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cramathonn · 1 day

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Hello! How are you? When you have time, could you please do a Seth x FoxThiren! GN reader please? I am so obsessed with this dude but there's almost no content about him. :( I love your work! 🫶💜💖

Ohoho, say less! I've also been super onto this lil' fella and GOSH I love him sm, there needs to be more reader content with him. Made reader specifically an Arctic fox because, hmmm white fur with white fur.

Headcanons under the cut, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: bigotry directed at reader, but besides that fluff!

Pronouns: none were used and reader can be viewed as any gender

Seth Lowell x FoxThiren!GN!Reader

So, foxes are know for being sneaky little tricksters and are often portrayed as great liars in media, which makes me think you'd work in the same sector as Jane;

However, you've known Seth since you two were kids, you were practically inseparable;

You two loved playing hide and seek together, Seth to train his vision and instincts better to become an amazing cop once he got older and you to train your camouflaging skills, to become a great spy for PubSec;

Yes, the two of you agreed to work for Pub. Sec. together like the true besties you were;

"Hey, Seth?" you asked, looking at the sky, clouds looking white and fluffy as always.

"Hmm?" he asked, turning his head to you. His ear flicked, eager to hear what you had to ask.

"When you become a cop, promise to not let it get to your head?"

Seth's eyes widened. He knew there were cops that turned into inconsequential idiots, believing they were above the law just because they worked to enforce it. The thiren understood your worry, but he couldn't help but feel a bit offended that you'd think he would turn out like that in the first place.

"I promise! I'd never turn out like that, and if I do, I know you'll be there to smack me across the face and bring me back to my senses!" he exclaimed, certainty in his words. After all, you were always there to snap him out of his negative daze.

You couldn't help but smile, finally turning your face to your friend.

"Then keep me in check as well. If I ever become scummy like that, you snap me right out of it!"

"Deal!"

The both of you were now turned to each other as you laid down in the grass of your local park, linking your pinky fingers to sediment the promise.

That memory played in Seth's head evey day whenever he looked at his ring finger on his right hand. It was his favorite memory, after all, making him giddy to this day;

You and Seth started dating right before each of you enroled in a training school to become a Pub Sec officer. Albeit going to different institutions, you always made time for each other;

Late night walks were a must for you two, enjoying the quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Finally having respite from the arduous training from prep school while your tails linked behind the both of you;

You also had study and training dates. You excelled in more textual exams while Seth prevailed in physical ones, so you agreed to help each other;

Now, don't get me wrong. You were the best at the academics and theoreticals, having almost fully memorized the laws of New Eridu. You were also nimble, the most agile and dexterous in your class. But you could never seem to be able to pass the physical resistance exams...;

Same for Seth, dude was the peak of endurance tests. He could run for minutes, almost hours without exhausting himself. He could lift heavy stuff easily, swam pretty well too, be whenever it came to agility or academics he was... Not the best. He has also memorized the laws of New Eridu, don't get me wrong, but he fell short in anything that didn't involve citing the law book or physical workouts;

When the two of you graduated, you applied to enter for the same district, not wanting to be too far away. Unlucky for you, however, being a member of the Criminal Behavior Specialist department means you get sent out to many undercover missions;

You obviously were not as great as Jane, considering she's done that almost her entire life, but you were pretty good at your job. You rarely ever got caught due to your mischievous nature and cautious habits. However, that never stopped Seth from worrying about you;

Whenever you were sent to missions, he would insist you sent a message whenever possible to at least let him know you were doing well. He often times personally requests to review your mission reports just to keep tabs on you (Qingyi reviews the reposts with him because she knows very well that boy AIN'T reviewing shit, he's just worried about his partner);

That doesn't mean you don't worry about him as well, however. When Seth gets called for a case of his own, be it in a team or solo (which rarely happens due to how dense he is), you always worry sick. Jane has caught your tail swishing in anxiety many times when that was the case;

But when you two get assigned to a job together? Hoo boy, you THRIVE! You keep an eye on Seth's back, stopping any sneak attacks, while your wonderful boyfriend blocks the heavy blows with his shield. Power couple at its finest;

Don't get me wrong tho, as much as both of you love your jobs, you get tired as well. Whenever you are not on missions and he isn't up late at the office doing his daily reports, you two can be found cuddling on the couch of your shared apartment, watching series or tapes Seth had brought back from Random Play with a snack you bought on the way back;

Talking about Random Play, Seth introduced you to the place and you were amazed by how good their movie stock was. You simply had to sign a family subscription with them (which Seth went red for, since you essentially just said out loud that you were a family);

And on the topic of family... FAMILY WEEKENDS! Seth has a tradition of always going to visit his parents on the weekends and you always go along;

If you're on good terms with your family, Seth agrees to alternating which parents' house you visit. One weekend you go visit his, while the next you go visit yours and so on so forth;

However, if you're not on speaking terms with your parents, then he won't force you to visit them like he does his, offering to always take you to his parents' instead. Seth is a very caring man and, while he insists on the importance of blood family, he is very much aware that not everyone has the same luck as him in having good parents;

Also, his parents love you, I'll just say that. When Seth announced he was dating you to them, they just went "Finally! We were waiting for the two of you to get together for ages!" which prompted a very red and embarrassed Seth and a very happy tail wag from you, albeit you tried (and failed) to keep your composure;

"Hey, have you heard?"

Seth's ears flicked, standing straight up as he caught the whispers of one of his fellow officers.

"Apparently a fox thiren got accepted to our district. Can you believe it?" the man whipered, disbelief in his voice.

"What?! I can't believe it... They're letting those sneaky types of thirens in now? Tsk..." Another whipered back, disdain and disgust tainting his words.

Seth's fingers curled in frustration, closing his fists. How dare they speak so illy of you when they don't even know you? Judging you merely because of a stereotype of your thiren species... And they have the courage to call themselves officers? The lynx thiren was about to get up and confront the two when he catches another voice joining in on the conversation.

"You two are aware that fox thirens have good hearing, no?"

It was your voice. And by the sounds of it, the two officers were caught off guard by your silent approach.

"Yes, us fox thirens are good at tricking and mischief... But that just means we're better at fetching criminals, no?"

You questioned them, the usual eagerness in your voice laced with a slight anger that went unnoticed.

For everyone but Seth.

"W-well, when you put it like that..."

One of the officers started. However, it didn't take long for Zhu Yuan to call them out, scolding them for judging their fellow officer merely by misconceptions and stereotypes. Seth smiled, tail gently swaying behind him as pride fueled his system. He knew he was in the right district. Having his captain aid in defending you made the lynx boy feel incredibly happy.

He knew how much judgement you went through during your prep school days. The nights when you returned to your shared apartment looking beaten up because some idiots had a brawl with you simply because of your species playing in his mind. Seth knew how hard you worked to get where you are today, and he is glad that he is not the only one ready to step up to defend your efforts.

I wasn't out of the ordinary for you to get weird looks in the street and in your office. After all, fox thirens were known for being liars and tricksters, how could one be a Public Security Officer? Well, much to your dismay, many still doubted your capabilities due to that. However, Seth made sure to not let that get to your head, always affirming that you were a much better officer than those that judged you, since no officer should judge by appearance, considering the exterior is often times misleading;

Being a couple of PubSec officers is not easy, your lives are constantly at risk and you often times come back with a couple of scratches and wounds, but neither of you would want it any other way. Life may be hectic, yes, but the two of you always managed to make do with what you had.

In the end, Seth loved you and that's all that matters to him. You share his dreams, his passions and help him improve as a person. Tldr: you're all he could ask for in a partner and more.

At night time, when you two are cuddled up in bed, Seth can't help but smile fondly at you. He can't understand how he got so lucky, but he won't complain. The lynx wraps his tail in yours and nuzzles the top of your head, happy to have you by his side and hoping it'll stay like that for years to come

Written by Cramathoon at 08:54am on 24/07/24 (24th of September of 2024)

Please don't repost!

#seth zzz #seth lowell #storytellerdemon #seth x reader #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader

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ladylynse · 1 year

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(Mostly.)

#I've been quiet for a while because I've been so exhausted #haven't touched my computer in a week except for some editing I had to do for someone IRL and I was still half asleep for that #got a reprieve from the long shifts today tho so more awake #gonna do those three sentence fics that have been in my asks #ngl tho I probably will go quiet again #maybe not right away because it's supposed to rain Monday so it won't be long hours if it does just normal hours #and my day tomorrow should be short because I'm not on the crew doing the long shift #but I also have a bunch of other things planned for tomorrow because we weren't gonna work at all so uh #probably not gonna do much on the writing front

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 8 months

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Happy STS Elli!

What inspires you to write? Are there things that you know that you can get inspiration from or does it just come randomly?

Happy STS!

For me, inspiration doesn't mean "to write".

There are, and always have been, a lot of stories floating around in my mind - ideas, scenes, vibes, outlines. I get inspiration from literally everywhere, from talking to my friends, and video games, and scrolling past images or prompts, and reading books, and spending too much time on reddit, and…

Many remain daydreams, or character backstories, eventually lost to time.

Now for actually being able to sit my ass down and get words on the page? I don't know. It comes and goes as it pleases. Having a beehive where a brain should be does NOT help, let me tell you that.

I just. Can't focus on shit lately. Can barely make it through a chapter when reading. Every day is just suddenly over, and I got nothing done, and I am so tired. I have a completely outlined short thing I have been trying to write since Nov, and it's like pulling teeth.

I could do with several months off work while everyone leaves me the fuck alone. How would that be.

#salad-ask #aria-benedetto #sts ask #I cried new year's because after having 1 (one) day of my vaction actually completely to myself #Which was after I already didn't get any quiet time on my LAST three attempts at taking time off because someone was sick at home #And spending most of all that time just working (in my time off) and cleaning the depression piles #My mom berated me for instantly refusing to come over for some 'if I die you need to know where stuff is' talk #(note: there's no reason to think she might anytime soon and she was talking about like... a cd collection)#'You always have something!!!'#I don't know anymore how to get people to understand how fucking exhausted I am.#I'm about to let the stupid paint course voucher from work lapse because in a year I didn't find a motive I like and the energy to even #consider wasting 3 hours of my life after work to produce some physical object I have no room for while having to run to get there on time #Not to mention people!! A room full of people!!#I've just become sooo sensitive to noise lately I can't even stand to be in the kitchen when the fridge hums #And you're always always always the bad guy if you close the door in someone's face because they're whistling or watching tv or calling #It's cool :) Sorry I was being unsocial :) Lemme just quickly slam my head against a wall until I pass out :)#So uh anyway happy STS writing has been going well

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atrwriting · 10 months

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trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was

informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know

as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash

anyway.... here's trust me:

when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.

a lot of it.

and an old building.

the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.

the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.

within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.

until one day. that day.

you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.

mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.

on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?

you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.

when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.

you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.

but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”

you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”

you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”

“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”

you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”

he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”

“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”

“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”

“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”

“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”

you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.

“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.

and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.

the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.

“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”

“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”

you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”

“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.

you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”

the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.

as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”

“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”

“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”

“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”

“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”

“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”

you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.

the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.

you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.

“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”

you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.

“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”

you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”

“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”

“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.

through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”

“pay. the. tab.”

he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.

“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”

that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.

“time for you to leave, friend.”

the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”

“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.

the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.

you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.

but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”

you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”

“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”

“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.

“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”

“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”

you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”

“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“

“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”

from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.

he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.

you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.

but he kept that to himself.

however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.

“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.

you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”

to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.

but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.

“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”

“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.

there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”

“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”

you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.

if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...

that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.

the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.

“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.

billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.

“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”

a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.

“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”

there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.

you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.

it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.

“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”

jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.

“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”

you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.��

he tipped his hat to you.

“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”

without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.

you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“

“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”

a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”

“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.

you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.

“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.

“knocked,” he bit.

you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”

“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”

you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”

“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”

you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”

you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.

he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.

you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.

no. you couldn't.

you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.

“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”

“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”

“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”

“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.

billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.

“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”

“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”

“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.

he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”

you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”

he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.

he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.

“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.

“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.

“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.

you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.

“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”

“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”

“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“

“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”

that shut you right up.

billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.

…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.

“what — what —“ you stammered.

“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”

you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.

“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.

his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.

“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”

instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”

he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.

“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”

you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.

“something — feels —“

“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.

“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“

“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”

and that was it.

the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.

a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.

“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.

“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”

it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”

“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”

“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”

his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”

“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”

he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.

“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”

“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”

you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.

“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.

��you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“

“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”

“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.

you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.

billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.

that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.

“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”

“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.

“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”

you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”

his hips snapped against you. hard.

maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.

“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”

his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.

“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”

“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.

billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”

you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.

“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”

you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.

his touch. only his touch.

“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”

the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.

“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“

“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”

he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.

with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.

his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.

he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.

“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“

he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.

“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”

his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?

“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.

he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.

"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.

he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.

"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.

you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"

you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.

but you did anyway.

you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.

"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."

you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.

you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.

tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.

you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.

both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.

above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?

he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.

"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"

"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.

the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.

"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."

you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.

"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."

you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.

"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"

he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.

"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."

you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."

"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."

you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."

"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

#billy the kid #William h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #William bonney smut #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth

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tetsumie · 3 months

Text

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘" 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

read part 1 here!

pairing: kuroo x reader & bokuto x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: hello ahhh it's been awhile since i've posted but i'm trying to get back into the habit of writing again! someone in my inbox had requested me to add bokuto to this list so i tried my best but i hope you all enjoyed this and feel free to stop by my inbox to leave a comment, tell me your thoughts, or just lmk how it's going hehe :,)

kuroo tetsuro

"i'm home," a mumble echoed out into the empty living room.

at the sound of the door opening, you make your way out of your shared bedroom to greet your overworked boyfriend, kuroo.

"hi baby," you replied with a tired smile on your features.

the door closes and kuroo slides off his slacks, loosens his tie, runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs in exhaustion.

"hey."

"have you eaten dinner yet?" you start to ramble. " i can warm up dinner and we could maybe share a meal together?"

"we haven't spent much time together in a while so you know.. i was just thinking... we could do something small together?"

you continue to ramble about how you spent all evening trying a new recipe you saw on tiktok that really fascinated you.

but kuroo is not having it.

all he wants to do is just go to bed and forget the past couple shitty days he's had at work. today, especially, was stressful considering how nothing had gone his way and the higher ups just wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time.

he kept his frustration, tiredness, anger all bottled up for the past couple days and they were all about to boil out.

on top of that, your constant rambling isn't helping. you keep talking and talking and talking and his mind is beginning to get cloudy and his anger is about to boil over.

his voice rises and he finally speaks, "god y/n.. can you just shut the fuck up and stop being all up in my space? you're so fucking clingy just leave me alone."

oh.

you mouth shuts up mid sentence and you're looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye after hearing his true feelings.

"sorry, i just wanted to spend some time and talk and relax with you..." your voice goes quiet. "you've been out really late for the past couple days so i was just hoping-"

however, kuroo's outburst isn't over yet. if anything, your little comment voicing your concerns seems to have make him a bit more upset.

"yeah, i've been out late because of how suffocating it is here at home with you. god, it's like you just can't take a fucking hint! just leave me the fuck alone!" he says and your eyes go a bit glassy.

"r-right," you say as you're turning around so he doesn't see the tears forming in your eyes. "sorry, i'll respect your wishes and give you your space."

seeing your hunched figure walking away brought him back to his senses.

what the fuck did i just say to them? oh my god.

"y/n wait i'm sorry-" he begins but is cut off.

"kuroo, i think you've said enough tonight."

the sound of his last name coming out of your mouth leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he knows he's fucked up immensely. the door to the bedroom closes, indicating that you're clocking out for the night and you can't deal with this conversation any bit longer.

kuroo sits himself on the couch with his head in his hands, shaking his head.

what the hell did i just say to them? it's not even their fault... i just... how the hell do i make it up to them?

kuroo walks to the door and places three subtle knocks on the door, begging for permission to enter. he's greeted with no acknowledgement or response.

he turns the knob and to his surprise it opens. there, he sees you fast alseep in your comforter in a fetal-like position. he goes into the closet, changes into his pajamas, and immediately climbs into bed.

he brings you close to his side of the bed, specifically putting your head on his chest. he begins to stroke your hair and places gentle kisses on your head, mumbling soft "i'm sorry's" and "i love you's."

he's praying to whatever deity out there that this would blow over by tomorrow morning or something.

but kuroo wakes up the next morning to his worst nightmare: you're not in bed with him. he feels his blood run cold and he's running the worst case scenarios in his head.

he rushes out of the bedroom to see that you're nowhere in the apartment. he sees a bright colored post-it note stuck on to the fridge with a note scribbled in your handwriting.

