#sn: your future | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

badathumanemotions · 3 days ago

Note

Hi! How are you? If you're taking requests, I have one: Emily Prentiss × female! Oc. It's a dirty request, where I want Emily Prentiss to be submissive and the female! Oc/SN to be dominant. A context behind it, so it's not just sex, is after the "Honor Among Thieves" case, from the second season, more specifically after a dinner between the two with Elizabeth Prentiss (Emily's mother) that managed to push the female! Oc/SN to the limit. That's it, thank you :)

The Weight of Expectations

Emily Prentiss x Reader MDNI Masterlist CW: Angst With a Happy Ending, Smut, Sub Emily, Dom Reader, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Tribbing/ Scissoring, SubSpace, Love Bites, Aftercare. WC: 12,503

(Not Proof Read)

The house was as immaculate as you had expected, but somehow more sterile than you had imagined. Not cold exactly, but curated in a way that made the warmth feel artificial. The expensive fixtures gleamed, the lighting was soft and carefully arranged, and every piece of furniture looked like it had been placed by a designer rather than lived with. Nothing here felt touched.

You noticed the way Emily paused just inside the doorway, like stepping into this space required her to become someone she had worked hard to leave behind. Her hand found yours for a brief moment, her grip firm before she let go to slip out of her coat, her expression already composed.

Elizabeth greeted you both with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, air-kissing Emily’s cheek before offering you a polite nod. She was perfectly dressed, perfectly poised, and already perfectly condescending without saying a word. Her tone was smooth and measured as she led you into the dining room, offering a compliment on your outfit that sounded more like a subtle appraisal.

The moment you stepped inside, Elizabeth announced that dinner was just being served, her tone brisk like she had timed it perfectly on purpose. There was no chance to settle in, no invitation to get comfortable. Coats were taken, pleasantries were thin, and within minutes you were seated at the long, gleaming dining table.

The table was set like something out of a lifestyle magazine, all gleaming silver and delicate crystal, arranged with such precision it felt like a performance. You had always known Emily grew up in an affluent, high-society world, but seeing her placed back inside it felt strange. It made the version of her you knew, with her feet on the coffee table, hair tied back, laughing with a beer in hand, feel even more like the real one.

The food was plated with delicate precision, the kind of meal that looked more like it should be in an art exhibit than in front of someone planning to eat it. Emily sat across from you, already holding her wine glass, her posture stiff and practiced. She hadn't said much yet, and neither had Elizabeth, but something in the quiet tension between them was already pressing in. Like a storm waiting for the right comment to crack the sky open.

Elizabeth settled at the head of the table as if it were a throne. She commented on how nice it was to finally meet you, then added that Emily had taken her time bringing someone home.

“You know, Emily,” Elizabeth said lightly, as if commenting on the weather, “I still don’t understand why you didn’t pursue something more… sustainable.”

Emily didn’t look up. “Define sustainable.”

“Something with long-term vision,” Elizabeth continued, resting her fork on the edge of her plate. “Something that builds toward something greater. The Bureau is fine for now, I suppose, but don’t you ever think about the future?”

You glanced toward Emily, watching her expression flatten just a little more. She drank again, deeper this time, before placing her glass down too carefully.

“She is thinking about the future,” you said, tone calm. “She’s doing something that matters.”

Elizabeth gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. I didn’t mean to belittle what she’s doing. I just worry sometimes. There’s no real longevity in chasing serial killers.”

Emily’s fork hit her plate a little harder than necessary.

Elizabeth’s tone didn’t change. “But I had always hoped for more stability. Prestige. And I did try to give you every advantage. Boarding schools, language programs, summer internships with real potential. I thought I was opening doors, not watching you walk right past them.”

Emily set her wine glass down with deliberate care.

“You did open doors,” she said, voice clipped. “I just didn’t want what was behind them.”

Elizabeth turned her attention back to her plate, cutting another precise bite, then dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

You held your fork a little too tightly, trying not to react. It wasn’t your place, not here. Not now. Emily hadn’t asked you to bite your tongue, but you could feel the ask in the set of her shoulders, in the calm she was forcing herself to wear like armour. So you stayed silent, even as the urge to defend her curled hot in your chest.

Elizabeth went on. “You know, I still get asked about you. People wonder what you’ve been doing with yourself. They remember your potential. That time you spoke at the youth diplomacy summit, people were certain you’d end up in Geneva or Strasbourg, maybe even the UN.”

Emily gave a dry smile, no amusement in it. “I guess I disappointed a lot of people.”

Her mother didn’t deny it. “Well. There’s still time.”

Emily reached for her wine again, the movement slow, measured. She didn’t drink this time. Just held the glass.

Elizabeth looked at her daughter as though she were something to be gently corrected, not understood. “You were meant for more than this.”

Emily’s voice was quiet. “Maybe this is more.”

Elizabeth didn’t speak, but her silence echoed louder than any dismissal.

Elizabeth lifted her wine glass again, studying the colour with polite interest, then took a slow sip. She hadn't touched most of her food, but that didn’t seem to matter. The meal was theatre, not sustenance. A stage, like the furniture and the lighting and the immaculate arrangement of the table.

“You were always too quick to run from discomfort,” she said after a moment, her gaze still directed at Emily. “Never liked criticism. You’ve always called it pressure, but that’s such a dramatic word, don’t you think? I gave you opportunity. Structure. The kind of environment where excellence could flourish.”

Across the table, Emily sat with her fingers loosely curled around the stem of her glass. She wasn’t drinking anymore. Just holding it, like a weight she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to put down or throw. Her expression hadn’t changed, not really, but there was something brittle in it now. A crack under the surface.

Elizabeth set her glass down. “Other children would have been grateful. Most parents don’t know how to navigate diplomatic circles or secure elite internships for their daughters before they’re even out of school.”

You didn’t speak. You could feel the way Emily had gone still across from you, the silence she was holding like a shield. It wasn’t your place to break it, not yet.

“I gave you everything,” Elizabeth continued, as if speaking to herself, though her voice was deliberately pitched to carry. “And somehow you always managed to choose exactly the wrong thing.”

Emily’s voice came then, low and careful. “Wrong by your standards.”

Elizabeth’s expression didn’t shift. “My standards aren’t arbitrary, Emily. They’re based on results. On outcomes. And I’m sorry, but I fail to see how sprinting after violent men across the country for barely passable federal pay qualifies as a sound return on investment.”

“Then stop thinking of me as one,” Emily said, her voice sharp now, the words precise.

Elizabeth blinked once, slowly. “You’re being emotional.”

“I wonder why,” Emily said flatly.

There was another silence. One of many that had stretched across the table since the night began. But this one was heavier. Elizabeth’s knife moved against her plate with soft precision, rearranging rather than eating. She brought her napkin to her lips, dabbed once, then folded it again in her lap.

“You always had an eye for chaos,” she said lightly. “Even as a girl. You were drawn to it. You liked mess, like it proved something. Even your friends. There was always someone troubled. Someone in need of saving. I assumed you would grow out of it eventually.”

Emily didn’t move. She didn’t speak.

Elizabeth looked across the table at her daughter, then at you. “But now you’ve built a life around it. You must be tired. All that travel. All that emotional residue. It’s a job that ages you quickly.”

Emily’s jaw tightened. Her hand flexed around the glass.

“I mean, really,” Elizabeth went on, tone smooth and unbothered. “You’re not getting any younger. These are the years where you should be consolidating, not chasing. Do you even think about what comes next?”

“Constantly,” Emily replied, clipped and firm.

“Then perhaps it’s time to make some adjustments,” Elizabeth said, sitting straighter. “I don’t mean to imply that you’ve wasted your time. But you haven’t exactly positioned yourself well. No lasting relationship, no children, a job that doesn’t translate into anything beyond fieldwork…”

Her glance toward you was brief. Not cruel, just clinical. Observing rather than attacking.

You saw the way Emily’s throat moved as she swallowed hard, still not drinking from the glass she held.

“I have a partner,” she said, so quietly it almost didn’t register as defiant.

Elizabeth gave a faint smile, too polished to be kind. “For now.”

Her tone carried the kind of passive dismissal that didn’t require correction. The implication was clear. You weren’t real. Not in the terms Elizabeth had defined as acceptable.

Emily’s chair shifted suddenly, the legs scraping against the floor with a sound too loud in the curated quiet of the room. She stood, pushing the wine glass away as she did. She hadn’t touched her plate. Her posture was sharp, upright, too rigid to be calm.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Emily,” Elizabeth said, feigning surprise, “honestly, this is—”

“A waste of time,” Emily cut in, voice low but clear. “I came here trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought maybe, if I just played along for one night, it would be different. But it’s not. You haven’t changed. You’ll never see anything I do as enough, and I’m tired of trying to make you proud when you’re not capable of being proud of anyone who doesn’t live by your rulebook.”

She moved toward the doorway without looking back.

Elizabeth gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “My god, Emily. Do you ever stop performing? You could at least have the decency to sit through dinner like an adult.”

Emily didn’t respond. The doorframe swallowed her, heels hitting the polished floor with measured, furious steps until they faded into the hall.

Elizabeth turned to you with a cool sort of exhale, shaking her head like this was all some exhausting display. “She’s always had a flair for scenes. One little comment and the whole evening unravels.”

You didn’t stand right away. You met her gaze across the flickering candle light and spoke in a voice that was quiet but crisp. “It wasn’t one little comment. It was a series of calculated insults, framed as concern, dressed up just enough to maintain plausible deniability. But I imagine you’re used to doing that.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her expression stayed composed. “Excuse me?”

You stood then, slow and unhurried, pushing your chair back with less care than Emily had. “You didn’t want dinner. You wanted confirmation that she still orbits your approval. And when she didn’t, you did what you always do. You punished her for it.”

Elizabeth stared at you, still holding her wine glass. “That’s an unfair interpretation.”

“No,” you said simply. "It's the truth, you've just always counted on others being too polite to point out."

Elizabeth didn’t respond, but the flicker in her eyes said she heard it for exactly what it was.

You stood there a moment longer, the stillness sharpening around you like glass. Every instinct screamed to tear into her, to say everything Emily never got to. But you held it, kept it coiled tight in your chest where it burned clean and cold.

“She’s extraordinary,” you said, each word precise. “Brilliant. Stronger than you’ll ever give her credit for.”

Then, after a breath, quieter, darker:

“And if you can’t see that, that’s not her failure. It’s yours.”

You didn’t wait for her to answer. You just turned and walked out, not bothering to shut the door gently behind you. Letting the silence speak for everything you didn’t say.

The car was dark except for the soft glow of the dashboard, and Emily hadn’t said a word since pulling out of the driveway. Her grip on the wheel hadn’t loosened, her posture too straight, like she hadn’t let herself exhale yet. You didn’t try to fill the silence. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw kept tightening and loosening, how her eyes stayed fixed ahead but weren’t really focused on the road. She was somewhere else entirely, playing every second of the evening back through a filter of self-doubt and barely buried resentment. You knew she was tearing herself apart from the inside, turning her mother’s words over again and again, wondering if she should’ve said more or less or nothing at all. But you also knew she didn’t want to talk. Not yet. She just wanted to drive, to put space between herself and that house, and maybe to sit with someone who wouldn’t ask her to explain why. So you sat there beside her, quiet, solid, and close, letting the silence do what it needed to.

Emily dropped her keys into the bowl by the door like they weighed more than they should. She didn't say anything, just moved through the space like someone performing muscle memory. Shoes off, coat hung, lights flicked on with fingers that trembled just slightly before steadying. She didn’t look at you once. Not because she was upset with you. Just the opposite. She was trying too hard not to fall apart.

She moved to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, stared into it like something inside might offer her a script. When nothing did, she closed it again. The fridge was next, the door hanging open for a long moment as she stood there with one hand on the handle and the other pressed flat to the counter like she needed grounding. She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t want anything in there. She just didn’t know what to do with herself.

You stayed in the doorway, watching the quiet unravelling in real time. Her movements were too careful, her breathing too even, like she was afraid to make a sound that might betray her. You saw the way her jaw was set, the way her eyes didn’t focus on anything, just moved restlessly from one spot to the next, as if trying to outpace whatever was crawling up the back of her mind.

When she finally shut the fridge, her hand lingered against the stainless steel, head bowed slightly. You could see it. The tight coil in her spine, the way she was holding herself so still it ached to look at. The silence stretched on.

She needed something. She wouldn’t ask. She never did. There was too much pride in her, too many years of being taught that needing was weakness. But she was exhausted, pulled thin, the weight of the night pressing down on her with nowhere to go.

So you stepped forward without a word. Closed the distance slowly, deliberately, until you were just behind her.

You didn’t touch her right away.

She was still standing there with her back to you, one hand pressed to the fridge door like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her shoulders were rigid, arms locked in that military-trained kind of stillness, the kind that tried too hard to look in control. But you knew better. You saw the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the small falter in her breath. The way she hadn’t said a word since unlocking the door. She wasn’t standing still because she was composed. She was standing still because she was barely holding together.

“Close the fridge,” you said quietly.

There was a pause, just a second too long. But then she did, without a word.

“Turn around.”

This time, she hesitated. You could feel the pride dragging at her, the instinct to resist, to prove she didn’t need anything from anyone. But her body betrayed her. She shifted, slow and stiff, until she was facing you, her hands now crossed in front of her like a shield.

You stepped closer, slow and measured. Your voice stayed calm. Grounded. The opposite of how she was feeling.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

Her eyes flicked up to yours for the first time. Something sharp and defensive moved behind them, but underneath it was what you’d been waiting for. That flicker of want. Not desire. Not yet. Just the aching need to not be in charge for once. The need to stop thinking.

She opened her mouth like she might object. Like she might joke it off or pretend she was fine. But she didn’t say anything. Just turned and placed both hands on the counter, fingers spreading slightly over the cool surface.

You came up behind her, close but not touching.

“Stay there,” you said.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t try to regain control. And that silence from her, so rare and so loaded, told you everything you needed to know.

She was ready. She needed this. Even if she’d never ask for it.

You watched her shoulders rise with a breath she didn’t seem to notice taking. She was holding tension everywhere, even in the way her hands pressed into the counter. Like she was bracing herself against something unnamed.

You stepped in behind her and let your palm skim slowly up her spine, not soft, not teasing. Just steady. Her body gave the faintest response, a shift in weight, a flicker of something deeper grounding into her heels.

“You’re doing fine,” you said, voice low and even. “Exactly like that.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, but the way her hands settled told you she heard it. The way her breath caught at the top before sliding out again. You trailed your fingers back down, slow, ending at her hips, then tightened your grip just enough to anchor her there.

“Don’t move unless I tell you.”

A pause. Then, a barely-there whisper. “Okay.”

It wasn’t surrender, not yet. But it wasn’t resistance either. You could feel her pulling inward, slipping out of her head by inches, letting your words do the thinking for her.

You leaned in, mouth at the curve where her neck met her shoulder, not kissing her, just letting her feel your breath.

“Take off your shirt.”

Her hands moved. Not perfectly. One caught on the hem, like her body was still catching up to the instruction. But she got there, arms lifting, the fabric peeling away. You waited, letting the silence stretch until she was still again, bare and quiet in front of you.

You ran a hand up her arm, over the muscle, the tension, the effort she didn’t know she was making just to stay still.

“Good,” you murmured, and her fingers curled slightly against the counter. That one word did more than anything else.

You reached up and gathered her hair loosely in your hand, not pulling, just holding.

“You’re going to do exactly what I tell you,” you said, voice calm, certain.

Another breath from her, this one slower. She nodded.

“No,” you said gently, “use your words.”

“…Yes.”

You smiled. Not smug. Just sure.

“Good girl.”

You saw it in the way her shoulders softened, the barest shift in her weight. That phrase wrapped around her like something she hadn’t realized she missed until it landed. It stripped a layer of defence clean off her.

Her breathing was deeper now, but not rushed. She wasn’t waiting for pleasure. She was waiting for direction. For purpose. For the next instruction that would let her be useful. That would give her something she could get right.

You let your hand move down, smoothing over the curve of her ass, not teasing, not testing, just reminding her that you were here. That she wasn’t carrying herself alone anymore.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, and her fingers curled again against the counter. A soft shiver passed through her.

You leaned in, not touching with your body, just letting your mouth brush the edge of her ear. “Tell me you’re ready.”

A pause. One breath. Then, quietly, “I’m ready.”

You didn’t answer right away. You stepped in behind her instead, close enough that the warmth of your body brushed hers without contact. Her breathing had gone shallow again, ribcage shifting in small, measured pulls. You let your hands trail up the curve of her back, over her shoulder blades, fingers tracing the straps of her bra. She didn’t flinch, didn’t tense, but you felt the smallest tremble run under her skin. Not fear. Restraint.

You reached for the clasp.

It came undone with a soft click, the straps loosening at once. You didn’t pull them away right away. Let them linger, trailing down the backs of her arms until they slipped free and dropped to the floor without a sound.

