

You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch.

The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed.

The day’s been dragging—Hell day. Work was loud and messy and endless and all you’ve wanted—all day—was to hear from him.

You haven’t gottena text from him since this morning, which would be fine. It should be fine. He’s busy. You’re busy. But it isn’t.

There’s this nagging feeling in your chest, something’s off.

“Hey!”

Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

Your heart drops before you understand what that means. You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

No. No. No.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister nods, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

You know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin.

Rafe talked about Barry, sometimes. He confied in you that when things were bad—really bad—Barry was the one who kept him hooked, pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addicatio.

Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day.

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Now she looks up. “Oh. Shit. You think—?”

“I don’t know,” you lie. You do. You just don’t want to say it out loud.

You pull out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages, scrolling through the last texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, “Maybe he was stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

She doesn’t finish her train of thought and you don’t need her to. You know what it mean, feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place, using—And he didn’t come to you.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go.”

Your voice cracks on the last word but you’re already moving, keys in hand.

"Wait—what? Where are you going?”

“I need to find Rafe.”

She steps toward you, alarmed now. “Is it really that serious?"

“If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything—the ugly details about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And yet, he didn’t call you. Didn’t text or let you help.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey. He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again.

Something must’ve happened.

Why didn’t he tell you? The thought is suffocating and recurring.

You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this…This is worse.

You don’t remember the red lights or the turns.

It had to be Ward.

His always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it fucks with him in ways you're still trying to understand.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone. And now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to Barry’s place, stomach churning. Rafe’s truck is parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat.

He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there trying to calm down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run to Barry’s front door. You know this place, the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here back when Barry’s dad still ran the business.

You don’t bother knocking. You push the door open.

Barry’s on the couch, looking up when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, crossing the room. Your eyes are locked on Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, slurring. His hand goes to his hair, trembling, and he can’t meet your eyes. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him.

His clothes are disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

“I d-didn’t... didn’ wanna...” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Didn’ want you t’see me like... like this,” he slurs, voice scratchy and low. He finally meets your eyes for a second before dropping his gaze again. “Didn’ want you thinkin’ I was still..."

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you cut in softly, even though right now, he looks so like him. “But you’re acting like him.”

is head drops. Shoulders sag. “Didn’ know... wha’ else t’do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice cracks. “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—”

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” you snap, glaring at Barry. Then softer, back to Rafe, “You always come to me. Why’d you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance around, disgusted. “You’re better than this. Come on. Get in the car. We’ll figure it out.”

Rafe shakes his head slowly, blinking hard, trying to clear the fog. “C-Can’t... can’t do this right now.”

“Yes you can. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face, enjoying every second of your heartbreak.

"Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?”

“Jus’... too much,” he breathes. “Hurts too much. I—” His voice breaks. “Didn’ wanna you t’see... me like this.”

“Then get in the car,” you plead. “We can figure it out together.”

He sways again, holding onto the couch. “I... I can’t,” he whispers so quietly you barely hear it.

It pushes something inside you.

You'll regret it later. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better.

"You can either get in the car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll... you’ll leave?” he mumbles, squinting like it’s taking all the effort in the world just to stay present. “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves...right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix it for him. He has to make that choice willingly.

“I love you, but I won't watch you destroy yourself.”

You think you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness in his pupils. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor, making his decision.

“I... I don’ wanna hurt you,” The words are sticky, they’re fighting to come out. “I dunno how t’stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that.

“Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you don’t know where this ends for him.

He’s stuck—frozen in place and time, trapped by whatever war is raging in his head. And you realize, as much as it kills you, no matter how deep your love runs, you can’t force him to choose you.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe lifts his head, eyes red and glassy. For a second, hope blooms pitifully in your chest. Maybe he’ll say something—anything—that makes this okay.

Except, he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a thin line.

You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, knowing that if you do, you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that.

As you get into your car, the sobs come anyway. You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you.

Rafe doesn’t register the sound of the door slamming behind you.

To him, he's watching everything happen from somewhere far away, body senseless. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never hit him, only floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached.

The room is spinning a faster, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows it happened, but it doesn’t mean anything to him right now. He can’t process it in this state, when the drugs are still in his system, making it seem like he's underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, he doesn’t hear him either, the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, but inside? He's as empty as he gets.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here when he’s this far gone, but the light changes through the window, it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes, only darkness. He did too many lines.

At some point, Rafe wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights over two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to recall where the fuckl he is.

It takes a second for everything to catch up.

To realize he’s at Barry’s.

It hits him all at once. You. You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

A sick, sinking feeling crawls up his throat. He sits up too fast, nearly thowing up in the process. Fuck. He drags a hand over his face, his thoughts still sluggish. Y

ou left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t try to.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can dwell about it, Barry saunters in, a easy-going grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a mocking laugh.

“Good mornin'," Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. But Barry keeps going.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” He continues, “Girls like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough to move, he would’ve pummeled that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next.

Who the fuck did he think he was? He knows Barry’s trying to get under his skin, it’s working. He feels sick.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “You’re back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe.

He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be. Now he’s right back where he started. He let you see it.

He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand.

Barry watches him, that same shit eating smile never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him.

He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, stumbling toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him.

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, teeth grinding together. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does. He walks away, out of the door, into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.

Fourteen endless days of silence. Your messages unanswered and unread. You told him you were leaving, but it wasn’t a threat or a goodbye. You only wanted him to choose himself.

You can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Rafe's everywhere and nowhere all at once. He’s in the spaces he used to fill, in the empty side of your bed, in the mirror when your face crumples before you can stop it.

You ache with it, not figuratively. It’s a dull, consuming throb behind your ribs that refuses to let you breathe.

You think about where he might be. If he’s safe. If he’s even conscious. If you still cross his mind—or if he’s already let go.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

You’ve haven't been doing well at work. When you try to concentrate, a memory of him sneaks in—wild-eyed, unreachable—and your hands start shaking. Twice you’ve called in sick just to lie in bed and cry until your chest physically hurts. It’s pathetic.

You reached out to Sarah a few times. She was trying to be honest, but it didn’t help. “He’s gone off the grid,” she said a week ago. “Not talking to anyone."

That was a week ago.

Here you are—perched on your bed, phone in hand, debating whether to try again. One more message or one last call, it can’t end like this. Rafe's the love of your life. That hasn’t changed.

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach knots. “Yeah. Why? What happened?”

You hear her inhale shakily. “It’s Rafe. He’s—fuck, it’s bad. Really bad.”

“What do you mean bad? What happened?”

“Dad’s calling his private doctor,” she says, her voice beginning to crack. “He thinks he might OD.”

You go cold.

“The doc's not answering,” she rushes on, “Dad’s freaking out. Rafe’s been using nonstop—he’s not making sense anymore. I didn’t know who else to call. I thought maybe if you—"

"I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already on your feet.

You hang up and bolt out the door, keys in hand, not fully aware of the motion. The drive to Tannyhill is a quick. You can’t feel your hands on the wheel. You can’t hear the road beneath your tires.

If Sarah is calling you…it's bad.

You’re already sprinting up the steps when the door swings open.

The house is quiet.

Sarah’s by the stairs, face blotchy and eyes bloodshot. She nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, eyes half-open but glazed over, he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?”

Nothing.

No flicker of recognition. He’s not seeing you—he’s not seeing anything.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, “He won’t talk to us."

You drop to your knees beside him, swallowing back the panic, fingers brushing his arm.

“Rafe,” you breathe. “It’s me. I’m here, okay? Look at me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, his eyes flick to yours—but they’re vacant, it's like looking into someone else’s body. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, his voice a angry hum in the background.

His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, face puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this.

After what feels like an eternity, the doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. He's already kneeling beside Rafe, muttering instructions, checking his pulse, prying his eyes open.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

The paramedic starts unpacking equipment, slipping an oxygen mask over Rafe’s face as they move with urgency. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward ends his call and stands there, watching as they hook Rafe up to monitors and prep him for transport.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asks, voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We’re stabilizing him now, but if this had gone on much longer… we’d be having a very different conversation.”

You're going to be sick.

They move fast, lifting him onto the stretcher. His limbs dangle uselessly. His body looks small, somehow. Beaten.

Ward steps forward, watching his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” he says eventually. “Should’ve stopped it. This is on me.”

You feel something snap inside of you.

“I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything, only stands there like a fucking idiot.

Sarah’s beside you now, her hand a small pressure on your arm. “Come on,” she whispers. “We need to go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You and Sarah sit in the car, neither of you speaking. You watch the ambulance disappear down the driveway, sirens off.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits.

You shut your eyes. “Me too.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe.

At the hospital, everything moves in slow motion. You’re ushered through paperwork, redirected by nurses, given vague updates. Eventually, you end up in a waiting room—those hideous, rigid chairs that feel like they were made for purgatory.

Minutes drag by like hours. You scroll through your phone without seeing it. Sarah bites her lip raw, blinking too fast. Every time you close your eyes, all you see is him—slumped, slipping away. After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time.

The doctor looks exhausted, his face lined like he’s delivered this kind of news too many times already today.

“We got to him in time,” he says, voice low. “He was close. Closer than I’m comfortable with. But he’s stable now. We’ll keep him under for at least twenty-four hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, it shudders on the way out, not doing much to ease the knot in your chest.

Sarah’s already moving when the doctor finishes speaking. She doesn’t ask where his room is—she doesn’t need to. She has to see him. You don’t follow. Your legs feel like they’ve turned to stone. If you try to stand, you’ll collapse.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you’re not sure you can stomach it—seeing him like that again. You've been walking a tightrope for weeks, bracing for a call like this.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here, close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay.

Rafe's alive, that’s enough for now.

You leave the hospital, but the image of him doesn't leave you.

You come back the next morning.

Just outside his room makes your stomach churn. You grip the handle, remind yourself you have to go in, he’s still here, he needs you.

He’s awake.

Propped up by the pillows, pale and worn down to the bone, but his eyes find you the second you step through the door. It’s like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

His eyes widen faintly. “You came.”

You take a cautious step closer. “Of course I came, Rafe. Where else would I be?”

He’s genuinely shocked, he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm.

“Sarah called me. She didn’t know what to do.”

His jaw tightens. “She shouldn’t have.”

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, throat closing up, biting your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and fallin, you don't think he's going to answer at all—until he speaks.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart twists. You’ve already seen it. Every fractured, spiraling version of him—and you’re still here. Because you’ve seen it and you love him anyway.

Rafe shakes his head, his hands gripping the blanket.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step sit on bed, “Don’t say that,” you murmur, reaching for his hand. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. You link your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. The deep-rooted pain that calcifies in the bones and takes root in the places people don’t talk about.

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, trying to swallow the rest of his words, the ones he can't confess out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, “Baby, I know you’re hurting. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” You murmur into his shoulder, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

Rafe looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, he's waiting for you to walk out of that hospital room and never look back.

Instead, you squeeze his hand.

"I’m here because I love you."

“You shouldn’t.” he whispers.

You shake your head, leaning in, your hand resting on his cheek.

“But I do, Rafe. Together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

725 notes · View notes

echo-exco · 3 months ago

Note

With Damians recent developments towards wanting to maybe be a doctor, I think it could be interesting to see that dynamic with reader.

Where his hands are stained with blood, yours have only helped others. Maybe youre both volunteering at the same hospital, and the patients there flock to you like a flicker of hope in the darkness. The patients of Gotham are much more wary than anywhere else, so gaining their trust feels nigh impossible. Somehow, you've done it. Like second nature, like you haven't even noticed.

Something akin to envy might first spark in him, as a natural response, before relenting his pride and trying to learn what makes her "better" at this than him. Of course he wouldnt know she was a meta, but still.

Also you can totally ignore this your wonderful fic just had my mind spiralling lol

I LOVE THAT!! THAT’S A REALLY GOOD IDEA!!

But unfortunately, I don’t think we have something like that with Damian here yet… 😔 (or maybe we do, if my inner author feels motivated enough).

(Small warning for a long reply)

Damian and healer!reader’s relationship is already quite complicated on its own (with some one-sided, inexplicable hatred).

It’s not really a surprise though, considering healer!reader tends to be pretty “neutral” with almost all the Batfam members.

To be honest, I don’t think healer!reader could actually treat people in Gotham.

She does have pretty good and experienced medical knowledge, but she depends completely on her healing powers, which not only allow her to heal someone instantly but also make her feel “alive.”

Without her powers, even though she can try to help in conventional ways, healer!reader always feels like she might fail, that something could go wrong, and that fills her with anxiety.

Healer!reader is completely dependent on her power and validates herself through it, and since she’s currently unable to use it in Gotham… well…

Besides that, healer!reader would need Bruce’s permission—or a doctor’s—just to even think about using her experienced, non-basic medical knowledge.

A better example is when I mentioned Tim in the post: like I said there, healer!reader only did small things to help him deal with his discomfort.

She doesn’t consider that she used anything that required “master-level” knowledge… she just took care of Tim the way a (family) doctor should.

BUT if somehow she were to get permission and trust to use her healing powers on the patients in a Gotham hospital…

They wouldn’t even have the chance to decide whether they could trust her or not, because healer!reader’s abilities are extremely fast for a normal being.

In an earlier reply, I explained how I imagine healer!reader’s powers work: think of it as her using threads to “fix” her patients like they were broken dolls.