"i'm staying at a friend's house for the next couple of days. i just need time to think for a bit. there's some leftovers from last night in the fridge so make sure you eat those.

love u always, y/n"

kuroo's hands shake as he's holding your post-it note.

of course, they'd leave. i treated them like shit and hurt them so badly of course they want to leave. but even after everything, they still love me… i don’t deserve them.

kuroo begins to spiral and the next couple of days aren't any easy for him.

every attempt at texting or calling you has lead to no response. he goes to sleep without you next to him, holding back tears every time. every morning without fail, he pats the vacancy next to him in hopes that you'll be there but to his demise, every time, you're not. work feels even more lethargic than usual. before, he used to look forward to coming home to you but now you're not even at home so what's the point in even trying. counting down the hours until he gets to leave his cubicle has become futile.

i just really want them back. please come back home.

but when he comes home from a pain achingly long day of work, he doesn't find you and his mood plummets even more.

that is until one day, kuroo is able to leave work early where he comes home and hears the familiar noise of the coffee maker brewing. his eyes shoot up from his slacks to look over at the kitchen where he sees you in all your beauty, fidgeting with the knobs on the coffee machine. your eyes both lock and you immediately look away.

kuroo thought you were gone for good. and the fact that you were only a couple feet away from him made his heart swell and his eyes water. there's so much to say but his not a single word is escaping his mouth.

"you want some coffee? i just started a new batch," you finally say to fill up the silence of the room.

he gulps, "sure yeah."

you grab a coffee cup and pour him a fresh cup of coffee and slide it to him across the kitchen counter, avoiding getting too close to him.

too nervous to even touch his drink, he begins to address the elephant in the room, "y/n, i'm so sorry for what i said that night. i had no right to speak to you in the manner."

"it's okay," you say in a curt manner. "i get it."

he shakes his head and tries to get closer to you to convey his feelings but is stopped when he sees you take a step back. his heart cracks.

"no it's not okay sweetheart. i've been so busy with work and i just got super overwhelmed with everything and-"

"kuroo, you know you don't have to make any excuses right?" you interrupt his train of thought.

he's confused now. "excuses? y/n what are you even talking about- "

"just end it with me already... i know you want to," you say, looking down at the fresh cup of coffee in your hands. "you made that very clear."

his world freezes.

the world becomes completely silent.

his mouth is slightly open, caught off guard. he doesn't know what to say.

however, you interpret his silence as him putting down the excuses finally and admitting that he doesn't want to put effort into this relationship with you anymore.

hell, he doesn’t even want this relationship with you anymore.

"right, if you won't i will so it's easier for the both of us. i think we should-"

"don't you dare finish that fucking sentence," he moves close to you all of a sudden and his familiar lingering cheap cologne smell takes up your senses. the gears begin to click in his head before you can respond to him.

kuroo's arms envelop you in his embrace. "i want you. only you. i'm sorry i made you think otherwise."

the tears you've been holding back for the past couple minutes standing in front of him overflow and you feel like the world is about to end.

you push kuroo off you slightly. "i know you've been busy with work and i just wanted to spend some time with you. i never meant to come off as clingy but clearly you thought so so-"

"i'm just a complete douche,” he interrupts. “you were trying to help me out and make me feel better and i was so caught up with work, i couldn't appreciate that."

"i never want to ever make you feel that way again. you never deserved to hear any of that from me and everything i said couldn't be far from the truth. your presence has never been a bother and if anything, coming home to you is the best part of my day.”

“i shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me and i'm so sorry that it did and that i hurt you in the process. i hate that i’m the reason behind your tears and i’ll do everything to make it up to you to show you how much i love you."

the tears from your eyes continue to flow and he delicately wipes every single one from your eyes kissing your cheek every time without fail.

"are you sure you don’t find me suffocating? you said that you hated being home with me though so i just thought-" you start to say.

"i will spend my entire life reassuring you that it isn’t true. i promise you are never suffocating me and your presence never fails to make me feel better on a shitty day. i will do anything to regain your trust and faith in me,” he adamantly speaks with his hands in yours.

hearing his determined resolve, the tears flow even more.

"i love you so much, tetsu."

"i love you too baby," he smiles and delicately kisses your lips. "now let's go out. how do you feel about going out for dinner? i’ve got a lot of making up to you to do."

"i'll never say no to that."

bokuto koutaro

the msby jackals lost 2-0 sets and the entire team was taking the loss hard but no one as hard as bokuto.

"bokuto-san, what do you think went wrong today's game?" an interviewer asks with his notepad out, scribbling notes.

"er, uh, well, today was just a rough day and i had a tough time keeping up with the opponent's plays today... it just was not a good day."

"i have one more question," the interviewer asks.

"go ahead," he gruffs out.

"you are known for your infamous line shots especially during deciding moments of the game. you missed multiple of these shots during today's game. were you distracted during this game? is it because of your new relationship status or were-"

bokuto is now riled up. who the hell does this interviewer think he is to corner me and bring in my personal life???

"i'm leaving, fuck this shit," he spits out, trying his best to maintain his composure.

in frustration, bokuto storms out of the press conference room, slamming the double doors, heading towards the locker room to grab his stuff but is stopped by you, running after him.

"kou! wait up!" you say from a distance and he stops in his tracks to look at you. he's still internally raging from the provocative behavior of that interviewer and he feels like he just might lose it.

"what do you want," he says in an aggressive manner that catches you off guard.

you’re aware of the recent loss of the msby jackals. you know that's probably taking a toll on his confidence as a player so you're trying to be as supportive as you can.

"you wanna come back to my place? i was thinking we could watch that one disney movie you like and we could bake something together too? what do you think?"

"why do you always want to fucking hang out?" he says in the lowest tone of voice you've ever heard from him.

it sends shivers down your spine.

"huh?" you're just confused at this point.

"why are you so fucking clingy all the time? it's always 'kou come over!' or 'kou let's watch a movie!' or 'kou let's take a nap together!' like don't you fucking get that i have a genuine career that i'm working really hard to be successful in?"

so that's what he thinks of me.

"i know you want to be a pro volleyball player and i want to support you the entire way. i was just trying to be there for you and help you relax..." you trail. "i get today was really rough for you.."

"that's the thing you don't get it, y/n!" he says exasperatedly. "if you did want to be supportive for me and my career, then you would stop being so all up on me and give my space!"

he walks into the locker room, slamming the door, shaking you up.

in defeat, you begin to leave the stadium with tears brimming your eyes. as you get in your car, you put your head on the steering wheel and suddenly, the tears start to stream out.

"i'll give him his space. i'll just stop everything. i'm nothing of importance to him or his life so it's best if i just stop." you convince yourself.

bokuto, on the other hand, is in the locker room, holding back tears of frustration as he punched one of the lockers.

fuck, what am i even doing right now...

"bokuto-san! let's head out for the night," shoyo's voice can be heard before he can be seen in the locker room. "we're gonna go get drinks and dinner at that new barbecue place that opened up."

he looks up from the bench and smiles at shoyo along with the rest of his teammates that are nodding along in support.

"yeah, sure. fine with me," kou responds with a small smile on his face.

as bokuto and the rest of the jackals are out and about, he keeps looking at his phone in hopes of getting a message or something from you but you're completely radio silent after the spat between the two of you.

he knows you both had a disagreement but he thought you knew that he was just frustrated and upset with the game. he didn't think it was a reason to just go silent on him.

he sends a text to test the waters.

kou <3: babe, we're good right?

he puts his phone down and engages back in the dinner with the rest of the jackals.

an hour has passed yet still no response. it's starting to make him fidgety so he decides to spam you.

kou <3: hello?

kou <3: baby wya???

kou <3: where is the loml at :((

kou <3: BABYYYYYYY

kou <3: POOKIE PLS TXT ME BACK :(((

y/n is typing...

y/n: sry i was getting ready for bed.

you sounded distant. you clearly were upset but was it still about the argument? c'mon you knew he didn't mean what he said... right?

kou <3: ITS OKAY BABY! can i come over? i wanna spend the night with u :,)

kou <3: i miss you

y/n: maybe not tonight... i think it's best if we're by ourselves for a bit

bokuto's hair significantly drooped down, seeing as how he got rejected to hang out with you for the night.

as bokuto heads over to his apartment for the night, he stares at the bedroom ceiling with his thoughts. he misses laying next to his baby. that's when he starts to replay everything that went down between the two of you.

he genuinely can't figure out what went wrong.

he prays that this whole thing will just blow over by tomorrow because he misses you incredibly and just wants to spend time with you.

unfortunately to his demise, you kept shutting down all of kou's efforts to come over. you refused to pick up his calls, resorting to half assed texts.

this whole argument was festering and bokuto had to fix it immediately.

you, however, want nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend but his words kept running through your mind on loop. anytime you would be sitting alone with yourself, his words kept playing themselves on loop in your brain, making you overthink the post couple months you’ve spent together.

has he always thought of me as clingy? have i always been a bother to him? have i always been super annoying in his eyes?

that was until you heard a knock on the door.

you open the door and see kou standing there in a hoodie and a pair of khakis with a large bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands. his eyes lock with yours while yours widen in surprise.

"k-kou! what are you doing here?" you say in surprise.

"what, i can't see my partnet now?" he retorts lightheartedly. "let me in."

too stunned to even reject him, your hand inherently finds its way to the knob, widening the door so bokuto can fit through into your apartment.

he tries to hand you the flowers but you stand there, hands refusing to move from their sides. "c'mon babe, i got them for you! do you not like them? man, i knew i should've gotten the roses instead."

"no no! thank you so much kou.. i'm just surprised that you even got this for me..." you trail off looking away from him.

he sets the flowers on the kitchen counter and tilts his head in confusion. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"listen, i know you don't really like spending time with me and that you feel obligated to but honestly, we really don't have to hang out or anything like that," you begin to say. "i know i can be a lot sometimes and i'm really working on trying to give you space."

that's when it all clicks in his head for him.

"baby, is this about what i said that day in the gym?" he questions.

you turn away, refusing to even look him in the eye because you know the moment your eyes lock with his, the tears will start streaming down your face.

"baby, no, please," he goes over to you to give you the warmest yet tightest hug possible. "i’m also a very clingy person so i should've known how much my words must have hurt you. i've been so stupid to not see how badly my words must have impacted you, my love. i'm so so sorry for saying and acting the way i did. it's unexcusable."

"no kou it's fine i just-" you say but are interrupted midsentence.

"no, y/n it's not," he says, tears brimming his eyes ever since coming to terms with how hurt you must've been feeling this entire time. "i'll do anything to get your forgiveness and for us to just... be close again. i'll do anything, i mean it."

tears are streaming down both your faces and you can't help but form a wobbly smile on your lips. "pinky promise?"

"pinky promise," kou says as he locks pinkies with you and kisses the top of your head. "now let's cuddle because i've missed being near the love of my life."

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alygator77 · 1 month

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idk, i've been thinkin about long distance satoru :') just a little something i wrote while experiencing a bit of writers block. it's inspired on a military relationship but it can really be just any long distance!

warnings: nsfw, mdni 18+, smut and fluff

long-distance! satoru whose heart aches when you have to say goodbye, holding you closer just a little bit longer than usual as he tries to memorize every detail—the warmth of your body, the scent of your hair, the way your arms fit perfectly around him. he knows that the absence of your touch will leave him feeling empty again, a void only you can fill.

long-distance! satoru who texts you every morning and night, because you are the first and last thing on his mind.

long-distance! satoru who calls you late one night after a long mission. exhausted but unable to sleep, he finds comfort in the sound of your voice.

“mmm… ‘toru?” the innocent sound of your sleepy voice immediately melts him, his tension easing from your soothing whisper.

“heya sleepy head…you got a minute?”

you stay on the phone with him all night, talking about everything and nothing, until you fall asleep.

long-distance! satoru who listens to your soft, rhythmic breathing through the phone, and quietly confesses how much he misses you, how the sound of your voice and the warmth of your embrace are the only things that keep him grounded in a world that feels increasingly cold without you.

long-distance! satoru who loves when you send him a compilation of short videos to watch, just knowing that you thought of him, carefully selecting each clip to bring a smile to his face. he replays them over and over, allowing himself to feel closer to you, as if each clip is a tiny piece of you that he can hold onto.

long-distance! satoru who dreams of your future together, when the distance will no longer separate you. he envisions the day when he can finally hold you close and never let go. he dreams of lazy mornings spent tangled in the sheets with you, of quiet evenings where you can simply be together without the constant ache of longing. these dreams are what keep him going, a promise of a future where he can finally be by your side, where this long-distance heartache will be nothing but a memory.

long-distance! satoru whose breath hitches when you surprise him when a naughty photo while he’s working.

“fucking hell woman…what are you doing to me?”

long-distance! satoru whose cock strains against his uniform as he sits at his desk, the tantalizing image of you searing itself into his mind, leaving him desperate to touch himself, to feel some semblance of the closeness he craves.

long-distance! satoru who grips his weeping cock as he strokes himself in the privacy of his room, his thoughts consumed by you. the distance between you fades away in his fantasies, replaced by the heat of your body, the taste of your skin, the sound of your voice in his ear.

“fuck princess… I miss you so fucking much,” he whimpers nearing his edge, body trembling as hot spurts of cum paint him pretty, your name falling from his lips as he coats himself with the evidence of his need, his need to fuck you senseless.

long-distance! satoru who lies there afterward, breathless and spent, staring at the ceiling as the reality of your absence settles back in. there’s a bittersweet ache, because he knows it’s not enough—it’ll never be enough until he has you back in his arms, for real.

long-distance! satoru who surprises you with an unexpected visit, appearing at your doorstep after months of being apart. his duty bag slides off his shoulder in the doorframe and his arms open wide, inviting you for the embrace you’ve been yearning for.

“miss me, princess?” his boyish grin is blurred from the happy tears in your eyes, and you immediately throw yourself into his welcoming arms.

long-distance! satoru who wraps around you tightly, lifting you off your feet as he spins you around, laughter filling the air. the warmth of his body against yours is almost overwhelming, and you cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you inhale the familiar scent of him.

long-distance! satoru who doesn’t even make it past the doorway before his lips find yours, all teeth and tongue as he kicks the door shut with his foot. his hands roam your body with a hunger that borders on feral.

“let me make up for lost time,” he groans against your lips, a promise and a plea as he presses you against the nearest wall, hips grinding against yours, and you feel just how hard, how desperate, he has been for you.

long-distance! satoru who finally, after months of longing and aching, finds himself buried deep inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync as if no time has passed at all. the sound of your moans, the way you cling to him—it’s everything he’s been dreaming of, and more.

long-distance! satoru who pours everything he’s been holding back into this moment, into you. he groans your name, voice strained with the effort to hold on just a little longer, to make this last, because honestly, he could have cum moments after entering you—your cunt is just too fucking delicious.

long-distance! satoru who knows exactly how to bring you to your own edge, who’s learned your body, knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes you arch against him in that delicious way that drives him to the brink.

“cum for me, princess” he commands. and when you do, when your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, it’s his undoing.

long-distance! satoru who finally lets go with a shuddering gasp, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“fuck, I love you,” he groans, hands gripping your hips as he buries his face in your neck, his needy moans muffled against your skin as he spills his seed inside you, body trembling with the explosive force of it.

long-distance! satoru, who holds you close afterward, your bodies tangled together as you come down from the high. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your shoulder, your lips, whispering sweet nothings as you both drift off to sleep, content in the knowledge that, at least for now, the distance is no more.