“Drop it.”

She let it fall from her hands. You watched it hit the tile beside her feet, a soft little heap of fabric.

You didn’t speak. Just laid your palms on her now-bare back, dragging them down the length of her spine. She was so warm. All soft skin and carved tension. Your fingers traced the line of her ribs, the curve of her waist. She wasn’t breathing deeply anymore. Just short, stilling inhales, like anything more would draw too much attention to herself.

You palmed over her hipbones, thumbs brushing the tender skin there, then smoothed down again, barely grazing the backs of her thighs.

You didn’t tell her she looked beautiful. Didn’t need to.

Every second of stillness from her, every quiet shiver and obedient shift, told you she knew she was being seen. Known. Claimed.

“Skirt next.”

She moved immediately. No hesitation. Hooked her thumbs into the waistband and eased the fabric down her hips, past the swell of her ass, over her thighs. You stayed quiet, watching her hands. She stepped out of it slowly, folding just slightly to keep her balance. The way she moved told you everything—how deeply she was inside herself now, how focused. No pretense. No attempt to pose. Just bare skin and compliance.

Then came the last piece.

She didn’t wait for the instruction this time. Just reached for the band of her underwear and drew them down too, letting them slide all the way to her ankles. Another careful step out. She was fully nude now. Not posed. Not guarded. Just standing there in your kitchen, spine straight, hands loose at her sides.

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked at her. Her bare back, the curve of her thighs, the little dip at the base of her spine, all held under the quietest thread of tension. She was trembling again. Not from cold. From restraint. From being seen this way, this fully. From being allowed nothing to hide behind.

“Perfect.”

She let out a breath, long and quiet. Like that one word had pulled something loose.

You stepped in again and laid your hands on her hips. Ran your palms slowly over her ass, down the backs of her thighs, then back up again, slower. The weight of your hands was steady, deliberate, not teasing, not tentative. She didn’t make a sound, but her body shifted under your touch. Like she was trying not to lean into it too hard. Like she didn’t trust her own restraint.

“Bend.”

Her hands came up, planting firmly on the counter. She leaned forward, folding at the waist with that quiet, composed grace she carried even now. Her hair slid over one shoulder, baring the long line of her back. Her ass was exposed fully now, parted slightly from the way she was standing. Vulnerable. Waiting. Her weight settled into her heels again, body straining to hold still.

You watched her a moment longer. Then you brought your hands back, running your fingers over the full, bare curve of her again. You cupped her. Squeezed. Felt the tension spike, then fade. You gave her one short, firm smack on the side and felt the way she tensed, then let go.

“Good girl.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just took it.

You stepped back, slowly, peeling your own clothes off one by one. Not rushed. Not showy. The rustle of fabric, the soft drag of it against your skin, the shift of your weight on the tile. You let the silence build again. Let her feel it. Let her stew in it, naked and still and waiting.

You let her wait like that. Bent, silent, exposed. Her breath had settled into something slower, deeper. Not quite relaxed, but muted. Stripped down. Every part of her still, held there by choice.

“Kneel.”

The word dropped into the space between you like a stone in still water.

She moved without question. Hands left the counter. She lowered herself with that same controlled elegance, her knees touching the tile, bare and unprotected. Her back straightened as she settled, arms loose at her sides, her chin tilted just enough to suggest pride that hadn’t fully left her yet. But everything else had quieted.

You stepped forward, filling the space where she’d stood. You climbed up onto the edge of the counter, right where her palms had pressed down moments ago. The surface was faintly warm. She’d left part of herself there.

Your knees parted slightly in front of her. She didn’t look up. Just stayed perfectly still, bare skin flushed, breathing soft and even, the tile beneath her knees unforgiving. The pose was simple, but nothing about her looked casual. Her body was a held breath.

You reached down and touched her face, brushing your thumb lightly across her cheekbone, then over the slope of her jaw. She leaned into it, just slightly.

“Perfect,” you said.

You let your fingers trail down from her cheek to her chin. Tilted her face up, just enough to bring her focus where it belonged. Her lips were parted, breath warm against your skin, eyes lowered like she already knew what was coming.

You held her there for a moment, not forceful, just firm.

“Use your mouth.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her hands stayed right where they were, resting on her thighs, steady and obedient. Her mouth moved first, lips brushing against the inside of your knee in a kiss so soft you almost wouldn’t have felt it if you weren’t watching her. Then another. Higher. She mapped a path up your inner thigh, her pace slow but deliberate, reverent in the way she offered herself.

You didn’t move. You let her work for it. Let her earn every inch.

When she reached the heat of you, she paused. Not from doubt, not from nerves. Just a breath, a single beat before she gave herself over fully. Then her mouth opened, tongue sliding between your folds, gentle and sure, like she already knew exactly how to take you apart.

You inhaled through your nose, fingers finding her hair without pulling. She moaned softly the moment you touched her, the sound vibrating straight through you. But her hands didn’t move. She kept them still, exactly where you’d left them, needing no more instruction than what your voice had already given.

She licked you again, slower this time, like she wanted to feel every part of you against her tongue. Her breath came fast now, warm against your skin, but her rhythm didn’t falter. She chased your taste with something close to hunger, her mouth messy, greedy, but careful too, like she knew just how much pressure to give.

You parted your knees a little wider. That was all it took. She leaned in closer, tongue flattening against you, dragging slow and deep from the bottom up. Her lips closed around your clit at the top, suckling gently, then harder, just once, before pulling back and starting over.

“You're doing so well,” you murmured, fingers sliding a little deeper into her hair.

Her whole body responded. A slight shiver ran through her, her back straightening just a touch, like your praise had pulled something from her spine. She made a sound then, low and aching, buried against your cunt. Her hips rocked subtly where she knelt, but still, her hands didn’t move.

“Keep going,” you said.

She obeyed instantly, mouth wet and eager, licking you like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Her cheeks were flushed, her face slick, her tongue tireless. You felt her moan again, and this time she pressed in deeper, the angle firmer, her nose nudging your pubic hair as she mouthed at you like she couldn’t get close enough.

She wasn’t trying to be good for the sake of it. She needed to be. Needed to make you come, needed to feel it, needed to hear you say she’d done it right. Everything about her body said so. The way her mouth worked harder each time you let your breath catch, the way her fingers curled slightly against her thighs, fighting the urge to touch you.

But she didn’t.

She stayed still, devoted and desperate and waiting for your permission, even as she lost herself between your thighs.

You could feel everything.

Every flick of her tongue sent sparks running up your spine, sharp at first, then melting into something warm and unbearable. The deeper she pressed, the more the heat in your belly tightened, thick and slow and crawling outward like molasses. Her mouth was relentless. She moved like she was memorizing you, like she needed to earn every sound you made with the drag of her tongue and the soft pull of her lips.

Your thighs trembled a little where they framed her shoulders. Not from weakness, not yet. From the steady build of it. The pressure she worked up in you was precise and consuming. It didn’t peak all at once. It climbed. Grew. It curled through you in waves that made you press your heels tighter against the counter, needing to stay grounded.

She circled your clit with her tongue, slow and unhurried, again and again until your hips started to roll against her mouth, small and instinctive. She didn’t change her pace. She kept licking you like that was exactly what she’d wanted. Like she’d drawn it out of you on purpose. Her tongue flattened, then lifted, then flattened again, always returning to the same rhythm, the same spot, until the ache between your legs deepened into something slick and hot and endless.

You let your head tip back as your fingers curled tighter in her hair.

“Just like that,” you said, voice rough with it now. “Don’t stop.”

Her moan was immediate, hungry and eager, the vibrations pressed right up against you. She was chasing it too. Not her own pleasure—yours. The way she licked you, the way she sucked your clit back into her mouth and rolled her tongue over it like she wanted to wring it out of you, it was all for that.

The pressure inside you twisted, sharp and deep. Your stomach clenched, hips rocking into her mouth now without hesitation. You could feel how soaked you were, how slick her chin must be, how messy you’d made her, and she didn’t care. She wanted it. She stayed buried in you, lips parted and mouth open, drinking it in like she was desperate to taste every part of you.

You gasped, quiet but broken. The coil inside you pulled tighter, so tight it was starting to burn. Her pace stayed steady, exactly the same rhythm, exactly where you needed it, like she’d found the perfect way to unravel you and was clinging to it.

Your thighs twitched. Your breath caught.

Then you said her name, low and wrecked, and everything inside you started to give way.

Your hips jerked forward into her mouth, your grip tightening in her hair. The pressure inside you didn’t unravel slowly. It tore itself loose, raw and overwhelming, dragging your body with it. Your moan came sharp and low, punched out of your chest before you could catch it. Your thighs tensed, your stomach clenched, every nerve burning through the release.

And Emily didn’t stop.

She kept going just as you’d told her. Her mouth stayed locked to you, her tongue working you through it without pause or hesitation. There was no flicker of thought behind it. No hesitation. She was just doing what she was told. Completely focused. Completely yours.

The sensation stayed sharp. Wet, tender, almost too much. Your legs trembled. Your back arched. Pleasure kept pulsing through you in smaller, broken waves that left you open and twitching and soaked against her mouth. You could feel everything. Her breath. The texture of her tongue. The soft, persistent suction she never once let up.

She was still on her knees, still upright, her face buried between your legs with no concern for anything else. She didn’t need to know if she was doing it right. You’d already told her she's a good girl.

So she kept going.

Your body jerked again, sensitivity rising high into something sharp. You didn’t pull her back. She didn’t slow down. You clenched around nothing, stomach tightening again, breath caught and stuttering. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You looked down at her, hair mussed from your grip, jaw moving in steady rhythm, eyes half-closed and unfocused.

Still chasing your pleasure. Still waiting to be told what to do.

You swallowed, hand resting heavy in her hair.

“Stop.”

You kept your hand in her hair for a moment longer, fingers gently threaded through the strands, holding her close not because you needed to, but because you didn’t want to let go of the warmth still radiating from her skin. Her mouth was soft and wet, lips swollen, her breath ghosting over your thighs in shallow little exhales that made it clear just how hard she’d been working to please you. Her obedience wasn’t stiff or hesitant. It was molten. Pure heat pressed into shape.

“Good girl,” you said, voice thick with satisfaction.

Her whole body shuddered like the words struck something deep in her. She didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. She stayed where she was, perfectly still, perfectly quiet, like she was waiting for whatever came next, like that praise was enough to keep her right there on her knees.

You slid off the counter slowly, letting your feet find the tile, your muscles humming from the release she’d pulled out of you. You were still warm between your thighs, still sensitive, still open from the way her mouth had ruined you, and the moment your eyes dropped to the floor in front of her, your breath caught.

There, between her knees, were small droplets of slick catching the light. Not a mess, not a flood, just distinct beads of arousal, slipping down her inner thighs and falling to the floor beneath her. Her cunt was wet, impossibly so, her pubic hair damp and tangled, glistening with it. No part of her was hiding it. She wasn’t even trying. Her thighs were glossy with the evidence of how desperately turned on she was, how much obeying you had affected her. Her folds were flushed and visibly pulsing, slick still gathering there before another drop slid free and joined the rest.

You moaned without thinking, the sound low and wrecked. The sight of her like that—kneeling, completely exposed, dripping from being so good for you—sent another wave of heat rushing through you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the mess between her legs, from the shine of her skin, from the way her pubic hair was wet and dark with arousal, her need painted all over her in a way that felt obscene and perfect.

“God, Emily,” you breathed, your hand tightening in her hair again. “Look at you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t reach for anything, didn’t even shift her weight. She just stayed exactly where you’d left her, soaked and waiting, ready for your next command.

You reached for her, hands slipping beneath her arms, and pulled her up in one unhesitating motion. Her body followed without resistance, pliant, bare skin pressed to yours. She barely had time to find her footing before your mouth was on hers, rough and claiming, nothing delicate about it. Your hand gripped her jaw, holding her steady as you kissed her hard, lips parting hers, your tongue pushing deep, demanding everything she had left.

She moaned into your mouth, body arching into yours, caught in it. You didn’t let her settle. Your hands slid down her sides, over the curves of her waist and hips, firm and grounding, keeping her close as you started walking her back, step by step, out of the kitchen.

“You’re going to be good for me,” you said against her lips, barely pulling away between kisses.

“Yes,” she whispered, breath shaky.

You pushed her another step, then another, until her back hit the doorframe. You kissed her again, slower this time but no gentler, your hands exploring every inch you could reach. Her body trembled under yours, heat radiating off her in waves.

Every step made her thighs brush, made more slick trail down. You could hear it, faint and obscene. It only pushed you further.

She hit the doorframe and you didn’t stop. Your mouth stayed on hers, wet and deep, your tongue claiming every inch she offered. She kissed back like she didn’t care if she could breathe, like she was chasing whatever you gave her without thinking, just pure obedience strung tight around hunger.

Your hands didn’t leave her body. You pushed her back again and again, walking her into the room, her bare skin catching the faintest chill in the air but never pulling away from you. She moved only when you did, letting you guide her, control her, press her exactly where you wanted her.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

Her thighs hit the edge of the mattress and you didn’t give her time to catch her breath. You bent, hands sliding under her legs, lifting her with a firm grip at the backs of her thighs. Her arms flew up to brace around your shoulders, more reflex than thought, as you hoisted her up and laid her back onto the bed.

She landed softly, hair spread out over the sheets, skin flushed and marked from your mouth. Her legs stayed parted where you'd placed them, knees falling open with ease. You climbed up after her, mouth finding hers again in a hungry tangle, tongues slick, lips catching, your body stretched over hers.

Your hands roamed, palms dragging up over the sides of her ribs, fingers sweeping the curves of her waist. Her skin was hot to the touch, damp where your mouth had already been, thighs sticky where you'd felt her dripping against you. You let one hand slide lower, down the length of her stomach, dragging slow until it found the heat between her legs.

She moaned into your mouth and you swallowed it, deepening the kiss, fingers sliding through the wet mess below as your hips pressed flush to hers. Her body arched but she didn’t move away, didn’t reach for more, just lay there open, breath stuttering against your lips as you kept kissing her like you couldn’t get enough.

You shifted your weight, settling between her thighs. Her legs were already open, but you wanted more. You hooked your hands behind her knees and pulled them up, spreading her wider, guiding her exactly how you wanted her. Her breath caught as you adjusted her, her body pliant under your touch.

You kept her like that, hands gripping behind her thighs to hold her open, and lowered yourself until your hips pressed flush to hers. The first grind sent a jolt through both of you, wet heat meeting wet heat, slick against slick. Your breath caught, and hers broke into a quiet, gasping sound that barely reached your ears before you moved again.

You rocked into her, slow and deliberate, your cunt dragging over hers with each press of your hips. It was messy, hot, everything slippery and flushed, and you could feel how soaked she was, how easily you both slid together.

Emily’s thighs trembled under your grip, but she held position, just like you’d placed her. Her fingers dug into the sheets beside her, gripping tight, trying not to move even as her hips twitched with every grind of your body against hers. She was soaked, hot, the slick glide of her cunt against yours making it impossible not to gasp.

You pressed in harder, the friction more intense now, your clit catching on hers just right. Emily cried out, her breath ragged, but she didn’t shift out of place. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the sheets, muscles tensed like it was taking everything in her not to thrust up and meet you.

“You’re doing so well,” you breathed, your voice low as you moved against her again, slower this time, dragging it out. “Just like that. Let me use you.”

Her head tipped back into the pillow, mouth open in a moan. Her hips jerked up before she could stop herself, a desperate little stutter, and then she froze, chest rising in a sharp breath as she forced herself still again. You watched it all, every ripple of restraint across her body.

“You want to move,” you said, voice warm and wrecked, “don’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted, eyes fluttering open, pleading without words.

“But you won’t.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll be good. I promise.”

You leaned in, kissed her again, deep and filthy, grinding your cunt against hers harder this time, wet and messy and perfect. Her moan vibrated against your mouth, her body straining underneath you without ever breaking the rules you set. It was obedience wrapped in need, discipline soaked in desire. And every second of it made you ache for more.

You didn’t slow down. The steady grind of your cunt against hers stayed just as deliberate, just as wet, each slick pass dragging another moan from her throat. Her body stayed where you’d left it, thighs spread, arms taut at her sides, shaking with restraint.

You sat up slightly, just enough to get your hands on her chest. Your palms slid over her breasts, thumbs brushing slowly over her nipples. They were already hard, begging for attention, and the second you touched them, Emily whimpered, her fingers clutching the sheets tighter.

You rolled one nipple between your fingers, firm but careful, then leaned down to kiss the other, mouthing at it while your hips kept moving. She gasped beneath you, hips twitching again, caught between staying still and the instinct to move with you.

Her moans were getting higher, less controlled, like each pass of your cunt against hers was chipping away at what little she had left. You dragged your tongue over her breast, then bit lightly, just enough to make her cry out. Your hands were everywhere now, squeezing, playing, pressing her deeper into the bed with every grind of your hips.