That said, the pain that comes after the instant healing is horrible (though it heavily depends on how bad the patient’s condition was before healer!reader treated them).

Earning the trust of the wounded in Gotham wouldn’t even be something healer!reader consciously seeks—it would just happen.

Maybe it’s because of the calmness she radiates, or because, unlike most people, she never shows disgust, fear, or resignation when facing an injury.

However, seeing such an indifferent expression on a child’s face in such a gruesome, chaotic scene full of injured people is unsettling.

Though it’s even worse to endure the pain after being healed, isn’t it?

That’s why I think, even if Damian wanted to learn from her, I’m not sure healer!reader could really teach him how to treat people, or even how to be a good doctor.

She herself never allowed her mind to approach healing in a traditional way, because her powers and skills are her refuge, her absolute security: she never fails at healing.

But that very gift also isolates her, because in Gotham, a place full of distrust and disdain toward most metahumans, revealing her ability would be a huge risk to her life.

I also think the same about how Damian would feel toward healer!reader because of her medical skills.

He might feel a mix of admiration, frustration, and envy, especially because, without knowing she’s a meta, he would desperately try to find a logical explanation for why she can do what others find almost impossible.

Why his seemingly weak and gentle sister has absurdly good medical knowledge…

That’s NOT right, she’s supposed to be normal… so why?

She’s supposed to be safe… why?

In short, the relationship between Damian and healer!reader would be complicated if we explored that aspect.

(Who knows? Maybe in a what if? if I get enough creativity!)

Awww! Thank you so much for your sweet words at the end, dear!

I’m really happy to know you like my writing, and I’m also sorry if this response was way too long!

#neglected reader #tw neglect #batsis!reader #yandere damian wayne #medic!reader #healer!reader #damian wayne x sister reader #platonic batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #batfamily x batsis!reader #platonic yandere #🌑 ; askme #٠࣪⭑ enigma #⟢🪻 hold on to reason (or fall for the illusion)

205 notes · View notes

sscieloz · 2 years ago

Note

You overhear Karina talking about how clingy you are and from then out started being distant and non-affectionate towards her and she eventually confronts you and asks why you keep pushing her away, to which you tell her

Over her

Yu Jimin x reader

Warnings: a little smut in the end (just a little). reader and yn don’t really talk abt it tbh. skipping meals (? idk how to word it better than this).

Word count: 5.4k

Notes: I’m alive!!! sorry for taking forever to answer 😔. I think your message got cut off? so I got a little creative, I hope you don’t mind :). If you do, I can still cut out a few things n stuff. anyways, merry early christmas ig ^^ ps: I also didn’t know if this was supposed to be smut, so I only wrote a little and in the end.

—

You’ve always been utterly, embarrassingly, completely enamored with your girlfriend. It was obvious to anyone who looked at you for even a single second; you would always be caught staring at Karina with loving eyes, often going out of your way to simply please and spoil her rotten, showering her with kisses and gifts. For you, it was physically impossible to be without her for too long. Her absence made your heart ache, almost as if there were something missing from you. It was difficult to go on with your routine if you didn’t have her by your side. You missed your late night talks, walks at the park, parking lot dates, eating too much junk food together… You missed her, truthfully. All of her.

Naturally, you understood her duties as an idol: being away for shows, events, and photoshoots were part of her life just as much as you were. However, you knew Karina’s time was precious and scarce— which was why, whenever she was back in Seoul, you tried to spend as much quality time together as possible.

Even now, as the group’s busy with their latest Mini Album’s promotions, you couldn’t help but to feel glistening with happiness to have the four girls back in Korea, regardless of them still being so occupied with fansigns, program attendances and rehearsals for their upcoming stages and festival performances. Having them in town gives you the opportunity to join them backstage, which you absolute love; whether it’s the artistic atmosphere, or being able to understand how this industry truly works, with all the engines running frantically in the girls’ background to ensure everything goes as planned… And, of course, getting to watch Karina perform and be the astonishing, all-rounder, talented version of herself was the best part of it all. Anytime you look at her through the big screens, you realize how lucky you truly are— to be able to see all sides of her. To witness how sweet, shy and caring she could also be, once the cameras were not around.

You loved her so much.

“Congratulations, girls! You absolutely nailed it!” You praise the four girls as soon as they leave the stage, breathless from performing at a University Festival. They all smile back, trying to recompose themselves as best as they can, the adrenaline from being on stage slowly running out. You wait for them to calm down, too, before reaching out to give your girlfriend a big hug, in hopes to express yourself through your touches. You mean to tell her how wonderful she had done, but she ends the hug quickly, although her smile still lingers.

“I’m all sweaty, Y/n.” She explains, which you nod and take a step back to give her space. The two of you walk side by side, towards the big dressing room. “I don’t want you to get dirty, too.”

You shrug, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling that stood on your heart, with the lack of her touches. You understood, though. Karina’s just taking care of you, like the sweet girlfriend she is. So you follow her, without complaints, even though all you want is to jump from excitement and tell her how perfectly she performed, setting the public on fire. Instead, you force yourself to stay still and calm down, laying with the others on the couch as you watch them change into normal clothes and relax.

The cafe’s atmosphere is cozy and calm, a much-needed contrast for the girls after a whole morning of practicing at the company. The place’s barely occupied— lunch break is nearly over for most of the workers— and the only sounds that can be heard are the wind’s peaceful breeze and the girl’s voices, engaged in a nonchalant gossip.

“I’m so hungry.” Winter complains, resting her head on Karina’s shoulder. You all chuckle at the sight; she’s too cute, even when she’s whiny.

“Me too.” You nod, and reach out for your girlfriend’s arm, tugging it slightly to steal her attention from Ning’s excited storytelling. It takes a few moments, but she finally hums, acknowledging you. “Love, do you think the food will take long? I need to use the restroom, but I’ll wait if it’s coming soon.”

Karina frowns, looking behind you for a few seconds. After examining the balcony, she seems to think otherwise. “It might take quite a while, still. We’ve ordered a lot, and we just got here, too. You’re safe to go.”

You nod as you get up and excuse yourself, leaving the girls to their own conversations. Their reserved table, set in a pretty well-hidden corner of the cafe, is the reason you’re able to observe their faces from afar, once you make your way back from the stalls. None of them notice your arrival, too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to your frame.

Giselle, Winter, and Ningning’s faces are uneasy as they listen to Karina’s rambling. Their fingers twitch on the table, and they shake their heads every once in a while, leaving you to wonder what’s gotten them so serious. Trying to understand the matter, you frown behind their backs, approaching the group in slow, unhurried steps.

“… She’s constantly all over me, too. I swear I don’t even have time to breathe without her on my skin, as if she has nothing else to do. It’s so fucking annoying, really. Like, you remember, right? And there was that time when we were all at the park and Y/n was just insufferab—.”

You decide not to eavesdrop on the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping your steps as light as you can, once you turn around and nearly run back to the restroom, ignoring the heavy pitch just forming in your stomach.

You only allow yourself to relax once you reassure your mind that none of them were aware of you listening to Karina’s harsh, hurtful words.

Instead, your hands go to your face, and you try to focus and take deep breaths to prevent the tears from coming. The moment they start, you know it’ll take long to stop. It was one of the things Karina always teased you about: how you’ve always been such a crybaby, drowning yourself in tears for absolutely anything.

Oh, Karina… how could she speak such things about you? You’ve always put on so much effort to be the best, supportive girlfriend you could, with extra care to respect your girlfriend’s boundaries and still express how much you loved her.

It hurt to know she found you annoying and clingy, specially since all you’ve ever meant was to reassure her of your love. Allowing your body to sink into the restroom’s floor, you reach to the ground, hugging your knees in hopes to feel some comfort.

Flashes pass through your mind like rockets, analyzing every single moment you’ve ever spent with Karina. Even if it was the last thing you wanted to do, your mind doesn’t seem to give you any relief, overthinking about each one of her touches, phrases, and actions towards you. Did she even love you? What was she doing with you, then, if she found your presence to be so suffocating? What have you done wrong?

Was your whole existence the problem? The way you acted, your bubbly personality…

The questions, now clearly etched on your brain, did nothing but deepen the lump in your throat, one that left saliva building up in your mouth, making it impossible to swallow. Even the simplest actions were difficult to be executed, just like it was when you were away from your girlfriend for too long.

Despite all, you couldn’t help but let a light chuckle, forcing yourself to get up and wash your face in the sink. You feel like you’re going to collapse if you stay in the cafe. No, that won’t do— you have to go home. Even if it means facing chaos herself.

And her friends, too. They must’ve been aware of Karina’s feelings towards you all along, yet they still let you smile and be all over like a fucking idiot.

You look up, trying not to ruin your mascara and risk having any of them finding out what you’ve just heard. Without rush, you force yourself to even your breathing, inhaling and exhaling in slow movements, focusing on your body’s movements instead of giving in to desperation.

You feel like you’re at the bottom pit, and it fucking sucked.

After minutes of calming yourself down, you dried the remaining tears and got up, sighing as you excited the bathroom. Your hands trailed the walls as you walked without rush, looking for something, anything to provide some strength. Eventually, the walls of the hallway gave way to the open area of the tables, making you gulp. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt too weak, almost as if you were going to pass out at any given moment. Your usual confidence was all gone, and you weren’t at all sure you’d manage to speak to them without stuttering or crying.

“Thank fucking God, Y/n. We thought you got kidnapped or something.” Winter was the first to say, giggling. Giselle and Ningning smiled too, mumbling how you must’ve gotten lost or thrown in a portal to another dimension, perhaps.

Karina nods. “You really took too long out there, Y/n. I almost went looking for you.” Even though her tone is light, your girlfriend’s smile fades once she takes a proper look at your face.

You try your best to smile back at her, hands going unconsciously to your arms, scratching them nervously. You’ve always liked to be the center of their attention; the little moments where they’d ask you for an opinion or actively listen to your rambling… you thrived on them. It felt like they were spoiling you, giving up one of the things they cherished the most to focus on you: their time. Even if just for a few seconds, the feeling of being observed by them brought you a strange feeling of being fulfilled, of being someone important.

“I actually need to go, now.” You mutter, grabbing your stuff whilst refusing to meet your girlfriend’s piercing gaze.

Karina’s already aware something is wrong, though. She knows your body, your expressions, your mannerisms… she’s more than capable of telling when you’re off, much to your discomfort.

“Is everything ok? What happened?” Her hands grab a hold of your elbow, and you nearly joint, throwing your phone and sweater in your purse as fast as you can, to escape from her fingers on you. Her touch hurts, electrocuting your skin as if she were a storm set on a windy, loud night. You couldn’t stand it.

“It’s just a family emergency, don’t worry.” You take a step back, with your wallet in hands to pay for your drink. Bowing slightly to acknowledge the pain you were bringing onto the conversation, you add. “Please keep up with your lunch. I’ll make sure to update you about it soon.”

Karina’s hands rest on top of yours, taking the card from between your fingers and back to the wallet.

“It’s ok, I’ll pay.” Her voice, calm and soothing, is much different from her previous, livid tone. She gives your hand a squeeze, getting up herself. “Do you want me to go with you? Manager unnie will understand.”

The girls nod, their faces also filled with worry. However, you dismiss your girlfriend, diverting your gaze to the ground as you inhale deeply. You’re unable to face her by any given means; you’d fall apart in front of them if you did as such. In fact, you find yourself unable to face any of them. They’ve made a fool out of you for too long, and that single thought is enough for bile to rest in your throat, threatening to spill. You can’t deal with that, not at the moment.

“I mean it: I’m sure I can handle it.” Your muscles tense, and you don’t even notice your body’s backward steps. It was clear you wanted to leave, which was mostly the reason they didn’t pressure further, watching as you hurriedly made our way out.

Karina’s eyes were the most trained, her mind racing with thoughts that left her wondering what had gotten you so shaken, visibly out of place. Clueless, she stared at your frame until you’ve reached the door. Only then, you returned her stare.

The watery look in your eyes is more than enough to make her shiver, gripping her chest to get rid of the heaviness that had installed in her heart. Everything was fine, Karina told herself. You’d soon deal with your incident, and be back by her side as fast as you could, as always.

With that in mind, she relaxes, turning her attention back to her friends’ conversation.

Karina doesn’t understand why your distance hurts so much. She should’ve been relieved: you’ve stopped spamming her phone with updates of your day, no longer sending thousands of pictures and videos of things that, according to you, reminded you of herself. She doesn’t have to deal with your constant neediness, nor does she have to reassure you that you were loved, and she missed you. It’s all she’s ever wanted— to not be disturbed at all, being able to focus on work and just have a good time, overall.

Instead, she feels awful; as if something’s missing. Everything feels wrong; she’s unable to concentrate at all, her skin itches and her thoughts constantly linger on you, wondering.

“Hey, Jimin unnie.” Ning looks up from the ground, stretching herself out on the floor. “Is Y/n coming soon? She always brings the best snacks.” Resting on the couch, Karina lets out a long sigh, looking at the clock displayed above the dance room’s door.

“She’s not stopping by to watch us today.” The oldest explains, shrugging. She tries as hard as she can not to sound affected by it. “It’s Nutcracker season. She’s rehearsing until late, most likely.”

“Most likely? Haven’t you talked to her today to know that?”