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prythianpages · 7 months

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In My Eyes | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister | Summary: Azriel has lost you once and when unseen circumstances bring you back to life, he will not lose you again. Even if it means going against his family.

warnings: mentions of death (descriptive and a bit gruesome)/loss, angst 💔

a/n: I wanted to take a little break from all the fluff I've been writing so here's a little angst. I listened to Jacob's prayer from the Minari soundtrack a lot along with Thom Yorke's Hearing Damage while writing this. Hence the title bc I couldn't think of anything else lol and also because I feel like Az would be so down for his mate, she really could do no wrong in his eyes.

A haunting stillness permeates the air, broken only by the occasional whisper of Azriel’s shadows. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He wants to turn and leave but his legs betray his mind, prompting him to go forward. Cracked cobblestone paths lead him to the castle’s doors and as Azriel pushes the door open, it releases a loud groaning noise.

Inside Hybern’s castle, broken furniture lies scattered and the once opulent halls now echo with the sound of dripping water. His shadows stir uneasily. A sudden gust of wind brushes past him, carrying a pleading whisper along with it.

“Help me.”

Goosebumps rise on Azriel's skin as his shadows freeze in place. There was something familiar about that haunting plea that sent shivers down his spine.

“Azriel.”

"y/n," he breathes, the mere utterance causing his shadows to stir into a desperate frenzy. His steps quicken, evolving into a full-blown run, his heart pounding in sync with the frantic pace of his movements.

"y/n!" he calls out again, this time louder. His eyes, stinging with tears, frantically scanning the endless expanse of the haunted halls for any trace of you.

"Azriel, help me!"

Azriel runs and runs, but the hall stretches infinitely before him.

“Help! I’m al–”

And then, with a jolt, Azriel wakes.

Cold sweat clings to him like a second skin as the tendrils of the dream slowly release their grip on his consciousness. Your voice–it felt so real. But he knows it’s a dream because when he turns his head, the spot beside him is empty.

As it has been for centuries.

Azriel allows his heavy eyelids to flutter shut once more as he catches his breath. This was just another nightmare, he tells himself. It does nothing to soothe him. The more he thinks about it, the more unease grips him. Even his shadows are shaky, trembling as they brush against him.

For centuries, his dreams have been plagued by nightmares. It had always been the same one. The one that made him relive the moment he found out you were dead. Azriel had been the one to find the box that carried your mother’s severed head down Windhaven’s river and when he had spotted another box, all he found was a severed finger. A severed finger wearing a ring he was all too familiar with because he had been the one to place it on your finger.

Azriel remembers the way his heart had dropped to his stomach. He remembers the way he had desperately tugged on the bond only to find nothing but an eerie quietness on your end. He knew at that moment you were gone and you weren’t coming back.

The scream that tore through his throat was as violent as the gaping black hole crushing through his chest. It curdled the blood of anyone within earshot and had the surrounding birds jolting from their perches, their feathers rustling in a panicked flutter. Not even his shadows, who had carried him through his darkest times, could console him.

Azriel had no body to mourn. No hand to hold on to. No face to caress for the last time. He could only hope that your death had been quick and painless.

But this nightmare was new. Different. You were alive in this one. Or sounded like it.

Azriel opens his eyes and he brings himself to sit up in bed. His hands, weary and scarred, rub at his face in exhaustion, brushing away the lingering tears that sting at his eyes. He then looks down at his hands, aching to feel your warmth once more. Even if only in a dream.

The glimmering ring on Azriel's left hand sparkles under the tender caress of moonlight, drawing his attention. His trembling fingers delicately trace the contours of the band. He can’t help but turn and twist it, yearning for a complete view of the engraved letters. It spells out your name and the ache of grief intensifies with every twist. He hasn’t taken the ring off since the day he married you, even after death did you part.

It compliments the smaller, daintier ring wrapped around his neck that hangs on a thin silver chain. Your ring. His name is engraved on it just as yours is on his. The only difference is that yours cradles a captivating cobalt blue gem. A precious fragment, crafted from his own siphon and meticulously refined by himself. He wanted you to carry a part of him wherever you went.

Now, he is left to carry it. The only piece he has left of you. A poignant reminder that though death may have claimed you, the essence of your union lingers on. He can’t imagine loving anyone else. He doesn’t want to love anyone else. For him, it was you and only you. He could only thank the Mother for allowing him the time he had with you but also curse her for taking you from him.

His hand closes around your ring, grappling with the disorienting emotions coursing through him. Despite the centuries that have separated you, an instinctual yearning tugs at Azriel's core. He reaches out for the intangible thread that once connected you. He knows he’ll only receive the familiar void. It had been this way for ages. He’d wake from his nightmare, reach out with false hope and receive nothing in return.

Yet, this time, just like the nightmare he woke from, is different.

The shadows that hover over Azriel's shoulders, murmuring their soothing lullabies, suddenly cease in their dance. His eyes widen, capturing a glimmer of something long forgotten. Hope. It stirs within him, a dormant ember flickering to life after centuries of darkness.

For a fleeting moment, a heartbeat in the vastness of time, there's a response. A fragile shimmer through the bond. So delicate that it's almost imperceptible. And it’s coming from your side.

Azriel tugs again, cautiously and slowly. Anxiously and holding his breath. Even his shadows don’t dare to stir. But as he awaits another sign, silence envelops him. There’s no response.

He tugs again, desperately seeking confirmation. And then again and again. His tugs grow harsher, more desperate, each pull an urgent plea for any sign, any trace of you. Yet, the bond remains eerily silent, as if mocking the fragile tendrils of hope that dared to rekindle within him.

Maybe it was all a figment of his imagination.

But he swore he heard your voice, swore that tug, as faint as it was, was there. The crushing weight of loss descends once more, and it's as if he's losing you all over again. The echoes of hope vanish, leaving only a hollowing ache. His shadows begin to stir again, anxious to fill that hollowness in fear of the malevolent darkness that threatens to creep back inside and consume him all over again.

“No, no, no,” Azriel cries, his voice breaking into a mere whisper. With tear-streaked eyes, he looks up towards the moon, its ethereal glow filtering through the window on the ceiling.

“Please,” he says, beseeching the celestial body to heed his prayer.

Yet, the void persists and an overwhelming surge of fear takes hold, tightening its icy grip around him. Because though he thinks of you all the time, he’s beginning to forget the small details. Such as the exact shade of your eye, the radiant sparkle in your eyes as you’d smile at him, the comforting warmth radiating from your laugh, the precise hue of blush that would grace your cheeks every time he told you he loved you.

He doesn’t want to forget. As painful as the memories are now, he wants to anchor himself into every single one of them. To hold onto the exquisite weight of every detail.

"Please," Azriel pleads once more. His body quivers with each sob, hunched over in bed, fingers tightly gripping his chest as if trying to anchor his unraveling soul. The shadows, usually under his control, writhe in a frenzied storm, mirroring the emotions swirling inside him. Some tendrils slither out from beneath the door, seeking out help.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach someone. Rhysand swiftly materializes in the room. "Azriel!" he calls out, a voice cutting through the tumult of emotions that cling to the air like heavy mist. “What’s wrong?”

"I heard her, Rhys," Azriel confesses through tearful sobs, his pain echoing in the shadows. "I felt her."

“What if she’s alive? I–I need to find her.”

Rhysand's heart plummets, a solemn gravity darkening his features. “She’s dead, Az,” he murmurs softly, tone laced with empathy. While Azriel lost his mate, Rhysand had lost his sister. He, too, mourns for you.

Azriel shakes his head in denial. “She needs me.”

Rhysand takes a deep breath, blinking back his own tears. He then turns toward the doorway, meeting Feyre’s wide eyes. She had rushed to the room along with him. "Please, get Cas," he tells her.

As Azriel secures his siphons, he stares down at his left wrist, where a lunar emblem is etched onto his tan skin. It had disappeared when you had died but now, it is vivid against his skin once more. He doesn’t know exactly when it had reappeared. He was binding his hands before a training session, many months ago, when he noticed it. The reappearance of your mating tattoo carries with it the weight of the vows you had spoken to him.

“As long as I’m alive, I will love you with every breath.”

But you weren’t alive. You were still dead. After that night almost a year ago, Azriel had looked for you. Every night and day. For months. He was driving himself into pure madness, even his shadows had grown restless. There had been no more signs, no more traces of you but he still pushed on and he would’ve continued if Rhysand hadn’t forced him to stop.

“Are you ready?”

Azriel nods at Rhysand, securing the last of his weapon to his leathers. He then spares a glance toward Cassian, who is doing the same. It had been a long week of planning for this very moment.

Koschei initiated contact through a cryptic note delivered to Rhysand. The message proposed a meeting at the lake. A “peace” conference, he had called it. One that exclusively also required the presence of Cassian and Azriel. The terms were strange, but with dwindling options and time slipping away, Rhysand reluctantly consented.

"I'll be back before you know it," Rhysand reassures Feyre, bending down to plant a tender kiss on her temple. His gaze lingers on their infant son cradled in Feyre's arms, his smile warm as he places a gentle kiss on Nyx's head. "Save me a slice of Elain's cake for later.”

"Alright," Feyre exhales, her eyes still etched with worry. Her attention shifts towards the inked markings on her left arm and a fleeting shadow brushes softly against the tattoo. Lifted by the subtle touch, her gaze meets Azriel's and then Cassian's. In that silent exchange, they convey an unspoken commitment to protect their family at any cost. Feyre can only manage a small smile before the three males winnow away.

As soon as they arrive at the lake, Azriel feels a stirring in his chest. His attention is immediately drawn to a lone white swan. The swan gracefully glides across the murky water. A looming darkness rises from the lake, blocking his view of the swan and causing his shadows to jerk back.

"Welcome," Koschei's voice whispers through the wind.

Rhysand moves forward, standing in front of Cassian and Azriel, despite the anxiety coursing through him. “Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”

The looming darkness swells, and a malevolent chuckle reverberates from its core. Azriel’s shadows tuck themselves behind his wings and his entire body stiffens. He can sense Cassian do the same beside him. "You know precisely what I desire."

"And you know why we won't grant it," Rhysand retorts. There’s an icy rage swirling in his violet eyes that overcomes his sense of fear. He can only imagine what a world ruled by Koschei would be like and he refuses to allow the death god the power to harm his family.

"I anticipated your reluctance, Rhysand. That's why I've prepared a gift. Aid in my liberation from this lake, and it's yours."

Rhysand scoffs, unwavering. "No gift will entice me to free you."

"Are you certain about that?"

The wind intensifies, rustling leaves and brushing against the Illyrians, raising goosebumps in its wake. Birds, concealed in the trees, erupt in panicked flight. Rhysand, undeterred, digs his hands into his pockets, his eyes narrowing in question at the death god.

Koschei's laughter echoes again. "Perhaps I should show you first. It’s only fair, wouldn't you agree?"

The wind abruptly ceases, plunging the world into an eerie hush. The shadow that looms over the lake drifts to the side, allowing the swan from earlier to glide forward. Suddenly, a dark mist envelops the bird, its form blurring and shifting until the swan's elegant feathers dissolve into a cascade of shimmering silver. From the mist, a cloaked figure emerges, her midnight-blue robes trailing behind her like the ripples of the lake.

With each graceful step, the water seems to part beneath her feet, revealing the silhouette of a woman long thought lost to the depths. You.

“y/n!”

Azriel instinctively moves forward, hand reaching out towards you. Cassian, however, restrains him, a powerful grip on his brother’s arm preventing any impulsive advance.

Rhysand's eyes widen as you approach, a slow and haunting revelation unfolding in the dim light. It is you, standing right in front of them. In your blood and flesh. But your eyes–your eyes, once bright with life, now mirror the opaque shroud of mist hovering around you.

“This can’t be,” Rhysand breathes, his voice barely a whisper, disbelief coloring his tone. “How?

“King Hybern resurrected your sister from the magic of the Cauldron the same way he did with Jurian. You see, Tamlin was desperate to get Feyre back at that time. He let his guard down, allowing Ianthe to not only disclose the location of the Archeron sisters but also the location of your dear sister’s remains. Tamlin buried her body somewhere in his lands but his father had kept her wings. As a trophy. Did you know her death was slow and cruel?”

A shudder courses through Rhysand. Cassian’s fist clench at his sides and he spares a glance toward Azriel, whose body is shaking. None of them knew the details of your murder. An apprehensive feeling churned in their stomachs and Rhysand felt the bile rise in his throat.

“The sons of Spring did not show her the same mercy they did your mother. They drugged her with faebane, rendering her powerless so that she could not fight back. They sloughed her finger off to gift to you. Then, they took her wings. Let her bleed to death."

Suddenly, Azriel’s chest tightens. He can’t breathe. A pained expression crosses his face and his knees go weak. Images of you being tortured to death flood his mind and all he can think about is how he failed you. Cassian’s grip on him tightens even more, keeping him steady.

“King Hybern was so sure he’d win the war that he kept your sister hidden. He knew the Shadowsinger was her mate so he drugged her with faebane the same way the sons of Spring did. He didn’t want any of you finding out she was alive.”

“Hybern didn’t want to ruin the surprise. After his victory, he had planned to take you all back to the castle to torment you with her live state. Only to have you die at her hands. Of course, as you can see, that didn’t work out. Briallyn knew of her resurrection and brought her to me.”

Azriel can’t take his eyes off of you. His shadows dart toward you, slithering up your legs and caressing every inch of you. They linger on your wings. You don’t move. You don’t even blink.

But you’re alive.

All this time you had been alive. That nightmare he had, it was real. You were calling out to him, asking for help. Tears sting at his eyes. That tug he had felt from your shared bond. It was also real. And the tattoo that had reappeared on his skin was not a cruel trick from the Cauldron. But a sign.

“I’ve become very familiar with your sister. She’s very powerful but I’m sure you knew that.”

Rhysand’s gaze flickers to where you stand, heart aching. It’s you but not you. Unlike Azriel, he can’t help but think what if this is all a trick? An illusion to get him to side with Koschei? Cassian meets his worried gaze. They both glance toward Azriel and then exchange a look.

“Let her go.” Cassian finally speaks, hazel eyes glaring at the darkness before them. “And take me instead.”

“Lord of Bloodshed,” Koschei addresses Cassian in an amused manner. “What a most gracious offer. Unfortunately, for you, I have no desire to replace y/n. You, however, are welcome to join me of your own free will.”

“While I am confined to this lake, y/n is going to do everything I physically cannot. She’ll be my proxy, my spymaster. Isn’t that right?”

"Yes, master.”

The words slip from your lips like ice, each syllable devoid of the warmth and affection that once filled them. Azriel's heart lurches in his chest, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he hears the lifeless tone of your voice.

"No," Azriel growls, the sound reverberating through the air with a primal intensity. His voice, usually steady and composed, now carries an edge of desperation and fury. “You have no right to her. She’s mine.”

Rhysand keeps his hands in his pockets, hiding the fact that they’re slightly trembling. He eyes you once more, pure agony seeping into his very core. He mentally takes a deep breath and looks back toward the looming shadow over the lake, mustering all his strength to feign indifference.

“I don’t understand how this is a gift.”

“Here’s the deal, Rhysand. You help free me from this lake and I free y/n from my control. It’s as simple as that. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you a week to think about it.”

All seven of Azriel’s siphons ignite in a cobalt blaze of raw power. He will not let Koschei control you. You’ve already suffered enough. Cassian struggles to maintain his hold, his grip faltering against the force of Azriel's will.

“Azriel, no!”

The sound that erupts from Azriel was more animal than human—a deep, throaty growl that spoke of primal fury. He breaks free from Cassian, stumbling forward. He regains his footing with ease, rushing toward the lake. Toward the looming figure. Toward you. He’s so close, the water lapping at his boots when your clouded eyes finally meet his.

Burning pain courses through Azriel’s veins, bringing him to his knees and suddenly, he feels like he’s on fire. Your power takes hold over him, penetrating to the core of his being, carving through the marrow of each bone. He knows the fire is not real. It’s only an illusion but it feels as if every single cell in his body is being tormented with the worst agony imaginable. He can barely hear himself scream over the roaring pain in his ears.

Two strong hands clamp onto Azriel’s shoulders and he writhes against it, fighting it. “No,” his voice is a mere hoarse whisper as Rhysand uses his own power to pull him out of your illusion.