“That’s it,” you said against her skin, voice low, breath hot. “Take it. Let me feel how good you are.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her body arched, but still she didn’t lift her hips. She just lay there, trembling, breathing hard, slick coating both of you, overwhelmed and obedient and desperate to be good.

You ran your hands over her slowly, palms gliding over the smooth expanse of her body, taking in every detail. Her skin was pale and impossibly soft, like it hadn’t been touched enough, like it had been waiting just for this. Every place your fingers passed left a faint warmth behind, but it was your mouth that truly marked her. You leaned in and kissed the swell of her breast, then scraped your teeth over it, and when she whimpered beneath you, you bit down hard enough to leave a deep flush in your wake.

The red stood out starkly against her skin, heat blooming under your tongue. You moved lower and left another. Then another. Along her ribs, her hip, the side of her stomach. You were deliberate about it, kissing first, then biting just enough to make her gasp, not cruel but undeniable, painting her with your mouth until she was dotted with proof of how much she belonged to you.

Her breath hitched every time your teeth caught. Her hands clung to your shoulders, to your arms, to anything she could reach without breaking the position you'd put her in. You felt her trying to stay still, trying to obey, her thighs trembling just slightly under yours as you rolled your hips again, slow and deep, grinding against her. Her slick was everywhere now, hot and wet and messy between you, and still she didn't chase, didn't take, just waited for whatever you gave her.

You brushed your fingers down her side, over the curve of her waist, and watched goosebumps follow in your wake. Then you leaned back just enough to take in the sight of her laid out beneath you, flushed and panting and covered in the marks you’d left behind.

“Look at you,” you said softly. “All mine.”

Emily let out a soft, desperate sound at your words, her fingers tightening against your back like she needed to hold onto something solid. Her hips rocked up instinctively, trying to follow the rhythm of your body, though she caught herself before she gave in too much. The restraint made you smile.

“Yours,” she gasped, the word slipping out between moans. “I’m yours.”

You ground down harder in response, catching the perfect drag of her soaked cunt against yours. The friction was hot and messy and perfect, every grind sending sharp bursts of pleasure through you both. Her head fell back against the mattress, exposing the long line of her throat, flushed and trembling.

You leaned down to kiss her again, slower this time but just as deep. She opened for you instantly, moaning into your mouth, her hands sliding up to your shoulders, then back down your sides, clutching, needing. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to grab your hips, wanted to pull you in and fuck up into you, but she didn’t. She kept her hands where they were, obedient even now.

You felt how close she was. Her whole body was straining for more, her thighs twitching with every roll of your hips, her breath stuttering every time you pressed in just right. And still she waited for you to give the signal, every part of her pleading without a word.

“Good girl,” you whispered into her ear, voice rough with need. “Keep taking it just like that.”

Emily was a mess beneath you, flushed and trembling, her skin damp with sweat and hot to the touch. Her fingers gripped the sheets in tight, shaking fists, knuckles white from the effort of keeping them in place. You rocked against her slowly, keeping the rhythm steady, dragging your pussy over hers in long, wet strokes. Her breath caught every time your clits aligned, hips jolting like she could barely stop herself from chasing more.

You cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, watching her back arch and her head tip into the pillows. Her thighs twitched around your hips. She whimpered, the sound high and helpless.

“Don’t move,” you reminded her, voice low.

She nodded quickly, breath stuttering. “I won’t. I won’t. I’ll stay still.”

Her voice was ragged, words trembling with effort, like every part of her was focused on obeying. She moaned again, louder this time, unable to stop it, her thighs slick where they pressed against yours. Her body gave everything away—how close she was, how badly she wanted more—but she didn’t beg. Didn’t buck up into you. Just lay there trembling, panting, trying so hard to be exactly what you wanted.

“Perfect for me,” you murmured, letting your fingers roll her nipples between them, watching the way her face twisted with pleasure.

That praise broke something loose in her. She cried out softly, hips flinching, her whole body straining for more. Her moans kept coming, louder now, raw and needy, each one punched out with every grind of your hips.

She didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t beg to come. She just stayed obedient, stayed open, and let you use her the way she was meant to be used.

You held her steady, firm grip on her thighs keeping her wide and open beneath you. Your hips moved with purpose, every grind deliberate and deep, your slick catching against hers in hot, soaked friction. Her skin was flushed everywhere you touched, her body pulled so taut you could feel the tremble in her legs with every press.

Emily was falling apart under you. She tried to hold herself still, tried not to buck up and chase it, but her body betrayed her with every breath. Her grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your back, anchoring herself to the one thing she couldn't ask more from. Every time you circled your hips down, her mouth opened in another moan, louder than the last, desperate and sweet.

You could see her trying. Her thighs flexed, her abdomen shuddered with the effort it took not to fuck herself up into you. She was panting now, sweat at her temples, lashes damp as her head tipped back against the pillows. “Please,” she whimpered, voice cracking. “Please, I— I need to—”

You didn’t give her the permission she thought she needed. You just kept grinding down, kept your rhythm steady, made her feel every second of it. “You can come,” you finally said, voice low and rough, right into her ear. “Be messy for me. Let me feel all of it.”

And she broke.

It ripped through her with no elegance, no composure. Her whole body arched up into yours, thighs tensing in your hands, cunt clenching hard as she cried out, loud and raw. It echoed in the room, her voice shaking with it, nothing held back anymore. Her hips jerked uncontrollably, dragging herself against you even as you kept her pinned, making her ride the wave to its edge.

She sobbed your name, not from pain but from sheer relief. Her breath came fast, catching on the sound of her own release, thighs slick and trembling, her face flushed to her chest. Her orgasm came in waves, one after the other, body wracked with it, overwhelmed by how much she’d held back until now.

You stayed with her, grinding slower, dragging her through the aftershocks, feeling every twitch of her cunt against yours. Her nails raked blindly across your back, and then her hands fisted in the sheets, clinging to anything she could. You kissed her shoulder, her throat, the corner of her jaw. You gave her your voice again.

“There you go,” you whispered against her skin. “So good. So perfect like this.”

Her mouth parted, lips trembling with the afterglow. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, but she turned her head just enough to chase your mouth. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you…”

You smiled, still holding her thighs, still feeling her pulse under your touch.

“Anything for you, sweet girl” you murmured.

She was still trembling under you, her thighs twitching where your hands held them apart. Her body had gone soft and shaky, but her eyes stayed on you, glassy and reverent, mouth parted like she didn’t know how to close it again.

You didn’t stop.

Your hips kept moving, slick grinding into hers, dragging every aftershock out of her and using it for your own. She was so wet beneath you, swollen and sensitive, but she let you take what you needed. Gave you everything, again and again.

The tension in your own body had been building for so long, you hardly recognized it anymore. Your thighs were tight, muscles burning as you rocked down onto her, chasing friction, chasing release. Her skin was still hot, her breasts rising against your chest, her breath catching with every pass of your cunt over hers.

You could feel the heat coil, sharp and low. The sounds of her soft moans, still fucked out but eager, pushed you closer. Her praise. Her obedience. Her eyes on you like you were the only thing she needed. All of it built under your skin like pressure that had nowhere left to go.

Your rhythm broke for a moment, hips stuttering as the first wave caught you. A sharp gasp slipped from your mouth. Then your body locked up, muscles clenching tight as it ripped through you, sudden and overwhelming. You buried your face in her neck, moaning against her skin as your orgasm crashed down.

It hit hard, grinding slow and deep against her as you came, cunt pulsing where it met hers, slick mixing and smearing between your bodies. You barely registered the way your nails dug into her thighs or how your back arched so hard it nearly lifted you off her. You just felt.

Emily held on. Arms wrapped around you now, fingertips pressing into your back, her mouth moving in soft, breathless encouragement that you could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears. You rode it out against her, grinding through every wave, until your body finally eased, your hips slowing, your breath catching in your throat.

You were still trembling when you sank down into her, completely spent.

You pressed a kiss to the damp curve of her shoulder. Took one breath, then another. Let your hand trail up her side, over the sharp edge of her ribcage, until your palm rested above her heart.

"You were so good for me," you murmured, your voice low and still wrecked from your own release. You lifted your head just enough to look at her. Her eyes were wide, glassy with arousal, her lips parted. You smiled, slow and fond. "You’ve earned a reward."

That made her swallow hard. She didn’t speak. Just nodded once, like she couldn’t trust her voice.

You kissed her again, softer this time, and then began easing her back onto the mattress. Your hands never left her. You guided her down until she was laid out beneath you, limbs open and pliant, chest rising fast. Her skin was flushed and slick with sweat, strands of dark hair sticking to her temples.

You trailed kisses down her throat, then lower, your mouth catching the edge of a fading bruise above her collarbone. You felt her shiver. Her thighs shifted, restless, already anticipating.

"Stay still," you said, barely above a whisper.

She did.

You kissed the valley between her breasts. Mouthed at the softness of one, then the other, your hands sliding down to hold her waist steady. You could feel how tightly she was holding herself together. Not from tension. From need. From wanting so badly to be good, to take everything you gave her and show you how much it meant.

You smiled against her skin and kissed your way lower.

"I'm going to take my time with you," you said, voice warm. "You deserve that."

You kissed her one last time, then pushed up, trailing your hands down her sides as you moved. She stayed as she was, legs still parted, hair a mess around her flushed face, her body damp with sweat and slick. She looked completely undone.

You shifted lower, moving down between her thighs, kissing a slow path down the centre of her body. Her stomach tensed under your mouth, a soft sound slipping from her as you got lower. She didn’t even try to hide it. You watched her chest rise with each breath, watched the way her hands curled into the sheets like she was holding herself together by a thread.

When you reached the curve of her hip, you slowed further. You let your lips graze over the soft skin there, let your nose brush through the damp, messy curls that covered her. Her pubic hair was still slick, glistening faintly under the low light, darkened in places where your grind had left her soaked. It wasn’t neat anymore, wasn’t styled or groomed into anything tidy. It was raw and real, the way it should be—sticky and wild from how worked up she was, from how hard you’d both gone.

You moaned softly at the sight, the scent, the sheer heat of her. She twitched, her hips barely lifting off the bed like her body was still chasing more.

“Look at you,” you whispered, voice dark with hunger. “Messy and wet. All for me.”

She whimpered, and your hands moved to her thighs, gently parting them even wider. Her folds were slick, swollen, flushed with arousal, and you didn’t rush. You leaned in and kissed the inside of her thigh first, slow and indulgent, then the other, letting her feel your breath against her without giving her what she craved just yet.

You kissed the crease between her thigh and her cunt, and she whimpered. Her hands fisted the sheets again, her hips twitching just slightly before she stilled herself.

You looked up at her, watched her chest rise in short bursts.

“Keep still for me,” you said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded quickly, eyes wide, mouth parted, completely focused on you.

You brushed your thumbs across the edges of her folds, spreading her slowly. Her slick glistened in the low light, gliding easily over your skin. You bent lower, kissed along the seam of her, then flattened your tongue and licked her fully, slow and deliberate, from bottom to top.

Her cry was instant, high and breathless.

You stayed with it, licking her again and again, never rushing. She tasted rich and hot, her arousal thick on your tongue. Her hips tried to move, but she caught herself, holding still like you’d asked. It made you groan against her.

“That’s it,” you murmured. “Just like that.”

You brought one hand higher, fingers pushing gently down on the slick hair over her mound to hold it out of the way while you focused on her clit. The pressure made her moan, hips arching, body straining for more.

You circled her clit slowly with your tongue, letting her feel every careful movement. You sucked it into your mouth, then let go, only to do it again, firmer this time. She gasped, legs shaking around you.

“Please,” she whispered, voice tight. “Please don’t stop.”

You didn’t. You locked your arms under her thighs, holding her in place, and worked her steadily with your mouth. The muscles in her stomach fluttered. Her moans turned higher, messier, louder. She was unravelling, coming apart from the inside out, but still trying so hard to stay still.

You pulled back just a fraction, breath brushing her soaked skin. “You’re being perfect for me,” you whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

That was all it took. She cried out, a ragged, desperate sound that tore through her as her body seized under your mouth. Her thighs trembled violently, toes curling, and her hips jerked up into your face before falling back down, overwhelmed. You didn’t let go. You stayed with her through all of it, licking her gently as she came, then softer, slower, easing her down when she couldn’t take more. Her body jerked once more under your mouth, a final twitch of overstimulation, before she went utterly still.

You kissed her inner thigh, then again, higher, then trailed your way up the soft planes of her stomach. Her skin was flushed and damp, trembling faintly under each kiss. You moved slowly, taking your time, worshipful even now. She tasted like sweat and the heady sweetness you’d left all over her. You brushed your cheek against the inside of her leg, held it there a second longer, then finally climbed back up over her.

Her scent clung to your skin, her slick drying on your thighs, every inch of her marked by the way you’d taken her apart. You smoothed a hand over her hip, then up her side, anchoring yourself in the quiet rhythm of her body. Her pulse was still racing under her skin, but she didn’t flinch when you settled over her again. She just let you come back to her. Let you hold her close.

Your breath was still uneven, your pulse still loud in your ears, but the moment you felt her body shift beneath yours, you refocused. She was limp but not unconscious, her arms loosely curled at her sides, eyes fluttering open then drifting closed again. Her mouth was parted, lips still kiss-swollen, a flush still high on her cheeks. You didn’t move away right away. You stayed pressed to her, skin against skin, one arm cradling the back of her neck as you murmured against her hair.

“You did so well for me.”

She let out the smallest sound in response, almost a whimper. You kissed her temple.

“I mean it. You were incredible. So good.”

You were both a mess. Sweat clung to your skin. The slick heat between your legs had left a wet sheen against her inner thighs, and your own had started to cool. Her breasts were flushed and marked, love bites standing out against pale skin, and her hair was wild with sweat and motion, sticking to her cheek.

Your hand moved slowly, tracing the damp strands of her hair away from her face. She was still far down, her expression soft, vulnerable, too hazy to form words but still trying to stay connected to you. You could feel her wanting to stay close to something solid, something safe. You kissed her again and gently pulled back, just enough to shift beside her.

You leaned in, kissed her slowly, and whispered, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She blinked up at you with a tiny nod, not yet fully back but still trying. Her hand brushed yours in a quiet plea not to go too far. You kissed her again, slower this time, then slipped from the bed.

The bathroom light was soft and gold. You dampened a fresh cloth with warm water, then another. You added a little soap to the second one and worked it in gently. A clean towel rested over your arm. When you returned, Emily was still lying where you left her, limbs heavy, eyes open but dazed with the edges of subspace.

You climbed onto the bed and leaned over her, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve got you.”

She barely nodded. Her skin was flushed and glowing, strands of hair stuck to her temple, chest rising slowly, still marked with love bites and the faint red prints of your hands.

You started with her face. The warm cloth passed gently over her forehead, then her cheeks, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that clung to her skin. She sighed, soft and nearly soundless, and tilted her face into your touch. You traced the cloth under her jaw, along her throat, and down the centre of her chest.

Her skin there was damp too, flushed from exertion, her sternum catching the light. You were slow and careful around her breasts, letting the cloth smooth over the soft curves, tender with the parts you’d grabbed and kissed. Your free hand anchored her, fingers spread low across her ribs as you cleaned her down to her stomach. She breathed deeply through it, like the sensation was easing her back into her body piece by piece.

“There we go,” you murmured. “Just like that.”

Only once her upper body was fresh and dry did you shift lower, the other cloth now in your hand. You kissed her thigh first, the soft inner curve, before gently nudging her legs apart.

“You’re alright,” you whispered, cupping the side of her knee. “I’m just going to clean you up now.”

She nodded again, and you moved with quiet care, wiping away the remnants of her release with slow, reverent strokes. Her folds were flushed and sensitive, slick still glistening where it had pooled, her skin tacky with the heat that had passed between you.

She flinched once from the oversensitivity and let out a tiny gasp. You stopped and soothed her with a hand to her hip, then kissed her thigh again.

“You did so well,” you said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

She exhaled shakily but didn’t pull away. You resumed with the same slow rhythm, cleaning every inch with warm, steady hands, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her body stayed relaxed, open and trusting.

Once she was clean, you took the towel and patted her dry from her inner thighs upward, then down the line of her hips and legs. You worked with patience, never rushing, never speaking louder than a murmur. You set the towel aside, then wiped your own body down quickly, cleaning away the sweat and slick that clung to your inner thighs, your chest, the curve of your back. Her eyes never left you, even half-lidded and heavy.

When you were done, you returned to her fully and reached out.

“Come here.”

She came into your arms like she belonged there, face buried against your neck, her breath warm where it landed. You pulled the blanket over both of you and cradled her close, hand drifting up and down her back.

“You’re alright,” you whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She didn’t say anything, just curled tighter against you, one arm slipping around your waist like she couldn’t bear a single inch of distance. Her body was warm, still faintly trembling. You adjusted the blanket higher, tucking it beneath her shoulders, and kept your touch steady, smoothing over her spine in long, even strokes.