Giselle’s sharp tone hurt, specially since Karina’s phone was currently burning in her pocket, with a lot of unread messages she had sent you. Karina twists her fingers to prevent herself from putting her hands on her face, in a tired manner. “No, I haven’t. Like I said, she’s busy. We haven’t talked much since this morning.”

“Wow, this is serious, then.” Giselle’s lips turn into a smirk, as she brushes the sweat out of her face. “Y/n’s never missed a pre-comeback rehearsal of ours. Like, literally never. Not even if she had her own rehearsals to attend. Have you ever attended any of hers, by the way?”

Karina grits her teeth. She knows Giselle means well: she’s friends with you, and is simply curious. Knowing that doesn’t keep the girl from wanting to punch the Uchinaga for annoying her, though. With the engines running inside her head, Karina tries her best to focus on exhausting her body, in hopes of having the burning sensation ease her troubled mind. Still, she couldn’t help but constantly wonder what was going on in with you. Why were you suddenly so distant?

The questions clouded her head, making it difficult to focus on the choreography they were learning. It seems like she wasn’t making up stuff, after all: Giselle’s questions made it clear you were different, weirdly so.

Nodding, Karina added, “Yeah. It’s not like herself at all.”

Giselle meant to continue the conversation, but the dark look Karina shoots her is enough to get the Uchinaga to gulp, focusing back on her movements, along with the melody of their upcoming song. It was none of her business, anyway.

Once the girls make their way back to the dorms, Karina decides she’s had enough of whatever you were intending to do. She’d stop by and confront you, finally. It frustrated her, having to guess your feelings, specially since you’ve been dating for quite a while — now. But she’d do it, if you were so willing to be petty. She’d be the one to reach out first.

“Thank you, girls. I’ll see you in a bit. I won’t be late, promise.” Karina’s words reverberate through the car, as she waves goodbye to her friends.

Her three bandmates were, as always, more than quick to encourage her to reach out to you, after the distance between you lingered for weeks. Even though it would cost her hours she should be spending in the recording room, they’ve immediately told Karina to talk to you, urging to have both of you in good terms once again.

Ever since you’ve become a shell of the caring, sweet girlfriend you once were, Karina’s been jittery; she was easily irritated and often picked arguments over the simplest things. It was clear the situation was taking a toll on her, in ways she’d never admit. Karina would die before confessing how much she missed your voice, your care, your touches. She’d never admit it. After all, she did constantly complain about how clingy and annoying you were— it was only fair she lived up to her words.

With a sigh, the girl enters your Dance Studio, tugging at the tiny Christmas decorations that hang through the reception area, the doors, and the walls. She realizes she’s never actually been inside the massive building for more than three, maybe four times. Usually, Karina would just wait for you by the car, never bothering to get to know the place you spent the majority of your time, whenever you weren’t attending your classes. Karina mutters a curse under her breath, silently punishing herself for not paying enough attention to you, as she smiles at the receptionist and asks about your location.

“Second four, third door on the left. She’s booked up a private room for a few hours, but they should be near the end, now.” The woman told her, as Karina bowed her in recognition, making her way towards the elevator.

Once she’s walking through the hallways, a big, colored paper with numerous names catches her eyes, standing out in the sea of decorations and adornments. It’s a casting list, and Karina’s chest fills with pride as she reads your name: first in line, cast as the lead dancer. She vaguely remembers of one of your rambles months prior, the low tone of your voice exposing how ashamed you were to confess about your nervousness to audition. At that time, Karina had been so focused on her own stuff she barely gave your topics any attention at all, dismissing them with a few hums until you focused on her rants again.

Now, Karina desperately wished she had paid you more attention. She urged to be active in your life: to know what was happening in your routine, your troubles and whatever was making you happy at the moment. Filled with guilt, the dark-haired girl slides the door slowly, delighting herself in the sight of your perfectly arranged frame, stretching yourself by the bars.

“You haven’t told me you got cast as Clara.” She says, quietly, staring at how precise and eloquent your moves are, even though the music that comes from your phone is faint, nearly inaudible.

You take a look at your girlfriend through the mirrors, trying your best to look indifferent. In reality, the first thought you’ve had as soon as you got cast as the lead dancer for the company’s Winter play was to call her, screaming in excitement for accomplishing something you’ve wanted for so long. But her words were still livid on your mind—which is why you simply shrug, going on with your barre routine, back straightened and arms arched. Once again, it was difficult to act like her stare didn’t burn, consuming you completely, but you reverberated through it.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I only got it because Seowon unnie is injured, anyway. She didn’t even audition.”

“I see.” Karina says. Her eyes examine your body so intensely you gulp, reaching out for your water bottle. She follows your every move, like a fox out for a hunt. “Do you want to have lunch? We can finally have some time for us, then. You’ve been so busy.” Her tone is sarcastic, and you know she’s fully aware of the distance you’ve been putting on between them. Her message is clear: she’s done playing and waiting for you to gather your thoughts and come back to her on your own, as you’d usually do whenever you argued.

Only you weren’t backing up or apologizing, this time.

“I can’t put on weight. I have fittings in 3 days.” Karina frowns, approaching until you were unable to continue your moves.

She looks at your body, eyes searching for any flaws with such hunger, you instantly feel heat invading your cheeks.

“You’re good.” Leaving no space for denial, she turns around and holds the door open, motioning for you to go first. “Now, let’s have lunch.”

“Is it something with your family?” Karina is the first to break the awkward silence that lingers on the lunch table, in hopes to stir anything inside you to make you stop playing with your salad and look at her face. It works: you look up, genuinely confused.

“What? No, they’re good.” You tuck your hair behind your ears, clearly not enjoying the date. If anything, your moves are mechanic, hesitant.

If it were any other day, you’d be talking until you had to grasp for air, filling Karina in every detail of your life for the second or third time, probably. She thinks she’ll go insane at the sight of you, sitting idle on the desk, with big, sad eyes.

“Good. It’s good they’re all well and healthy.” She says, then adds, lifting her brows. Even though she tries not to express how irritated she is by the situation, Karina’s not good at hiding her expressions. “What is wrong? You’re clearly different, but keep acting petty and not telling me what it is.”

Your mouth opens in a perfect “O” as the words leave your girlfriend’s mouth. Does she think you’re that immature? She must simply not care about her own words, then. You’re sure of it. “I’m not fucking petty.”

Karina stares at your arms, tightly crossed against your chest, and at your pout. She almost laughs, thinking about how adorable the sight is, but the fire in your eyes reminds her of the current situation. She leans back on the chair, motioning for you to do something. Anything.

“Talk, then.”

She infuriates you. Just sitting in front of you, so sure she’s done nothing wrong, as if you’re the only one to blame.

“You’re really clueless, aren’t you?” It takes some deep breaths to not point a finger at her, so you just let out a dry laugh. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

“What do you mean by that?” Once again, she looks genuinely confused. Before you get to answer, thought, Karina’s phone rings. She picks up immediately, not at all pleased with how you rolled your eyes at the interruption. It’s Aeri, calling to say Bada had already arrived, and she’s the only one missing for them to start cleaning the choreo.

You get up before she has the chance to say anything, with a fake smile as you wait for her to call the waiter and pay for your date.

“I have to go, too.” You say, walking up slightly faster than her. When it’s time for you to actually part ways, though, you stop, unsure of what to do. You would rather not touch her; it still hurts, and part of you was indeed petty enough to deprive her of your touch, after her complaints.

Karina beats you to it, however. Before you register, she seals your lips in a delicate kiss, one you can’t help but melt on.

“See you soon, Y/n. I love you.” She says, before entering her company’s car and being driven away. She doesn’t wait for you to acknowledge the situation, and you’re happy for that.

Huffing in frustration, you make your way back towards your studio, in hopes to keep your strained relationship out of your mind, even if just for a few hours.

As much as Karina thinks it through, she can’t fantom where she’s gone wrong. You’ve just distanced yourself so suddenly, and it has left a hole in her heart, along with a lingering itch on her skin that makes her want to scratch her arms until they’re red and sore. She’s busy, and she knows you’re busy, too, but she’s had enough of this. She misses you, and she hates herself for complaining about how you’ve always shown her nothing but love. She took it for granted before, but she won’t anymore.

Her palms are slippery as she knocks on the dressing room’s door, not waiting much until she’s given permission to enter. She’s not surprised to find you alone— your friends told her you were usually the last one to change into normal clothes, as crowded spaces made you breathless and anxious. She is, though, surprised to find you looking down at your hands, so small and filled with sorrow, despite having performed flawlessly not even an hour ago.

You’re surrounded by stuffed animals, letters, and gifts from your friends and family, yet it still seems so… empty. And you know what’s lacking.

The girl standing by the door knows it, too.

“You looked beautiful on the stage tonight.” Karina says, carefully placing the huge bouquet she bought you on the empty part of the table, the one your hands rest. “As always. My beauty.”

You nod, gripping your chair as you try to ground yourself. Even your body navigated towards her; it was hard not to run into her arms and forget how hurt you were.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You truly didn’t, even though you had sent invites to her and the girls, they were always so busy— they’ve never attended, before.

It’s Karina’s turn to be hesitant — now. Trapping her hands in her pockets, she adds. “I don’t want to be absent from your life anymore.” The statement, all you’ve wanted to hear for so, so long, makes your heart nearly joint. You try to speak, but she’s still immersed in her words. “I miss you. And I have no fucking clue of why you’ve been so distant lately, but I miss your laugh, your touches—fuck, I miss everything about you. I know I’ve been so fucking selfish, and I’ve never realized you were the only one making efforts for us for so long.” You’re still looking at her through the mirror when she places her head on your shoulders, hands playing with your leotard’s thin strap to have something to occupy herself with. “I’m sorry.”

You gulp, looking at the beautiful flowers she got you. Being without Karina had turned you into a mess, but you still feel just as uneasy in her presence. No matter how much you try, you can’t seem to forget her words. How irritated she sounded, at the time, as if you were such a bother.

Your girlfriend was still waiting for her answer, so you take some flowers into your hands, as you ask, hesitant. “Don’t I suffocate you? I’m too much, I guess.”

Karina shakes her head. “Of course not. Where’d you get that from?” Her hands move to your waist, subtly, her light fingers barely noticeable as they brush your covered skin.

“You can stop lying, you know. Just tell me if you do.” Your voice cracks, and it’s enough for Karina to realize how hurt you truly were, by the affirmation.

It comes to her, then, that you weren’t being petty, all over the past weeks. You were just hurt, and needed some time. She feels guilty for being the reason for such feelings.

Hugging you with a strong grip, she decides to be honest. “There was a time… where I felt like it, for a bit. I was overworked, and annoyed at everything. But then you vanished, and… it felt like there was something missing, I guess.”

Her face is all red from the confession, making you smile. It’s a rare occurrence, for Karina to talk about her feelings, and even more for her to confess anything. It’s the real proof she missed you; the girl’s willingness to be vulnerable, even if for a small moment.

You missed her so, so much. As always you’re the first to give in, no longer fighting the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to distance yourself and leave Karina.

“Let’s go home, ‘Jiminie.” You murmur, humming as you feel her hands all over your body, groping and twisting your skin, touch starved for anything you could provide. You whine, looking at her through her lashes. In this love bubble, your drunken state is enough for Karina to kiss you, her sweet taste marked with hunger.

“I don’t want to wait, though. I’ve missed you for too long.” She looks at you dead serious, adding, “Far too long.”

You nod, a moan escaping your mouth when Karina pushes all the makeup and the gifts onto the ground, her lithe hands gripping your thighs and urging you up on the vanity with ease. Once again, her fingers try to get through your leotard, huffing when she’s met with tights instead of bare skin.

You grab her wrists, giggling at her urgent moves. “Don’t.” You warn, turning your head when Karina meets your lips for another breathless, hungry kiss. Her mouth meets the corner of yours, instead. You’d forgotten how much you loved to tease her. “I have to perform tomorrow, and for weeks after that. Don’t ruin them.”

She retreats completely, then. Stepping back, she places her hands up, following your demands. Her body language is relaxed, but her voice is strained, stating how she truly feels. “You better take them off — now. And give me a show.”

You roll your eyes at the lack of sweetness, but another sharp look from Karina and you’re quick to do as told. Her attention is solely on you, admiring your precise moves. You’re just as graceful and beautiful as when you went on stage, and Karina drinks on the vision.

Without rush, you unbutton your costume until it falls from your body, lifting yourself up to let the fabric dangle on the ground. Your body is exposed to your girlfriend’s touch. You’re drenched, desperate to have her after so long apart. You can feel the heat on your skin, as you reach out to have her close once again. It lingers, only deepening with the hungry, messy kiss you and Karina share. Her hands meet your neck, and you gasp the moment you feel her fingers blocking your airways. The dizziness, along with her wet mouth on your chin, then marking your neck as she has her share of you, just as starved. You’re too light-headed to complain about the bruises, being so quick to turn into a moaning, breathless mess.

“I missed you t-too much.” You murmur, drawing your head back as she licks her way down on your body. You watch, starstruck, as she falls down on her knees, hands spreading your thighs with ease.

You take a hold of her long, dark hair, but don’t motion to force your girlfriend’s face into your cunt— you know better than that. Instead, you wait, eagerly, as she parts your folds. Her other hand comes to collect your juices, proving on your sweetness.

“I’m obsessed with you.” She mutters, breath hot on your cunt. Her eyes meet yours, and she’s just as breathless. “Fucking obsessed. Do you understand? This is all mine.”