As Rhysand’s tendrils of darkness engulf Azriel, the last thing he sees are your eyes. They’re still clouded over, devoid of their usual luster. Yet, against the backdrop of emptiness, tears escape from them.

Azriel wakes to a dull ache in his head. He feels the gentle caress of his shadows against his face, tenderly attempting to alleviate the headache that grips him. With a slow blink, he reluctantly greets the soft illumination of his room at the riverhouse. Memories of what happened earlier flood back with startling clarity and his wings quiver involuntarily. A physical manifestation of the anguish that had ravaged his spirit. He doesn’t care that it was you who inflicted that pain upon him.

It pales in comparison to the pain you must be feeling inside. A mere glimpse of the raw emotions raging within you was enough to pierce Azriel's heart. Like a tempestuous storm, the waves of pain surged through your bond. But then, abruptly, he was shut out.

The image of your tear stained cheeks as you brought him to his knees plagues him with uneasiness. It’s this restless unease that stirs him, prompting him to rise from the bed. He looks toward his door, his shadows curling against his ears. Heavy with determination, he makes his way towards Rhysand’s office.

When Azriel's shadows forcefully swing the doors open, the entire inner circle stands before him. Their expressions betray the weight of their recent discussions. The room falls into a silence, thickened with tension. They had been discussing you. Without him. His hands clench into tight fists, his simmering anger threatening to spill over.

“Azriel,” Feyre greets him with a tense smile. “How are you feeling?”

Azriel’s eyes lock onto Rhysand. Anguish and resentment churn within him and Rhysand's posture stiffens in response

“We have to approach this situation with caution,” Rhysand says, surprised by the steadiness in his own voice despite the weight of their predicament.

“Caution?” Azriel nearly growls, prompting Cassian to inch toward him. “She is my wife! My mate! And you expect me to just sit here and wait for your approval to save her?”

Rhysand frowns, his violet eyes flaring. “You think I don’t hurt too?” He exclaims, his voice breaking as he utters his next words. “She is my sister!”

A hand rests on Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian’s. “I want to save her too. Trust me, I do. But we can’t just jump into–”

Azriel shakes Cassian’s hand off, his shadows hissing toward the taller male. “What if it were Nesta?”

Cassian frowns and he spares a glance toward his mate, who is watching the scene unfold with a somber look on her face. Azriel releases a frustrated huff before redirecting his gaze towards Rhysand, a pointed finger aimed accusingly at his friend and High Lord.

"If it were Feyre," he insists, his voice tinged with both desperation and conviction, "you would see no reason."

Rhysand's silence speaks volumes.

"I failed her once," Azriel continues, firm and resolute. "I will not fail her again."

But Rhysand's response is unwavering. "I can't let you go. You have to understand.”

Azriel's jaw tightens. "You can't stop me," he counters in defiance, wings flaring out behind him.

"As your High Lord, I–”

"I'm done," Azriel cuts off sharply before Rhysand can go any further. He’s well aware of the weight of his words but he doesn’t allow them to bring him down. You are his mate, the tether to his soul, and he will put you above all else. Even his family.

"I resign as Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Feyre's eyes glisten with tears as she approaches Azriel, brushing off Rhysand's attempt to hold her back. "Azriel, please," she implores, her voice trembling with emotion. She knows what Azriel must be feeling. She knows because she lived it herself when Rhysand died after the war. But she also knows–or at least, hopes–that there’s another way to bring you back home. She’s already making plans in her mind to reach out to Helion.

"Don't go. We'll find a way to bring her back, I swear it. Just give us time."

Azriel shakes his head, the thought of waiting to rescue you souring in his mouth. He can't bear the thought of you in pain, needing him, while he stands idle. The urgency to act gnaws at his soul, a primal instinct driving him to protect you at any cost.

“You’ll abandon your family then?” Amren asks. Despite her efforts to maintain her usual façade of indifference, a faint glimmer in her eyes betrays the struggle.

“I will not abandon my mate.” Azriel says, taking a step back. “She’s my family too.”

"Don't do this," Rhysand pleads as he takes a tentative step forward, his hand outstretched toward his brother.

Azriel takes another step back, his hazel eyes darting across the room, absorbing the silent pleas etched on the faces of the inner circle. He loves them but he loves you more.

When his gaze locks with Rhysand's again, Rhysand's heart sinks. He realizes that Azriel's mind is already set. His brows knit together in a pained expression. He doesn’t want it to end like this.

"I will not hold this against you," Rhysand manages, his voice strained.

How can he hold this against Azriel? When he would do the same for Feyre. When you, his sister, have been brought back to life only to be imprisoned by Koschei. A gasp fills the room as he drops to his knees.

"But please... just...please..."

The words catch in his throat, choked by the overwhelming grief and helplessness that engulf him. His shoulders slump in defeat as tears blur his vision. Feyre instinctively wraps her arms around him, pulling him close. A brief sanctuary in the midst of his shattering world.

He knows he cannot make Azriel promise anything and Azriel knows this too. Despite the grim circumstances, there is a flicker of solace in Rhysand knowing that whatever terrors may come, you won't face them alone.

“I’m sorry,” is all Azriel says before winnowing away.

Azriel’s shadows tuck themselves back behind his wings when he arrives at the familiar lake. His gaze immediately seeks out the water's edge, where wisps of mist still linger. There's no sign of the white swan he had seen earlier.

"I knew you would come around, Shadowsinger," Koschei's voice taunts from the shadows.

"Where is she?" Azriel demands.

Koschei's laughter carries on the wind, but he concedes. You emerge from the surrounding trees, your eyes widening in shock as you lock gazes with Azriel. This time, your eyes are clear, unclouded, and Azriel's heart twists with recognition as he memorizes the exact shade of your eyes all over again.

"You can't be here," you protest, and Azriel's shadows peek out from behind his wings, reacting to the sound of your voice. It's you. It’s really you.

Your eyebrows furrow, mirroring the same pained expression Rhysand had worn just moments ago. You recognize the gleam in his eyes. "No," you plead, your voice barely a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "You can't do this. You have to go back. Go back right now!"

Tearing his gaze off of you, Azriel looks toward the ominous silhouette of Koschei. He can feel the air thicken with anticipation, awaiting his next words. He continues to ignore your protests, even as you frantically rush toward his side.

“As long as you have control over her, you have control over me.” Azriel says and then drops to his knees in submission.

"My, my, my. What a lovely surprise," Koschei remarks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Get up!" You cry out, your hands clutching at Azriel's arms in a desperate attempt to pull him away from the lake. Away from Koschei's grasp. "Azriel, get up!"

Azriel’s knees remain rooted to the spot but his body leans into your embrace. His eyes flutter shut as he allows himself a fleeting moment to revel in the warmth of your presence—the warmth he had yearned for over centuries. The warmth he thought he would never feel again.

His eyes open and though Koschei is a mere shadow a couple of feet away, he can feel his gaze burning into his soul.

“I’ll serve you too,” Azriel finally says, sealing his fate alongside yours in the grasp of the death god.

"What have you done?" Your voice trembles with disbelief, your eyes still wide with shock as you stare up at Azriel, your hands reaching out to grasp his face. After Azriel swore his loyalty to Koschei, the death god had granted you both permission to be alone. He sent you to his sister’s old cottage, where you’d be staying for now.

Azriel's heart swells at the touch of your warm, soft hands against his skin. He wipes away the tears that cascade down your cheeks, his own emotions overwhelming him. "You're alive," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as he rests his hands on your face.

His fingers trace the familiar contours of your features. Every line, every curve is evidence to the reality of your presence. A presence he had long thought lost to him for eternity. The Cauldron had gifted him once more. Here you are, tangible and real. Alive. He can barely believe his eyes.

As Azriel's fingers delicately brush against your face, his shadows dance eagerly in his wake, reaching out to join in the tender caress. They yearn for the sensation of your skin, their touch as gentle as a whisper, expressing their overwhelming joy in silent echoes. "I love you. I love you. I love you," they chant in a chorus of happiness and the bond in your chest sings back in a language only you three understand.

Despite the tears streaming down his face, there’s such a deep and profound warmth in Azriel’s eyes. As he looks at you, it’s like sunlight breaking through dark stormy clouds. You want to bask in its golden glow but as a thought crosses your mind, you abruptly shrink back from him and your lip quivers.

“I hurt you. I-I didn’t want to but I couldn’t stop it. I hurt you. I made you scr–”

Azriel smiles at you, bringing you back into his protective embrace. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” you breathe, eyes searching for any trace of pain or repulse. You find none and though unleashing your power on your mate was against your will, your guilt threatens to consume you. “I’m so sorry, Azriel. I’m so sorry you’re here.”

"Don't be," he murmurs softly, cradling your head against his chest. His fingers thread through your hair, a gentle reassurance of his unwavering presence. He had lost you once. He’s not going to lose you again.

With a heartfelt sigh, he pulls you even closer. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Slowly but surely, the cascade of tears dwindled, leaving a trace of dampness on your cheeks and Azriel’s leathers. In your mate’s arms, you finally have the courage to voice your deepest fear.

"I'm scared, Az. What if I hurt you again? Hurt someone else? What if I do something worse?”

The vulnerability in your voice tugs at his heartstrings, igniting a fierce determination to shield you from any harm. He’d do anything for you.

“You can do no wrong in my eyes.” Azriel responds, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. He then inhales deeply, flooding his senses with your scent. “You don’t know how much I missed you.”

Azriel then pulls away, just enough to look at you again. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you but I’m here now. I won’t fail you this time.”

Your gaze softens. You send a wave of pure love through the bond and Azriel feels his heart flutter at the sensation he’s been deprived of for so long.

“You never failed me, Az.”

Azriel's face breaks into a radiant smile and you smile back at him. It lights up the darkness that had weighed heavily on his heart for centuries. "I love you," his voice is barely above a breath, reveling in the blush that takes over your cheeks in response.

He reaches for the chain around his neck, fingers trembling slightly as he clasps your left hand. His gaze lingers on the lunar tattoo on your arm that matches his for a moment before sliding your wedding ring back onto your finger.

Holding your gaze, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "My mate," he murmurs against your skin. He then kisses the ring on your finger, the cobalt gem glowing in response. “My wife.”

"I love you," you say back, your arms winding around his neck as your fingers caress the soft strands of his hair. He yields to you, allowing himself to be drawn closer. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "My mate."

Then, finally, you press your lips against his. "My husband," you declare softly, sealing your bond with a kiss that echoes the depths of your devotion and commitment to each other.

And for the first time in centuries, Azriel sleeps soundly with you in his arms. Free from the torment of nightmares that had haunted him for so long.

Only to wake up and realize it’s because he’s now living in one.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! When writing this, I didn't intend for there to be more parts so for now, it's a one-shot. I left the ending open-ended to allow you to interpret it how you want and also, leave room for a sequel in case I ever do want to go back to this. That being said, while I don't have ideas for a sequel in mind as of right now, I did come up with a backstory for Az & reader in this little au so I might write a prequel on how their relationship came to be.

I also have another Az x Rhys's sister series. It is written in third person and it's more of an Az x OC series. You can find it here, if interested. But I do intend to make this au different than that one.

tagging: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

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natsaffection · 1 month

Text

Wait and Hope. Pt 1 | N.R

Warnings: None.

Word count: 7k

A/n: First of Three is here! If you want to know what happens next, you can read the request here.

Natasha entered the apartment she shared with you, her body aching from the day's work. The mission had been long and exhausting, but successful. Yet, as she walked in, she felt the familiar sense of home, the quiet comfort of returning to the one person who made all the chaos worthwhile. She hung her jacket on the hook by the door and took off her boots, sighing in relief as the burden of the day slowly lifted from her. The apartment was quiet, except for the soft hum of the television in the living room.

She found you sitting on the couch, a laptop on your knees, your eyes focused on the screen. The gentle light from the lamp on the side table cast a soft glow on your face, highlighting the thoughtful expression you wore. Natasha watched you for a moment, her heart swelling with love for this woman who had somehow managed to break through all her defenses and become the center of her world. But there was something else, something in the way your brow was furrowed, in the way you were biting your lower lip in concentration. Natasha's instincts, honed by years of reading people, told her that you were deep in thought, perhaps even troubled.

"Hey.." Natasha said softly to announce her presence as she stepped into the room. Your head snapped up, a smile spreading across your face as you saw Natasha standing there. "Hey, you." you replied, closing the laptop slightly, but not entirely. "How was work?"

"The usual.." Natasha said with a shrug, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was on your mind. "Tiring, but we got the job done." She moved closer to the couch, her eyes briefly flicking to the laptop before returning to you. "And you? You look like you’ve been thinking about something."

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze falling on the laptop before you looked back up at Natasha. There was a hint of nervousness, maybe even anticipation, in your eyes. "I've been thinking..about something. Something I wanted to talk to you about." Natasha’s heartbeat quickened slightly. In her line of work, unexpected conversations were rarely a good thing. But this was you, and whatever was on your mind, Natasha knew they could face it together. "What is it?" she asked gently, sitting down beside you on the couch.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of the laptop as you gathered your thoughts. "Do you remember how we joked a while back about what it would be like..to have..kids?" Natasha’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah, I remember. I think I said I’d teach them how to escape from a locked room, and you said you’d make sure they stayed in one place long enough to learn something."

You smiled at the memory, but there was a seriousness in your eyes that told Natasha this wasn’t a casual conversation. "Well..I’ve been thinking a lot about it since then. About what it would be like, I mean. To have a family. To adopt.." Natasha felt a small flutter in her stomach at the mention of adoption. She had spent so many years locking away her feelings, protecting herself from the kind of attachment that could be used against her. But with you, everything was different. You had made her feel things she never thought she could feel..love, vulnerability, hope. And now the thought of expanding her world to include a child or children was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You must have sensed Natasha’s hesitation because you placed your hand on her knee. "I know it’s a lot to think about." you said softly. "And I know you’ve been through things that make this complicated. But..I can’t stop thinking about it, Nat. I want to start a family with you. I’ve looked into adoption agencies, read stories, and..I think we could do it. I think we’d be great parents." Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked into your eyes, the sincerity, the longing there. She glanced at the laptop, which was only slightly open, and felt a wave of fear mixed with something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

"I..I need time. To think about it." Your expression softened, and you nodded, clearly expecting that she would react this way. "Of course." you said quickly. "I didn’t mean to spring this on you out of nowhere. I just wanted to share what I’ve been thinking about. But I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for." Natasha took a deep breath to steady herself. "It’s not that I don’t want it. I do, more than I ever thought I could. But my past..what if it catches up to us? What if I can’t be the kind of mother a child needs? I don’t want to bring a child into our lives if I’m not sure I can protect them, make them..happy."

Your hand squeezed her knee tighter, your touch warm and reassuring. "Natasha, I’ve seen how you are with kids. You’re great with them. You’re kind, protective, and you have so much love to give. Yes, your past is complicated, but it’s made you who you are today. And who you are today would be an incredible mother." Natasha looked down, her thoughts racing. She knew you were right, she had changed, she had grown, and she had found a kind of peace she never thought possible. But the thought of bringing a child into her life, of being responsible for someone so vulnerable, still filled her with fear.

You seemed to sense Natasha’s internal turmoil, and you gently squeezed her knee again. "You don’t have to decide now." you said quietly. "I just wanted to start the conversation. We can take it one step at a time." Natasha nodded, grateful for your understanding. "Thank you." she whispered. "For being patient with me." You smiled, leaning in to kiss Natasha’s cheek. "Always." you replied. "Why don’t we go get some rest? We can talk more about it later." Natasha nodded again, watching as you headed toward the bedroom. You called out, "Coming?"

"In a while." Natasha replied, watching you walk away. "I just need to unwind a bit first."

"Alright." you called back over your shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. "Don’t stay up too late." Once you were out of sight, Natasha’s gaze drifted back to the laptop on the coffee table. The conversation had unsettled her, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix of fear and curiosity. She knew you were serious about wanting to adopt, and deep down, Natasha couldn’t deny that she had thought about it too..had dreamed about what it would be like to have a family with you.