Every so often, you whispered something. Simple, grounding things.

“You’re with me.”

“You’re safe.”

“You’re doing so well.”

Each one seemed to sink into her, easing the tension from her shoulders bit by bit. Her breathing started to slow, the edge of her trembling softening. You kissed her temple, then behind her ear, lips barely brushing her skin.

She didn’t say anything, just curled tighter against you, her breath warm against your collarbone, one hand gently gripping at your side. Her body was still lax, pliant from the weight of it all, but you could feel the soft flutter of her pulse beginning to steady again. You adjusted the blanket up around her shoulders and rested your cheek against the crown of her head, letting her feel the shape of your breathing.

Neither of you rushed it. There was no need. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of her inhaling against your chest and the occasional shift of the blanket. You kept one hand gliding over her spine, slow and reassuring, the other wrapped securely around her middle.

“You’re alright,” you whispered again, just to anchor her a little more. “I’ve got you. Just stay with me.”

It took a few minutes before you moved. Gently, so gently, you eased her back onto the pillows just enough to slip your arm out from beneath her. Her brow knit slightly, but you murmured, “I’m not going anywhere,” and she stilled again.

You leaned toward the nightstand and opened the lower cabinet. The small stash you kept for times like this was right where you’d left it. A fresh bottle of water, stored there intentionally for when neither of you had the energy to make it to the kitchen. You twisted off the cap and reached for her again, nudging her carefully into the cradle of your arm.

“Here,” you said softly, bringing the bottle to her lips. “Small sips.”

She didn’t resist. Her fingers curled loosely around your wrist and she drank, slow and obedient, her throat moving with each swallow. You watched her closely, brushing a thumb across her temple when she paused for breath.

“There you go,” you murmured. “Just like that.”

When she’d had enough, you lowered the bottle and set it back on the nightstand. Her head fell softly against your shoulder. You kissed her hair, lips lingering there as your arms folded back around her.

There was no tension in her body now. Only that slow return to herself. You could feel the shift in her breath each time your hand moved, the way her chest rose more deeply, like she was reclaiming the shape of it. You stayed quiet, letting your presence fill the space she might not know how to ask for.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you whispered, your mouth brushing her hair. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

She shifted, not pulling away, just adjusting, her nose brushing your neck. You didn’t know if she could hear every word. That wasn’t what mattered. You just needed her to feel them, in your voice, in your arms, in the way you kept holding her without expectation.

Your hand came up to her face again, thumb stroking her cheekbone.

“You are so much more than enough,” you said quietly. “Exactly like this.”

Her breath hitched, just once. She buried her face further into your skin and you felt the faintest tremor move through her. You didn’t pull back. You didn’t ask if she was alright. You just held her. Like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing about her needed to be reined in, reshaped, or corrected.

You kissed her forehead once, then again, slower, and pressed your cheek to her hair.

“You should be proud,” you whispered. “You were incredible.”

There was a small, almost inaudible sound in her throat. Not quite a sob. Not quite a breath. You closed your eyes and held her through it, your hands steady, your body quiet and present, giving her all the room she needed to come back gently.

“You’re safe,” you said again, your lips close to her ear now. “You’re safe with me.”

Eventually, her breathing settled into something soft and even. Each inhale slower than the last, exhale brushing your collarbone like a secret. She hadn’t let go of you. One arm still curled around your waist, her leg hooked loosely over yours, like if she just stayed close enough, the rest of the world could wait a little longer.

You didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything left to say, not in words. Just this quiet, unhurried peace between you. You let your palm drift in slow, grounding circles over the middle of her back, tracing the soft line of her spine like it was familiar and sacred both. She felt warm and weightless in your arms, but there was something else there too, something settling under her skin. Not just relief. Something steadier.

When her eyes blinked open again, they were clearer than before. The vulnerability was still there, but so was a flicker of something new. A softness, yes, but something firmer beneath it. You held her gaze until she dipped her head, burying it into the crook of your neck like she was shy about being seen.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you both and kissed the top of her head. Your hand stayed in her hair, smoothing it gently, and your other hand rested low on her back, keeping her close.

“I'm proud of you.”

Her breath caught, not a sob, not quite, but something raw enough to make your own throat tighten. She didn’t speak, only nodded slowly against your skin. Eventually she exhaled, soft and deep, like those four words reached someplace she didn’t have language for yet. You felt her fingers twitch against your skin. Her mouth brushed your collarbone as she breathed again, slower this time. There was still a trembling at the edges of her, but it was the kind that came after release. After surrender.

You watched the faint rise and fall of her body, felt her toes brush your ankle. Her presence felt so immediate, so here, and yet somehow delicate too, like a thread you didn’t dare tug too sharply. You could feel how close she was to drifting off, but still right on the edge, hovering in that quiet space that comes after giving so much of yourself away.

She had given you everything tonight. Let you in completely. Not only to her body, but to all the quiet, careful parts of herself she usually kept buried. The parts she was still learning to trust in someone else’s hands. You held her a little tighter, not because she needed it, but because you wanted her to feel it, to know it was real.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, not because she needed reminding, but because you needed her to know it wasn’t just for tonight. It was a promise. One you meant to keep.

There’d be time later to talk. To untangle the rest. But this, this was enough.

And somewhere deep in that quiet, something else was blooming. Not just peace, but something stronger. You saw it in the way her breath evened out. In the way she stayed close instead of retreating. She was starting to believe in herself again. Not in the way others demanded, but in a way she chose.

Her breathing had evened out against your skin, her body loose and heavy with the kind of tired that didn’t just sit in the muscles but deep in the bones. You weren’t far behind. Every part of you ached, used and spent, but it was the best kind of ache. Earned. Shared.

You shifted only to tuck the blanket higher over her shoulders. She mumbled something too quiet to catch, but her hand slid across your side like she was making sure you were still there. You answered by pulling her in a little closer, tucking your chin above her head.

Her leg curled tighter around yours. Your fingers stayed at the small of her back, moving slow, lazy strokes that barely counted as motion. The air between you was warm and quiet, filled only with breath and the weight of everything you didn’t need to say.

Eventually, her body went still. Sleep found her first. You felt it in the way her hold loosened just enough to be unconscious but not enough to let go.

You didn’t bother fighting the pull of sleep when it came. Not with her still wrapped around you, her breathing deep and steady against your skin, your arms full of her warmth. You just let go, the weight of the night fading, and drifted with her into a soft peaceful sleep.

#criminal minds #masterlist #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #sub!emily prentiss #paget brewster smut #elizabeth prentiss

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lightwing-s · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯 ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: when everything seems go, at least start, to go right, you're getting to actually enjoy the thoughts of your pregnancy, things take a turn. no, not a turn, a fucking spin, a descent in a downward spiral. basicallly, you're fucked.

word count: 10,3k (yes, i'm actually very surprised i managed this) warnings: pregnancy, medical talks, bad parenting and terrible fathers.

a/n: it took me too long to finish, i know. but i did enjoy my time in carnaval before almost dying from a flu. the chapter is long and is very important to the future of the story, so please, don't be mad at me for it. take breaks, eat while your reading, idk, do your thing. ily and i missed you ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

You thought that telling Jason about your pregnancy would be the trigger that would set your life into a downward spiral. That everything would be different once it was done with. You would be different, he would be different, and the world would be different too. However, the days that followed could not have been any more normal.

Although your mind was still clouded with anxious pregnancy thoughts, your days went on as usual. You woke up early, exercised and went to work, just to come back home hours later to do whatever it was you got on your mind that night before going straight to bed. The only indications of your condition were the looming thoughts and the excessive tiredness you carried everywhere with you.

It was like the world around you didn’t get the memo your whole life was about to be totally different just a few months from now..

And the world didn’t have to. It didn’t care that Yn Sn was pregnant. It would continue spinning around, circling the sun, like it always did. Day by day, minute by minute, like nothing had changed. And in the great scheme of things, nothing had. You did. You were the one who had changed. You were different, or at least you would become. Good or bad, nothing was gonna be like before. You would keep changing as the world would always be the same.

In the great scheme of things, the world didn’t revolve around you. Your life wasn’t a linear movie plot, troubleless and predictable. It was proving to you right then and there that it wouldn’t hold your hand and give you a rulebook on how to proceed with every little thing. You were on your own to figure out this journey. It was now about you. And him.

At first, you only noticed the small differences. You were tired, more than usual. It seemed like every move you used to make swiftly was now heavy and took you double the effort to complete. Two days after your talk, Jason went back to the clinic to pick up the full test results, and had it delivered to you at your door. You didn’t invite him to stay, nor did he ask you to enter, and you opened the envelope to find out you were about five to six weeks pregnant by yourself. It meant the baby was now growing faster and faster, and providing all that extra energy was what had been draining you off yours.

Your trips to the toilet became more frequent, even if your water intake had remained the same. That had raised one or two eyebrows at work, but considering the amount of things you were all working on, no one had given those bathroom runs their full attention. However, your new breast size didn’t go as unnoticed. In fact, it became a big topic of discussion between your coworkers, where each person tried to bet which surgeon had given you a cup size that was almost double of what yours originally was.

Then, there was also him. Every single day since you’d broken the news, Jason woke you up with a good morning text. He’d ask if you had slept well, if you were alright, and if you had gotten sick at any point the day before or if you craved or wanted anything. He knew it was about time you got morning sickness and cravings, and he wanted to do what was best to keep you and his baby in perfect condition.

He seemed to care about this baby a lot, even this soon. Not even the most positive scenario you could’ve come up with had you imagining he’d be this sweet, this nice. Actually caring and attentive. Yet, here you were, and he made sure to always tend to your needs whenever he was needed. But he wasn’t needed that often. Except for the good morning texts and your subsequent daily health report, you two didn’t talk much.

Nessie, your best friend, was also really into the idea of this baby. Daily, she’d flood your messages with baby videos and pics, pregnancy tips and motherhood articles. She might as well be the mother of this child, because she was certainly more excited than its real one. She had even told her own mother about it, letting her know she was going to be an “auntie” and how she should bring gifts the next time she comes over to visit.

You haven’t even considered telling your parents about it yet, brushing the thoughts away every time they’d come up in your mind. In fact, most thoughts about your pregnancy were brushed aside, as you were still not ready to fully accept this new reality of yours.

Thus, a couple of weeks went by since you’d last seen Jason. As normal as they’ve ever been. Then, it was a Thursday night. One where you found yourself spread on your sofa, craving sweets and a large pizza, with your best friend sat on your living room floor, rambling excitedly about something you weren’t paying much attention to.

“... and, even though everyone knows he has a fucking girlfriend, he was at the party with not only one, but two other girls. He’s such an asshole!” Nessie spoke about whatever season of a TV show she was rewatching. But your mind couldn’t have been any further.

You stared at your phone screen, reading and rereading, again and again, the last messages in your chat with Jason. He had just asked about your day, if you felt sick or anything, and instead of giving him your usual and very formal reply, you went on and on about your sudden desire for dessert pizza. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but your fingers were faster than your conscience and without a proper thought, the message was sent.

. 8:24 PM

hey, how are you feeling?

. in desperate need of a good chocolate pizza . id kill for it . not really kill for it . yk...

🤣

You hoped you could be faster and delete it before he got a hold of his phone again, but the laughing emoji told you you were too late for that. Now, you laid there, overthinking your text when there was nothing you could do about it. Much like your pregnancy. Dumbass.

“Yn, are you even listening?” your friend called.

“Y-yeah. It was a really bad season, that one.” Without even moving to look in her direction, you gave her a half assed reply.

“Yn… What are you talking about?” she asked you, confused.

“Aren’t we talking about the Bachelor?” you tried to confirm, now moving on your side to see her eye to eye. However, her incredulous face told you you’d completely missed the topic. Offering her an apologetic smile, she rolled her eyes at you and threw you a pillow.

“No! I was talking about Dick Grayson?” She raised an eyebrow and you looked at her with your brows furrowed. “Gotham’s resident playboy? The one that was seeing like three different girls at the same time? Gosh you were such a killjoy, all I wanted to do was gossip. It doesn’t hurt anybody and it’s fun.”

You let out a laugh at your friend’s dramatics, telling her to keep going with her story, promising to actually pay attention to it this time.

“Okay, he was seeing this girl officially. I think her name is Barbara. Red head, tall, pretty as fuck. Okay. However, he was supposedly with not only one, but two side pieces. Like, for real, such a fuck boy.”

“Ew,” you engaged. “Not even a fuck boy, an asshole. What does his girlfriend think about this?”

“I don’t know.” She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t even think she knows about all of this, if I’m being honest. And if she knows s….” Ding dong. Your friend’s story was cut short by the sound of your doorbell reverberating through your living room. “Are you expecting somebody?” she asked. You shook your head.

Sitting up, you waited for the doorbell to ring one more time, just to be sure there was really someone at your door. You looked between it and your friend, suddenly worried about who the hell would be bothering you at this hour of the night. Standing up, you walked straight to the door with care. Silent steps taking you to the peeping hole.

Looking through it, a tall, sasquatch like frame you’d grown to recognize rather easily, stood on the other side. In his hands, you caught a glimpse of a few plastic bags, his helmet, and a cardboard box.

“H-hey,” you greeted him awkwardly when you opened the door, a bit surprised to see him there.

“Hi. Heard you wanted some pizza.” He winked, lifting up what you now could identify as two cardboard boxes exhaling the greasy smell of your desired meal.

“You didn’t have to,” you said, sliding a hand through your hair. It was just a silly text, you thought, but perhaps it wasn’t for him.

Shrugging, he dismissed your words. “I was craving some junk food too, anyway. And I hadn’t seen you in a while so…”

You bought me pizza? And brought it to my door?

“Oh my god, where are my manners? Please, come in. We’re in the living room,” you told him, freeing your spot to allow him to enter your apartment for the first time

“We?” he asked, and you didn’t have to turn around to know he was lifting a brow at you.

“Me and my friend, Nessie,” you said, showing him to the other girl sitting on the floor by the center table. By now, she had a clearly amused smile on her face, and her eyes sparkled with an excitement that had annoyed you for some reason. “Jason, this is Nessie. Nessie, this is Jason,” you introduced them.

Jason extended his larger hand for her to shake, and she did it way too excitedly. “Oh my, I’m finally meeting your baby daddy,” she sang. You kicked her right at the ribs.

“Nice to meet you too,” Jason said through a breathy laugh. “Although I have to say I’m still not used to being called baby daddy. I mean, you’re just the second person to tell me that, but it’s still weird.”

“Tell me about it,” you wondered out loud, but soon your mind clicked to the fact someone else had called him that when, as far as you knew, only he, you and Nessie knew about your pregnancy.

“So… What did you bring us?” Nessie immediately asked, like the hungry dog she had been all night, scanning through the bags and the pizza boxes he had placed on the center table and pulling you away from your own head..

“Oh, I got you your dessert pizza, like you asked. And I also got a pepperoni one, but I wasn’t sure if you would like it,” he explained, messing up his hair.

“I didn’t ask for it,” you blankly stated.. It wasn’t a lie. You didn’t actually ask for it, you just hinted you were highly interested in one. But having him show up with the object of your cravings at your door not even an hour later had you feeling a bit uneasy, uncomfortable with the fact you kind of made him do it. He stared at you wide eyed, blinking repeatedly, unsure how to proceed.

“Y-yeah. But, I-I just thought I would do you this favor. A-and it had been a while since we talked and…”

“And we are very thankful for it!” your friend cut him off, gladly pushing the awkwardness away. “We were starving cuz this one right here only had salad in her fridge.”

“I’m sorry if I haven’t had the energy to go grocery shopping.” You stuck your tongue out.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it for you, if you want it,” Jason offered, sitting down on the floor beside Nessie.

“I’ll get it done,” you said, following his move. “Eventually.”

Silently, you each decided to focus on all the food ahead of you. You couldn’t lie, you weren’t sort of enjoying all of this. Not only had he brought you pizza, and the dessert pizza you’d been craving, but he had brought you mini burgers from a place downtown you loved and even a slice of cheesecake.

“Have you checked any of the providers I sent you?” Jason asked, breaking the comfortable silence you had just settled in.

For the last few days, he had sent you tons of options for prenatal providers and doctors, something you knew you should’ve been more attentive to, but that you were avoiding like everything else regarding this pregnancy. You knew that, by this point, you should’ve already scheduled an appointment with a doctor, chosen a provider, and started looking into birthing options and other pregnancy needs. But you just couldn’t get your head into it.

Jason knew you were still not sure about this. The mention of the pregnancy or the baby clearly makes you anxious and uncomfortable. He wanted to take things slow, at your pace, but there were things you couldn’t really postpone, and prenatal checkups were one of them. So, he kept sending you options, just to see if you’d ever reply to any of them, but they always went unanswered. It wasn’t his intention to come to your house to talk about it, in specific, but he had to bring it up at some point.