Without a warning, she licks a big stripe of your pussy, her nose bumping onto your clit without much pressure. The action, though not rough, is more than enough to have lewd, loud sounds come out of your mouth. The only thing on your mind is your girlfriend. Her touches and the pleasure she was always so eager to give you.

“I’ll worship you because you’re mine.”

Perhaps your relationship was built on empty promises. But as for the moment, the only thing that matters is Karina’s hot, warm breath on your skin, and how right it feels.

#sol writes #sol’s works #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin smut #karina aespa smut #karina x reader #karina smut #karina aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa smut #aespa x reader #aespa x yn #aespa x you #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #kpop x reader

2K notes · View notes

grudgecollector · 5 months ago

Note

hii dear, you think you could write something with daryl and reader who has a really curly and volumous hair and one day daryl get home and see her straightening a few parts of her hair and he gets sad cause he really likes her curly hair and thinks that she is gonna straighten all of it, but in reality she is just doing that for a hairstyle that wanted to try, sorry if its sound silly but i never see something for curly haired girlies😔

Curled Around You | Daryl Dixon x Reader

Words: 2k

Tags: Season 2 Daryl, not proofread before uploading (sorry), slight angst but not really, fluff.

A/N: Hai nonny, thank you so much for your request. I had a lot of fun writing this, and honestly I'm surprised I was able to crank it out as quickly as I did.

And it doesn't sound silly at all! Everyone deserves to be able to read stories where you can immerse yourself, and that's what I'm here to do as a writer. I hope this story lives up to your expectations 💖

I decided to do season 2 Daryl because I'm still on my rewatch after almost eight years of not picking the show back up (it's Negan's fault). Hence why this won't take place in Alexandria, cause I don't remember any of the people from that place etc etc.

This went a little bit off from the initial requests path in order to pad it with a small plot, but still has the idea in mind.

Also I was not expecting this to be as long as it turned out to be. Post apocalyptic settings really get my gears turning, I guess.

The inside of Hershel’s bathroom was a little stuffy, even with the door open. You were so used to open spaces after all these months on the road, so used to it that now the closed off room made you feel claustrophobic. But you knew there was a sense of safety you couldn’t take for granted.

Hershel had been kind enough to take in your group. Permitting a temporary stay on his beautiful farm while Carl recovered from his gunshot wound. It was a tragedy blanketed by a miracle. Plus it gave everyone more time to scout the surrounding areas for Carol’s lost daughter, Sophia.

The Greene family was kind, humble, a man taking care of his family. You felt drawn to them, especially after a particularly nice conversation you had with Maggie. She had asked you about your relationship with the group, more particularly Daryl Dixon.

The man you had stuck beside ever since he found you inside that convenient store. You were surrounded by dozens of biters. You didn’t think you would make it out alive. This was just a few weeks after everything fell. And not long after Daryl, Merle, and you found a group of survivors camped out around an RV.

The both of you were practically stuck together ever since, your tent always next to his, then when your tent got badly damaged during a storm you had moved into his. He tried to keep his distance at first, practically pressing his body up against the flimsy fabric wall. You didn’t push him, not wanting to breach some unspoken boundary he had set up.

“Aren’t you scared?” Maggie had asked during your conversation, “Of losing him?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said no.” You said quietly, head bowed down as the mere thought of him being bit graced your mind.

It sickened you in all honesty, even if you had only known him for just a few months, you cared for him deeply. That much was obvious with how you had freaked out on Andrea for almost killing him. You still felt ashamed of your outburst, but you were terrified. If she had just been a better shot at that moment, Daryl would be dead.

The hair straightener in your hand sizzled quietly as you slowly brought it down another small chunk of your usually curly hair. You looked at your hair with a small huff, hoping that it would stay straight for at least a few hours. With this humidity, though, you knew that wasn’t likely, but you still wanted to try.

You were so busy fiddling with your hair that you almost missed the sound of footsteps coming up to the door. Dazzling blue eyes met yours in the mirror, Daryl raised an eyebrow as he watched you. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching your movements carefully as you went to pick up the straightener again.

"You ain't doing that to your whole head, are you?" He asked gruffly.

“Would it make you sad if I did?” You teased, smirking a little as he let out a scoff.

He shook his head and looked down at his boots for just a second, “Just like the curls is all. It’s pretty on you.” He cleared his throat suddenly.

He looked at the back of your head instead of meeting your eyes in the mirror again, nervously chewing on the inside of his lip. Daryl always had a funny way of carrying himself around you, at some points he almost seemed timid.

You suspected the thought of intimacy scared him, and you couldn’t blame him. Seeing how his brother and him interacted, you assumed he probably didn’t have much time in his life for romance. He already had enough to deal with when it came to blood, why throw another thing into that messed up mixing pot?

“You don’t gotta worry about it, I’m just testing somethin’ out.” You smiled at him sweetly.

“A’right.” He nodded, pushing himself off of the door frame.

You turned towards the man a little more, “Did you need somethin’, Daryl?” Your voice was soft as you spoke, hand coming down to rest on your hip.

“Rick just told me you’d be here. Thought I’d come check on you.” He swayed a little, “And I found somethin’ for you on my run.”

That perked you up a little, intrigued at what he could have possibly found. It could be anything when it came to him, he always had a knack for surprising you. Gifting you things that reminded him of you. The last time it was a small porcelain cat, impractical in the world you lived in now, but cherished by you nonetheless.

Daryl didn’t give you time to reply before he started walking back towards the living room. His boots echoing through the empty house, followed by the creaking of the screen door that leads to the porch.

You were quick to finish with your hair, tying it up to match the picture in a magazine you found inside an abandoned salon. You glanced down at the picture sitting on the counter, then back up to the mirror with a shrug.

“Close enough.” You muttered before unplugging the straightener.

During the end of the world you figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least try and experiment. There were no bystanders to be insecure about anymore, and you doubt the group would so much as try and put you down for doing something so harmless.

“Well, look at you.” Shane said as you walked past him in the hallway, “Got a hot date or somethin’? What’chu all spiffied up for?”

“Just wanted to try somethin’ new, Shane.” You were short with your answer, his lingering gaze making your skin crawl as the days went on.

While you knew it wasn’t you he was truly after, that didn’t stop you from being uncomfortable around him. He was losing his grip, being irrational, that trip he went on with Otis really messed with his head. It stirred him more than any other death in your group, you wanted to be suspicious, but you chalked it up as just being pessimistic.

“You seen Daryl?” You asked after a beat of silence.

“He was out by the RV last time I saw him.” Shane glanced over your shoulder towards the front door, “Was talking about going out to look for the girl tomorrow morning.”

You sighed softly, heading towards the front door. It didn’t surprise you one bit, Daryl has really stepped up over the past few months, truly making his place amongst the group. He didn’t want to lose anyone else, especially someone as vulnerable as a child.

The wind brushed through your curls gently, making them tickle against your exposed shoulders. You glanced down at the torn fabric on your blue tank top, you’d have to sew it up sooner or later.

“So what’d you find for me?” You asked while walking up behind Daryl, he was crouched down next to the RV, carefully examining the squirrels he caught to make sure they were good enough to eat.

“It’s in my tent.” He replied before standing back up.

Daryl stopped once he turned around to see you, his eyes scanning over your face and hair. He was quiet, swallowing and nodding towards his tent. You took that as a sign to lead the way. Your shared tent wasn’t far from the rest of the group, but far enough to where Daryl didn’t feel smothered. He liked his space, and apparently he only liked when you were in it.

“Close your eyes.” Daryl said over his shoulder, unzipping his tent.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Seriously?” You questioned, unable to resist the urge to laugh a little. But you obeyed anyway, your eyelids sliding closed.

The man moved the flimsy flaps aside and fished through his backpack for a few seconds before standing up with his hands behind his back.

“Figured you’d like something like this.” Daryl said, watching as you opened your eyes, “Can you guess what it is?” There was a smirk ghosting his lips, oh how you hated when he did this.

“Come on, Daryl.” You groaned, “How the hell am I supposed to guess?”

This was a usual game Daryl liked to play with you. A guessing game for your gift, even though he usually always gave it to you whether or not you got it right.

You started to strain your mind for any possible thing it could be, small enough to hold behind his back, maybe another porcelain cat? No, he wouldn’t be that predictable. Possibly a new hair brush? If it was that he would have just given it to you. It must have some sort of sentimental value for him to-

“You wanna hint?” Daryl chuckled quietly, shifting from one foot to the other subtly.

“Please.”

“Remember that conversation we had back in Atlanta?” He asked, softer this time, reminiscing on that late night discussion by the fire, just the two of you brushed against each other while sharing meat from a successful hunt.

The warmth soaked into your skin, willing away the late night chill that had settled over you inside your tent. The wood inside the makeshift fire pit cracked and popped loudly, embers rising haphazardly into the night sky before fading.

“What d’you miss? About your life before all this.” Daryl asked quietly, trying not to disturb the peace that had settled over the both of you.

You thought about it for a second. Of course you missed your family, your friends, hell you even missed your job a little. That sense of normalcy that your day to day life brought. A routine. There was a hell of a lot to miss about life before shit hit the fan.

“Hmm…” You pondered the question, mulling it over in your mind, “I used to take photos with my aunt. Nature scenes all over Georgia. Used to be the family photographer right after my aunt passed, weddings, birthday parties, all that mess.” You recalled those memories fondly, with a tinge of sadness coating your throat as you resisted the urge to cry. “There was this one place in Helen I went to once, god it was so beautiful. Some of the best pictures I ever took.”

“You still got your album?” He asked after a second of silence.

“I lost it when my house burned up.” You bit the inside of your wobbling lip, “So many memories lost.”

Your eyes widened once you fully processed what he said. That conversation was ever present in the back of your mind, the first time you ever opened up to Daryl emotionally, it was a meaningful memory to you. A brief moment like that was meant to be cherished.

“You didn’t…”

“I might have.” Daryl smirked, finally revealing a polaroid camera that was hidden behind his back.

The tears were pooling in your eyes quickly, “Oh Daryl…” A quiet hiccup came from your mouth, your hands coming up to grab the camera from him.

“That’s not it, also got this too.” He revealed the second item hidden behind his back, a small photo album.

If you had any doubts about loving the man in front of you before, this moment right here solidified your feelings.

You loved him. You loved how he cared. How he listened. Clung onto your words and remembered the small details. But you figured it must not have been small to him if he went out of his way to grab it for you.

Gently, you sat the two gifts down on a turned over log before throwing your arms around Daryl’s shoulders. He wound his arms around you instinctively, not entirely used to the touch, but accepting it anyway.

“You have no idea… No idea how much this means to me.” Your voice was muffled against his flannel shirt, tears soaking into the fabric.

He guided you back a little and softly brushed his thumb against your wettened cheek, a smile found its way to Daryl’s handsome features. His eyes looking over you tenderly. His fingers found their way to your curls, softly weaving through the coils.

“You did good with your hair, sweetheart.” He complimented, making your stomach flip, the close proximity between the two of you could almost be perceived as two lovers holding each other. And you guessed that in a world like this, you practically were.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon reader insert #twd x reader #twd x you #twd reader insert #twd fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead reader insert #daryl dixon #the walking dead #violet writes

168 notes · View notes

zxvmp · 6 months ago

Text

Closing Hours - Douxie x Fem! Reader

tags: smut, reader is 19 and in college, happens before WTOH, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, car sex, not proofread! sorry

a/n: douxie is so bad… how have i never discovered him until now? 😔 is this fandom still even alive… CHAT AM I MUTED ?

Great. Another closing shift with him. Hasn’t your manager noticed the two of you didn’t get along? You gripped your tray as you maneuvered through customers.

“Excuse me miss, could you get me more creamers?”

You put on your fake smile, “Of course, anything else?”

The man hummed, “More sugar.”

You nodded.

“Oh! And more napkins.”

You let out a sigh and fake-smiled again, “Of course…. Anything else?”

He eyed you up and down, “Depends on what you’re offering.” The man grinned in a way that made your stomach twist. And not in a good way.

“Um-”

“Here’s your cream, napkins, and sugar.” Douxie swiftly came from behind you and laid out what the man had requested. “Could I get you anything else, sir?”

You let out a sigh of relief and managed to escape the creepy man, thanks to Douxie. You may not like him, but he sure knows when you need help. Not that his help would change the way you felt about him. God, no.

He’s dumb, a slow worker, incompetent, not funny at all, stupid—

“Thank you miss,”

ill-mannered, although he does have his way with words sometimes. His accent helps with that.

“Uh, miss?”

He’s also pretty good with music, you’ve heard him strum his guitar in the break room a couple of times. You know what people say, a musician is always good with their han-

“EXCUSE ME?!”

You snapped out of your trance and focused your blurred vision onto the customer. “Y-Yes? Sorry.”

The woman scoffed and nodded towards the table that was soaked in coffee. You must’ve spaced out when you poured her a cup.

“Oh my gosh, i’m so sorry.” You mentally face palmed as you observed the situation, “I’ll get you to another table, follow me.”

As you led her to a new, clean table, Douxie was watching from behind the counter, a smug smirk on his face. You wanted to hop across and rip it off of him, but obviously you couldn’t do that.

“I really am sorry ma’am, what can I get you? This one’s on me?”