With a shaky breath, Natasha reached out and opened the laptop, the screen flickering to life. And there they were..children of all ages, some smiling brightly, others with eyes that looked too old for their young faces. Natasha’s heart clenched as she scrolled through the profiles, reading snippets of their stories, their hopes for a family. She tried to keep her emotions in check, to stay detached, but it was impossible. The more she read, the more she felt herself softening, felt the walls she had built around her heart slowly crumbling. There was a boy with a shy smile, a girl with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and a baby with a tuft of curly hair. Each of them touched something deep inside Natasha, something she had tried so hard to protect.

Before she knew it, tears were stinging her eyes. Natasha quickly wiped them away as if trying to erase the evidence of her feelings. But it was too late. She was already falling in love. She snapped the laptop shut again, her hands trembling as she did so. She felt overwhelmed, torn, but also..something else. Something that suspiciously felt like hope. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was a big decision, one she needed to talk to you about, one they had to face together. But for the first time, the idea of having a family didn’t feel so terrifying. It felt..possible. Even right.

With that thought, Natasha stood up, taking the laptop with her as she headed to the bedroom. She found you already in bed, your eyes closed, but Natasha knew you weren’t asleep. She set the laptop on the nightstand and quietly slipped under the covers, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You stirred slightly, a smile forming on your lips as you felt Natasha’s embrace.

"Hey.." you murmured sleepily. "Everything okay?" Natasha pressed a kiss to your neck, her heart full of warmth. "Yes." she whispered. "Everything’s okay. I.. think I’m ready to talk about it. About the adoption." Your eyes opened slowly, and you turned slightly to face Natasha, surprise and joy reflecting in your expression. "Really?"

Natasha nodded, her voice soft but firm. "I looked at some of the profiles. And I think, I think we might be ready for this. Together." Your eyes filled with tears, but they were tears of happiness. You reached up and gently cupped Natasha’s cheek before leaning in for a tender, loving kiss. "I knew you’d get there!" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "We’re going to make a wonderful family, Nat."

Weeks passed, and you found yourselves at the adoption agency. The room was filled with comfortable chairs and soft lighting. You sat side by side, your hands entwined as you waited for your appointment. You squeezed Natasha’s hand, barely containing your excitement, but Natasha could sense the underlying nervousness. This was a big day, and although you had spent weeks discussing and preparing for this moment and now, the reality of it was setting in. You were about to take the first step toward expanding your family, and the weight of that decision was palpable.

A door opened at the other end of the room, and a woman in her mid-forties stepped out, her smile warm and welcoming. She had the kind of presence that put people at ease, her movements calm and deliberate. "Y/n, Natasha?"

Both of you stood up, exchanging a brief glance before you walked toward the woman. "That’s us." you said with a smile, though Natasha could feel your hand tighten slightly around hers. "It’s wonderful to meet you both." the woman said, extending her hand to you. "I’m Rebecca, and I’ll be guiding you through the process today. Why don’t we sit down first and discuss a few things before we take a tour?"

You followed Rebecca into her office, a cozy space filled with pictures of smiling families and framed certificates on the walls. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, adding to the warmth and comfort of the room. Once you were seated, Rebecca leaned forward slightly, her expression gentle but serious. "First of all, I want to thank both of you for being here. The decision to adopt is a huge one, and it’s one that comes with a lot of responsibility, as I’m sure you know. This journey is as much about finding the right addition to your family as it is about giving a child who needs it a loving home."

Natasha nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been through a lot in her life, more than most people could imagine, but this felt different. It felt like a step into the unknown, into something that would change both your lives forever. "We understand." you said quietly, your voice calm. "We’ve talked about this a lot, and we’re ready. We want to start a family."

Rebecca smiled, clearly pleased by your determination. "That’s wonderful to hear. Now, I know from your application that you’re primarily interested in adopting a younger child, perhaps a toddler. That’s quite common, especially for first-time adoptive parents. But I want to encourage you to go through this process with an open mind. Sometimes the child that’s meant to be a part of your family isn’t the one you initially imagined."

Natasha and you exchanged a thoughtful glance. You had indeed focused on adopting a younger child, someone you could raise together from the beginning. But both of you nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of what Rebecca was saying. "We’ll keep that in mind." Natasha said, her voice steady but open. Rebecca nodded, satisfied with your response. "Good. If you’re ready, why don’t we take a tour of the facility? You’ll have the opportunity to see some of the children currently living here, and we can discuss any questions you have along the way."

Natasha felt a mixture of anticipation and fear as she stood up to follow Rebecca out of the office. Your hand remained firmly in hers, a silent source of comfort as you walked down the hallway. The facility was bright and welcoming, with colorful artwork on the walls and the occasional burst of laughter echoing from the playrooms. As you passed by one room, Natasha caught a glimpse of a group of younger children playing with blocks, their faces lit up with joy. She felt a tug at her heart as she imagined what it would be like to bring one of these children home, to watch them grow up surrounded by love and security.

But as you continued walking, Natasha noticed something else..a row of doors leading to private rooms, some of them slightly ajar. Through one of these doors, she saw a teenage girl sitting on her bed, her back against the wall, headphones in her ears as she wrote in a notebook. The girl’s posture was relaxed but alert, her eyes focused intently on what she was writing.

Rebecca noticed Natasha’s gaze and paused, glancing into the room. "That’s Lila." she said softly, her voice taking on a gentler tone. "She’s fifteen. She’s been here for about a year." You looked into the room as well, your curiosity piqued. "She seems focused." you remarked, a small smile playing on your lips.

Rebecca nodded. "Lila is incredibly smart, but she’s also been through a lot. She’s had a hard time adjusting, and because of her age, she knows it’s harder to find a family willing to adopt a teenager. Most people are looking for younger children." Natasha felt a pang of sympathy at these words. She knew what it felt like to be unwanted, to be overlooked because of who you were or what you had been through. She could see a spark of that same pain in Lila’s guarded demeanor.

As if sensing she was being watched, Lila looked up from her notebook, her sharp eyes locking onto the group standing in the hallway. Her expression shifted to one of wary annoyance as she quickly assessed the situation. She pulled out one of her earbuds, raising an eyebrow as she looked from Rebecca to you and Natasha. "Let me guess." Lila said, her voice cool and distant. "You’re here to adopt. But I’m not what you’re looking for, am I?"

Natasha was taken aback by the directness in Lila’s words, but she couldn’t help but admire the girl for her honesty. There was a strength in her, a resilience that Natasha recognized, something that spoke to her in a way she hadn’t expected. You, always the more open of the two, stepped forward slightly, your expression gentle. "We’re here to meet everyone." you said softly. "We don’t know what we’re looking for yet."

Lila laughed lightly, though there was a hint of bitterness behind it. "Yeah, well, you’re not the first people to come here looking for a cute little kid. That’s okay. I’m used to it." Natasha felt a protective instinct rise in her chest. She could see that Lila had built walls around herself, the same walls Natasha had spent years constructing. And she knew how exhausting it could be to keep those walls up, always ready to be disappointed.

Without really thinking, Natasha found herself speaking. "You don’t know what we’re looking for." she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "We’re here to meet people, to see if there’s a connection. It’s not about age." Lila blinked, clearly surprised by Natasha’s response. For a moment, her cool facade wavered, a fleeting expression of vulnerability crossing her face. But just as quickly, she straightened up, the walls coming back up.

"Sure.." Lila muttered, "Well, don’t let me keep you from finding your perfect little family." You exchanged a look with Natasha, something unspoken passing between you. There was something about Lila, something that held you both and wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t just her strength or her resilience, it was the way she tried to hide her pain, the way she had already written off the possibility of being chosen, of being loved.

Rebecca then showed you the rooms where younger children played and learned. The sight of toddlers and preschoolers laughing and interacting with each other tugged at your heart, and Natasha could see how your eyes lingered on the small faces. Yet even as you continued the tour, another image kept coming back to Natasha..Lila.

As you walked down another hallway, Rebecca continued speaking, her voice warm and informative. "As I mentioned, we have children of all ages here, from infants to teenagers. Each of them has their own unique story, their own needs and dreams. Finding the right match is more than just a matter of age or background,it’s about connection." Natasha nodded, though her mind was still partly in Lila’s room, replaying the brief but intense encounter. She could still see Lila’s sharp eyes, the way she had tried to protect herself from disappointment, and it gnawed at her.

You seemed to be having similar thoughts. You gave Natasha a thoughtful look before turning back to Rebecca. "How often are older children adopted?" you asked, your voice gentle but tinged with concern. Rebecca’s smile faded slightly, her voice becoming more serious. "Unfortunately, it’s less common. Many prospective parents are looking for younger children, hoping to start from the beginning, so to speak. Teenagers, especially those who have been in the system for a while, often have a harder time finding a family. But that doesn’t mean they don’t find families, it just takes the right people, people who are willing to look beyond age."

You exchanged another glance with Natasha, a silent conversation happening between you. Natasha could see the question in your eyes, could they be those people? But you continued the tour, following Rebecca as she led you through the rest of the facility. You met several more children, young, energetic, full of life and potential. A toddler with big, curious eyes reached for your finger and let out a giggle, and Natasha could see your heart melt in that moment. Natasha herself felt drawn to a little boy who proudly showed off his block tower, his face beaming as Natasha knelt down to admire it.

Yet throughout it all, Lila’s image kept returning to Natasha’s thoughts. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special about the girl, something that had spoken to her in a way she hadn’t expected. Finally, the tour ended, and Rebecca led you back to her office, where you sat down to discuss what you had seen and felt. Natasha and you sat, each of you lost in your own thoughts, as Rebecca began speaking again.

"I know this process can be overwhelming." Rebecca said kindly, her eyes moving between you and Natasha. "There’s a lot to consider, and it’s okay if you’re not sure yet about what you want. The most important thing is to take your time and think about what feels right for both of you." You nodded, though Natasha could see the uncertainty in your eyes. "We definitely have a lot to talk about.." you said softly.

Rebecca smiled reassuringly. "That’s completely normal. This is a big decision, and it’s important that you both feel confident in your choice. If you have any questions or if you’d like to meet any of the children again, just let me know." After a few more minutes of conversation, you and Natasha thanked Rebecca for her time and made your way out of the building. The drive home was quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts as you tried to process everything you had seen and felt during the visit.

When you finally arrived home, you placed your handbag on the kitchen counter and turned to Natasha, your expression serious but open. "So..what do you think?" you asked gently. Natasha took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, gathering her thoughts. "I don’t know." she admitted. "I mean, all the kids we met today were wonderful. But..I can’t stop thinking about Lila."

Your eyes softened, and you nodded, as if you had expected this. "I can’t stop thinking about her either." you said quietly. "There was just something about her, wasn’t there? She was so guarded, but there was so much..depth there. So much potential." Natasha looked down at the floor, her thoughts racing with the implications of what you were considering. "She’s older than we originally thought we wanted.." she said thoughtfully. "But I don’t know..maybe that doesn’t matter as much as we thought."

You stepped closer, placing a hand on Natasha’s arm. "Nat, I saw the way you looked at her." you said softly. "And I know you saw how much she’s been through. We could be the ones to help her, to give her the love and stability she needs." Natasha looked into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, any doubt. But all she saw was the same love and hope that had always been there, the same belief that you could do this together.

"What if we’re not enough for her?" Natasha asked, her voice tinged with worry. "What if she needs more than we can give?" You shook your head gently, your gaze steady. "We’ll figure it out." you said with quiet confidence. "We’re not perfect, and we’ll make mistakes, but we have so much love to give, Nat. And maybe..maybe that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who won’t give up on her." Natasha felt a surge of emotion at your words, her heart swelling with a mixture of fear and hope. She knew this was a big decision, one that would change their lives forever. But she also knew that she might regret it if she didn’t take this chance.

"Okay." Natasha finally said, her voice firm but soft. "Let’s do it. Let’s start the process to adopt her." Your eyes filled with tears of joy, and you pulled Natasha into a tight embrace, your heart pounding with excitement about what lay ahead. "Thank you, Nat.." you whispered against Natasha’s shoulder. "I know this isn’t easy, but I really believe it’s the right thing to do." Natasha held you close, feeling the warmth of your love and the strength of your bond. "We’ll do this together." Natasha said quietly. "We’ll be her family."

Natasha and you returned to the adoption agency, your hearts pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The familiar hallways, which had seemed so intimidating on your first visit, now felt purposeful. You had made your decision. You were ready to adopt Lila.

Rebecca greeted you with her usual warm smile, but there was a slight hesitation in her eyes as she offered you seats. "Natasha, Y/n, it’s good to see you both again!" she began, her voice as friendly as ever. "I understand that you’ve given this decision a lot of thought." You nodded, holding Natasha’s hand tightly under the table. "Yes, we have." you said, your voice firm. "We’ve thought about it a lot, and we both feel that Lila is the one we’d like to adopt."

Rebecca’s smile widened, but there was still a hint of something in her expression..something that made Natasha’s instincts prick up. "I’m so happy to hear that." Rebecca said, "Lila is a wonderful young woman, and I believe she would thrive in a home like yours. But before we proceed, there’s something important we need to discuss." Natasha and you exchanged a glance, a flicker of concern passing between you. "What is it?" Natasha asked cautiously.

Rebecca took a deep breath and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. "Lila has two younger siblings." she explained gently. "A brother, Jacob, who is 10, and a sister, Mia, who is 6. They’ve been in the system together for a while now, and it’s been difficult to find a placement that can take all three." The words hung in the air like a bombshell. Natasha and you both blinked in surprise, the realization slowly sinking in. Three children? You had prepared yourselves to adopt one, maybe two if the situation called for it, but three? The thought was overwhelming, almost paralyzing.

"Three..children?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked at Natasha, your eyes wide with shock. "We..we didn’t know." Rebecca nodded sympathetically. "I know it’s a lot to take in, and I want to assure you that there’s no pressure to make a decision right away. But I wanted to be honest with you because it’s something we try to avoid whenever possible, separating siblings. Lila, Jacob, and Mia have been through a lot together, and they’re very close. They rely on each other." Natasha felt her heart racing, her thoughts swirling with the consequences. Three children. It was more than you had planned for, more than you had prepared yourselves to handle. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake the image of Lila, how she had looked at them with that mix of hope and skepticism, how she had seemed so strong yet so vulnerable.

And now there were two more faces she had to imagine. Jacob and Mia, both younger, both searching for the same love and stability that Lila needed. Your hand squeezed Natasha’s tighter, and Natasha could see the conflict in your eyes, the same conflict she felt in her own heart. But she also saw something else: a determination, a belief that together, they could make this work.

"Can we meet them?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly but filled with resolve. "Jacob and Mia, I mean. Can we meet them before we make a decision?" Rebecca’s expression softened, and she nodded. "Of course. I think that would be a very good idea." A short time later, Natasha and you found yourselves back in the familiar hallway, but this time with a different kind of anticipation. Rebecca led you to a playroom, where Lila sat on the floor reading a book. Beside her were two younger children, a boy and a girl, both quietly playing with some building blocks.

As soon as Lila saw Natasha and you, her expression shifted to one of surprise, followed by a cautious look. But there was also something else, an underlying hope that she couldn’t quite hide. "Lila, these are the people I told you about." Rebecca said softly. "Natasha and Y/n. They wanted to meet Jacob and Mia." Lila’s eyes moved from Rebecca to Natasha and you, as if trying to understand what this meant. The younger children looked up from their play, curiosity shining in their eyes. The boy, Jacob, had a serious expression, much like Lila’s, while the little girl, Mia, had large, innocent eyes that mirrored her brother’s.

Natasha felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at the children and the reality of the situation sank in. These were Lila’s siblings..part of the package you hadn’t expected, but couldn’t ignore. And as she watched Jacob and Mia interact with Lila, the bond between them was undeniable. You knelt down to their level, your voice gentle and warm. "Hi, Jacob. Hi, Mia. I’m Y/n, and this is Natasha. We’ve been talking to your sister Lila."

Jacob looked at you with a mix of curiosity and caution, but he didn’t say anything. Mia, on the other hand, gave you a small, shy smile. "Hi!" Natasha felt an unexpected wave of affection for both of them, but she also felt the weight of the decision they were facing. It was no longer just about Lila, no it was about all three of them, about creating a family in a way that was bigger and more complex than they had ever imagined. Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally spoke, her voice cautious. "You wanted to adopt a younger child, didn’t you? Not three. It’s okay. I get it."