When he arrived home from your apartment the other night, he immediately called his brother. Dick would know what to do, right? He’s the one with plenty of female experience. Still, he never made the silly mistake of getting one of them pregnant.

“That’s rough, buddy,” was all that he managed to say through the phone. Very helpful indeed. However, he did leave you with one single useful piece of advice: you should find a doctor.

Thus, he proceeded with his research. It felt like he had seen three thousand different doctor’s names, and a plenty of options of healthcare providers. Neither one of them sounded cheap, but it was a necessary expense if he wanted to make sure everything was going to be alright.

And you knew that too. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t checked any of the options. It was just so overwhelming. Every link for a website he had sent was filled with words and expressions you’d never even heard of, leaving you more confused about pregnancies than you’d been before. It was honestly so stressful that you had started to purposefully ignore it.

“I haven’t had the time,” you finally replied, picking out the pepperoni slices off your pizza, pilling them up on the side to eat them all at once. You heard him sighing deeply, and you could feel the annoyance by the way his shoulders trembled. You knew his patience had a limit, and he’d been so sweet and kind to you thus far that simply checking out the options was the least you could’ve done, and yet you didn’t even manage to do that. “It’s… a lot.”

Looking over at him, you observed him with his eyes glued to his pizza slice. You wanted to read his mind, to know what was going through his head at this moment. Was he mad at you? At your seemingly incompetence to do one simple thing? Gosh. You felt the anxious rumbling at your stomach, the same one from weeks ago, and you wanted to curl down and cry.

Why were you like this? What has gotten into you?

“I have an aunt who is an ob/gyn,” Nessie meddled in. “She’s pretty busy these days, but I could try and ask her to see you. If you want.”

Expectantly, Jason watched as you took your time to think. It was a good option, really. If she was busy, it could only mean she was a good doctor, right? And she was in Nessie's family.

“Yeah,” you agreed. A sigh of relief coming from the boy beside you. “I think it would be fine.”

“Great,” she celebrated. Standing up, she grabbed the empty cardboard box and walked to the kitchen. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Left alone with Jason for the first time tonight, you returned your attention to your half eaten pizza slice, desperate to focus on anything other than him, but turns out your brain had other plans. It constantly thought of him. He was right beside you, and that’s okay, but you could be occupying your mind with something else.

He too played around with his food, with his hands holding on to an energy drink he’d popped out of one of his bags. You caught a glimpse of the slight movement he did when he tried to offer you some of that same beverage, but he quickly realized perhaps it wasn’t good for the baby.

His veiny forearms were just inches from yours, making the hairs on your body rise up from this almost contact. It was like your body knew he was right there and tried to reach with anything it could get closer to him. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss his touch. Not in a sexual way, like you’d been, shamefully, at the studio the other day. You missed his bear-like embrace that swept all worry away, that comforted you and helped you relax among so much stress and anxiety.

“I can pick you up. Take you to the doctor by car,” he offered, but something inside you told you he would accept your refusal as a possible response.

“Thank you, I’d love it,” you thanked, searching for his icy blue orbs. You could feel his fingers against yours, rubbing against your skin and sending a shiver up your spine. “And Jason, I’m sorry for what I said earlier, about the pizza thing. I’m just not used to all of this yet.”

“It’s fine, Yn,” he said, finding your eyes with a beaming smile next to his. “We’ll figure things out, eventually.”

Turns out Nessie’s aunt really was busy. Not just busy, but booked and “famous”. If you were to go by the sheer prices attached to her services, she was the Steve Jobs of obstetricians/gynecologists. It got you worried at first, because you weren’t sure your insurance would cover such costs, but Jason told you to not think about it, She managed to fit you, god knows how, in an appointment another two weeks later. But you couldn’t complain, because if you weren't “family”, you’d get to your first appointment with a baby already in your arms.

Every book you’d read, many of them being Jason’s recommendations, told you your first appointment should be scheduled between eight to twelve weeks, and as far as you could tell, you would be just around at your appointment.

The two weeks went by swiftly, and soon, it was the day of your first prenatal check up.

You were at work all day, as usual. Your morning had been chaotic, with the beginning stages of preparations for the upcoming spring issue keeping everyone on the edge. However, thankfully, the afternoon treated you all more kindly. Although your feet still ached from all the running around you’d already done, you still roamed around collecting papers, portfolios and coffee cups for your boss.

Pushing the massive glass door open with your shoulder, you entered Sandra’s office with her sample book in hand. The clock approached your leaving time, today a few hours earlier than normal due to “medical” reasons. Not a full lie, but a lie nonetheless. Those kept on repeating, and for the looks of it, they wouldn’t stop any time soon.

You just weren’t ready to tell anyone else yet. Perhaps it wasn’t the right moment, as it was still too early. Perhaps it was you not wanting to accept reality. The more people knew about it, the more real it would become. And you knew very well it wasn’t something you were ready to face, even though at this point you had no escape route left.

“Ym, before you leave, just let Ibra know we’ll be dropping by tomorrow to decide on the new photoshoot details,” your boss requested, not lifting her eyes off the papers on her desk.

“I already called him earlier, he sent you the models for you to check beforehand,” you informed, placing the large portfolio before her table. After rambling out your words, an involuntary sigh came out of you, a sign of your body’s exhaustion after a long day. “We’ll also get the Gucci sets by tomorrow, like expected.”

“Good,” was all you heard in response, and knowing her well, you took it as a sign to leave her to her work. Turning on your heel, you walked back to the door before her voice stopped you right at your tracks. “Yn, are you alright?”

Surprised by her question, one you’d never heard come from her directed at you, your head snapped back towards her direction. “I-I’m fine. It’s just been a long day,” you explained.

“Hmm,” she hummed, removing her designer glasses from her perfectly sculpted nose. “Have you been drinking a lot of water?”

“Yes?” you sort of asked, growing confused.

“Good, it’s important to keep hydrated during your pregnancy.”

You swallowed dry. Your eyes popped from its sockets, and you swore your breathing had stopped. “Sandra, you must be mistaken.”

“Am I?” she simply asked, raising an eyebrow before returning her gaze to her notes. Opening your mouth, you tried to answer something, anything, but no proper sentence seemed to be formed in reply, as your brain was caught completely off guard by her knowledge of your secret. “I don’t know how long you planned on hiding it, nor why, but you were silly to think I wouldn’t notice. You seem to take longer to finish a simple task, you avoided salmon at lunch and said it had a smell, and your size has increased. You forgot I have a 14-month-old at home and a five year old daughter, I know the signs when I see it. Congratulations, from what I know of you, you’re gonna be a great mother. Just make sure to find your substitute at least a month before your due date so they have the time to properly learn the job till you’re gone.”

Staring at your reflection on the glass walls your eyes stop at your stomach. Are you already showing enough? Is she the only person to notice? Of course you didn’t pick the best outfit to hide it today. Your clothes barely fit you anymore, so you had to rely on your dresses, the small collection you owned, to be able to build an outfit. And certainly, the ribbed fabric of the one you wore today didn’t hide any of your curves, no matter how tiny they were.

You stood there, still, unmoving, flabbergasted. If Sandra was capable of so easily finding out your secret, it would be in no time till others could do the same. It was a secret with days counted anyways, you wouldn’t be able to hide it forever even if you wanted to.

“That’s all,” you heard her say, breaking you from your sudden malfunction and getting back to operating mode. You fled her room faster than you ever remember doing, and sank on your chair with the weight of the world weighing you down. Your hands shook, sweating cold, and your heart beat a bit faster. With deep breaths, you tried to keep yourself under control.

“Yn,” you heard someone call, making you jump slightly on your seat. Looking up at the source of the voice, you found the raven haired boy now known as your baby daddy. In your office, right in front of you.

“Jason, what are you doing here?” you scream-whispered from behind your desk. He looked at you confused, as if you’d forgotten your plans for today.

“They let me in when I told them I was here to pick you up,” he explained. “The appointment, remember?”

Standing up hurriedly, you shoved your phone, your planner and the rest of your stuff in the designer bag you’d gotten off the samples given to the magazine. Fleeing your desk, you looked around to see if any of the other secretaries were anywhere close, grabbed Jason’s hand and pulled him with you out of your workplace. “You were supposed to call me when you arrived,” you scolded, pushing open the door.

“Sorry, you just weren’t picking up your phone,” he stated. Of course I wasn't, I was working.

Dragging him to the elevator, you successfully managed to push him inside before you entered and watched the door slowly sliding closed without having stumbled into any of your coworkers. Sighing in relief, you allowed your head to rest on the metallic wall. A small win for today. You were taking any victories at this point.

“Who are we running from?” You felt Jason’s breath on your ear, making you jump again. His soft giggle let you know that he found that entertaining. Let’s hope he’d enjoy your elbow to his ribs. “Ouch, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not running from anyone,” you said, crossing your arms on your chest. “I just don’t want to start any gossip in the office. These ladies do like to talk about other people’s lives.”

“Weren’t you and Nessie doing just that the other night?” he teased.

“That’s different.”

“How?” he gave you a sly smirk.

“It was not about my life,” you argued, offering him a smirk in return.

Jason shook his head, leaning on the wall right beside you, close enough that your shoulders touched. But different to the first time you felt him this close, you were not nervous or about to cut his head off. You were actually enjoying his presence. What an era to be alive.

“You look beautiful today,” he complimented you out of nowhere, bumping your shoulder with his playfully.

“You don’t look half as bad,” you replied, and watched both your smiles on the crooked reflection of the elevator door.

It wasn’t long till you arrived at the clinic, but it was enough time for you to fall asleep. Shortly after entering the car, when he was already cutting through other vehicles to avoid the traffic, Jason noticed your head hanging to the side, and even if he tried to fix it back in place, it would instantly fall once again.

He remembered how exhausting your job looked that couple of hours he witnessed by himself, and now must not have been different. Especially considering your pregnancy and the tiredness he’d had been reading about. So he let you nap quietly on your seat, making sure to watch out for your neck as much as he could while handling the road.

You were still groggy when you stepped into the white halls, needing guidance to find your way around. With his hand on your lower back, he took you to the reception, where a bored looking receptionist typed something away for what seemed like an eternity.

“Hi,” you greeted sweetly, a tone he wasn’t much used to hearing from you. “I have an appointment with Doctor Mikaelson.”

“What is your name?” asked the receptionist with an annoying nasal voice that made Jason want to punch her for no other reason than it was just annoying.

“Yn Sn. It’s spelled…” you continued, giving out every bit of information the woman needed. And it was a lot. As your first visit, there was a lot to be filled, and he stood to the side, watching as you answered all of her questions with a patience he hadn’t seen in many people.

There was something in the way you talked to the receptionist, with such poise and connectedness, that had Jason hooked. Leaning his elbow on the tall desk, and resting his cheek in his palm, he watched on as you continued to reply to each and every single question. The strong lighting did not ruin your look in the slightest, and in fact, Jason thought it somehow made you look prettier, something he believed no one else could manage.

The faint winds from the air conditioning blew on your hair, giving you your own magazine photoshoot ambiance. You did not stutter, nor did you take long to answer, all the words flowing from your lips even though he paid no mind to any of them. It wasn’t like the angry girl he used to meet at the gym, nor the one that showed up upset at his doorstep, or even the quiet one you would become around him recently. And he liked to think this was the real one, or at least a better glimpse at it than you’d ever let him see.

“Jason?” he heard you calling, and it was his turn to jump from his place. Giving you an awkward ‘yeah’, he let you repeat whatever it was you had said. “She said I’ll need to take some tests. Would you keep my bag, please?”

“Sure,” he said, fixing his posture and grabbing the rather heavy bag off your hands. “I’ll be sitting right here when you come back.

You nodded, offering him an actual smile, before walking off beside a nurse. He found a seat not too far from where you two were just standing, and watched as you moved away, swaying your hips side to side. Taking his eyes off your ass, he tried to focus on something else, catching a glimpse of the tiny pump on your belly. It wasn’t too noticeable yet, and might as well be some bloating from a heavy meal, but he’d wanted to think it was his baby right there, showing it’s first signs of life just under your care.

He’d been getting excited. Too excited, perhaps, for a baby that wasn’t even planned. But he couldn’t help it. When the initial fear was gone, all he could think about was the baby. His baby. He was going to have a baby.

All his life, he thought that if there was someone in his family that would have a baby by accident, besides his dad, it was his older brother. Dick was a dick, thought with his dick, and had given it to half the female population of Gotham. When he told him about it, he could not stop laughing, and Jason did think of punching him in the face. Repeatedly. But it was him that made the fear go away at first. Not by taking him out for a drink, which he still did, but by making him see the good in it.

“It’s a baby!”, he said. “You love babies, and you always wanted one.”

It was a baby, it was sort of your dream, and it was with the girl he had a crush on. It could be worse. Sure, there are a lot of changes of plans that he’d have to take from now on, but the good sides were much greater.

His father wasn’t very happy when he told him, though. But Dick, again, came to the rescue. “Jason is smart. He’s always been the level headed one… when he wants it. He’ll figure things out.” And soon, old man Wayne was on board with the new baby. So on board that he had already planned on rebuilding his suite at Gotham Memorial, just for your delivery. Jason had to tell him to calm down a little, you didn’t even know his dad was a millionaire yet.

You took quite long to return. Sitting back down besides him a good forty minutes later, pulling the sleeves of your dress over your hands to protect them from the cold. He handed you your bag back, and you two sat in silence for almost half an hour till the nurse called your name again. This time, with a “the doctor is waiting” along.

“Nervous?” Jason asked, as you two walked side by side to the doctor’s room.

“I was worse,” you replied, giving him a smile he returned gladly. “It won’t get that bad again. I think.”

Different from the waiting room, the doctor’s office was cream colored and the yellow lights much more comfortable. There were books decorating almost every surface, with toys and teddy bears everywhere too. It gave out a sense of comfort you so desperately wanted to find in your pregnancy. Given how everything, all your feelings, had been thus far, it was great that something could actually give you comfort.

“You must be Vanessa’s friend, right?” Doctor Mikaelson said, extending her hand for you to shake. You only nodded, still not used to going on doctors appointments on your own. What were you even going to say?. “And is this your boyfriend?” she asked, and your eyes immediately popped off their sockets.

“No,” you quickly replied. “He’s not… my boyfriend.”

Thankfully, she did not ask for any further explanation. “You can call me Rebecca from now on. Today we’re going to talk a lot, there’s a lot I want to learn about you, so it’s going to be a long appointment. It’s your first visit, am I right?” she questioned, and you just nodded your answer. “Any medical history I should know about? From you and other family members.”

Pulling her chair closer to the expensive looking computer, she prepared to type in the answers to her inquisitions. “No, no. I’m clean. Healthy. No medical history I can remember in my family either. I mean, my dad does have high blood pressure, but that’s it,” you explained, and looking at the moose sat beside you, you expected his answer. “Jason?”

“Erm…” he struggled. “I’m adopted.”

Surprised, your head angled to the side while your eyes were now glued to him, anticipating the rest of his story.

“Do you know anything about your biological parents?” the doctor asked, but he shook his head, ending the subject you so wanted to hear more about.

The appointment went on like this for a while. Questions were made, by both sides, answers were given. Some more explaining on Rebecca’s behalf, and soon the minutes went by swiftly, without you even noticing. It was now time for the ultrasound, as she explained, and while fishing for the items she’d need to perform the exam, you were left by yourselves for a short while.

Standing up, you awkwardly play with your feet as you wait for the doctor’s return. So far, your head was banging with so much information it had received in not much time, and the exhaustion from the full day was starting to catch up to you. Your mind was getting dizzy, and you mentally begged for it to be over soon and for you to be ready to go to bed. But the next step of your visit, and you couldn’t deny it, had you rather excited.

You found your reflection on a tiny mirror. You looked tired, but you looked pretty for such exhaustion. The extra effort put this morning on your look certainly had an effect, hiding, even if a little, your fatigue. As it had been happening for the past few weeks, your eyes soon spotted your belly, and now the tiny roundness it was making.

Your hands hesitated a couple of times. It was as if doing it would burn them, like it was wrong. But they reached it, touched the skin over the warm fabric. Touched you bump. Your still hidden baby. It didn’t look frightening then. Your hands didn’t burn. You just felt the protuberance in your body, the perfect little curve it made, and thought about, how the hell, it was supposed to keep a baby. It looked small and cute now. Tiny in comparison to the size it would get. Much like some of the women you saw in the waiting room, blowing up at any moment. Bellies round and exuberant.

But yours paled in comparison. At least for now. Your baby wasn’t ready to be announced to the world yet, and you preferred it like this. Kept just for the two of you for now. Your sweet little secret. Your sweet little love.

Jason thought you were stunning. He’d been staring at you, feeling your skin, from the side, and each reaction you got of it amazed him. It was a simple act, a touch you certainly repeat, over and over, until the day your baby finally arrived. But he saw beauty in it, nonetheless. He watched your hesitance vanishing, and your comfort was slowly visible. He too wanted to feel it, touch it, but everything in its given time.