The lady let out a huff, “Get me a black coffee and a chocolate croissant.”

You nodded as wrote down her order on your notepad before sliding it back into your apron pocket. “Coming right up.”

As you made your way to the back, where all the machines to make the coffees were, you groaned and massaged your temples with your hands.

“Not your day, eh?” Douxie stood beside you, emptying out an old coffee filter and replacing it with a new one.

It was only his second week working here and he already knew how to do everything. When you first started, it took you an entire month.

“Douxie, not now. Matter of fact, not ever!” You placed your hands on your hips, “You seem to be everywhere I go. You’re such a pest.”

He faked an injury, “Ouch, (Y/N). That hurt.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and grit your teeth, “God! You’re so-”

“Hot? I know. No need to tell me, love.” He winked, mimicking your stance.

You crossed your arms and huffed out in an annoyance. Curse him and his stupidly sharp jawline and perfectly messy man-bun. You hated to admit it, but he was pretty hot. Not to mention his beautiful hazel eyes.

“Just shut up and go help the customers, or whatever.”

“Hey, who made you boss?”

You rolled your eyes, “Technically, i’m still training you. So I am your boss.”

He quirked a brow before letting out a small chuckle, “Whatever you say, boss.”

And just like that, he was gone, and a freshly brewed coffee pot beeped. Had he prepared it just for you? You didn’t even notice. Whatever, you needed to get this lady her things so she could maybe tip you.

As the day went on, more people came. You were used to the afternoon rushes, but with all the things that happened earlier in the day, you were already on edge.

“Can I get more creamers?”

You nodded, taking their empty dishes onto your tray and hoisting it onto your worn out shoulder.

“Can I get some sugar packets?” A customer asked as you passed by, to which you nodded and smiled.

“Where is my food?”

You were stopped in your tracks when a customer tugged on your apron, causing your tray to lose its balance and a mug to tip over the edge, crashing to the floor. You stood still for a moment staring at the broken glass on the marbled floor.

“Hey, I asked you where my food is!”

You turned around, a frown on your face, “I-”

“Right here, sir.” Douxie swooped in with a tray filled with dishes.

“Ugh, finally! At least someone around here knows what they’re doing.”

Your eye twitched in annoyance, but you didn’t say anything. Instead, you knelt down to pick up the broken shards.

“Woah, be careful. You could cut yourself.” Douxie knelt down to your level and shooed your hands away.

You sighed, “Douxie-”

“(Y/N)! Go on break.”

The sound of your managers voice made you look to the side, but when you looked back down, the mess was already cleaned up. “What the-”

Douxie wiped his hands and cleared his throat, “Ahem, I’m quite sure you were sent on break, boss.”

You looked down at the floor where your mess once was, but you were too tired to question it, so you made your way towards the break room.

While scrolling through your phone as you nibbled on a sugar cookie, you stumbled across Douxie’s instagram.

A little snoop wouldn’t hurt, right…?

You couldn’t stop yourself from clicking on his page and scrolling through his photos. There was a lot of posts about music related things, but one in particular caught your eye. It was a video of him tuning his guitar while laughing and talking to the person who was recording.

“Fuck off, man.” He laughed. “Quit makin’ fun of me, will you? It’s my first time.”

“But i’ve showed you a million times, it’s not that hard.”

He shook his head as he rolled his eyes. Then, he began strumming the guitar while humming to the tune he created.

You admired the video, at a loss for words.

And just as it ended, it stopped on a frame of him smiling. He was happy he finally got whatever the person was trying to teach him.

You never would’ve thought you’d be sitting in the break room, smiling at a dumb video of Douxie, but here you were. Cheesing like an idiot at your phone at a boy you barely knew.

The sound of the doorknob fidgeting made you jump in your seat, causing you drop your phone against your chest and onto the floor.

“Manager said-” The dark haired boy stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow, his eyes following from your frame down to your phone that was face up on the floor.

You practically jumped from your chair to snatch your phone off the ground, “M-Manager said what?”

He raised an eyebrow before laughing, “He said your break was up.”

After shoving your phone into your pocket you nodded and pushed past him to head back out to the lobby.

God, you were not acting yourself today. What’s gotten into you? You’ve been dropping dishes, not thinking straight, and completely off your game!

The only time you act like this is when you’re in love.

But you’re not a dumb horny highschooler anymore, so there’s no way you were. You’re a college student now. An adult; Moved out, and living your own life. There wasn’t any time for distractions. Not that there was any. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself for the past two weeks. Which is weird because Douxie had been hired two weeks ago.

He wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Of course not! Like you thought, you barely knew the boy. You couldn’t be in love with him. That’d be crazy.

You shook your head and focused your attention on the customers.

“Oh my, what’s for your cheeks so flushed? Are you alright miss?”

You blinked a couple of times at the polite lady’s question, “Y-Yes! I’m more than okay, actually. Thank you though. Can I get you anything else?”

“No…” She raised an eyebrow, studying you.

You cleared your throat and backed away to tend to another table.

Once it died down, you found some time to yourself in the back as you waited on a coffee pot to brew. Pulling out your phone, you opened instagram for no particular reason.

If you could go back in time, you would.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the filled in pink heart on your screen. There was no way you liked the video. The said video that was from three entire years ago. The said video that was buried deep into his other posts.

“Hey, you alright boss?”

You jumped at the familiar sound of his voice. Quickly turning off your phone and straightening yourself up, you focused on the coffee pot that had 30 seconds left.

“Me? Im doing perfectly fine actually. Just got tipped $57.”

Cmon just 20 more seconds.

“57 huh? Nice.” He leaned his back on the counter eyeing you.

Oh God, this night would never end. You stared at the coffee pot watching as the time took forever to reach 0.

“So, uh, you gonna clock back in from break?” You try and create small talk to get your mind off the way his luring eyes reeled you in. Even thought you weren’t even looking at him in his eyes.

“If i’m correct, i’ve actually got…” He hummed, “2 more minutes.”

The sound of the swinging door to the back kept creaking from your co workers constantly coming in and out, each coming and going with different trays.

“And you chose to spend the last two minutes staring at me?” You finally turned over to meet his gaze, and you wished you didn’t. Your heart rate increased and you could feel your stomach flutter.

He squinted his eyes a bit as a smirk crept up his lips, “Not staring, reading.”

You scoff, “Well, you better keep reading, cause’ i’m not an open book for everyone to look at.”

“You’re not talking about books, are you?”

You grab the coffee pot along with a tray and mugs, “I dunno, am I?”

There was a brief moment of silence as the two of you stared at each other both with smiles on your faces. Then, you made the move to brush past him to serve the table you were assigned.

When you steeped foot outside, the cool summer breeze hit you and made you realize what just happened. Where did all of that confidence come from? And were you really turning a conversation about books into a flirting contest? This day couldn’t get any weirder.

You started to reminisce over the scene in your head, constantly replaying it. Then, you realized he probably knew you liked his post. You slapped your forehead as you walked to the back. Luckily, he was there anymore.

Putting the coffee pot back in its slot, you began cleaning out the other pots’ filters to get a head start on your closing process. You had two more hours ahead of you.

You re-tied your loose ponytail and grabbed a new notepad.

Luckily, as the day grew closer to its end, less cutomers came. Of course it was still slightly busy, but not as busy as the morning and afternoon. Now, you could take your time as you poured coffees and prepared their food.

However, your stomach still fluttered whenever you were around him. Rather it be a quick glance or conversation between the two of you, you felt it.

You said your goodbyes as most of your co workers left, leaving you and Douxie behind to close for the night.

“See you tomorrow.” You waved and locked the door behind the last person.

Douxie had already turned off the “Open” sign and closed the curtains. It seemed he remembered some of the things you taught him your last closing shift with him.

You cleaned the lobby as you served the last customers of the night, so the only thing that was left was the mountain of dishes in the back. But when you walked through the swinging doors, the kitchen was spotless, and the dishes were already put away. The coffee pots were even filled with new filters ready to be brewed tomorrow morning.

“How’d I do boss?” A low voice came from behind you, and you flinched at the sudden noise.

You turned to look at him with a shocked expression, “You did this?”

He nodded.

“How’d you do all of this so fast? It would’ve taken me an hour.” You admired his work as you walked around, trying to look for anything he forgot.

“I figured I started on them a bit earlier so we could have the last hour to ourselves.” He hopped on top of a counter. “After all, we do deserve it.”

You let out a sigh of relief and smiled, hopping on top of a counter across from him, “Thank you, Douxie.”

“No problem.”

There was a couple moments of silence, and you were letting your thoughts. You remembered the events earlier in the day, and all of the stupid things you said to him.

“I’m sorry for calling you a pest. You’re no where near being that.” You averted your eyes away from him and stared at your twiddling fingers. “And thank you for everything today. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve lost my shit.”

“It’s all good. Everyone can be a bit stressed out sometimes right?”

You sighed, “Tell me about it, I haven’t had one night where i’ve felt good.”

He snickered, “What, your sex life not good?”

Heat crept up your cheeks as you averted his gaze, “Not what I meant, perv.”

“Hey, some proper sex will do you some good. Believe it or not.”

You snapped your head over towards him, “Geez, do you just stick your dick in everyone or something?”

“No. And even if I did,” He smirked, “would you jealous or something?”

“Pft, why would I be?”

He eyed you up and down, “Well your arms are crossed and your eyebrows are furrowed, you tell me.”

You straightened yourself up and leaned back on your hands. There was no way you were gonna let him one up you, not after he had been all day.

“I don’t need to be jealous. I have a pretty good sex life, actually.”

This time, he was the one crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows, “Oh yeah?”

You nodded and smirked, “You jealous or something?”

He caught on to what you were doing, and decided to play along. “No, why would I be?”

“Dunno.” You hummed and took your hair out of your ponytail, raking your fingers between your hair strands.

“I’ve got a question for you.” He had a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you and a feeling you knew what the question would be about.

“And that is?”

“Was that video amusing to you?”

Now you will admit you were caught off guard by the video you just so happened to stumble upon, but you weren’t going to let him tease you about it.

“I liked it didn’t I?”

He chuckled, “You sure your sex life is good?”

“What’s my sex life have to do with me liking your video?”

“‘Cause of your attitude, love.”

“Then why don’t you come fix it.”

He raised is eyebrows at your boldness, to which you just grinned, knowing he didn’t expect you to say such a thing.

He laughed, “Not an open book, huh?”

“I never said I was talking about books.”

A silence fell over the two of you. Your eyes poured into his while you both waited for someone to say something, or do something.

Your eyes began to wander around, taking in his appearance. He had pale skin, almost like a vampire, but he made it work. As your eyes traveled more you noticed how lean he was. He definitely didn’t carry a lot of meat on his bones, but you kind of liked boys like that. He was in between skinny and somewhat muscular. One thing that also carried his looks—besides his beautiful eyes, sharp, dark and defined eyebrows, and his perfect face sculpture—he was pretty tall. A lot taller than you. And you weren’t very tall yourself. God, you didn’t even want to start on his hands. They were beautiful.

Technically, it was a given since he was a guitarist. And you know what they say about guitarist….

“Wanna head out for a bite?” Douxie’s voice snapped you out of your daze.

“You got a car?”

He laughed as he shook his head, “Why do you think I would ask, love?”

You hopped down from the counter and untied your apron from your waist in the process, “Lead the way.”

He smirked and lead you through the swinging doors.

After you both clocked out and hung up your aprons on the coat rack, you made your way to his car.

“You know, no restaurant or fast food place is open right now.” You looked up at him, too which he looked down at you, smirk still plastered on his lips.

“I know.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and butterflies swarmed your stomach. Thank the heavens you did an everything shower before your shift today. Maybe the gods knew tonight would be one of those type of nights.

As you neared the car, you stopped him from opening the back door. He shot you a confused look while you opened the passenger door.

“I like the passenger side more, it’s easier to ride.”

His eyebrows shot up and you could see his adams apple move from him swallowing hard. “Seems like you do this a lot, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, “Unless you wanna do all the work, I suggest you shut up.”

He plopped down in the seat and dragged you with him, closing the door after you. “My lips are sealed.”

You giggled as you made yourself comfortable, but quickly after, your breath was taken from your lungs. His lips crashed against yours as his fingers wove through the hairs on the back of head, bringing you closer. Your legs were on either side of his hips, straddling him as you made out.

His free hand snaked around your waist, ghosting over your lower back. His touch made your skin tingle underneath your shirt, and butterflies swarm through your stomach.

For the brief moment the two of you took to catch your breath, your eyes gazed into his. They were half lidded and filled with lust. He was already worked up after just kissing, but you couldn’t judge because you already felt your panties getting wet.

You leaned in and captured his lips, this time slower than your first. His hand sneaked under your shirt, trailing it up your spine. Your hips twitched and your hands gripped his shirt at the movement, causing him to let out a groan and grip your scalp. You took this as your chance to slip your tongue past his lips, deepening the kiss.

His hand traveled down, switching towards your stomach. Your core was on fire and your heart was beating out of your chest from the excitement you felt. He backed away to catch his breath, leaning his head against the headrest.

Now, his hands rested on your hips, and yours rested on his chest. From the way he was looking at you, you would think he just ran a marathon. But you knew why he looked at you that way. You could feel it too.

You experimentally rolled your hips against his, a devious grin on your face as you did so. His hips bucked and a groan escaped his mouth.