The statement hit Natasha and you hard, and Natasha felt a pang of guilt at the truth in Lila’s words. But there was also something else, a determination that had been growing since your first meeting with Lila. "We came here thinking we knew what we wanted." Natasha began, her voice steady but thoughtful. "But things change. People change. We didn’t expect to meet someone like you, Lila. And we didn’t know about Jacob and Mia. But now that we’ve met all of you..we need to think about what feels right."

You nodded, your eyes full of sincerity. "We don��t want to make promises we can’t keep." you said softly. "But we also don’t want to walk away from something that could be really special. We just need..a little time to talk it over." Lila’s expression softened slightly, though she still looked unsure, as if she couldn’t fully believe what she was hearing. "Okay." she said quietly, her voice uncertain.

Rebecca stepped in, her voice gentle. "Why don’t you take some time to think about it? You’ve been through a lot today, and I know this is a big decision. Take as much time as you need." Natasha and you nodded, your minds and hearts swirling with emotions as you left the playroom. The drive home was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. It wasn’t until you were back in the familiar comfort of your living room, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders, that you finally broke the silence.

"Three children, Nat." you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I don’t know if we’re ready for that. But at the same time..I can’t imagine leaving them there. They’re already a family. I don’t want to break that up." Natasha sat down beside you, her heart heavy with the gravity of the situation. "It’s a lot." she admitted. "More than we planned for. But I can’t stop thinking about them either. Lila..she’s strong, but she’s been through so much. And Jacob and Mia need stability, they need someone to show them that they’re not alone."

You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for answers, for reassurance. "Do you think we can do this?" you asked, your voice filled with hope and fear. "Do you think we can really be the parents they need?" Natasha reached for your hand, her voice filled with quiet determination. "I think we can try." she said softly. "It won’t be easy, and there will be challenges we haven’t even thought of yet. But I think..I think this might be the family we’re meant to have."

Your eyes filled with tears, but you nodded, your grip on Natasha’s hand tightening. "I don’t want to walk away from them." you whispered. "I think we can do this, Nat. Really." Natasha pulled you into a tight embrace, solidifying the decision in her heart. "Then let’s do it." she murmured. "Let’s bring them home."

The drive back to the adoption agency weeks later was filled with a quiet determination. You and Natasha had spent the last days talking, weighing the pros and cons, but in the end, your hearts had guided you to a decision. You were ready to take on this challenge together. As you entered Rebecca’s office once more, there was a sense of resolution between you. Rebecca greeted you with her usual warmth, but there was an added depth to her smile as she sensed the shift in your demeanor.

"Rebecca." Natasha began, her voice steady, "we’ve thought about it, and we want to move forward with the adoption. We want to adopt all three. Lila, Jacob, and Mia." Rebecca’s smile widened, her eyes reflecting both surprise and joy. "That’s wonderful news!" she said, her voice full of genuine happiness. "I know this is a big decision, but I truly believe you’re going to make a great family." The process that followed was a whirlwind of paperwork, meetings, and preparations. Rebecca guided you through every step, ensuring that you felt supported and informed. The more you learned about Lila, Jacob, and Mia, the more certain you became that this was the right decision.

The day finally came when you would bring the children home. As you pulled up to the adoption agency, there was a mix of excitement and nervousness in the air. Natasha glanced at you, her hand resting on the gearshift. "Are you ready?" she asked softly. You nodded, though Natasha could see the nervous energy in your eyes. "I’m ready." you replied, your voice steady but full of emotion. "Let’s bring them home."

When you entered the agency, Rebecca greeted you with a warm smile, but it was Lila, Jacob, and Mia who drew your attention. They stood together, holding hands, their small bags at their feet. Lila looked nervous but hopeful, Jacob’s serious expression was tinged with curiosity, and Mia clung to her sister’s hand, her wide eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. Natasha crouched down to their level, offering them a gentle smile. "Are you all ready to go home?" she asked, her voice soft.

Lila nodded, her grip on her siblings’ hands tightening. "Yeah.." she said quietly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Mia looked up at Lila, then at you and Natasha, before nodding as well. Jacob remained quiet but gave a small nod of agreement.

"Okay." you said gently, "let’s go." The drive home was quiet, the children sitting in the backseat, their expressions a mix of anticipation and nerves. Natasha kept glancing in the rearview mirror, watching them closely. She could feel the weight of the moment, the beginning of something new and beautiful, but also challenging and uncertain.

When you finally arrived at the house, Natasha parked the car, and the two of you turned to face the children. "Welcome home." you said softly, your voice filled with emotion.

Mia pressed her face against the window, her small hands leaving prints on the glass as she took in the sight of the house. "It’s big...." she whispered in awe. Jacob looked at Lila, who nodded slightly, giving him the courage to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Let’s go." Lila said quietly, leading her siblings out of the car. You and Natasha helped them with their bags, and as you approached the front door, Natasha handed the key to Mia. "Would you like to do the honors?" she asked with a smile.

Mia looked up at Natasha with wide eyes before carefully taking the key. She hesitated for a moment, then looked back at Lila and Jacob, who gave her encouraging smiles. With a deep breath, Mia stepped forward and unlocked the door. As the door swung open, the children were greeted by the warmth and coziness of their new home. The living room was inviting, with a large, comfortable couch and shelves filled with books and photos. The kitchen was bright and welcoming, with a small table already set with snacks and drinks.

"This is your home now." you said gently, your voice full of warmth. "You can make it your own." Mia was the first to move, her small hand slipping into Jacob’s as she led him toward the living room. Jacob followed, his eyes still wide with curiosity. Lila hesitated at the door, her expression cautious but with a glimmer of hope.

Natasha and you exchanged a look, understanding that this was just the beginning. The children would need time to adjust, to feel safe and secure in this new environment. It wouldn’t be easy, but you were committed to making it work. "Would you like a tour?" you suggested, your voice bright with encouragement. "We can show you your rooms and where everything is."

Mia, who was always the most enthusiastic, nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!" she said, her voice full of excitement. Natasha led the way, guiding them through the house. She showed them the kitchen, where they would eat together, the living room, where they could watch movies and play games, and the small study, which had already been transformed into a cozy nook for reading and quiet moments. Finally, they reached the bedrooms. You and Natasha had spent hours decorating each room based on what you had learned about the children during your visits. Mia's room was done in soft colors, with a bed covered in stuffed animals, Jacob's room had shelves for his books and toys, and Lila's room was decorated with a mix of bold, vibrant colors that reflected her independent spirit.

Mia was the first to run into her room, her eyes lighting up as she saw the array of stuffed animals on her bed. "Look!" she cried out happily, turning to you. "They're so cute!" You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness at Mia's joy. "I'm glad you like them, sweetheart." Jacob walked slowly into his room, his fingers gliding over the shelves lining the walls. He seemed a little overwhelmed, but in a good way, as if he could hardly believe this was real. "This is...really nice." he said quietly, looking up at Natasha with a shy smile. Natasha returned the smile, her heart warming at the sight of Jacob's tentative happiness. "It's all yours, Jacob." she said gently. "You can arrange it however you like."

Lila was the last to enter her room, her steps slow and cautious. She stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the space that had been prepared for her. The bold colors on the walls, the comfortable bed, the desk by the window, everything was so different from what she was used to. She walked over to the desk, running her hand over the surface, her expression difficult to read. "It's your space, Lila." you said softly as you stepped into the room behind her. "We want you to feel at home here."

Lila turned to you, her eyes filled with mixed emotions..gratitude, uncertainty, and a hint of vulnerability. "Thank you." she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. You smiled and placed a comforting hand on Lila's shoulder. "We're glad you're here." you said gently. "All of you." As the day turned into evening, the house gradually filled with the sounds of life. You and Natasha prepared dinner, a simple yet comforting meal of pasta and salad. The children sat at the table, still a bit hesitant, but slowly beginning to relax. Mia chattered excitedly about her new room, while Jacob quietly observed, taking everything in.

Lila, as expected, was more reserved, but she engaged in the conversation, her responses growing longer and more sincere as the evening went on. Natasha couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she watched her new family begin to come together, each moment a small step towards building the bond they all longed for. After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie. Natasha let the kids choose, and they finally settled on a family-friendly animated film. Mia cuddled up next to Natasha on the couch, resting her head on her shoulder, while Jacob sat between the two of you, his attention fully focused on the screen.

Lila sat in an armchair, slightly apart from the group, but Natasha noticed how she occasionally glanced over at you all, as if slowly allowing herself to become part of this new dynamic. Natasha caught her gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile, which Lila returned with a hesitant yet genuine one. As the movie played, Natasha felt a deep sense of contentment wash over her. This was her family now. Imperfect, still finding its way, but full of potential and love.

When the movie ended, you suggested it was time for bed, and the children reluctantly agreed, their excitement finally giving way to the exhaustion of the eventful day. You and Natasha helped them settle into their rooms, giving each of them goodnight hugs and words of reassurance. Mia clung to Natasha a little longer than the others, her small arms wrapped tightly around her neck. "Good night..." she whispered, her voice filled with contentment.

Your heart melted at her words. "Good night, sweetheart." you replied, kissing Mia's forehead. "We'll see you in the morning." As you and Natasha retreated to your own room, you finally allowed yourselves to relax, the weight of the day lifting as you climbed into bed together. Natasha pulled you close, holding you tight as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"We did it." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "We brought them home." Natasha smiled and pressed a kiss to your temple. "Yes." she murmured. "We did. And we're going to make it, Y/n. I know we will." You nodded, your eyes closing as you nestled closer to Natasha. "I love you." you whispered, your voice full of warmth.

"I love you too."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you

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beekeeperspicnic · 4 months

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Can't believe this blog has existed THIS long, and I've somehow never shared this Sherlock Holmes fanfic by PG Wodehouse. As far as I know it predates Conan Doyle publishing any stories which mention Holmes retiring to keep bees, which presents the delightful possibility that ACD discussed his future plans for Holmes with his young friend Plum, whose first reaction was to go off and write (and publish) a cute parody of it.

The Adventure of the Missing Bee

Sherlock Holmes is to retire from public life after Christmas, and take to bee-farming in the country.

"It is a little hard, my dear Watson," said Holmes, stretching his long form on the sofa, and injecting another half-pint of morphia with the little jewelled syringe which the Prince of Piedmont had insisted on presenting to him as a reward for discovering who had stolen his nice new rattle; "it is just a little hard that an exhausted, overworked private detective, coming down to the country in search of peace and quiet, should be confronted in the first week by a problem so weird, so sinister, that for the moment it seems incapable of solution."

"You refer—?" I said.

"To the singular adventure of the missing bee, as anybody but an ex-army surgeon equipped with a brain of dough would have known without my telling him."

I readily forgave him his irritability, for the loss of his bee had had a terrible effect on his nerves. It was a black business. Immediately after arriving at our cottage, Holmes had purchased from the Army and Navy Stores a fine bee. It was docile, busy, and intelligent, and soon made itself quite a pet with us. Our consternation may, therefore, be imagined when, on going to take it out for its morning run, we found the hive empty. The bee had disappeared, collar and all. A glance at its bed showed that it had not been slept in that night. On the floor of the hive was a portion of the insect's steel chain, snapped. Everything pointed to sinister violence.

Holmes' first move had been to send me into the house while he examined the ground near the hive for footsteps. His search produced no result. Except for the small, neat tracks of the bee, the ground bore no marks. The mystery seemed one of those which are destined to remain unsolved through eternity.

But Holmes was ever a man of action.

"Watson," he said to me, about a week after the incident, "the plot thickens. What does the fact that a Frenchman has taken rooms at Farmer Scroggins' suggest to you?"

"That Farmer Scroggins is anxious to learn French," I hazarded.

"Idiot!" said Holmes, scornfully. "You've got a mind like a railway bun. No. If you wish to know the true significance of that Frenchman's visit, I will tell you. But, in the first place, can you name any eminent Frenchman who is interested in bees?"

I could answer that.

"Maeterlinck," I replied. "Only he is a Belgian."

"It is immaterial. You are quite right. M. Maeterlinck was the man I had in my mind. With him bees are a craze. Watson, that Frenchman is M. Maeterlinck's agent. He and Farmer Scroggins have conspired, and stolen that bee."

"Holmes!" I said, horrified. "But M. Maeterlinck is a man of the most rigid honesty."

"Nobody, my dear Watson, is entirely honest. He may seem so, because he never meets with just that temptation which would break through his honesty. I once knew a bishop who could not keep himself from stealing pins. Every man has his price. M. Maeterlinck's is bees. Pass the morphia."

"But Farmer Scroggins!" I protested. "A bluff, hearty English yeoman of the best type."

"May not his heartiness be all bluff?" said Holmes, keenly. "You may take it from me that there is literally nothing that that man would stick at. Murder? I have seen him kill a wasp with a spade, and he looked as if he enjoyed it. Arson? He has a fire in his kitchen every day. You have only to look at the knuckle of the third finger of his left hand to see him as he is. If he is an honest man, why does he wear a made-up tie on Sundays? If he is an upright man, why does he stoop when he digs potatoes? No, Watson, nothing that you can say can convince me that Farmer Scroggins has not a black heart. The visit of this Frenchman—who, as you can see in an instant if you look at his left shoulder-blade, has not only deserted his wife and a large family, but is at this very moment carrying on a clandestine correspondence with an American widow, who lives in Kalamazoo, Mich. — convinces me that I have arrived at the true solution of the mystery. I have written a short note to Farmer Scroggins, requesting him to send back the bee and explaining that all is discovered. And that," he broke off, "is, if I mistake not, his knock. Come in."

The door opened. There was a scuffling in the passage, and in bounded our missing bee, frisking with delight. Our housekeeper followed, bearing a letter. Holmes opened it.

"Listen to this, Watson," said Holmes, in a voice of triumph.

"'Mr. Giles Scroggins sends his compliments to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, an' it's quite true, I did steal that there bee, though how Mr. Holmes found out, Mr. G. Scroggins bean't able to understand. I am flying the country as requested. Please find enclosed 1 (one) bee, and kindly acknowledge receipt to 'Your obedient servant, 'G. Scroggins.

'Enclosure.'?"

"Holmes," I whispered, awe-struck, "you are one of the most remarkable men I ever met."

He smiled, lit his hookah, seized his violin, and to the slow music of that instrument turned once more to the examination of his test tubes.

Three days later we saw the following announcement in the papers: "M. Maeterlinck, the distinguished Belgian essayist, wishes it to be known that he has given up collecting bees, and has taken instead to picture postcards."

#pg wodehouse #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fanfiction #but like EARLY fanfiction

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lucifermonsii · 6 months

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Just top jealous Ghost😭😭😭💕

Your wish is my command. Also I'm still currently writing all of the other requests it takes some time.

M!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Going to the cafe with Simon to spend time together, while ordering the girl at the cashier kept hitting on you. Making Simon jealous as you got punished back at home.

Cw: mentions of dicks, cocks, length, bondage, overstimulation, vibrator, cockwarming, cum

Smut

A shaky sigh escapes your quivering lips as you tried to stop the constant drooling from the corners of your mouth, trails of pearly white seed travels down your length and onto your stained stomach.

Breathing heavily as your chest rose up and down while you hung your head low, your wrists bound together by fluffy black cuffs. The vibrator taped around your dick hums aggressively against your sensitive prick as whimpers and pleas escapes your pretty lips.

"I- nghh.. m' sorry Simon plea- haa.."

You whimpered when he slightly shifts in his seat, making you take his fat cock deeper inside your tight hot hole. The way his dick was nestled deep inside of you and how his tip kisses your prostate oh so perfectly, making you see stars whenever he shifts as you cockwarm him. You squeeze around him when his finger tips trails your V line, making your flush furthens as if you weren't red enough..

Your face painted in a light tint of pink as blush spread to your neck and ears, beads of sweat trails down your body as it shines beneath the dim light of his lamp that sat on his desk. Your body exhausted from the overstimulation while he continues to type away on his computer as if you weren't whimpering on his dick.

"Should've walked away when the chick tried to shoot her shot huh?"

His voice rumbles through his chest as your back was pressed against his chest, your arched back against his fat pecs that acted like pillows as you rest the back of your head on your shoulder. Breathing heavily against his ear while you were on the brink of passing out.. maybe this wouldn't happen if you tried to get away from the chick..

