#but when he comes back home he's just so relieved to see you alive and so so scared | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atrwriting · 22 days

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shouldn’t have — lumberjack!logan x fem!reader

listen usually i would hate this plotline but like ?? are yall seeing what im seeing ?? feminism exists and is alive and well until we see this man and suddenly we’re all damsels in distress

as always, warnings: reader was in an abusive relationship, logan the savior (i have issues ok), dom logan, bratty reader, choking, slapping, rough p in v sex, swearing, breeding kink tee hee

mdni!!!1!!1!1!1!11!

————

you had been with your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — for about three months before you had noticed something was wrong. just a few things, you thought. nothing bad. nothing to worry that much about. it felt like he was doing so many things too much; sleeping, drinking, smoking, video games… yelling…

you thought by getting him a job with some men you knew would be fine — that it would solve every problem. why would it not have? he just needs a job, you thought. just something to get him up in the morning… something to give him purpose…

you were wrong — oh, you were so wrong.

at first, everything was fine — up every day, home every night, and only so many hours at the end of the day could be dedicated to all of those bad little habits you hated so, so much. he was drinking, smoking, playing video games so much less — you almost forgot why you were so annoyed and insistent on this new job in the first place.

...until he stopped coming home before midnight.

...until the yelling got worse.

until he got worse.

you almost left him — almost. until, one night — he asked if you could pick him up from the bar after work so he wouldn’t have to wait before he could drive home. you could've squealed you were so relieved, so happy. it seemed like a step in the right direction, and you were hopeful. you thought the kinks were working themselves out, making it so you could finally work out your issues with him. like the good girlfriend you were, you drove to the bar promptly for half past ten and waited in the parking lot for him.

after a few minutes, you sent a text.

a set of ten minutes had passed as you sat there, waiting.

...then another.

...and then another.

you called him, but there was no answer.

no fucking answer.

you ground your teeth when the call was sent to voicemail. voicemail? fucking voicemail? you stared down at the screen like it mocked you — showing you the reflection of your face in the glass like you were some joke, and embarrassment flooded through you.

all you could think about was self-respect — how if you didn't have any respect for yourself, how could your boyfriend respect you? how could anyone respect you?

it brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away.

and there went the last straw…

you got out of the car and slammed the door. you were buzzing with anger, shivering like you were cold. anger filled you, but adrenaline was what carried you on its back through the doors of the bar and past its threshold. it was the only friend you had in that moment, and you grasped at its hand — letting it lead you to your doom.

what you didn't expect what form your doom would take.

…your doom came in the form of a hot blonde with legs and cleavage for days.

she laid horizontal across the bar — shot glass in her belly button, line of salt up her abdomen. you watched a man, dirty from the work day, eye the blonde with hunger in his eyes. he wrapped his dry lips around the rim of the shot glass, and threw his head back. almost immediately, he licked the salt trail with a flat, heavy tongue. the blonde above him giggled at the texture of his tongue on her tanned skin — and once he was done, she grasped both sides of his face and pulled him towards her.

that’s when you saw the guy’s face — smiling and drunk — your boyfriend’s face. men around them hollered as he pushed her against the bar top, kissing her hard. all you could do was stare — adrenaline left you high and dry when you needed it most. you were just cold now — cold, lonely, and embarrassed. so embarrassed. so fucking embarrassed.

“you’re his ol’ lady… aren’t you?”

your head cocked to a stool near you, occupied by one of his coworkers. he had a cigar in his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at you, barely looking at you. his hand was around two fingers of whisky — and it had never looked so tempting.

“was,” you whispered, politely correcting him and locking eyes with him.

“good,” was all he said before he threw back the rest of his whisky and stood from his chair.

you were still in shock, frozen in place. all you could do was watch as the man pushed through the crowd, and stood in front of your boyfriend. you stared at the man's shoulders — covered by thin flannel that would never stand a chance against the muscles underneath. you gulped as he stood toe to toe with your ex-boyfriend, but the man didn't look half as scared as your ex did.