“Will you lay down please.” The doctor returned, and as you pulled your dress to free your stomach, she offered you a blanket to cover yourself with.

Soon, just your tiny bump was out, the lights were off, and Jason stood by your head. Both anxious to hear the sound many boasted about.

“It’s kinda hard to find it,” the doctor said. “It’s still really small.”

Jason’s grip on your shoulder grew tighter as the time passed. He caressed the skin over the material of your dress to compensate for the pressure after whispering an apology to your ear. You didn’t blame him, you too were anxious for it.

“Ha-“ the doctor sang. “Here it is. Look, this tiny thing. This is your baby.”

You didn’t see anything. Just a dot. A tiny little stain on the screen where she pointed at. Yet, it nearly made you cry. There it was. Your baby. In its full tinyness. In its full “hey mommy, you don’t notice but I’m here” energy. You heard sniffing by your ear, and your head snapped to Jason quickly.

What, he mouthed, and you had to hold in your smile. What a crybaby. Cute, noted.

“And here,” she continued, messing with her station, adjusting levels and pressing buttons. “... is its heartbeat.”

The loud beating echoed through the room. Tudum. Tudum. Till your own had gotten faster. It was on for long, being turned off soon after four beats, but it would stick to you for the rest of the day. The little sounds your baby made. The single sign of its existence within you, sounding like music to your ears. Addictive, delicious to hear. Still in your head as you walked back to your apartment with Jason by your side.

You’d walked up there in silence. Comfortable silence. The long waiting hours and the extensive appointment getting the best of both of your energy levels.

“9 weeks,” he suddenly said. “You’re 9 weeks pregnant.” Joining your eyebrows, you looked at him. “That means we fucked a whole night and went by baby free, but one quickie in a random room had us doomed. The seed is strong- Ouch!”

With a single swing of your bag, you aimed for Jason’s head and hit your target precisely. He tried to dodge another move, but was hit by another swing before getting a hold of your weapon. Your laughter echoed through the small area, loud enough you were sure your downstairs neighbor could hear.

“Shut up,” you shoved him with your shoulder. “Is all of this a joke to you?”

“No, but that was funny,” his laughter joined yours.

Your hands struggled to enter the key on its lock, but soon your door was hanging open.

“Do you want to come in? Eat something?” you offered, still a bit skeptical of his prolonged company. He looked dead in your eye, a while that made you slightly uncomfortable. His icy blue stare makes your body shiver. Replying with a toothless smile, he shook his head.

“I better head home.”

“Are you sure?” you insisted. You didn’t know why, but you kind of wanted his company tonight.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re exhausted. And I want my bed too, so I better head home before it’s too late for me to drive. You don’t want your baby losing its father this soon, do you?” he joked.

“It would be a tragedy,” you joined in on the fun.

Walking slowly to you, he held your cheek to place a chaste kiss to your forehead. Offering another thin-lipped smile, he turned his back to you and headed for the elevator. “Bye.” He waved.

“Bye, Jay.” You returned the gesture. The sudden use of a nickname made his smile larger.

“Ynie.” He gave you a wink, before disappearing behind the metal doors.

“So… How was the appointment this week?” Nessie questioned, eyes scanning the cool toned garments hanging on tons and tons of clothing racks. It was now Saturday, and you two had gone out shopping, something you hadn’t managed to put your head on for months, but that now managed to free it from any thoughts of your current state. Well, until now.

“It went fine,” you simply stated, avoiding commenting any further.

“You don’t sound too excited.” She raised a brow at you.

Averting your gaze, you stopped to look through a rack full of coffee tone wool cardigans. The colorful sets of summer were now long gone, giving place to the browns, grays and blacks of the fall/winter seasons. Thin fabrics like silks and linen being traded for thicker, more weather-appropriate substitutes.

Sighing, you allowed your friend’s words to linger in the air for as long as you could. You didn’t want to reply. There was nothing to reply. She knew pretty well your stance. “What’s there to be excited about?” you asked in return, and she gave you an upset look. “I’m having a baby with a guy I hooked up once. Sorry for not jumping around at the news.”

It was her turn to sigh, as you continued to roam around the store looking for anything cute for you to wear, since your clothes were now too small for your still not too visible but obviously growing bump. It was a struggle finding an outfit to go out today, having to make the most out of your summer dresses in the increasingly chilly days of September.

“I thought you were starting to like the idea,” she commented. Crossing her arms over the rack you were looking through and resting her chin on top of her hands, she forced you to stop avoiding her gaze.

“I was,” you started. “And then I wasn’t. I don’t know. It’s like every hour I have a different opinion on it. But it’s never too happy, or excited about it. And most often than not I regret ever laying eyes on Jason in the first place. I really don’t know what to think,” you swallowed a lump that started to form on your throat, and waited for the burning in your eyes to cease before continuing. “I’m scared, and anxious, and it seems like at every second something could happen to cause a turmoil again and I don’t think I can take another punch to the guts from the universe.”

You took a deep breath. You weren’t going to cry at the mall today. There were no pregnancy hormones, no random mood swings, that would ever allow you to do that in public. Then, the sudden touch of Nessie’s hand on your shoulder helped your breathing ease down.

“Nothing will happen. Don’t overthink it,” she cooed, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And you’re having a baby! That’s all you need to be excited about. I know they are little energy suckers, crying loudly monsters, but they’re also so cute and adorable. Like, so cute and adorable you could take a bite out of them. And their giggles, and babbles. C’mon, I remember hearing you talk about your nephew, and how much you loved and missed him. You’re now going to have your own.”

Like a true best friend, Nessie’s words did manage to put a smile on your face. And she was right. You had focused so much on the down sides that you’d completely brushed off all the good ones and how much they could outweigh the others. The mention of your nephew and his baby sister reminded you of how much you’d loved them and how much it hurt to say goodbye to them every time you went back to college.

And you wanted kids. A family. It just happened to be an unfortunate timing.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Before you had the chance to ask where, she was dragging you out of the current store you were at and into another.

The racks of taller, bigger clothes were soon exchanged by tons of baby clothes, shelves of toys and items now in your line of view. The smell of the store was also more pleasing, exhaling the scent of lavender through it’s entire length. Pulling out a tiny baby onesie from a table right at the front of the store, Nessie nearly shoved it in your face before continuing her rant.

“Look at how cute this is. Can’t you imagine your baby in it? It’s so small and scary to think it can fit a human,” she joked, earning your giggle. It really was cute, and the picture of your baby in it made your tummy flutter. “And look at this one!” she nearly screamed, showing you a cute flowery knitted sweater. “I’m pretty sure my mom could make you tons of this. No shade to this store,” she lowered her tone as if anyone would hear. “But it’d be a lot cheaper, and prettier. Did I tell you before she knits?”

One by one, Nessie continued to show you random clothes and toys she kept seeing around and that got her excited. A music toy had you two concentrated on for an embarrassing two minutes before you realized your ages were not appropriate to the toy’s recommendation. You two laughed aloud at the images you both pictured of you and your baby, your future with each and every one of these items in it. Suddenly, the idea didn’t sound bad at all in your mind, and you actually found yourself getting excited about it for the first time.

At some point, even a worker had come to your side and started handing you things your baby would certainly need once it was here, and your brain got clouded with all the new information she had offered you in such a short amount of time. You were going out of the store with empty hands, but a long list of items you had to start sorting out.

A few minutes later and you were on your way out. That was when it caught your eyes. The fluffiest and cutest baby romper. It was golden brown and had bear ears and even a little fluffy tail, just like the ones you’d seen all over your socials from even before this state was an idea of your future.

Heading in its direction slowly, you took it from the rack, feeling the soft fabric in your hands. Your mind instantly being filled with images of your baby wearing it, not any unknown baby. Yours. Maybe by the age it was big enough to be strolling around in it, its cute little steps as you followed it around. Or still tiny so you would have to carry it around like a real teddy bear.

You felt your eyes watering. Your baby in it. Your baby strolling around. The cutest little legs and hands. Yours. Turning around to face your friend, you suddenly found yourself determined. “I’m taking this.”

It wasn’t only the romper you took. You left the store with bags almost full to the brim. In them, you had a cute pumpkin onesie, already in the mood for halloween, plushies and a few toys that had you and your friend entertained, tiny baby gloves and socks, beanies and packages of diapers Nessie had insisted it was never too early to start stocking up on.

“Babies go through those like crazy,” she told you, and then you had a bag full of them in your hands heading back to your apartment. May your credit card deal with the cost of all this later.

It felt good. It sort of felt… right. If you were really going to keep this baby, you’d have to get stuff at some point too. Correct? You weren’t softening to the idea, you were just being precautious.

But Nessie was right. Babies were adorable and you missed the ones in your life. Your nephew, and his little sister you mostly watched grow up through phone screens and instagram posts, were far away from you, living their lives despite your absence. You worked your whole life to get away from your parents power umbrella, and not only you’d not dare to return, but coming back with a baby was perhaps the worst thing you could do.

All the stress and work you’d gone through to get to Gotham couldn’t just be thrown out your window. Not for you, not for your sister. Although it hurt them to see you leave, they were always in full support of your choice. Your manumission.

A family. You told Jason you’d never had one. It wasn’t true. Although to your parents you were mere tokens of their “perfect” job as “parents”, as society people, they were never family. Your sisters were. And even though it was in an odd way, you loved and cared for each other dearly throughout your entire life.

It pained you to see each one of them leave your household, one after the other, for completely different reasons. Until you were all alone. And then you had no family. No one to rely on. No one to care for you in your parents' perpetual absence. Until you managed to leave yourself, even if it took you a lot of compromise and convincing.

Arriving on your floor with your bags in hand, faces stamped with laughter and aching feet, you stopped in your tracks as one single detail was capable of ceasing your happiness.

In front of you stood your door, spread open. The lights inside were on, and the well known sound of a female voice, humming along to a muted tune and moving things around. There were only two people that had your apartment keys, and they never meant anything good when they were around.

Brushing the anxious thoughts aside for a couple of hours had worked for nothing, because the worst of your nightmares had just become a reality.

“Take the bags with you,” you turned to your friend, shoving the bags in your hands onto her chest. “Please.”

“Yn, are you alright?” Nessie asked. Worry eating her up from just one look at your frightened expression.

No, I’m not fucking fine, you wanted to answer, but the words didn’t come out of your mouth. Instead, all you did was lose your breathing pace, getting hectic by the second, and your mind went numb.

“Yn, dear. Is that you?” you heard the ladylike voice of your mother calling from inside. Her steps soon too reached your ear, and her shadow approached the door behind you.

“Please, Nessie,” you begged. “Can you take this to your apartment? I’ll pick it up once they’re gone. They can’t see it, they can’t know I’m preg…”

“Oh. Were you two out shopping?” your mother asked excitedly. In good motherly fashion, or at least that was what she always did, she hurried her way to your side, grabbing the bags and eyeing up their content. Her hawk-like eyes scanned through each item carefully. There was no privacy at the Sn’s household, it wasn’t about to change now.

“Nessie’s cousin is pregnant,” You shoved the bags into your friend’s hands, away from your mother’s prying ones. “We were getting her things, you know, for her baby shower. We might’ve gotten too excited though, wasn’t it Nessie? We got too many things, but they were all so cute we couldn’t just not get them!”

You offered her a fake smile, forcing Nessie to join along. It often surprised you how good you were at lying, how fast you could come up with a good story. But maybe all those years of practice served you some good. It all came down to telling the truth, but not all of it. Always hiding something, always leaving details behind.

“I love baby showers. It still pains me you weren’t there for little Macey’s one, Yn. You said you had finals, or something, and couldn’t come. A shame really, your sister put so much thought into it for you to not be there. If only you’d gone to our local college, you could’ve taken just a few minutes of your day to be supportive of your family.”

“Mom,” you hissed, earning an angry glare in return. “Not here, please. Let’s go inside.”

“Fine,” she accepted, hips swaying as she followed you along. “Won’t your friend want to have some tea with us?”

“No,” you immediately cut her off. “She has things to do. For work.” Throwing your friend an apologetic glance, you closed the door behind you, locking yourself into your own hell for god knows how long.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired once you reached your living room.

“What are those manners?” she replied annoyedly. “Check your tone next time you ask me this, sweetie. It seems like you’re not pleased to have your parents around.”

“I-I’m sorry, you two just caught me by surprise. That’s all,” you excused, stuttering the words that you had managed to get out. “Where’s father?”

“In your room.”

Your heart stopped. What was he doing in your room? Why was he there? Why were you acting like you didn’t know the answers to those questions? All your life, all your parents did was snoop around, trying to find each and every way they could keep a hold of you, of your life, of your likes. Of everything.

You didn’t remember all you had hidden in your bedroom, and what was still hanging around, at an easy reach of his hand. But you couldn’t deal with the risk of him finding something, anything, that might lead them on to your condition.

Rushing through the corridor that led to your bedroom, you stumbled on the larger body of your father as you reached your bedroom door.

“Careful, Yn,” your father told you raspily. “Looking for something?”

His tone carried a note, a warning. He was on to something. Like a shark, he smelled blood in your attitude, preparing to attack at any moment you let something slip.

“Nothing,” you lied. “Just wanted to see you. I missed you.” You embraced your arms around his torso with difficulty, his round belly much bigger than yours and forbidding you from completing the embrace. He pushed you away not one second after you touched him, giving you a frown before heading back to the living space.

You held in your sigh, too scared he might catch on to your relief. Scanning your room quickly, you didn’t find a thing out of place and any clue he was onto something. So, quietly, you return to their presence in the small kitchen.

Their voices were blurry as you washed their dishes on your sink. They’d make themselves feel at home, cooking and eating in your home without waiting for your presence nor caring to leave you something. Your mind was elsewhere. It was in the moment they’d be gone. It was on you all alone again.

“Yn,” your father’s voice thundered through the room, making your head snap back to him in an instant. “Your mother has been talking to you.”

Staring blankly at him, you faltered a reply. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit distracted.”

“Well, get your stuff together. Your mother is talking and you should listen. Here, I’m finished with this plate.”

Keeping yourself from rolling your eyes, you dried your hands and walked in his direction, aiming to get the plate and move as quickly as you could. However, you weren’t counting with your father, who didn’t even dare to look at you to hand you his place, knocked on your bag that was standing right beside him on the table on the floor. Its content spilled on the wooden tiles, revealing keys, hair ties, your wallet and envelopes of paper.

You tried to be fast, you swore you did, but your mother was faster. Grabbing the envelope from the floor, she looked at you worriedly. “Sweetie, have you been to the hospital?”

“No. No, no. I haven’t. Must be someone else’s. Got mixed up in my stuff.”

“But it has your name in it,” she said, already skimming through the pages. You place the plate back on the table, moving to grab it off her hands when her wide eyes disapproving stare told you she had found what you’d feared the most.

“Let me see it,” your father demanded. He took the papers from your mother’s hand with ease, as her strength had already vanished from her body. Her face was pale, and her eyes held a sorrow you’d only seen in her eyes once, and it was not in a good day.

“Daddy, don’t,” you cried, but it was already too late.

The veins in his face pumped up blood like crazy, making his face turn into the deepest shade of red you’d ever seen in someone else’s face. His eyes scanned the words in front of him rapidly, shifting from one side to the other, but always returning to the same spot at the top.

“Grab your things,” he spat out. “Grab your damned fucking things.”

Swallowing dry, his words fell from one ear to the other, not stopping at your brain to be processed in your thoughts. You were reactionless, staring blankly back at him.

“Are you deaf?” he nearly screamed, grabbing your arm with a strength you knew would leave a mark. “Who is it? Who is the father?”

“I-I,” you tried to speak, but any word that came out was stuttered. Your father shook you for an answer, like you do with a snack machine that is not working. “I don’t know.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW?” This time he fully screamed. You felt a tear pool by the corner of your lip, and it was then you realized you’d already started to cry. “You have been whoring yourself around to the point you don’t know who the bastard is?”

“Daddy, I-I…”

You felt your cheek burn. The image of his fingers now printed on your face. “I’m not your father. I did not raise a daughter to be a whore, to have a child out of wedlock after everything I have done to you. You’re an ungrateful bitch if you ask me. Wife, here is the reason why she so desperately wanted to be away from her family. To be whore. To give herself out to men she doesn’t even remember. Your daughter is a slut, and if that is the life she plans on living, then let her be on her own.”

His words hit you harder than his hand did. It pained you from within, tearing your heart apart. You sobbed by now, the tears making your vision blurry. He pushed you down the corridor and into your room.

“Get your things and get away from this house.”

You did as he said. The apartment wasn’t yours, you didn’t pay any of your bills. You spat on the plate you ate from, as they say. You had everything. Even if they tried to send you back, they still gave you everything you owned. And you were reckless enough to throw it all away.