☆

Two hours ago you and Simon went to a cafe to spend some time together, Simon already ordered his drink and went away to go pick a seat as you ordered. Your eyes darts around the menu before you finally told your order to the girl that worked there, she seemed to be staring at you the whole time when you were trying to pick a drink. During that time she tried to struck a conversation, but you didn't respond. She got frustrated before keeping quiet, her eyes seems to wander all over your body, inspecting it as you began to feel uncomfortable.

"I'd like to have milk tea with cheese foam"

You said as you look at anywhere but her, clearly not liking the way she kept on staring at you with those eyes..

"Oh! Did you know I also like cheese foam? That's so crazy-"

She chuckled as she tries to keep you at the counter, Simon glaring at the corners of his eyes from the interaction as an ugly feeling of jealousy bubbled within him..

"Anyways- what's the total?"

You cut her off as you bawled your hand into fists from being so nervous, not because she was hitting on you, but because of Simon's hard gaze that pierces through your back like sharp knifes through the air.

"Like the total amount of attention I've been trying to hit on you"

"S- stop-"

You cringed at her before reading her name tag on her apron

"Sarah, you're just cringe. Stop it."

She gave you a dirty look before looking back at her cash register

"$24"

☆

Coming back home from the cafe Simon taught you a lesson by overstimulating you with a vibrator and his fat cock deep inside of your tight hole.

#x male reader #male reader #moots #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw x reader #ghost mw2 #gay #ghost simon riley #sub reader #sub male reader #bottom reader #bottom male reader #ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader

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roxineedstosleep · 8 months

Note

Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Hi there!!!

First of all: Thank you sweetie!

It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!

But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.

So… here goes!

(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)

Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.

Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.

It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.

Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.

Having multiple siblings was new.

Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.

It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.

Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.

But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.

You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!

New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.

After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.

Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.

What to do?

Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.

What does that entail?

It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.

Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.

That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.

(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).

Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.

Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.

Do you see any privacy in this?

No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.

The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.

As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.

So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?

No kidding, how?

And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.

It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!

What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!

You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?

I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.

And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.

Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.

And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.

But that's not the point.

The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.

You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.

Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.

It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.

The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.

I insist, you did not hide anything.

But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.

First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.

Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.

Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.

Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.

NO matter.

At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.

Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.

Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.

Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.

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hhh-hemogoblin · 3 months

Text

Warmth

Summary: There are several bedrolls but Astarion makes his way to yours. Not for the reasons you'd expect, though. Set at the start of act 2, only a few days after entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands and its lethal climate.

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader

Rating: T, no warnings

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: fluff, comfort, pre-relationship, developing feelings, more than friends (?), banter, wholesome, sfw

A/n: So uhh, my hand slipped?? For the purpose of this short and sweet brabble, elves sort of sleep. Yes, Astarion is a diva but what's new?? Any constructive feedback is welcome :)

All was quiet at camp tonight. You'd had dinner. So had Karlach, Wyll, Lae'Zel, Shadowheart and Halsin. Gale had had his fill, courtesy of an old amulet that you knew you'd have no use for. Even Astarion had been fed.

The hunger was sated, at least to some extent, and after a long day of walking, climbing and crouching, you had all agreed to call it a night. Not because you didn't have any ideas for entertainment, but rather because the sheer exhaustion had rendered everyone absolutely useless.

The flames of the campfire were slowly dying, leaving only glowing embers that emitted a last bit of warmth in the cool night. While some retreated to their tents, others had spread their bedrolls out around the campfire, to try to warm themselves up enough to sleep for the night. You had also decided to remain by the fire, hoping to be able to fall asleep despite the crisp breeze.

You snuggled into your bedroll and got comfortable. It barely took any time for you to fall asleep, with Shadowheart's soft and regular snoring breathing soothing you like a lullaby. Your rest was cut short by a sudden chill in your bones. You woke up, freezing, shivering. As you opened your eyes, you saw that the embers had finally died down completely and turned to cold ashes. Everyone around you seemed to be sleeping deeply, a regenerative rest they had well deserved.

Your eyes still felt heavy from awaking so suddenly, your head was drowsy... All you wanted to do was to fall asleep again. Just a few more hours, just to have enough energy on the next day...

But the cold was seeping through the fabric: your nose and ears, your feet, your lower back... Everything felt cold.

Ever since entering the Shadow-cursed Lands, the cold was always hanging in the air: an unnatural feeling gnawing at your bones, clinging to your skin.

You tried to curl up into a ball, to keep all the warmth in one place and avoid the freezing feeling from spreading further. You weren't sure it was working. You tied your shawl closer around your head. You turned, multiple times. You tried to keep your eyes shut, to pretend to sleep. But the cold only grew stronger.

All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your mouth, preventing you from screaming. Even in your shock, you couldn't even gasp. You couldn't see who it was, as they were crouching behind your back. But you knew. Only one person could move so quietly.

His hand, which was usually even cooler than the night air, was almost as warm as your skin. With his other hand, he pulled your shoulder and made you roll on your back. His piercing gaze was anything but calm.

"Shhhh. Don't be scared, it's me. Can I take my hand off? You're not gonna scream now, right? No need to alert the whole camp..."

You simply nodded. Your heart was still racing, but you knew you were safe, it was just Astarion. It might've been racing for other reasons now.

He slowly removed his hand, still scowling.

"Is everything alright?" You asked him. There must've been a reason for this behaviour.

"Can't sleep? Yeah, me neither..."

"Well, I've noticed. I can't sleep either, darling. And you know why? Because you've been tossing and turning and shifting all this time!" he whisper-shouted.

"Do you know how incredibly loud sheets can be, when someone is rolling over in their bed every thirty seconds?!", he added.

Even if you were wide awake now, his obviously rhetorical question didn't earn an answer from you. You just looked at him, dumbfounded.

"Hang on... Are you seriously blaming me for trying to sleep??", you asked him, your tone full of reproach.

"I'm blaming you for making noise and disturbing my slumber!" he retorted.

"Well, Astarion, I'm sorry your ears are so sensitive! As you can see, no one else is awake at this ungodly hour, complaining about how much noise I allegedly make while trying to sleep!!" This time, you were whisper-shouting, eyeing the other companions, who seemed to hear none of what was happening at your bedroll.

Astarion looked around, still brooding. It was true, everyone was sleeping, still. He decided they didn't deserve to be robbed of the rest they so cruelly needed. He sat down next to you.

You sat up, resting on your elbows and looked up to him. He seemed to have regained some composure, he looked... Lost in thoughts, perhaps?

"Look... I'm sorry." You started, once again not knowing what you were apologising for, a recurring theme with him.

A fresh gust of wind made your skin crawl as you tried to cover yourself some more.

"I can't sleep because I'm fucking freezing!"

"Oh, and here I thought you were fighting demons in your head alone again", he answered plainly.

His tone made you feel guilty. You thought that perhaps, he hadn't been able to sleep for other reasons, prior to you waking up.

"Were you?", you asked tentatively.

"No, I wasn't. And if I had been, I wouldn't have talked about it with you! I would've talked with... Uhm... With..." He stopped. Then chuckled to himself.

He was lying again, there was no one. Or so he thought...

"Well, if anything comes up, you can talk to me next time. But maybe not necessarily in the middle of the night. If it can be avoided..." You tried, with a shy smile.

He looked back to you, his eyes less hopeless now, his smile almost earnest.

"So... You're cold right? I know what that's like... Move over, make some space!" He whispered, in a commanding tone.

"What??"

"Well, let me in!" He added, opening the side of your bedroll.

"We won't be suffering from the cold as much if we share our heat", he explained very factually. Gale was starting to rub off on him, you feared.

As you still didn't really react, he added "Don't be coy now, it's not like we haven't been this close before..." The cold from the open blanket, or perhaps his sly grin, made you shiver. And you complied, making space for him under the sheets.

"You'll be able to sleep because you'll be less cold, and I'll finally be able to sleep because your restlessness won't bother me anymore."

"Right. Much better, isn't it?"

He would never have admitted out loud but he was grateful for the warmth. Other than being cold, the nights were lonely and unrelentless lately.

"Good night now, I hope you fall asleep quickly, for both of our sakes!"

You smiled. Astarion was practically insulting you to your face, but you simply smiled. Despite his harsh words, he was still sharing a bedroll with you, after all...

"Good night, Astarion. May some rest help that awful temper of yours", you retorted with a chuckle.

You heard him scoff in the back of your neck but didn't pay it much thought. His body was now sheltering yours and you already felt much more at peace. Perhaps the warmth came from the faint body heat he radiated, perhaps it came from within you: in spite of everything he was and said, you did like having him around...

Quiet as a corpse, Astarion was probably drifting off, or so you hoped. In a last effort to get more comfortable in the tight bedroll, he slinked his arm around you, pulling you slightly closer to him. And so you fell asleep in his arms, rather quickly too.

You woke up as the sun was just starting to rise on the horizon. You opened your eyes and saw that none of your companions had awoken yet.

You looked down towards your hand and saw that Astarion's fingers were laced with yours. You hadn't noticed at all during the night but it instantly made you feel more comfortable. Still, you felt the need to get up.

"Are you awake?" you asked, knowing that he probably was. "I'm going to go eat something now."

"Or you could stay..." He answered in the faintest whisper. He still hadn't let go of your hand. There, as the Morninglord graced the world with his radiance again, you decided that you could, indeed, stay just a little longer, for both of your sakes, and enjoy the comfort of this quiet morning together.

Awesome dividers by @cafekitsune

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #fanfic #fluff #astarion x reader #wholesome

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a-spes · 7 months

Text

| THE PLACE WE'VE BEEN DREAMING OF - Imagine (1,109 words).

| Summary - when Natasha enventually gives in, and accept her wife's demand to adopt a pet.

| Tags & warning - Men & Minors DNI, soft dark!wandanat x R, not really pet play but R is reffered to as one (stray/mutt/it), a man being mean, mentions of death, hints of (past) abuse, pure fluff/comfort.

| Author's note - I wrote that quickly because it has been on my mind for so long, and I definitely needed to share it with the world, but hope you'll enjoy it anyway! I'll definitely write a longer version of it when I've time, but for the moment, here goes the first introduction to The place we've been dreaming of alternative universe (and it's only the beginning because i've so many thoughts to share about it) <3

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

it was wands' idea. she had begging nat for years, talking about how good it would be to have a pet, just to bring a bit of life in the household.

and that's exactly what natasha feared. because she likes how quiet, and tidy, her house is. she likes the routine she built with her wife over the years, and she is reluctant to bring another piece in her house.

but how could she deny her wife when she begs her with those puppy eyes?

so she eventually gave in, and they went into a place that's only known by the richest persons. it's kind of a shelter, but instead of animals, human being are sold.

they walked in, wands looking in the cages while nat roll her eyes everytime she tries to have her opinion. "did you find what you want?" the seller asked, and nat looks at her wife that seems to hesitate. "what's over here?" she asked back, pointing to a noisy alley that constrats with the quiet one they've just travelled.

the sellers just dismissed her question, "they're unfit" he just replied, "they're going to be send off tomorrow". "where?" wands asked. "to be killed", he replied, but when he tried to get the conversation back on his best goods, wanda ignored him: she wanted to see these ones. nat isn't surprised, her wife always having a thing for saving broken being, but she still roll her eyes, thinking about the additionnal trouble it'll bring.

so, before the man could say anything, they walk in the alley. the ambience is different. yells, cries, and dark glances greet the women, while in the first alley, everyone's was perfect. nat cringes while her wife walk around, until she crouches in front of a cage that, at the first sight, appears to be empty.

except that, that you are here. in the back of the cage, hiding where the light can barely find you, trying to forget where you are. the noise is frightening you, but your hands covering your ears isn't enough to reduce it. the yells from the other still bugging you.

you've no idea for how long you've been here, but it felt like an eternity. you've been sent back here by your previous owner, it was your last chance, you've been told, and you don't know what's going to happen. when the door clicked, you thought your hour had come, and it only made you curl up further.

but the hand that came for you wasn't harsh. it hasn't tried to grab you. when you eventually open your eyes, your met by the sight of a woman, that's trying to get you to come to her. her voice is sweet. she doesn't yell as you thought she would when you didn't move at first.

the men had to bang against the walls to get you out, which earn him a glance from both of the women. he ignored them. "this stray has one of the worse behavior. she bites, is noisy, messy, agressive, ..." but wanda isn't listening anymore. she is just looking at you, sitting in front of her, unable to ignore the look on your eyes. the fear, and the exhaustion.

you didn't bite. you didn't made a noise. you didn't try to run away.

you only flinched when she reach out to stroke your cheek, but a second was enough for you to lean into her contact. it was so sweet. so gentle. and, for the first time, it felt genuine, and even the slap or the harsh grip you were waiting for never came. she was looking at you with pity, and something you couldn't name yet.

"... she couldn't behave even to save her life, we've tried everything. she's trouble", he adds, still talking even if none of the women is caring about his opinion, "believe me, she'll be better dead", and nat muttered something how he should be the one to die, while wanda didn't listen at all to his speech, all her attention being on you right now.

"you're sure that's the one you want, wands?" she asked, but she already knew her wife would nod, and she is definitely not going to fight her, especially when she sees how attached she already seems to be.

she looked at her while she take a biscuit out of her pocket, just to give a bit to you, but ends up giving you everything when she notices how you inhaled it. her brows furrowing together, but she doesn't say a word. she knows it would be useless to start a scene right now, this man perfectly knowing how bad he is treating you, and everyone else here. or maybe he doesn't, and doesn't realizes, thinking you deserve it, and then it would be pointless to argue with him. in that instant, she wishes she could take them all home, and if she can't, she can at least save one life.

"we didn't even bring her home yet that you're already spoiling her" nat complained, rolling her eyes. a whispered, "she deserves it", is muttered under her breath while the man seems annoyed, "if you're too lenient, you're going to regret it. you need to be firm with these things, you know." "and how would you know?" nat would ask, "apparently it didn't work well, from what you said earlier" and she smirks when she notices he starts to loose his temper, his voice being harsh when he replies, "then do not even think about taking her back when you'll realize how bad she is," just to nat to assure him that he "doesn't need to worry about that".

she isn't found of her wife's choice. she would have prefer it if she choose one of the perfect pet from the first alley. one of the one that wouldn't disturb her peace. but obviously her wife had to go for a stray, a mott, and a broken one by the way. but if there are two things she enjoys it's seeing her wife smiling, and pissing off men that thinks they know everything. if adopting that one allows to do it both at the same time, then she's all for it. a part of her wanting to prove the man that he is just wrong, and is the problem in that story.

#a spes writing #imagine #the place we've been dreaming of universe #wandanat #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #reader insert #fluff writing #soft dark wandanat

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dee-writes-anime · 18 days

Text

I'm Here, I'm Always Here

FEATURING Shoto Todoroki x Reader

SUMMARY Shoto can't take it anymore, good thing you are always willing to take good care of your icyhot sweetheart.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, Shoto being taken care of like he deserves, an excuse for me to wash my boys hair T-T, hurt/comfort, Shoto needs a hug PLEASE HUG HIM OML

AUTHORS NOTE this is not the BakuDeku slow burn that I've been working on the past week, unfortunately. I promise I am still working on it, it's just a BEAST of a fic and I am still not done writing it. So, instead of continuing in my silence, I decided to share this Shoto fic I've been sitting on for a FAT minute. <3

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.”

Shoto Todoroki is sitting on the floor of your shower, curled into himself, trembling violently. His knees are drawn tight against his chest, and his head is buried deep between his crossed arms, tucked into the wet skin of his legs. The water pounds mercilessly on his back, scalding hot, the sound of it a steady hiss against the tile as steam swirls like smoke in the air. It clings to the room in suffocating waves, thick enough to feel like it’s pressing down on him, drowning him with every strained breath. The water pelts his cold skin, too hot and too harsh, but he doesn’t move. He just rocks slowly, back and forth, shaking with each shallow inhale.

You hadn't been home, hadn’t heard the news. You were a world away, caught in the aftermath of a grueling mission in Indonesia, helping local heroes dismantle a quirk-empowered sex trafficking ring. You hadn’t known what had gone down between Shoto and the villain he fought today. You hadn’t known he’d be fighting for his life while you were halfway across the world, in a place that had felt so beautiful, so serene in comparison to what he must have gone through.