“you’re fired," was all the man said.

everyone around the man, including the blonde and your boyfriend, went silent. jaws were on the floor — no one knew what to do. what could they do? they weren't expecting this — not when the fun had been going on for so long. the man couldn’t have cared less — he waited for a split moment, awaiting any sort of rebuttal from your ex-boyfriend… and that was when your ex noticed you, staring at him. instead of running to you, begging for forgiveness… he started begging the man that had fired him for his job back.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. of course.

“not happening, bub,” he spat. “now — i’m going to go buy your ex-girlfriend a drink with your last paycheck. ask your buddies for a loan on the tab with the blonde."

and with that, the man turned on his heel back towards you. when he turned, he didn’t bow his head or look at the floor — he looked straight at you. and for the first time that night, you saw what he really looked like — a man. the man radiated masculinity like he was the poster child for the hard working all-american man. worn jeans, work boots, faded flannel… the works. his body was thick with muscle, and impressive sight that was definitely thanks to his job. the years showed on his face — but in a way that was handsome and reliable. life seemed to have chewed him up and spit him out, but he didn’t look the type to go down without a fight.

with a moment or two, he was in front of you. he sat down on the stool, and patted the one next to him — gesturing to you.

“what’re you having, sweetheart?”

you stared up at him with confusion and surprise in your eyes, but a blush across your cheeks. your mouth fell open, stammering — as if you hadn’t been embarrassed enough tonight. your eyes darted to your ex — the intoxication starting to wear away as realization set in. he lost his job, girlfriend, and ego all in a matter of a moment — and you knew how these things ended.

“i think i should —“

“he won’t bother you,” the man responded, gesturing to the bartender for two more drinks.

you took a cautious step back — eyes on your ex who was talking with his work buddies now, eyeing you and the man. the blonde had been discarded, scoffing as she found herself in a similar position as you — chewed up and spit out, but not willing to fight.

you were fumbling for your keys now, anxiety beginning to take over. you were shaking as you took several steps back, not knowing whether to run or start crying was the better answer.

the man who had stood up for you then stood, sighing. he saw your ex walking towards you now, and he rolled his eyes in the way an owner would be annoyed with a dog going back for something they were explicitly told not to. the man drank his whisky, and handed you the other glass.

the man only had a take one step towards your ex before your ex had stopped in his tracks, eyes and mouth wide.

“got all the time in the world, bub,” the man spoke. the man had his fists balled at his sides — and, within an instant, sharp bones almost two feet long had sprung from between his knuckles. the man didn’t wince — but everyone else did. with a cocked head, he then continued, “do you?”

when your ex didn’t move, and the man was satisfied that none of his friends were going to make a move… he turned on his heel and stalked back toward you.

“finish your drink, sweetheart — we’re leaving.”

within five minutes, you had finished your drink before you went outside. there was logan — same bone swords unsheathed, but now stabbing into black tires on a familiar truck. you smiled — now your ex didn’t have a ride home.

“can i give you a lift?” you asked.

few hours later — there you sat with the man, who you now knew as logan. you were on one side of the couch — you curled in the corner on the end, and him in the middle turned towards you. the alcohol was flowing, so you didn’t need a blanket over you to keep warm. now, sat across from logan, both of you appearing to feel the effects of whisky — all you wanted was his warmth.

“good hostess,” he spoke as you refilled his whisky glass.

you blushed. “nothing compared to what you did for me back there — least i can do.”

“i gotta ask —“ he said, taking a sip. “why him?”

you shrugged. “guess i learned the hard way you can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.”

he looked at you then — almost through you. you wondered if he could see the same ghosts in your eyes that you could see in his.

he shook his head then, chuckling — appearing to want to break the heavy air. “you’re too young for talk like that, doll — won’t allow it.”

you returned his laugh, realizing you were happy for the subject change. “not every man is like you, logan — first one i met that would’ve done what you did.”

he set his glass down then, and you were struck with the realization of how broad his chest and shoulders were. how the fabric of the stretched across his muscles. how heavy the scent of whisky, maple, wood, and cigar smoke hung on his clothes. you stopped staring at him to meet his eyes then, but he was already looking at you.

logan caught you staring. a blush rose to your cheeks.