Your hands trembled while you tried to fetch your luggage from the upper shelf of your closet. Your mother soon entered the room, and you hoped that for once she would stay on your side. That for once she’d coddle you, say everything would be okay and she would fix everything. But she didn’t. She didn’t even look at you. Just grabbed your clothes from the closet and the stuff off your drawers and shoved them all into your luggage and a few bags she’d found around.

“I’m so disappointed,” she whispered to herself before looking at you. “So disappointed. We put our trust in you. I should’ve never allowed you out of my sight in the first place.”

“Mom,” you cried out, voice a trembling mess. “Mom, I didn’t…”

“Save it,” she cut you, handing you a backpack. “Just save it.”

You walked out of the room with tears filled eyes, meeting your father by the door, waiting to lead you out. When you approached him, he resumed his grip onto your arm. “Too late for tears now.”

Pulling you towards the elevator, he went in with you. You wanted to it all to be over already, but he wasn’t keen on ending his torture.

“When this freak comes out of you, remember your parents. Remember those who have treated you right just for you to fuck them over. And I wish, oh how I wish it, that this kid treats you just as bad as you did us tonight. Get out of here, I don’t want you one feet close to this building. I don’t care where you go. You managed to find a guy's dick, you’ll figure things out. Leave.”

Throwing you onto the streets, you fell straight to the floor. He spat in front of you, and walked back into the apartment building. He told the doorman something, probably to never let you in ever again. Struggling, you stood up, grabbed your stuff with trembling hands, and walked away.

You didn’t know where to. You just knew you needed to go. As the tears blurred your sight, you walked into the darkness of the night. Aimless, senseless, and you hoped for, painless. But the aching on your heart told you you’d have a long night ahead. Alone, cold, pregnant, and fucked over.

Great. Just fucking great.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @amberpanda99; @erochuu ; @gone-batty-fics ; @jasontoddslover ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin ; @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona

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loverindeepspace · 23 days ago

Text

Hope // Xavier x Reader

What would I be if not an author who puts their favourite characters through pain? Have some hurt/comfort with Xavi :) Shorter one this time. Concept: He takes a hit for you, he would sacrifice himself for you. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, a wee bit of angst, a wee bit of fluff, mentions of injury, mentions of Xavier's past, self-sacrificing mentality. Word Count: 736 Masterlist

“I’m sorry Xavier, I was reckless. You got hurt because of me.” Guilt was eating you up alive, your heart heavy as you trace the bandages wrapped around his torso. You keep your eyes down, following the path your hand takes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t meet those striking blue eyes that always managed to take your breath away.

He’s in pain because of me.

Silence fills the air, a furrow scrunching his brow as he observes you, a heavy atmosphere settling over the two of you. He lifts his hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before tilting your face up.

“Hey, look at me,” His voice is soft as your eyes catch his, “I’m okay. These wounds will heal. This isn’t your fault.” You feel a palm caressing your cheek as he leans his forehead against yours.

“It is my fault. You took that hit for me.”

“I did that on my own accord, it was my decision to do so. I’d sacrifice myself in a second if it meant that you were okay. So don’t blame yourself. This is just a scratch, I’ll be okay in no time.”

Your stomach seemed to drop at just the thought, nausea settling in quickly as you pulled back a bit, giving him a pointed look. Hurt twisted across your features and he knew he had said the wrong thing, no matter if it was the truth.

“No.” The guilt that had swallowed you before seemed to have been replaced by frustration, “No. Xavier, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare sacrifice yourself for me. You can’t do that to me.” You all but demanded, a harshness that rarely presented itself in your voice, your hands balling into fists against his chest.

But how could he not? He would rather perish over and over than lose you again. All those lifetimes in his past, where he grew to love you with his entire being, every time, only to lose you one way or another. The hope of what could be was always yanked from his grasp, a future with you crumbling before him, a cruel twist of a knife straight to his chest. And he tried not to hope for it in this timeline, dreading the day it would once again be taken away from him. Gods know he tried. But with every moment spent with you, basking in your laugh, in the cozy nights, the warmth that your very presence brought him, he dared to hope again. Reluctantly, warily hoped. And there you were, every day, by his side. At work, at home, consuming his every thought. He’d be damned if this happiness was taken away again. He had to protect you at all costs, even if it meant giving up his life.

And it seemed you felt the same. Maybe not exactly the same, having no knowledge of the previous lives, but you still wanted to be with him, to protect what you two have.

“I’m sorry. I can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I can promise I’ll be more careful.” His soft voice, the truth that echoed in his eyes… it made that frustration ebb away slowly. With a small sigh, you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs across his soft skin.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt. When… When I saw you fall to the ground… all that blood… I- I thought…” You say gently, looking away as you take in a shaky breath to attempt to steady yourself, “I can’t lose you.”

His eyes widen slightly at your words and he pulls you close, a delicate kiss landing on the crown of your head. A sharp pressure builds behind your eyes as you lean your head against his chest, the slow beat of his heart becoming a reassurance. He is okay, he is still here.

“I’m not going anywhere love, you can’t lose me.” His whisper reaches your ears as tears spill down your face.

“Good, you’re not allowed to leave.” Your voice was but a whisper, weak, as you snuggled into his chest, arms wrapping carefully around him as to not jostle the freshly wrapped injuries and you get a small chuckle in return.

“I wouldn’t dare.” The warm hand around your waist tightens while the other runs through your hair, keeping you firmly in his embrace.

Maybe it was okay to hope.

#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deep space xavier #xavier hurt/comfort #xavier x reader #lads xavier x reader #xavier x mc #xavier x you #xavier fluff #xavier angst

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cubur · 3 months ago

Note

I’ve been seeing your art all around the internet and trying to find your page where you are active. I finally found your tumblr and was so happy until I saw the posts about your pet and how bad you are feeling. I just wanted to let you know that your art truly brings light into my life and even if you stop drawing it has forever impacted me. I wanted to say thank you and I hope you will return one day.

Hello！ Well, I probably haven't been around for 3 months. I've had the chance to read all the messages now… And I realize i've caused a lot of you to worry, so even though i can't answer each of you individually at this point, i thought you at least had the right to know what was going on.

Ok, when I lost my cat about 3 months ago, I lost many things along with it. I don't know if you guys noticed, but i'm not as active as i used to be. In fact, I can't even remember the last time i drew narusasu …it feels like i've forgotten how to. Honestly I never imagined this day would come… I mean… I don't know how this sounds to you guys, but i won't be able to be active on this account anymore even if i wanted to. I've been trying to hide it, but i've been having arguments with my family about my fan arts for the past year or so. No, not in the way you might think. It's just… maybe many of you won't understand, but my country is going through serious financial struggles, and unfortunately i no longer have the time to create art for free like i used to.

For over ten years, I've been making a living by drawing at my desk, creating things online, whether good or bad. But at some point it stopped making me happy, yes, and that's when I started drawing fanart. Believe or not, the sense of warmth and belonging I felt here was something i had never experienced anywhere else. Yes ofcourse I love Naruto and Sasuke, but the warmth I felt and the feeling of knowing that i wasn't alone was what truly brought me here. Some of you made me laugh, some of you made me cry, and some of you even made me really angry at times. But throughout my life, I've met very few people whom i truly felt close to, and one of them was someone i met thanks to this community. That's why I want to sincerely thank you all！If I've been fighting all this time, it's because I don't want to leave you all. But after a certain point, trying to manage both of my accounts actively caused me to spend extra energy mentally and even physically. So, in the end, I burned out.

Recently, every time I drew sns, i ended up arguing with my family, and it just made me feel like this was the place i should give up. Unfortunately, people can change when it comes to money and that's why I had to take a break.

If you ask where I am now and what I'm doing, i'm still doing one of the things i love, i mean drawing, but active and working on my other account, which is completely different from this one. I'm not planning on closing my account here yet, still have unfinished commissions, and just want to leave the door ajar in case i still have a chance to come back in the future. But still, if you were to ask my honest opinion, I would say don't get your hopes up too much…

No matter what, take care of yourselves guys！ Thank you！❤️

#text post

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a-d-nox · 13 days ago

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greek asteroid observations (part 8)

these observations are completely hypothetical. they are based on my (and the those closest to me's) experiences with each aspect/placement! please don't take everything i say as predestined, astrology is possible outcomes not guaranteed ones. this is just a starting place for when examining singular objects in an entire galaxy (these are not the only asteroids in affect for you). take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

⚡︎ capricorn (10°, 22°) alekto (465) and/or aspecting saturn people have this cold hatred that just radiates off of them

⚡︎ 7h megaira (464) and/or aspecting 7h ruler(s) people, i feel like your own partners in life are likely to envy you at some point

⚡︎ megaira (464) negatively aspecting nn and/or positively aspecting sn people, don't try to get even with people - it only does you harm in the long run

⚡︎ libra (7°, 19°) tisiphone (466) people would make really great lawyers

⚡︎ aquarius (11°, 23°) amalthea (113) and/or aspecting aquarius people are very innovative when it comes to things - they often repurpose a lot of what they have by simply thinking creatively

⚡︎ 11h amalthea (113) and/or aspecting 11h ruler(s) people are very altruistic

⚡︎ amalthea (113) negatively aspecting mercury can indicates you aren't very giving when it comes to praise/communication

⚡︎ amalthea (113) positively aspecting jupiter can indicates having a lot of abundance within your life

⚡︎ amalthea (113) conjunct neptune indicates you might take your riches for granted

⚡︎ earth ambrosia (193) people are very connected to nature and tend to benefit from a lot of outdoor time especially in a garden

⚡︎ cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and virgo (6°, 18°) ambrosia (193) people can simply extend their lives by eating healthier

⚡︎ 7h ambrosia (193) and/or aspecting the 7h ruler(s) people are likely to be wed outdoors

⚡︎ 7h ambrosia (193) and/or aspecting 7h ruler(s) people might also argue a lot with their partner - often over small and seemingly insignificant things

⚡︎ virgo (6°, 18°) amphitrite (29) people often have to contend with extremely high expectations from those around them

⚡︎ 7h amphitrite (29) and/or aspecting 7h ruler(s) people might reject their long term partner at some point or even reject a marriage proposal

⚡︎ amphitrite (29) conjunct mars people are not very gentle when it comes to rejecting others

⚡︎ 9h asbolus (8405) and/or aspecting 9h ruler(s) people are treated like oracles - they are often highly revered for their accuracy when predicting the future but quite a few people might claim they are liars/charlatans

⚡︎ asbolus (8405) conjunct venus people remind me of tragic characters like anna karenina, ophelia, etc.

⚡︎ pisces (12°, 24°) cerberus (1865) and/or aspecting neptune people can be very tough to read

⚡︎ 12h cerberus (1865) and/or aspecting 12h ruler(s) people... who is afraid of who here? are you afraid of people or are they afraid of you?

⚡︎ 12h cerberus (1865) and/or aspecting 12h ruler(s) people could have a fear of dogs

⚡︎ cerberus (1865) aspecting saturn people don't have to worry about being gluttonous, they have extremely control in that regard

have ideas for new content? please use my “suggest a post topic” button!

return to nox’s guide to metaphysics

return to the masterlist of greek myths & legends

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princessjojo-x · 2 years ago

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South & North Node Synastry

sn represents our karmic past, early life or where we often fall back to bc we’re comfortable there. when we try to fall back into our sn habits, we often find difficulties, blockages & frustrations.

sn conjunctions in synastry can manifest in a number of ways depending on the (nature of) planet. these rxships start off with a strong sense of family & comfort bc partners have a past life connection. they’ll feel like they’ve known each other for awhile even if they’ve just met. it's hard to leave each other alone bc they subconsciously remember the love the had from their past lifetime. sn feels like planet understands them the best but also feels like planet is holding them back. planet makes sn remember the "old" version of themselves which they thought they’d grown from.

partners may have a tendency to repeat certain patterns or themes in the rxship. these patterns may be rooted in past-life experiences & may require conscious effort to break free from. this can cause a sense of stagnancy or lack of growth in the rxship aka difficult to move forward.

partners have unresolved karma or unpaid debt with one another, which they work through in this lifetime. this may activate challenging & painful experiences but it elevates them as individuals. however, this doesn’t indicate the rxship is completely negative or doomed. the nature of the rxship will depend on the willingness of partners to work through their karma & debt. however, once it has been worked out, the intense connection completely fizzles out, followed by no-contact & possibly heart break.

nn conjunctions in synastry are powerful & fated. this is a green flag aspect & marriage indicator. rxship can be hard to sustain initially but can grow into intense passion over time. partners will always find each other no matter what.

planet will teach, push, lead or support nn in a particular area that nn needs development & depending on the nature of planet. planet has certain traits that nn can benefit or learn from. therefore, planet will teach nn who their meant to become in this lifetime. planet will help nn move forward, help nn each their potential & push nn out of their comfort zone.

however, rxship may make nn feel uncomfortable bc it’s causing nn growth. nn will be going into the “unknown” & feeling a sense of “new” in this rxship. planet is new terrain/experiences for nn. rxship may not work in this lifetime unless partners have other binding placements bc it feels very intense but uncomfortable, almost as if it’s setting you up to meet in another lifetime.

💝 nn conjunct sun - sun embodies the characteristics & skills that nn needs to gain.

💝 nn conjunct moon - it’s difficult for rxship to take off but if it’s able to do so you will remain very attached to one another & have a very binding connection, the love will grow stronger & stronger overtime. initially, rxship will feel “wrong” bc it’s out of your comfort zone.

💝 nn conjunct venus - venus will find themselves being kind, sweet & affectionate with nn even without wanting to; venus will show their best face & will want to spend time with nn. nn will be fascinated by the presence & personality of venus. & a rxship that never fizzles.

💝 nn conj jupiter - soulmate indicator

💝 nn conj juno - marriage indicator; nn represents our souls karmic destiny/future/goals & where we will be pushed by circumstance. juno represents our marriage & long-term rxships. their love puts you on your life path.

💝 nn opposite rising - you can’t get rid of each other & you’ll stay in each others life forever in some capacity. this is a very important rxship for house that’s going to teach many life lessons.

💝 nn conj sn - difficulty sustaining longevity but you will learn from eachother.

💝 sn conjunct sun - sun is a male figure from the past life of sn, ranging from a superior, father, authority, employer, brother, cousin but likely a man south node looked up to.

💝 sn conjunct moon - moon is a mother, wife, sister, or woman in your life in which sn perhaps needed healing from in a past life. if you this synastry with a partner, he way start treating you like his mum, becoming bitter & rebellious for no reason.

💝 mars conjunct sn - indicator of violence in a past life. sn may be jealous of mars’s confidence or accomplishments.

💝 sn opposite rising - a rxship that will teach house lessons. an indicator of being past life lovers.

#astro notes #astrology #astrology synastry #north node #south node

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lyricalt · 4 months ago

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[tf2 mini fic]

Challenge Prompt: sheltering from the rain / bonus: darkness

Note: pre-relationship sniperspy (same fraction)

----

Sniper first hears rather than sees Spy’s stupid loud Bizzarrini Strada coming up the long stretch of highway. He recognizes the sound of the engine in the distance even in the pouring rain, though he gets a little worried about the speed at which roar is approaching him.

Just to play it safe, Sniper makes sure he stays a minimum of two meters away from the road. It still isn’t enough to stay out of the splash zone when the Bizzarrini zooms past him, drenching him completely in rainwater and mud. If Sniper wasn’t already damp before, he’s practically soggy down to his knickers now.

He trudges onwards, watching as the Bizzarrini screeches to a halt a good distance away, makes a sharp U-turn, and goes speeding back towards Sniper.

Sniper gets drenched a second time.

He stops walking when the car stops in front of him, blocking his way.

Spy rolls down the window by the tiniest crack. There’s some lilting French song blasting from the radio, but Spy turns down the volume.

“You’re all wet,” he says, disapprovingly.

Sniper takes in this criticism as stoically as he can. The only way to do it is to pretend he didn’t hear any of it. “Your headlights are off.”

There’s a single highway lamp above them, flickering weakly in the rain. All the better to make Spy look more put-upon.

“I was under the impression your mission involved some stealth,” Spy says. “I am being stealthy.”

Sniper gives him an expressionless stare.

Spy smiles sweetly. “Did it go well? Were you stealthy enough? You look like shit.”

Considering that his hat is sporting several new bullet holes through the brim and he’s missing his own getaway truck, Sniper isn’t inclined to answer any of Spy’s questions. He takes a step forward, leaning slightly down so that he can peer through the gap in Spy’s window. Out of politeness and professional integrity and future networking opportunities, he doesn’t yank the car door open so that he can simply throw Spy out and steal the car. Better to cut to the chase before making threats.

“You gonna give me a ride home or no?” Sniper asks.

Spy’s brow goes astronomically high. “And ruin my leather seats? The leather that is imported across six different countries representing the four cardinal directions, made from the hybrid skin of two extinct reptiles-”

Sniper starts walking around the Bizza so that he can at least get back to base before five in the morning, if he keeps his current pace and stops listening to Spy.

Spy puts the car in reverse and has the bloody nerve to brake check him, grazing his shin with the fender. After hopping gracelessly to the side, Sniper pounds his fist over the back trunk.