“Fuck,” He rasped.

You giggled and leaned in to plant kisses along his exposed neck. In between your kisses, you whispered a, “you okay?” because he seemed like he was about to go insane.

“You’re just driving me crazy, love.” A hand that rested on your hip slipped underneath your shirt and fiddled with the waistband of your underwear. Yet, he didn’t go any further. “Can I?”

“Please.” You whispered, continuing your markings on his neck.

Once he snuck past your underwear and slid his middle finger through your slick folds, you gasped. Clutching his shirt, you tried to distract yourself with his neck, but he’d already slid in a finger, making you bite down on his neck to silence your moan.

“Ouch,” He laughed, “you a vampire?”

“Don’t stop,”

You felt him smirk against your cheek at your demand. And once he added another, a small moan escaped your mouth.

His hands were a lot bigger and longer than yours, so it felt all the more better. You were in a state of bliss as you ground against his hand. The way his fingers curved into you had your head spinning. It was like he knew what your body liked without even trying.

At one particular thrust, you sucked in a deep breath and gripped his shoulders. He smirked at that, knowing that was your weak spot.

“How ya doing baby?”

You moaned at another snap of his wrist, “Fuck—just… just don’t stop.”

You hadn’t given him an actual response in the for the past three minutes, but how could you? He was plunging his fingers into you like there was no tomorrow.

A knot began to form in your stomach and you could feel your muscles spazzing around his fingers. “I’m—hah—so close.”

“Come on, baby. You got this.”

He began circling his thumb over your clit, making you squeeze your eyes shut and cradle your head into his neck. It was becoming too much to handle.

Your orgasm crept over you without warning, causing your hips to twitch and the knot in your stomach to snap. Quick and short breaths left your mouth as he fingered you through your release.

He stilled his fingers so you could get a moment to catch your breath. You practically just saw stars and he had only fingered you. Lord knows how his dick would make you feel. He removed his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.

You watched him with half lidded eyes, panting as you felt yourself crave him unconditionally.

He hummed as he brought his hand to rest back on your hip, “You alright?”

You responded by capturing his lips once more, this time with hunger and fire. He was so hot it almost hurt.

And whoever said guitarist were good with their fingers, God were they right.

Leaning back, you brought your shirt over your head, revealing your light-pink silk bra. Unfortunately you didn’t wear a cute matching set, but at least it was a pretty color.

Douxie immediately leaned in to plant kisses along your newly exposed skin, slowly rubbing his hands up and down your waist. You let out quiet groans as he sucked and marked up your chest.

Suddenly, his contact was gone and he was lifting up his shirt, revealing a couple of scars that caught your attention.

There was a brief moment of silence as your stared the markings. Although, you had a million questions wondering where he had got them from, you simply leaned in and placed kisses along the rough skin. He sighed through his nose and embraced your actions.

But as time grew, he could only wait so long for something more. His hands began to fiddle with the clasps of your bra, waiting for any type of gesture for him to continue. You nodded as you fiddled with his pant zipper.

It was difficult getting off the remaining clothes the two of you had on, but you managed. Now, your bare cunt rested against the base of his dick. The wetness of your folds helped you grind against him, making it easy for his length to stimulate your clit.

He was big. Bigger than you would’ve guessed considering his lanky frame. Even though he wasn’t pretty thick down there, his length greatly made up for it.

“You ready?”

He snickered, “I should be asking you that, princess.”

You gasped as his hands slightly gripped your hips, hinting he wanted you to raise them. You used your hand to guide him towards your entrance, mentally praying you were actually ready.

As you sunk down on his length, your eyes were squeezed shut and your lips were parted. If he hadn’t prepped you earlier, he definitely wouldn’t have been able to fit.

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, digging his fingers into your sides.

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you rolled your hips, eliciting a groan from both you and him.

Now, you had to stay true to your words from earlier. So you began to lift your hips, stopping just before his tip, then you slid back down ever so slowly.

Douxie’s head was thrown back and his eyes were half-lidded, filled with lust and need.

You smirked and leaned in to kiss his lips gently as you lifted your hips again, repeating the same action.

“You’re s-such a tease.”

Letting out a giggle as you did the same teasing action, you leant in towards his ear and whispered, “Then why don’t you fuck me properly.”

He hummed and reached for the recliner to lay back the seat. Your hands rested on his abdomen as he admired the new view.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, ghosting his hands over your sides, making your stomach gain butterflies.

Then, he snapped his hips upwards, making you gasp sharply. You clenched your hands into a fist as he began fucking up into you. This new angle allowed him to hit deeper. His tip was practically brushing against your cervix at each thrust.

You moaned his name as he slammed his hips into you, making you see stars. You could feel each muscle and twitch of his dick as he rutted against your gummy walls. Not to mention the slight bulge in your stomach from how deep he was.

With one of his hands, he brought yours to feel against your stomach. “Feel that, love?”

You tightened around him and moaned, “Yes.”

Never in your 19 years of living would you expect to be fucking your new coworker in his car, but you certainly wouldn’t regret it. Not when he’s fucking you this good.

A knot began to form in your stomach and you couldn’t even get a second to breathe properly from the constant moans coming out of you.

“I-I’m close.” You gasp out.

He groaned gripping your hips as you squeezed him tightly, “Where do you want it?”

Thank god you were on birth control, because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have the energy to get off him in time.

“Inside.”

He almost ascended at the thought, but he didn’t need to because this was reality, and by the grace of the gods, you’re allowing him to.

“What did I do to deserve you..?” He said, mostly to himself but you still heard him.

His thumb began to rub messy circles around your clit to help you reach your climax before he did. The giant knot in your stomach snapped and you let go of everything around you. Your vision blurred and your ears began to ring. The only thing you could feel were the euphoric sensations of your orgasm and his warm cum spilling into you.

You fell forward and leaned your forehead on his chest as the two of you calmed down from your high.

“That was…”

“Really fucking good.” You finished his sentence and softly laughed. “I’m so tired.”

He patted your back, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and pushed yourself upwards, raising yourself off his member. He twisted his torso to grab something from the back of his car, returning with a t-shirt and a jacket.

“Put this on and i’ll clean us up.” He handed you the jacket with a smile, to which you returned the gesture and followed his instruction.

After getting cleaned up and helping each other re-dress, he climbed over to the drivers seat and started the car.

You didn’t realize how foggy the windows got until you were situated in the passenger seat. “Damn.”

He chuckled and turned the windshield wipers on to clear his view. You rested your elbow on the window and drew a heart with his and your initial in it.

“So,” he started.

You perked up and turned towards him.

“I can drive you home, or you could stay at my place for the night?” He nervously scratched the back of his head as a blush crept up his cheeks.

You smiled, “I wouldn’t mind staying the night.”

And just like that, you found yourself driving to the home of your coworker while singing the songs that played from the radio.

#douxie casperan #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux casperan #trollhunters #wizards of arcadia #toa douxie #hisirdoux x reader #douxie x reader #smut #fluff #embarrasment

173 notes · View notes

mqrrstarr · 3 months ago

Text

FERTILE SOUL

Tony Montana (Scarface) x

F! Reader

when faced with the infamous criminal, his drugged mind takes over and you’re his prey

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, 18+, grammatically incorrect, bad language/profanity, trying to write Tony’s Cuban accent from the film

(Edited: June 29, 2025 - took away color coding and added more details)

(Y/F/N = your fathers name)

A/N: hi tumblr!! haven’t posted in a hot second (since December…) but I’m back. Say thank you to Al Pacino for fueling my obsession with him and Scarface the film. It’s also gotten rid of my fanfic authors block. I hope I haven’t gotten rusty <3 😔

Summary: Elvira, Tony’s ex, just ran away from him because she was infertile. The fact that Tony exposed her in public, was vicious enough for her to leave the man alone. His angry desire for a child- an heir, infected his mind. A thought he can’t get rid of. So when you conveniently meet the man after the break up, he’ll show you what it means to be one of his workers.

“That woman.”

Tony huffed under his breath, cocaine still circulating his body as he walked to the car.

His best friend and second in hand, Manny, walked behind him. Anxious to not let his friend down, he broke the silence as he sat down in the front seat.

“Listen Tony, Elvira was nothing but a blonde bitch. I don’t know what you saw in her.”

Tony scoffed, “Bitch. She no want me man, she used me. Did I kill Frank for nothing? Ungrateful whore.”

Manny kept driving, eyes on the road. He sighed quickly before looking at Tony. His eyes were clearly drugged, a sign of his mind not thinking right. So he spoke up.

“Antonio, mira, you have a meeting.”

Manny looked over to Tony.

“It’s with that girl, remember? Y/N.”

Tony looked at Manny with dazed eyes.

“Y/N? Is that… uh… Y/F/N’s kid? Fuck! I forgot I was meeting his daughter. This is so annoying man, Elvira ruined everything.”

Tony put his hands on his face frustrated, trying to sober up before they arrived home.

His sudden outburst at the restaurant had taken much of his energy.

Manny gave his friend a look of pity.

“Tony, relax. I don’t know much about the girl, but just be yourself. Without the murderous stare. Okay muchacho? Relájate.”

Tony sat and thought about your presence. He’d been fantasizing about you- since the both of you had previously met.

Truth be told, he knew you. You didn’t know him. He’d already met your father to make some deals about the “business”, and he’d kept his eye on your the whole time.

The Babylon’s lights kept you alive and vivid on the dance floor, and poisoned Tony’s mind. That was almost a year ago, and he’d forgotten this ordeal tonight.

He’d finally be face to face with you.

══════════════════════

His car pulled up in the driveway, Manny driving as carefully as he could.

Tony sat in a pensive state, preparing himself to meet you. He wondered if you’d grown up at all, changed your hair, or if you’d simply be different than the girl he saw that night.

Manny and Tony got out of the car, red and sparkling in the moonlight.

Elvira’s absence was now a muted pain in Tony’s heart, but the blurry vision was only slight- and hangover was starting to hit him.

He just wanted sex. Someone to relieve him.

Only you stood between a good makeout session and a good business deal. He told himself that.

Tony led Manny into the living space, where he could make out the shape of a young woman sitting there.

“Montana?”

Y/N scoffed. “You’re finally here.”

He could barely see, but asked Manny for a drink.

“Para ver mejor, coño.” (To see better, fuck.)

He looked at you.

“Y/N, let’s talk.”

“Of course, Montana. You promised my father that I’d get a job with you. I want it now.”

Manny arrived with a drink and gave it to Tony, then walked away, leaving the two of you alone.

Tony took the drink, and gulped it down so fast, it turned anyone who saw on.

He slurped like a man starved, while stray drops of alcohol lingered on his throat.

So did Y/N’s eyes.

The raw desire for children, a trusty heir, with a mother as powerful as their father invaded his mind.

“Fuck me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. The command, laced with the illusion of a lavish life blinded her as well.

Sex with the Tony Montana? The most powerful criminal in all of Miami?

Who’d be crazy enough to deny an offer like that?

She didn’t care if he proposed or not, she could use the affair as leverage or something. Relief was also well enough a reason.

“Fuck you, Tony? Why? Out of all people? Besides- I want my job. Not you.”

Y/N played it cool, eager to further interrogate and piss off the Cuban man.

“I want!…”

He coughed, alcohol toppling over his cup;

“I want you to be the mother of my children. Someone reliable.”

You remembered a little important detail.

He had a wife.

“What about your wife? Isn’t Elvira enough to pleasure you? You want more than one? Now isn’t that greedy of you?”

He scoffed, “That bitch. She ain’t fertile, man. I want kids, goddamn it! The Montana name HAS to live on.”

He pointed his rugged finger at you.

“So fuck me now. I’ll pay you more and give you more than our deal originally promised, okay man? Take the job- but take my name as a title.”

You agreed, wondering where the night would go.

“But let’s keep this professional at least- what if your wife comes back? Or my father finds out! It would be a scandal…”

He laughed, and it echoed in the room.

“As you people say, uh, fat chance. Whatever I say, goes. Fuck the world, ya know?”

You sat, waiting to see where this would go.

══════════════════════

Tony led you to his lavish room, decorated in red silks and white tiles on the walls.

The place, palace even, seemed far too elegant to be his. It reeked of elegance, royalty even.

But it was.

It was truly Tony’s.

He commanded her to the bed, eager to get it going.

Y/N walked slowly, this time contemplating what she’d done to get here. Born into a legacy she didn’t want, with money she loved.

If she gave Tony a chance, would she willingly be Mrs. Montana?

“Fuck it…” She muttered under her breath.

She laid down on his silky sheets, patiently observing as the man looked upon her with that gaze.

The gaze of greed. Filth laced his eyes now.

“You’re beautiful, coño. You’re just as beautiful as this city.”

Y/N blushed, but Tony was being honest.

As much as the drugs were controlling his body right now, his mind knew one thing. He’d never lied before.

He leaned over you before kissing the bridge of your nose, then face, and up to your neck.

Y/N made a few quiet noises, but nothing rowdy.

Tony took notice, and realized he’d have to take even more actions.

“Shy girl, are ya? I’ll have to make you yell.”

He bit down on her neck, her skin becoming his prey.

Y/N groaned, pleading for more.

“Mhm Tony- ugh… keep doing that- ah!”

He abruptly pulled her shirt off, showcasing her chest. Her breasts were supported by this beautiful lacy bra, which Tony appreciated.