While you’d been basking in the warm Indonesian sun, calling him every night to talk, laugh, share silly stories, Shoto had been here, battling something far darker than either of you could have anticipated. You would stay on the phone with him for hours, sometimes dozing off mid-conversation, your voices filling the quiet voids of each other’s days. But today, today you hadn’t been able to answer.

You’d been on a plane, finally heading home after days of tension and exhaustion. The mission was done; you had succeeded in catching the ring leaders, and the police were making their arrests. But it wasn’t over for Shoto.

He had stayed at your apartment while you were gone, taking care of Mr. Wellbottom, your moody, gray tabby. Shoto had taken the task without hesitation, even though you’d thanked him a thousand times, feeling guilty for asking him to go out of his way. But Shoto had only smiled, brushing off your offers of repayment, telling you it was no trouble at all. The truth, however, was that Shoto preferred it here. Your apartment, small and cluttered as it was, was warm—unlike the empty coldness of his own space. Here, everything smelled like you—soft, comforting, familiar. He’d found himself sinking into the warmth of it, into the messy piles of books, your worn-out blankets, and even the prickly affection of Mr. Wellbottom.

Because here, in your space, Shoto could pretend, just for a little while, that he was more than just your close friend. More than just the boy who kept you company and helped take care of your cat. Here, he could pretend he belonged.

But today, the weight of everything had become too much, and all the warmth of your apartment, of your affection, couldn’t hold back the storm brewing inside him. He loved you more than anything in the world, more than he could ever say, which was why he had resigned himself to being just this—just your closest friend. Because losing you, risking what you had by asking for more, was something he couldn’t bear. So, he stayed quiet, enduring, grateful for whatever piece of you he could keep.

The villain Shoto had fought today was unlike any other—someone who could take the deepest, darkest corners of a person's mind and twist them until reality blurred into something grotesque. He wasn’t a stranger to this villain, not after the many run-ins he’d had in his relentless hunt to stop him. Shoto had endured before, forced to relive the bitter memories of his father, the abuse, the cruelty that had shaped so much of his childhood. And then, as if that weren’t enough, the villain had dredged up the image of his brother—his death, and later, the painful fight against him. But even those memories, awful as they were, Shoto had withstood.

Today, however, had been different.

This time, the villain had reached deeper, pulling on a thread of Shoto’s mind that was too precious to tamper with. He had taken you. The memory of your warmth, your laughter, your soft presence that had become Shoto’s solace—and twisted it into something horrific.

In the vision the villain conjured, Shoto found himself standing in your small, familiar kitchen. The tiled floor beneath him, a dull, faded yellowish hue, felt so real. Too real. And there, lying crumpled on the ground, was you. Blood—thick and horrifyingly red—leaked from a deep gash in your abdomen, pooling on the floor and staining the tiles beneath you. Shoto's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he dropped to his knees beside you. His hands, shaking uncontrollably, grabbed the first thing he could find—the knit blanket you always draped across the back of the couch. The same one he had used just days before to coax Mr. Wellbottom into curling up with him for a late-night picture.

But now, that blanket was being pressed against your wound, its soft cream fabric soaking through with the vivid, sickening color of your blood. The warmth that had once been your safety net, the thing that reminded him of you every time he wrapped it around himself, was now drenched in the memory of your loss.

The image wouldn’t leave him.

No matter how much he blinked, no matter how hard he tried to force himself back into reality, the memory the villain had warped stuck in his mind like a jagged shard of glass. He could still see your lifeless form, still feel the weight of the blood-soaked blanket in his trembling hands. It was too vivid. Too visceral.

The villain knew exactly what he was doing, attacking Shoto’s weakest point. He had toyed with Shoto's mind, playing his memories like a puppet on strings, twisting them until every bit of hope, every ounce of warmth, turned to something grotesque. You were Shoto’s anchor, the light in the darkness of his life, and to turn that into something filled with blood and pain—that had broken him in ways nothing else ever had.

When Shoto had finally snapped out of it, it had been too late. The villain was gone, disappeared into the chaos, and Shoto was left kneeling on the ground in the middle of the battlefield, still shaking from the aftershocks of the warped vision. His teammates had tried to help him, tried to call out to him, but he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your blood dripping onto the cold kitchen floor. He could feel his own heart hammering against his ribs, threatening to tear itself apart from the inside.

And now here he was, in your shower, trying and failing to wash the memory away. He had come back to your apartment because it was the only place that felt remotely safe, remotely real. But even here, surrounded by the things that usually comforted him, he couldn’t escape it. The scalding water beat down on his back, punishing him, as if he could burn the image out of his mind. But nothing helped. Nothing could erase the sight of your body, limp in his arms, as the life drained out of you in that twisted vision.

When he heard your soft voice, it was as though the world tilted back into focus for the first time since the nightmare began. It started with a gentle gasp, a sound so quiet he might’ve missed it if he weren’t so desperate to hear something real. Then came the hurried footsteps, the soft padding of your feet against the floor growing louder as you rushed toward the bathroom. The water stopped abruptly, the harsh, scalding heat suddenly replaced by the cool air around him, and then—your hands. Your hands, warm and steady, were threading through his soaked hair, each stroke slow and deliberate, as though grounding him back into the present.

But Shoto flinched at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. Was this real? Could this be another cruel trick, another illusion the villain had planted to break him further? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure—not after what he had seen.

And then he smelled it.

Vanilla and cashmere, the scent you always wore, the one Mina endlessly teased you about. That familiar, comforting fragrance filled his senses, and something deep inside him cracked open. It was you. The scar on your palm, the one from that quirk accident back in high school, scraped lightly against his skin as your fingers combed through his hair, the faintest of rough edges that confirmed it. No illusion could replicate the way your presence felt—how solid, how real it was.

It was you.

The dam inside him broke, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore from his throat, raw and desperate. His body moved before his mind could catch up, clinging to you, burying his face against your chest as the sobs came faster, his body wracked with tremors he could no longer suppress. Water soaked through your sweater, dampening your leggings, but you didn’t care. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer as you whispered soft, soothing words into his ear.

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice steady, grounding him. “You’re safe, Shoto. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He could feel your heartbeat against his cheek, strong and steady, each thud an anchor that pulled him out of the nightmare and into the present. You were real. You were here, holding him close, and for the first time since the mission, the suffocating weight in his chest loosened, just a fraction, as your warmth began to chase the cold from his bones.

After what felt like minutes—or maybe hours; he couldn’t tell—of you simply holding him, your warmth wrapped around him like a lifeline, you shifted. Slowly, you stood, your movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid to pull away too fast. You reached for the shower knob, turning the water back on, this time to a much gentler temperature. The scalding heat from before was replaced by a soothing warmth that cascaded down his back, easing the tension in his muscles.

Without saying a word, you grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the cubby—a fancy brand you always scolded him for trying to use when he stayed over. He could almost hear your playful voice in his head, telling him he wasn’t allowed to touch the ‘good stuff.’ But now, you weren’t teasing. You were quiet, focused, as you squeezed a generous amount into your palm and began to gently massage it into his scalp.

Your fingers moved with care, threading through his hair in slow, circular motions. Each touch was gentle, deliberate, as if you were trying to wash away more than just the dirt and grime of the day. Shoto closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the sensation, the rhythmic motion of your hands calming the storm inside him. The scent of the shampoo—familiar and soft, just like everything else about you—filled the air, wrapping him in its comforting embrace.

You worked the shampoo into every strand, massaging his scalp until his hair was thoroughly coated in suds. Each pass of your fingers through his mismatched hair felt like a promise—unspoken, but deeply felt. You weren’t going anywhere. You were still here, taking care of him in the only way you knew how.

And for the first time that night, as you stood there with him, washing away the pain of the day, Shoto felt like he might be able to breathe again.

After finishing with the shampoo, your hands moved with the same careful tenderness, reaching for the conditioner. You uncapped the bottle, the familiar scent wafting into the air, and squeezed a dollop into your palm. The water flowed in a soft cascade over Shoto’s back, creating a calm, steady rhythm in the background as you worked the conditioner through his hair.

Your fingers glided through the wet strands, smoothing them gently. As you massaged the conditioner into his scalp, your voice broke the quiet.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time,” you began, your voice low and soft. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Shoto.”

The words hung in the air, blending with the sound of water pattering against the tile. Shoto didn’t react at first, still processing everything. But you didn’t stop, your fingers working through his hair with care as you continued.

“I don’t know when it started, really. I think it was sometime in high school, maybe even before that. You were always so strong, so quiet, but… you carried so much. I remember that day during our first year, when you told us about your father. About your family. You tried so hard to stay strong, to push everything down like it didn’t matter. But I saw how much it hurt you.”

You paused for a moment, lost in the memory. You could still see it so clearly—the way Shoto had stood there, stoic and composed, while the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. But behind those mismatched eyes, you had seen something else: the vulnerability he never let anyone else see. It had been in that moment you realized just how much you cared about him.

“And then… we got closer. We became friends,” you said, working the conditioner into his hair with slow, careful motions. “I would stay up late thinking about how brave you were. How strong. You didn’t let the things that had happened to you define who you were, and that’s what made me fall in love with you even more.”

Shoto remained quiet, but you could feel the way his breathing had changed—slower now, steadier. You didn’t know if he was processing your words or just lost in the comfort of the moment, but it didn’t matter. You needed to say this, even if he didn’t respond.

“And when we graduated and became pro heroes, I thought I’d let those feelings go. I thought maybe they’d fade with time. But they didn’t. Every time I saw you fight, saw you push yourself to your limits, I’d fall a little harder. You’re so strong, Shoto. You’re so brave. Even when the world tries to break you down, you keep going.”

You paused, your fingers stilling for a moment in his hair as you thought back to all the times you’d watched him from a distance, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

“Like today,” you continued, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what happened out there, and you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But I know how strong you are. I know how hard you fight, even when things get bad. You’re the bravest person I know, Shoto.”

Your hands moved again, gently untangling the strands of his hair as you rinsed out the conditioner. The water ran over his head, carrying the suds away, and you stood there in silence for a few moments longer, letting the weight of your words settle between you.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you leaned in close to him, your lips brushing against his damp hair.

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.”

The word slipped out—love—and it felt so natural, so right, that you didn’t even hesitate. You weren’t sure if he heard it, but you didn’t care. You meant every word. Shoto had been fighting for so long, and all you wanted was for him to know how much he meant to you. How proud you were of him.

You stood there for a while, the water continuing to run as you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing the tension that had gripped him for so long.

As you rinsed the conditioner from his hair, the soft hiss of water filling the room, Shoto shifted slightly beneath your hands. His head tilted back just a fraction, and for the first time since you had come home, he spoke.

His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and hesitant, as if he were afraid the words might break the delicate moment between you. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “For so long, I’ve felt… something. I didn’t understand it at first. But every time I was with you, it was there—this warmth I couldn’t explain.”

You kept your hands gentle, running your fingers through his hair as the water rinsed away the last traces of conditioner. The soothing rhythm of the water was a backdrop to his quiet confession.

“I never thought I deserved you,” Shoto admitted, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “You’re always so bright, so warm. You make everything around you feel… alive. And me—I’ve always felt like I’m stuck in this cold, this distance from everyone, like I don’t belong in your world.”

His eyes closed, the weight of his words seeming to spill out of him now that he had started. “But every time I was with you, it felt like I could finally breathe. Like maybe… maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.”

Your fingers continued to move through his hair, slow and deliberate, each touch a silent reassurance that you were listening, that you were there.

Shoto’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, letting the water stream down his face as he spoke again, more vulnerable than you had ever heard him. “I didn’t know how to tell you how much I love you. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I stayed quiet. I thought if I could just be close to you, that would be enough. But… it never was. I wanted more. I wanted you, and it scared me.”

His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you like the mist in the air. “I love you,” he finally whispered, barely audible over the sound of the water. “I’ve loved you for so long. I just… I didn’t know how to say it.”

The last of the conditioner was gone now, his hair clean and smooth beneath your fingers, but you didn’t pull away. You stayed there, the water running over both of you as you cradled his head in your hands, your heart swelling with every word he spoke.

Shoto was vulnerable in a way you had never seen before—laid bare, fragile, but so open, so raw. And it was in that moment that you realized just how much this meant to him, how much he had been holding back for all these years.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Shoto. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

You gently tilted Shoto’s head up, brushing your thumb along his jaw as the water cascaded between you, soft and warm. His eyes fluttered open, the weight of his emotions still lingering in those mismatched irises—one like molten lava, the other like glacial ice. But now, there was something different. Something softer. Something vulnerable.

Your heart swelled as you leaned in, closing the small gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like you were sealing all the unspoken words and emotions between you. The kiss was slow, delicate—a moment where everything else faded away. It was just you and Shoto, standing there under the warmth of the water, sharing something you had both waited so long for.

He kissed you back with a gentle urgency, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His hand came up to cup the side of your face, the water from his fingers dripping down your cheek as he deepened the kiss ever so slightly, but still kept it tender, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment between you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your foreheads rested together, the water still trickling over you, but the world had gone quiet, a peaceful silence wrapping around you both.

You smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of wet hair away from his forehead. “We should get out of here before we both turn into prunes,” you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice, though your eyes remained full of warmth.

Shoto blinked, as if snapping out of a dream, and then nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah… that might be a good idea,” he said, his voice still hushed, the weight of everything that had passed between you lingering in the air.

You stood up first, offering him your hand to help him rise from the floor of the shower. He took it, the touch of his fingers against yours sending a soft warmth through your chest. Together, you stepped out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a sharp contrast to the warmth you shared inside.

Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around Shoto’s shoulders first, gently rubbing his hair dry before handing him another one. He looked at you with an expression so tender, so grateful, that it made your heart ache in the best way. You both changed into dry clothes, the atmosphere between you calm, comfortable—like the two of you had reached a new kind of understanding.

When you finished, you sat on the edge of your bed, Shoto quietly sitting next to you. The room was dim, the soft hum of the apartment’s heater the only sound between you. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes still held traces of exhaustion, but also something lighter—a quiet relief.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh. “You’ve worked so hard, Shoto,” you whispered, echoing the words you had said before, but now they felt even more meaningful. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here.”

He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I know,” he murmured, his voice steady and soft. “I know now.”

And for the first time in a long time, Shoto felt a sense of peace settle over him. The weight of the day, the nightmares, the fear—all of it faded into the background as the two of you sat there, sharing the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was simple, and that was more than enough for both of you.

BONUS:

As the two of you sat in the peaceful quiet, your head still resting on Shoto’s shoulder, you felt the softest brush of fur against your leg. Before you could react, a familiar weight jumped onto the bed between you. Mr. Wellbottom, your grumpy but loyal cat, had decided to make his presence known.

The fluffy feline nudged his head against your arm, purring loudly as if to scold you for being away for so long. He then climbed into your lap, curling up into a cozy ball as he pressed himself into your warmth, his tail flicking slightly before settling down.

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand instinctively going to stroke his soft fur. “I missed you too, Wellbottom,” you said softly, scratching behind his ear the way you knew he liked.

Shoto looked down at the cat, a fond look in his eyes as he watched the little scene unfold. He reached out cautiously, his hand brushing against Mr. Wellbottom’s back, and to both of your surprise, the cat didn’t protest. Instead, he let out a soft purr, accepting the gentle touch.

“Looks like someone’s been waiting for you,” Shoto murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed quietly, the sound soft and warm as it filled the room. “He missed his cuddle buddy. But you took good care of him while I was gone, didn’t you?”

Shoto gave a small nod, his eyes still on Mr. Wellbottom as the cat shifted to press even closer to you, as if making up for lost time. “Yeah, but… I think he was waiting for you. We both were.”

Your heart melted at those words, and you leaned into Shoto a little more, your fingers absentmindedly petting the content cat in your lap. The three of you sat there, surrounded by a calm that was as comforting as it was rare.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was still. There were no battles to fight, no villains to defeat, no painful memories clawing their way to the surface—just the soft purring of Mr. Wellbottom and the quiet warmth of Shoto at your side.

“I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nestled into Shoto’s side. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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