“Oi, watch it!” he sputters, jumping again when he gets a rather scary blast for a honk in answer. So much for stealth.

Spy must be handy behind the wheel. He does some complicated maneuver that Sniper assumes has something more to do with pure skill than a stick shift behind the controls. Before Sniper knows it, the passenger side door flies open, nearly smacking him aside to the muddy ground. He regains his balance just in time to see the grin disappear from Spy’s face.

“You’re limping,” Spy says.

“From you nearly running me over just now!” Sniper explodes, though it’s only half the truth. Falling off three stories from a roof in an attempt to run away from a near-blotched job doesn’t help matters.

The smirk on Spy’s face returns, though there’s something fond and less sharp in the shape of it, and Sniper finally gives in to throwing himself into the bloody fuckin’ car. His flare of temper and frustration about the mission dissipates the moment he slams the door shut.

The noise of the rain dims, turning into a different sound of drops pattering against Spy’s windshield. Sniper curls into the seat, sliding into a slouch. Sliding way down. Unnaturally so, even in his exhausted state.

“What am I sitting on?” Sniper shifts, crinkling loudly, and pats his seat. “This a bloody tarp? You put a tarp over everything?”

“Well, I had planned to retrieve your corpse and wrap it up to keep things tidy,” Spy says, now turning on his stupid headlights. Highbeams, at that. He tosses Sniper a warm towel from God-knows-where. “You cannot imagine how hard it is to commission a custom black tarp interior for a 5300 GT Strada-”

Sniper turns on Spy’s radio, now blasting a new jazzy tune by chance, but at least he’s gotten some dirt all over the controls. To his surprise, Spy doesn’t say anything about it, and only begins to drive back towards base. Slower than his usual speed, which gets Sniper grumbling, but it makes for a smoother ride, especially with the ridiculous tarp making him slip around in the seat.

He’s too worn out to complain at this point. Sniper scrunches up as best he can and lays his head across the middle console, hat dripping towards Spy’s side. The second surprise of this entire ordeal comes in the form of silence from Spy, whose elbow doesn’t move out of the way when Sniper rests his forehead against it and gets the sleeve all wet. He catches Spy’s fingers tapping over the gear shift, offbeat to the song. Nervous. Even though he’s already gotten Sniper in the car with him, pretty well and alive as can be.

“Sorry to worry you,” Sniper says, quietly enough that the rain should’ve been able to drown him out.

Spy brake checks him off the console, hard enough that Sniper has to catch himself with a hand against the glove compartment.

“Seat belt,” Spy says.

#sniperspy #tf2 #promptfic #bloody suit

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februairy · 8 months ago

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badminton au masterlist

finally! this is just a loose timeline but in chronological order. things that are not written in english will be marked with (ID).

playlist

their overall background

childhood arc

fic - their childhood back story with badminton (ID)

fic - their first meeting (ID)

fic - ace and sabo got sport scholarship offering

national training arc

junior level national training

junior level national training - when sabo was sick

mini comic - unintentional young proposal

comic - sabo was taken away by his parents

thomas cup

comic - sabo's being paired with other guy

olympic arc

national jersey reveal

national team members and opening ceremony

illustration (1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

undisputed

official gold medal photo

extra (1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

comic - double proposal (1)

comic - double proposal (2)

after proposal

season preparation (after proposal, they are already engaged)

too many errors

dorm life

comic - i know your game

comic - new sight

sabo locked in

extra (1), (2), (3)

comic - not enough

fic - jealous ace

wedding arc

behind the scene (ID)

illustration (1), (2), (3)

their sns posts

world tournament seasons arc (aka sabo's portgas jersey era lmao)

portgas jersey reveal

comic - distracted

too many jersey

bratty sabo is back

little fans :3

comic - ace light injury

comic - losing game on homeground

mini comic - ace's light injury

extra illustration (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (6a), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16)

off season

jersey commentary (1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

yunext (1), (2), (3)

comic - slow morning

kiss cam

fic - sabo and ace talking about their future

sns (ID)

jealous sabo

professional arc

comic - preparation

all england

pro jerseys

extra (1),

etc

cover

extra illustration (1)

valentine tribute

i didn't put any doodles that won't add anything into the chronological order bcs there will be too many... or maybe later in the future...

amazing fics written by lovely people for this au :)

Serving love, one game at a time

with you

by che 1

by che 2

#badminton!au #PHEW FINALLY THE LONG OVERDUE DRAFT #masterlist #acesabo #saboace

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rogerswifesblog · 9 months ago

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Never ending story

My Masterlist

Summary: After an accident something happened to you…and the accident was in 1913.

Warnings: accident, character death, brief alcohol drinking, smut, p in v sex, protected sex (i feel like it’s the first time I’m writing a smut with protection lord help me), brief handjob, light fingering, do I need to add anything more?

A/N: Jesus a one shot after such a long time omg I’m actually nervous. 😅 I recommend the movie „Age of Adaline”…it’s pretty much what happens in this oneshot too and it’s also a good movie:) the accident description is from the movie:) thank you @rogersbarber and @jamneuromain for proofreading

Steve and reader have an age gap here, with her being older but let's be honest considering he is like a 100 later on the 8 years difference don’t change a thing😂 besides I’ve probably messed up the ages and many things since it was hard to keep up😂

The story is not 100% accurate with the CA:FA movie.

Accidents often affect people’s life’s, not just from injuries but also because of the aftermath.

Yet you never expect your accident to change your life so dramatically.

In 1913, on your way to your parents house something highly unusual occurred, something almost magical... snow fell in Sonoma County, California.

Distracted from the road by the snow you lost control of your car, driving from the bridge right into a river.

The immersion in the frigid water caused your body to go into an anoxic reflex, instantly stopping your breathing and slowing your heartbeat. Within 2 minutes,

Your core temperature had dropped to 87 degrees... her heart stopped beating.

Then, a bolt of lightning struck the vehicle discharging half a billion volts of electricity producing 60,000 amperes of current.

Its effect was threefold.

First, the charge defibrillated your heart.

Second,

You were jolted out of yoir anoxic state causing you to draw your first breath in 2 minutes.

Third, based on Von Lehman's principle of electron compression in deoxyribonucleic acid, which will be discovered in the year two thousand thirty-five, y/n y/sn will henceforth be immune to the ravages of time...

At first you had never noticed it, but after over ten years you noticed something different-or rather nothing. Not a single wrinkle, not even a little change in your face nor body. Everyday was the same.

You were 36.

Yet you looked 25. Not a day older.

And people started to notice it, especially when you started to look very similar to your daughter. When she was 17, but both of you looked like sisters.

Even your husband noticed the lack of differences in your appearance. Luckily soon after he was drafted-of course it broke your heart to see him go, but considering your other problem, it was easier to think of a solution.

Moving. Running away.

So when the question started, you had to move, not expecting this would be your future from now on.

During the war it wasn’t hard to lay down, especially since everyone tried to do so, most people helped each other, while others just avoided most people.

A sigh escaped your lips as you walked around the World Exposition of Tomorrow, many people, not knowing you, nor your daughter. It was her birthday and you both decided to spend it somewhere special.

After getting some snacks you wanted to go to the front to watch the presentation of the new ‚flying car’. „I’ll go powder my nose, Y/N”, your daughter informed you. Y/N. She had stopped calling you ‘mom’ when she was 15. Sometimes, at home, but rarely. Especially now that you looked so close to the same age. You were 24 years older but…it didn’t look this way.

„Watch out-“, You called after a man that had hit your shoulder, making your purse drop, a couple of things falling out.

When you wanted to bend down someone was already holding up your purse.

His soft blue eyes looked you over once, before stopping to meet your gaze. „Ma’am, your purse”, said the gentleman, still holding the purse with a shaky hand. „Thank you, Sir”, you smiled at the young man.

He was slightly shorter, especially with the shoes you were wearing, giving you two or so inches more. His hair blond, looking soft but frail, like his frame. The jacket hanging rather loose around his shoulders, the pants held up by a belt tightly buckled around his slim hips, you could see there was an extra hole made for the belt to fit him.

„I’m…I’m Steve Rogers”, said the young man, holding out his hand. You shook it, introducing yourself to him, but just then your daughter walked back up to you.

When Steve’s friend walked up to you two, with two other dames who seemed to be rather interested in the friend himself than Steve, but that was the cue for you to go.

Besides, why were you even interested in spending time with this man? You were a married woman-and older. It might not look like that but you definitely were older than him by a couple of years.

Yet a bit of fantasizing wasn’t a crime, right? His blue eyes were probably the prettiest thing you’ve seen in a while.

During the expo you saw Steve a few more times, small smiles and gazes were exchanged before you had to leave, not expecting to ever see that man again.

Two years later you had to move again after the police accused you of having forged documents and a false ID.

But you were alone this time.

Your daughter had a husband, only married for a few months but she decided to stay with him-which you understood.

Nevertheless it didn’t break your heart any less. Especially since you knew your husband was also dead, after receiving the condolences letter.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at the small bar in Italy, a completely new country where nobody was looking for you. Briefly you’ve heard about the Captain America creation and other things, but you weren’t too interested in it, not with the heartbreak after being completely alone.

Heartbroken and alone.

Funny enough Steve felt the same way, walking into the bar, sulking and making his shoulders as small as possible, not wanting the attention of other people.

He really thought Peggy might like him-but he got it all wrong, she was seeing someone and just moments after this information he also found out Bucky's unit was missing.

Tomorrow he planned to look for them, waiting for Stark to arrange everything needed.

But tonight.

Tonight he was alone and heartbroken.

Steve wasn’t that type to flirt with random women or ‚hook up’, but tonight…he just wanted to be someone else, not the heartbroken little boy from Brooklyn, even though usually he’d be proud to be that.

But he felt like he let his friend down.

The woman he fell in love embarrassed him, which wouldn’t be the first time but it felt worse than ever before.

„Whisky”, he ordered, sitting next to you, making you lift your head at the slightly familiar voice. It’s like you’ve heard him before-but you shook it off for now.

Sipping on your cocktail, your gaze was glued to the many pictures at the wall, people smiling at the camera, while others looked away or at their friends.

The man next to you cleared his throat. „How…how is your evening ma’am?”, when you looked over at the man, your voice seemed to be stuck in your throat. He was handsome, yes, but it wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It’s his eyes. The blue eyes that you were never able to forget.

„Steve”, you said quietly, a sad smile creeping on your face as you looked at him over again. He furrowed his eyebrows a bit, before sighing. “Yeah, it’s me, Steve Rogers, the captain-“‘“wait, no Steve it’s…I mean, yeah, I’ve heard about it but I didn’t know it was you but-yeah, I can see the change”, you chuckled, placing your hand on his bicep and squeezing, before pulling away. That felt quite rude.

“We met years ago…At the…the world exposition of tomorrow-about the future flying car? You were-well, smaller-and with a friend, I was there with my da-“, you cleared your throat. “-dearest friend.”

It didn’t take long for him to remember the time you two met. After some catching up you ordered yourself another drink, Steve got another one too.

Minutes turned to hours…

“…I’m moving a bit around. I lost my husband-the war took him….”

“….Bucky was drafted…his unit…”

“….Buck always said I was stubborn and would either get enlisted or died trying, since I surely wouldn’t stop or…”

“….I wish we could just have a quiet life without wars…”

“..I remember when I was a kid…”

“…There was a time when I….”

The conversation kept going, skipping from one topping to the other, first the usual talk about what was going on, then sharing some memories and comforting words.

When the barkeeper informed you it was already time to close the place, you looked down at the drink you were still sipping. It was still the second one you had ordered, mostly untouched.

Steve helped you put on your jacket, you knew you didn’t want the evening to end.

Without saying a word you just wrapped your hand around his arm, walking with him along the streets, only a few minutes before entering your apartment building.

Steve followed. He wanted to be with you that night. He wanted to feel you close. He wanted to feel…needed….loved…cared after…

He wanted to forget about all the horrors around him.

So did you.

When entering the small apartment you took off your shoes and jacket, Steve hanging up his own and yours, before looking back at you, a nervous smile creeping on his lips.

“I don’t….usually do such things”, he started, making you take his hands. “Me neither Steve”, whispering you let your hands roam to his neck, slowly pulling him down as he placed his hands on your waist to pull you closer as you kissed.

Gentle, yet passionate. So full of…feelings. You couldn’t call it love but…but it was still close to it. It was shared pain.

And you knew the line between love and pain was so small it barely made a difference.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips when Steve wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs and lifted you onto his hips. “Where is the bedroom-“ “the couch is fine”, but Steve only clicked his tongue.

“I don’t…I don’t want it to…be rushed and meaningless”, he mumbled against your lips, making you smile a little. Not that you thought about it…you didn’t want to rush it yourself.

So you told him where to go, before being placed onto the bed, Steve carefully climbing over you, kissing your neck.

Slowly he undressed you, making sure to kiss every inch of your skin he uncovered. Your shoulders, your arms, hands…your stomach…before having you only in your underwear.

“You…you’re beautiful”, he whispered, before slowly taking the rest of your clothes off. A blush crept on your cheeks when you felt his eyes on your body, especially with him being still dressed. “Steve, come on let me help you with those…”, you chuckled, making him also smile a bit, as he sat back and started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the white, tight undershirt beneath it.

A grin crept on your lips, sitting up, you let your hands roam over his chest and arm, before quickly grabbing the undershirt and pulling over his head. Your lips find its way to his neck, down to his pecks, making him moan quietly and letting you push him down onto the bed.

Now it was your turn to leave kisses along his body, lowering yourself till you were level with his zipper, opening it. Steve helped you push down his pants and underwear, his cock immediately slapping against his abdomen, hard and leaking.

Before you could get your mouth on him he pulled you up and once again on your back, his hands once again all over your body, spreading your legs apart, as he sat back on his heels and looked at you, especially your crotch. “You look so good…”, he mumbled, gently sliding his fingers through your wet folds.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Steve slowly pushed two of his fingers into your wet hole, wettly squelching as he pulled out again, watching his finger being covered in wetness.

You let your head drop into your neck, moaning quietly with every time he pushed his fingers back in. “Steve…I need you…”, you gasped.

It immediately made Steve’s heartbeat quicken to hear those words, hovering over you and reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out a metal condom tin and opening it, taking the condom out. “Already prepared?” “The captain has to be responsible”, Steve smirked teasingly.

You felt yourself blush at that, rolling your eyes with a grin on your lips.

Then, you watched as Steve slowly put the condom on, stroking his dick a few times, before letting it slide between your folds, brushing over your clit. You weren’t sure if he was purposefully teasing you or just doing it to…well, considering his grin he was doing it on purpose.

“Steve please-“, before you could finish, Steve leaned back down again, kissing you passionately, as he slowly pushed his cock into your pussy. A quiet and slightly surprised gasp escaped your lips, the stretch feeling more than expected.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, one hand buried in his hair, while he was covering you with his wide frame-which didn’t feel intimidating in any way- it was rather comforting. Feeling his warmth and the weight of his body made you feel like you were in the right place.

The rest of the night was spent in a tight embrace, skin to skin, soft pleas and moans reaching your ears and the smell of sex lingered in the air.

When the sun started to rise you fell asleep in Steve’s arms, after having spent the best evening you could imagine together.

You woke up to a kiss on your temple and a soft whisper, “I hope we see each other soon.”

But you didn’t.

After saving Bucky and his unit Steve had many other missions following, which he had written about in a letter. One letter, with a lot of explaining and apologies and…an invitation for a date, after he’d be back.

But this also never came. You waited months. Years.

And then he flew the plane into the ocean, falling to his death.

Only then did one thing occur to you.

Were you able to die? Or specifically, from old age? If you’d ever meet a man, would you be able to spend your life with him? The idea of falling in love and watching your partner die broke your heart-you had already buried your husband, then Steve died and…oh god, you would watch your own child die.

Once again you got yourself a whisky, this time just at home not wanting to meet any new people, especially since that was how you had found Steve again. You swore you’d never get close to another person again, never get your feelings involved in something. There was a voice at the back of your head, it had been there for some time now, that always reminded you of Steve but now…you knew you needed to forget about him,

….definitely not expecting to ever see him ever again.

The years passed by, every ten years you moved, illegally bought a new passport, ID…a whole new life, whole new person. You wrote letters with your daughter, meeting up with her twice a year on your and her birthday.

You watched her age.

You watched her birth children.

You watched them grow up.

And you watched your daughter die.

At the age of 86 in 1998.

While you still haven’t changed since 1913.

Her funeral was beautiful. Many people were there-even though nobody knew you-or at least not as who you were. A family's friend. Her nurse. Kid from a friend…many different ways. But not as her mom. Her mom went missing in 1943, during the war, probably killed…yeah, that was the story people knew.

So you continued living, year after year.

Until 2012 arrived.

Two unexpected things happened.

An alien attacked you.

And you saw those beautiful blue eyes again.

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