“Nice tits, darlin’.”

You blushed, not used to hearing things like that.

Y/N started to unbutton Tony’s shirt as he kept kissing and sucking on her neck.

It fell off so smoothly, revealing his slightly athletic build.

He genuinely did not care, and got back to working on pleasuring the woman in front of him.

His hands worked magic, and pulled down the rest of your remaining clothes.

His mouth however, certainly knew their way across your body- even if it was the first time you’d seen each other properly.

His lips took hold of Y/N’s breasts one at a time, a hand always on the other.

“Fuck…” Y/N gasped, the intensity of the moment blurring your vision and words.

“Good girl. So good, so tasty for me.”

He may have honestly just told her to do anything, and she’d let the man do so. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Tony knew that making love wasn’t just a hobby, even if he treated it like that sometimes, but you were different.

Fertile, healthy, a flower, and that made him want to devour you.

Her perky breasts kept him happy for a while, but now she was getting bored. She wanted that Montana cock in her pussy.

“Tony- mm, put your cock in me. You wanted my soul you devil, so take it now through my pussy. Make me yours.”

He grinned, and his cock was eager to get it all done, and so he did. A heart to heart wasn’t necessary- just the connection of physical bodies was alright.

She noticed Tony stopped, and was staring right at her.

“Fuck me Tony. Put your cock in me, hm? Isn’t that what you want? But come closer.”

You waved your finger, and the man listened surprisingly, and leaned towards Y/N once again. Like a good boy.

She grabbed his hair, and he moaned.

“What the- ugh…”

“Listen, you good for nothing scoundrel. You wanted a mother for your children? You got it. Just fill me up already.”

She let go of his head, but it still stung for him.

Surprised and turned on, he replied,

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Montana.”

#scarface #scarface smut prompts #scarface x reader #tony montana #tony montana x reader #al pacino #al pacino x reader

100 notes · View notes

etherealstar-writes · 1 year ago

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS | WOSO X READER | PT 14

pairings: woso x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: fourteen

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ you guys back me up here

lotte y/n absolutely not

neev oooh what's gotten lotte acting like this

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ so i made this insane connection yeah lotte is literally a female tom holland but miss wubben-moy here is denying it

the REAL karate kid huh?

mccard hold on you might be onto something here

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

LOOOK it's not the best photo to compare from but tell me i ain't the only who sees it

stairway OMG

brightness oh yeah i'm seeing it

stephy YESSS it's the side profile

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ exactly!!

meado that is insane

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ seeee lotte! i meant it as a compliment when i said you look like tom holland's twin

elton changed lotte's name to tom holland's twin

tom holland's twin

neev

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ 😔😔

tom holland's twin niamh do i need to remind you of this afternoon at the beach? because i will

hempo oooh i wanna know what happeneddd

daly

stairway WAIT YOU GUYS WENT TO THE BEACH?! AND DIDN'T INVITE ME

the REAL karate kid that is so sad we must've completely forgotten about you

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG YESS I HAVE AMAZING PHOTOS TO SHARE

neev Y/N NO

tom holland's twin Y/N YES

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

this one and jessie were STRUGGLING for an hour trying to place their mats 😭😭 it was so funny

flaming hot STOPPP DONT REMIND ME

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

and miss fleming here even gave me the bird guys she's not as innocent as she looks

flaming hot oh shut up y/n

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ you're just sour that the wind loved me

flaming hot yeah i really am

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

i'm justfdghjkem ehyu tyuiolkjehsyuikmdrnh

willybum um y/n you good?

elton are you having a stroke rn?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ sorry y/n's a bit busy rn

neev WHERE'S Y/N MY BAE AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ if you want to see her alive again i'm gonna need y'all to venmo me 10k each

stairway 10k?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ is that too much for you?

stairway oh no no it was just surprising how you didn't go for one 1 million like everyone usually does

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ oh well i guess if you want it that way then 1 million each from y'all

willybum STANWAY WTH

neev had to open that big mouth of yours

ona we'll save y/n just what is this venmo and how do i venmo you money?

elton i mean do we have to ..... she'll be fineee

neev you know what how about 1 m for y/n toone will pay for it on behalf of us all

elton HUH excuse you i ain't venmoing anyone a million dollars i'm positive i don't even have a hundred dollars in my bank account

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ wow glad to know how much i'm worth 😔

ona y/n! you're okay! do i still have to venmo for your safety?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ oh no no don't worry about it ona you're too sweet for this world 🥺 kyra and charli were being jerks and snatched my phone and ran away

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ added kyra and cha cha

kyra aw man you ruined the fun 😔 i could've earned some money

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nahhh ona's too precious to be scammed by you but i mean ella on the other hand ....

elton OI

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG HOW MANY SELFIES DID YOU TWO TAKE ON MY PHONE?!

cha cha just enough 😁

stephy i was dreading when the three of you would meet up as if we don't already have enough chaos in this groupchat

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ stephyyy why would you think that 😔

cha cha honestly

kyra

the REAL karate kid 😭😭

willybum HELP

cha cha HAHA I LOVE THIS PLS

stephy

kyra WOAH WOAH WOAH

stephy

kyra

cha cha HELP YOU BEAT KYRA WITH MEMES I CANT BELIEVE THIS

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ HAHAHA STEPH YOU ICONIC LEGEND I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

i don't even know what the hell this is anymore 😭😭 but i hope you enjoyed this nonsense

part fifteen here

#woso x reader #lionesses x reader #engwnt x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #engwnt #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alessia russo x reader #niamh charles x reader #jessie fleming x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #charli grant x reader #steph catley x reader #ona batlle x reader #lotte wubben moy x reader #leah williamson x reader #ella toone x reader #georgia stanway x reader

607 notes · View notes

crying-wolves · 2 months ago

Text

🆃🅷🅴 🅰🅽🅸🅼🅰🅻🆂.

(peer mentor!ex-prisoner!vi x masc!prisoner!reader)

PART ONE

synopsis: the consequences of your chaotic past have finally landed you in Piltover's finest Correctional Facility. Too bad you can't even atone for your sins in peace without seeing some very familiar, very unwelcome faces.

cw for part one: prison 😔, only sorta-kinda proofread, lots and lots of cussing, afab reader, masc!reader, reader is kind of a pessimist. and a little mean. she went through a lot. running from the cops, the slightest sliver of sexual tension, MDNI!!!!, discussions of crime, dr*gs, alc*hol, all that fun stuff, backstory exposition, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: this is gonna be multi-chapter (around 5 parts) because it feels better to me this way! the second chapter will be out before next week! pls enjoy <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated :)

Time.

Sweet, sticky, oozing, glorious time.

It’s funny. When you were still a kid—

Well, kid is kind of an overstatement, but you were definitely reckless enough to feel like one. Wind in your face, light in your eyes. All that good stuff. Everyone around you said you were just a touch too restless. A little overboard with your idea of fun.

It was almost as if there weren’t enough seconds in a lifetime to get to everything you wanted to do.

And you wanted to do everything. Sex, drugs, booze, petty crime, not-so-petty crime—The list went on and on and on and on, and then it got longer.

And then, quite suddenly, actually, you didn’t feel like such a kid anymore.

Soon, you were well into your twenties.

a newly-lit angry flame in your chest,

a whole lot more restless energy,

and a shiny court order issued for you to pay for the consequences of your childish actions.

Now, shoved into the corner of four thick stone walls with 58 and a half more months to go, all you have is time.

And nothing has ever felt like less of a comfort.

It’s an uncharacteristically humid day when you see her again. The other prisoners are groaning about the busted ACs and barred windows, claiming that they’re being roasted alive every minute they’re forced to spend in these conditions, and if you weren’t so concerned with folding each individual page of a shitty magazine you’d found into jumbo fortune tellers, then you would be right there with them. But, you know, important task at hand and all.

You’re on your 15th glossy sheet when a heavy fist raps against your cell door, startling the plush paper out of your hands, and your contraband scissors clattering to the floor.

“Fuck…one second!” you hissed out, trying to tape the tiny shears to the bottom of your crackling toilet’s seat. It’s usually the best hiding spot one can find in this overglorified bird cage. The guards who usually commence the daily room checks, Officers Harold and Steb, tend to overlook the rather obvious placement, choosing to believe in the all-forgiving power of ‘feminine rehabilitation’. As long as you bat those pretty eyes and send a half-assed smile over their way, they’ll depart from your space with little trouble, whistling cheerily and trusting in the innate goodness of women who are simply ‘down on their luck’.

If they found out about half the shit the other inmates were smuggling in, whether it be hidden under porcelain seats or shoved up some secret orifice, they’d have a serious bitchfit.

The door swings open after a great deal of hustling and bustling on your end. Flashlights and clickers bombard your senses like noisy fireflies, and for some reason, Harold is grinning at you like he’s won the lottery five times over.

“There is a very special assembly being held today for you C-block girls. Report to the East chapel in 30 minutes! You don’t wanna miss it!”

He’s always excited about things like this. Fundraisers, kickball, bonding activities. Whatever gets the girls together, possibly even enjoying themselves for an hour or two, lights his wrinkled little face up like a Christmas tree. It’s hard, you admit, not to find his hopefulness endearing. Sometimes, at least.

You bare your teeth sweetly, corners of the mouth pointing upwards as politely as can be managed.

“Sounds like a whole lotta fun, sir, but I was planning on a cozy day in, you know? Window watching…ceiling observing. Can’t put those off.”

He pouts, actually pouts, at your negative response. For a moment, you think Steb is going to have to talk him down from crying.

“Oh nonsense! Nonsense!” he exclaims, waving his pudgy hands in the air to ease himself. “We’ve set up fans and opened alllll of the windows. It’ll be a great big treat Besides, inmate, it would be rude when our special guest has come alllll this way just to speak to you lot!”

He turns on his heel away from you, motions for Steb to follow in step into the hallway.

“30 minutes! Nothing more, inmates!”

The door slams shut, leaving you to stew in frustration without the prying eyes of happy-go-lucky correctional officers.

You wonder, for a brief moment, if there’s enough time to grab the scissors from your hiding place and offer it up to Harold for a one-way ticket to solitary confinement, but you decide against it. Who knows what this special assembly will bring out of the other women?

A full 47 minutes pass by before you find yourself in the East chapel, Officer Harold clicking his teeth in disappointment at your tardiness. But when that sweet breeze of electric fans and breathable air hit you in the face, you wish you had arrived sooner. Especially when your eyes fall on the last available seat: one smack-down in the middle of the front row. Of course.

You shove your hands into the pockets of your dark blue jumpsuit, settling into the surprisingly comfortable flip-out chair that’s a hair’s breadth away from the altar. Every single person seems to be talking over each other, new voices add themselves sporadically into the mix, gossiping excitedly about the same old things that always happen in this place.

“Did’ya hear Nolan’s getting out on good behavior next week? what a fuckin’ kissass? I’d break her face if it didn't mean God knows how long in the hole…”

“You’ll never guess who I saw sucking face with a guard while waiting in the commissary line. Some of these girls’ll do anything for a freebie, I swear…"

It almost reminds you of a high school cafeteria. Nothing but low jabs and cruel chatter.

“Apparently, they flew her in from Zaun…she’s this ex-convict who got out of a murder charge ‘cause the judge says she’s got ‘good character’ or something. Can you believe it! I’ve got fan-tas-tic character and I’m still stuck in this hell for another 40 years…”

That certainly peaks your attention…

…because there aren’t many people, especially, many people from the Undercity of all places, who go before the hallowed Piltover court with a charge like that and just get to walk free.

And considering the fact that you were born and raised in Zaun, growing up with kids who had also spent their free time chasing the next new thrill until ultimately getting caught, it may not be a stretch to say that you could, possibly, recognize this speaker.

It isn’t until you catch a flash of electric pink hair, a silver sparkle atop thick raised eyebrows that your heart drops to your ass.

Violet fuckin’ Lanes.

In all her flesh and glory.

Janna, even the way she struts to the podium pisses you off.

Her boots hit the ground like some magic megaphone, somehow commanding the attention of each and every eye in the room. The inmates stare, like wild animals trailing a new addition to an already tight knit pack. It’s different, though. There’s none of the whistling or lewd comments that usually accompany the arrival of a new prisoner, but the captivated silence that falls over the crowd when she smirks their way makes you wish she was in uniform like everyone else was.

Some regard her with disdain, invisible daggers shooting from their eyes right between her charmingly crooked smile. Others are practically leaning into the spinning fans that litter the scenery, trying to catch themselves from swooning so openly in front of her.

You can’t say either reaction is unexpected. You two do have a particularly troubled connection, after all.

Violet had introduced herself to you as ‘Vi’ after some enforcers shut down a crazy house party you were both attending. Bottles were being thrown all over the place, people had been dragged out by their arms and legs. You took this as a sign to get the fuck outta dodge.

When the pink-haired girl had caught up to you, pretty easily, you might add, she was already talking your ear off. Inviting you to a different party just a few blocks away, asking if the dying cigarette hanging from your lips was up for grabs, listing off every situation in which she’s had to book it to keep from getting locked up (this was the 6th time in the last three weeks), all without faltering in speed or running out of breath. It was impressive, for sure.

She led you straight to that party she was gabbing about. Some stuffy abandoned warehouse spinning with heavy smoke and even heavier music. Vi hauled you into the center of the heady disarray and pulled you in as close as she could.