“there was a time where men i knew would’ve killed to be served whisky by a pretty girl like you,” he spoke, voice gruff. “time where i would’ve.”

you smiled, insecure under his gaze. “you’re easy on the eyes, lo — can’t imagine you had to put much effort into getting with someone you wanted.”

“oh, doll —“ he spoke, leaning in towards you. his face was barely inches from you, and you wanted him to touch you. you wanted those big, calloused hands on your soft skin — wanted it so fucking bad — but he wouldn’t put them on you. not yet. not quite yet. “sweet, pretty things like you? worth all of the effort in the fucking world.”

you felt one of his hands — his large fucking hands — slide down from your knee, to the side of your thigh. he squeezed lightly on the flesh, loving the feeling of your soft skin. you met his eyes then, dark and hungry. he wasn’t hesitating — he was waiting for your approval or disapproval. he wanted you to know he wanted you, but also that you had the final say.

“y’gonna let me show you how a real man’s supposed to treat a woman?” he asked, tucking a hair behind your ear. “hmm, sugar? climb in my lap, and i’ll show you.”

curiosity killed the cat, but not before it found out what the secret was.

logan fell back against the couch — man spreading, hands on the tops of his thighs with his eyes on you. only on you. there was no more of the adrenaline from earlier, no — but there was the confidence from the warm, dark liquid flowing through your veins. it gave you the push you needed, making you throw a leg over his hips, and sit your ass down right over the tent in his jeans.

“that’s a girl, yeah…” he spoke, his hands ran up and down your thighs. his eyes were raking up and down your body in the way that your ex had looked at the blonde, and it only added to your confidence. you wanted to be wanted — and logan made you feel more sexy than your ex ever had. “tell me, sweetheart — when you look at me, what do you see?”

“a man,” you respond, before you can stop yourself.

he raises his brow then — surprised, but not displeased at your answer. “ — yeah? and what makes me a man?”

you thought for a second, as the alcohol clouded your ability to be witty. you couldn’t pinpoint why — you just knew. while you were thinking, almost stammering — you felt his hand snack underneath your skirt and find your lacy panties. you were struck with the sudden realization of how badly you wanted to show him what they looked like, convinced he would like them — but he wouldn’t let you take off your skirt. you eyed him, confused.

“not yet, doll,” he spoke, voice hoarse. his eyes never left yours. “not taking off this skirt — no matter how much i want to — until you know for sure that i deserve to.”

“logan…!” you grumbled, throwing your head back in mock laughter and frustration. “y’gonna make me beg? come on —"

“beg? not tonight, darlin’,” he laughed. you felt one of his fingers prod at your folds through your panties, poking through your lips to find the hidden sensitive parts of you. you sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling — curious and turned on. “but you are gonna tell me everything you’re going to look for in a man from this point on. when i’m satisfied, then i’ll let you cum.”

“didn’t think you liked games,” you breathed, curiosity, pleasure, and anxiety mixing in your blood.

“i don’t,” he said with finality and sincerity. “i teach lessons, sweetheart — and now i’m gonna teach you how a man should treat you."

“yeah?” you breathed, keeping your lips barely centimeters from his. “and how are you going to accomplish that?”

“rock those pretty hips against my hand, baby —“ he spoke, pressing his fingertips against your clothes core. “and tell me types of guys you're goin' to avoid."

you went to question him, confused — but he pulled you right back in. he pressed two finger tips against your panties, creating the most devious fiction against your sensitive bud. you jumped at the feeling, but he kept your hips steady.

“there’s one —“ he chuckled. “didn’t know how to touch you, yeah? so sensitive — ‘s like he never did.”

“he didn’t know how,” you whined, rolling your hips against his fingers and letting your eyes drift close.

“not surprised,” he grunted. “never a good worker either. so, what’re we avoiding next time, sugar, huh? tell me.”