“Dancing’s always more fun when your eardrums are about to pop right out of your skull.” she’d told you.

And you smiled at her. Honest full-face-grin beamed at her, because, Gods, where has she been all your life, and why is she only coming into it now?

So, of course, you danced with her all night. It ended up being the most fun you’d had in a really long time. You could tell she wanted to keep your attention all for herself, what with the way she wouldn’t let you out of her sight for longer than ten seconds (even when she challenged you to keg stand contest, and lost her focus because she couldn’t keep her eyes on her own barrel for the life of her), but you didn’t mind so much. She kept laughing and spinning you in circles and dragging you around like she was leashed to your wrist, but you didn’t find it the least bit annoying.

When the warehouse began to empty and the music dimmed to a shivering whisper, Vi brought you to the roof just in time for sunrise. The way the warm spots of heat kissed your features rebirthed a sort of softness in your heart, and you showed it by wrapping an arm around Vi’s shoulders in a contented squeeze.

“You’re…something else, you know that?” you’d crooned to her, still addled and woozy from the flask in your hand and the—well, copious amounts of everything still settling in your system.

Vi trailed her gaze up to the curve of your neck, taking in the position of your head, memorizing the drops of alcohol as they ran down the corners of your mouth. You were downing cheap, warm beer like parched wolf, and for some reason, her head swirled with envy at the sight of it.

In a flash of a moment, she ripped it from your lips, and toppled you over so hard you started spitting up the bitter liquid.

“Hey! The fuck was that f–”

She straddled you, trapping your thighs between her own in a tight embrace. pressed a harsh kiss to your temple to apologize, the madwoman.

When you looked back up at her, she tilted her head at your form like a curious pantheress, like she wanted to know how you felt squirming between her teeth.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she inquired, like her hips weren’t crushing yours into the impenetrable concrete.

You blinked several times at her.

“I–I dunno! …What are you doing this weekend?”

That got her grin back. She rewarded you by shifting her weight off of yours, and stretching out next to your heaving frame with a thoughtful hum.

“Come up Topside with me. I can show you all the best spots, we can get into some real trouble up there…”

A stunned laugh loosened itself from your throat. No one’s ever caught you off guard this much in such a short amount of time, so you punched her in the arm to regain some iota of surprise back.

“What happens if we get caught, smartass? We’re not exactly piltie princesses over here.”

She rubbed her sore bicep slowly, shrugging as if she’s made of rock-hard diamond. From what you’ve seen of her, it doesn’t seem like an outlandish assumption.

“Oh, please…”, she muttered, ultramarine eyes boring into your foggy glare.

“You really think they’re gonna be able to catch us?”

It’s been almost seven years since she said that to you, on that hushed, rumbling morning,

and you regret ever listening to a single word she ever uttered in your direction.

taglist: @baylegend6

77 notes · View notes

circus-clangen · 3 months ago

Note

I had a dream recently, where the apocalypse happened, and Tiger was in a room alone. And she didn't know how to leave the room to find the others, but eventually Trapeze came, and then he left, saying he was going to find their kits (Not Whip, Clown, or Ring. They were never mentioned unless it was Tiger wondering who was possibly alive, at which point she wondered about everyone.)

When I woke up, Tiger was still in the room. Alone. Scared. And sad.

She didn't know where anyone was nor if they were even alive.

You guys’s circus dreams are always the most tragic and evil things that have ever happened ever… I’m here for it though. As for Tiger waking up alone 😔 Happened before will happen again

Their hubris was their undoing

Thank you! I don’t have any “oh lawd he comin” type cats—mostly because all my cat ocs are feral and not pets—but my big boy is Trapeze!

That primordial is POUCHED

All to the end of a single desired fate and role to fill, and nobody will get in the way of it.

You are absolutely correct. Sadly the only characters that won’t die are the ones I freaking WANT to 😔

He does 💖

Your dreams have fortune telling abilities that become relevant innnnn *checks toaster oven strapped to wrist* 2 updates

Yeah I got Fallencland 😔 My paper textures were too saucy for Tumblr

NO BUT YOURE SO RIGHT…

Same creature

#circusclan #circus ask #peanutkit #candykit #I need you guys dreams studied

107 notes · View notes

urno1luv · 9 months ago

Note

IM OBSESSED WITH THE SANA FIC!! can you make a noncon sana x aespamember!reader??

aespa and twice were having a collab and reader was unaware sana had been eyeing her for quite some time now,, any aespa member) points it out and you just shrug, thinking she was trying to look at something else and that u were just in the way, then the rest is u can continue it:)

LOVE THIS IDEA!!! hope u like this ♡

maybe i should've done this in 2 parts bc this is pretty long😔also instead of twice collabing, i did sana x aespa for her mini album🙏

cw: noncon (at the end), power imbalance, implied prostitution?, sana lowkey crazy and distorts things to fit her reality, not proofread so excuse any errors🫶

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The studio is alive with energy, you and the rest of the æspa members huddling around the recording booth. But you feel a different sort of energy prickling at the back of your neck—a pair of eyes that have been fixed on you since you walked in. Sana.

You knew working with someone like her would be intense. She’s a legend, someone you (used to) admire. So when you and the girls found out you would collab with her on her first mini album, you were all amazed. But the way her gaze settles on you, unwavering and almost hungry, isn’t anything like you first expected. Every time you glance up, she’s watching, smiling like she’s found something precious, and the weight of her focus makes it hard to breathe.

Karina also noticed the way Sana was staring at you, and she teased you for it. "Sana-sunbaenim seems to have a little fixation on you'" she says as she nudged you. You glared at your annoying friend, but couldn't help but feel really uncomfortable under her persistent staring.

When you take a break, hoping for a moment’s relief, she’s beside you before you can even take a step away. "You have such a unique voice," she says, voice soft and warm, but somehow possessive. "I've really… like... wanted to sing with you, especially on a project this important to me." Her eyes never leave your face, and you can feel the intensity simmering just beneath her words.

You try to keep your tone light, professional. "Thank you, Sana-sunbaenim. It’s… really an honor," you reply, shifting slightly back. But she doesn’t move, her gaze steady, her fingers brushing your arm in a way that feels too deliberate.

Hours pass, and the session winds down, but Sana’s attention only grows more intense. Every note, every line you sing, she’s there, watching, studying, like you’re the only person in the room. It’s as if she’s trying to memorize every movement, every glance. You try to ignore it, but there’s no escaping the weight of her presence.

Finally, as you gather your things, you feel her hand wrap gently around your wrist. The touch makes your skin prickle. You look up to find her standing close, too close, her eyes dark and unreadable.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, her tone heavy with something you can’t quite place. “I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other. There’s… something really special about you.”

A chill slides down your spine. You force yourself to smile, polite and distant. "I… appreciate that, Sana." Your short response to her compliment, slightly seemed to irk her.

Something shifts in her eyes, a hint of darkness. Then she smiles, as if nothing happened. “Oh, of course. I understand. But… I think you’ll come around. You just need time.” Her gaze lingers on your face, studying you in a way that feels intimidating.

You manage to pull your hand away, offering a quick goodbye before leaving the studio. But as you step out into the night air, you can still feel her gaze on you, like a shadow that won’t let you go. And you know, somehow, that this won’t be the last time. The thought sits heavy in your chest, a mix of dread and something darker that you can’t quite shake.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

A few months later, you and the girls got invited to MAMA, a famous award show. The interior is packed, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you move through the backstage corridors. æspa is up for a big award tonight, in the 'Album of the Year' category, and you should be excited. But there’s a sense of unease that follows you like a shadow, something you haven’t been able to shake since that collaboration weeks ago.

It doesn’t take long before you see her—Sana, dressed elegantly, looking every bit the star she is. She’s surrounded by her group, TWICE, and is chatting with the girls. For a moment, you think she hasn’t noticed you, and relief flutters in your chest. But then, as if she can sense your presence, her eyes find you across the room, and that familiar smile spreads across her face.

You turn away quickly, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave you alone. But the rest of the night, you feel her gaze on you, just as intense as it was in the studio. It’s as if the crowded room only gives her more reason to focus on you.

During a break between segments, you slip away to the makeup room, hoping for a moment of quiet to collect yourself. You’ve barely taken a breath when the door opens behind you, and you freeze, recognizing her reflection in the mirror. She closes the door softly behind her, and the room suddenly feels much too small.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, her voice smooth and familiar. “I didn’t expect to see you alone.”

You try to keep your tone light, unaffected. “Just needed a minute to breathe.”

She moves closer, her eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “Award shows can be overwhelming, can’t they?” she says, her arm wrapping around your shoulder, in a way that feels like a claim. “But you handle it so well. You always do.”

Her touch is insistent, and you can feel the tension building in the air, thick and heavy. You step to the side, hoping to create some space between you, but she follows, her head leaning down to breathe in your scent, arms trailing back to hold you tighter.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, her tone sweet but laced with something darker. Her eyes are too focused, too sharp, like she can see right through you. “You’ve seemed… distant since the studio. I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

You swallow, forcing a polite smile. “I’ve just been busy.”

She leans in further, her voice dropping down an octave. “You don’t need to play hard to get, my love. I know you feel it too—this connection between us.” Her arms curl more around your waist, firm, like she’s daring you to pull away.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. “Sana, I… I think you might be misunderstanding something.”

For a brief moment, her expression falters, but then the smile is back, sharper this time. “Misunderstanding?” she echoes, her grip tightening more and more. “You can say what you like, but I know the truth. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

She’s close, too close, and you feel trapped under the weight of her gaze. You look down, trying to find the words to end this, but your voice feels small, lost under her intensity.

Just as quickly as she stepped into your space, she lets go, smoothing her dress with a smile that looks almost amused. “Maybe I was wrong,” she says, her voice light, but there’s an edge to it that makes your pulse race. “Or maybe you just need more time.

With one last lingering glance, she turns and leaves, closing the door softly behind her, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart and a sense of dread that settles deep in your chest.

You take a shaky breath, glancing at your reflection. The unease that Sana left behind lingers, like a shadow that won’t let you go. Somehow, you know this won’t be the last time.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

It’s early evening when the call comes. The company has scheduled a meeting with Sana, they say, per her "requests." You’re tired after rehearsals, and the memory of that encounter at the award show still lingers. The thought of meeting her again, alone, sets off alarm bells in your mind, but your manager insists. “It’s important,” she says. “Just for a couple of hours.”

Feeling dread inside, you find yourself in a car heading to Sana’s apartment, the city lights fading as you get closer. By the time you reach her building, a strange chill has settled over you. You press the intercom, and her voice comes through, warm and familiar, welcoming you up.

The door opens, and there she is, dressed casually but with that same piercing look in her eyes. She smiles, stepping aside to let you in, and the door clicks shut behind you. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken, and the silence stretches as you walk inside. Her apartment is elegant, understated, but something about it feels too intimate, too personal.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says, gesturing to the living room. You settle on the couch, but her gaze never leaves you, following your every movement. You tell yourself to focus, and keep things professional, but there’s a strange energy in the air, something tense and unyielding.

Sana sits beside you, too close, her knee brushing against yours. “I’m glad you came,” she murmurs, her voice soft but laced with something darker. “I’ve missed you.”

You shift uncomfortably, trying to keep your tone polite. “So, what exactly did you need help with?”

She only smiles, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “I think you know what you're here for, doll.” she whispers, leaning closer, her hand resting on your thigh. You try to get up, but she holds your shoulder, making a noise of disapproval.

“Sana,” you say, your voice wavering, “I… I don't do that... stuff.”

Her smile fades, replaced by something colder. “You don’t have to act clueless anymore. It's fucking repulsive.” You feel trapped, unable to look away from her gaze.

The room feels smaller, the air heavy and suffocating. You try to stand, to put some distance between you, but she pulls you back down again. “You don’t need to be afraid,” she whispers, her voice unrelenting. “I’ll make sure you understand… how much you mean to me.”

There’s an intensity in her words, a finality that makes your heart pound. You try to pull away, to find the words to end this, but they feel caught in your throat. Her grip tightens, her gaze dark and unwavering.

"Please, Sana.... stop it!!" your voice gets higher in pitch as she stands up and drags you, strangely full of strength. She pushes you against a wall, your back absorbing the force of it. Sana snarls at you, her eyebrows furrowed. "The quicker you let me do this, the quicker you can run back home to your little friends, got it?"

You sob, as you realise what you were really sent over to her apartment for. You were just a tool to gain more power and leverage in the industry.

By the time you leave her apartment, the world feels different, the weight of her filthy, nauseating presence still heavy on your skin. You walk out into the cool night air, but there’s no relief, no escape from the feeling that something has changed forever.

Sana's fingers roughly entering your pussy as you beg her to stop only turns her on further, her own panties getting soaked. She pulls them out slowly, then tastes them, moaning. "How could I resist you, Y/n? You taste so good." Sana undoes her belt, to reveal a strap, the tip jumping up to touch her stomach. You squeal as you feel her shove it in, your voice hoarse from begging. Sana groans as she begins fucking you, her hand pushing your back inwards to create an arch, other hand wrapped around your throat. You can feel her eyes scanning up and down your back, and whine as she suddenly tightens her grip on your neck, her rings digging into you.

..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ....

#urno1luv #sana x fem reader #sana minatozaki x reader #sana x reader #sana minatozaki #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

328 notes · View notes