“i don’t know… i don’t…” your mind was warm and fuzzy now, leaving you unable to answer.

he swatted at the flesh of your ass then, causing your hips to jerk and your eyes to open in shock. he looked up at you, unfazed. “you don’t wanna cum, do you? want me to use you just like him — leave that pussy wet and wanting?”

you giggled. “don’t tempt me.”

his hand reached for your throat, an evil smirk on his lips. “you’re a naughty fucking thing.”

you nodded feverishly, loving the grip on your throat. “for you, lo. i’ll avoid lazy men, i promise —“

“you better,” he warned, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his wingers were rubbing hard against your clit, and you wanted him oh, so badly to dip into the fabric and roll around your clit or supple hole. “another — tell me. now.”

“careless,” you whined, your hips jerking. “i’ll avoid careless men, logan, i promise —“

“fuck that,” he spat, the grip tightening on your throat. “you’re mine, darlin’.”

he threw you down onto the couch then, landing on your back with a thud. he gave up on his own game, and your confidence bloomed within you. to be so sweet, so pretty — to make a man like logan stumble? forget what he was doing, all because he wanted you so bad? to be in between your plump thighs, round lips, and encircles in those pretty arms? your cheeks were burning pink as your gaze came back into focus above you. there stood logan, on his knees on the couch, as he unbuttoned his flannel with an animalistic chase in his eyes. you couldn’t help but put yourself on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together to keep the friction and heat up. but your eyes? oh, your perfect, big eyes? they were on logan’s. they told you everything you needed to know as he tore off his belt.

“you want me to use you, baby?” he asked as he unzipped his belt. “that’s what my girl wants?”

“by you, lo — a real man,” you breathed, stroking his cock and lining his cock up with the entrance of your pussy.

“good fucking girl,” he growled, plunging his cock into your pussy.

his hips snapped against yours, causing you to jump into the arm rest. you held onto the arm rest, your pillow, to keep you steady. logan liked the sight — pretending that you had your hands tied up above your head as your breasts lifted with your arched back, preening upwards just for him. he watched the shivers run up and down your spine, causing your nipples to peak. he watched them hungrily as they bounced for him and only him, wanting to pull both into his mouth and show you just how greedy real men are.

and when he saw you release the grip held by one hand, and watched it travel down the length of your abdomen, with the end goal of your clit — he swatted your hand away, angry. his gaze — it screamed how fucking dare you?

“fuck off with that shit —“ he spat, pushing your hand back down to hold onto the head rest. “this first time, darlin’? i make you cum — and you lie there, and you take it.”

you whined at his words, your big beautiful eyes on his hungry irises. you folded your lip in between your teeth before you curled your hips up to meet his, wrapped your legs around his hips. never had you been treated with such confidence, such ease — but you wanted him to work for it, see how far he could go to prove to you that he was the best. “you promise, old man? you can keep up?”

the air went still then — but your smirk didn’t falter. it should've, you would realize later. you should've been afraid of the man, knowing what he was capable of when someone tested him. the difference was... logan welcomed the spice in you, as long as it was his to silence. logan’s eyes went wild and dark then, realizing the challenge. he held back so much with you, trying to keep the man awake and the beast dormant — but the greedy girl in you just kept knocking.

he flipped you then — forcing you onto all fours. he bent you over the arm rest, your throat in the crook of his elbow. his free hand groped and pulled at the flesh of your ass, letting go only to smack it. smacksmacksmack. his tough and calloused skin would leave marks, you were sure of it — but it only made your pussy wetter. the sounds were pornographic, filling the room and his nose and ears.

“wasn’t much of a brat tamer, was he?” he spat, fucking into your puffy pussy. his grip on your throat wasn’t tight, but it kept you in control. there was no moving, and there definitely wasn’t enough air to mouth off. “nothing sweet about you — just a greedy fucking girl with the neediest fucking pussy. i'll get'ya there, doll — don't worry now."

you held onto his forearm for dear life, trying to keep your balance as you arched your back up into him. you felt your juices leak around around your sopping wet cunt and down both of your thighs and logan’s. the air was thick with your scent and sounds, pricking at logan’s heightened hearing. your whines — oh, your whines, your fucking whines! — were filling his ribcage and warming every part of him that wasn’t touching you. his lips were sucking at your neck, nipping at the skin . he felt the vibrations of your moans against his lips and he had to fight every instinct to sink his teeth into your shoulder, ruining you for everyone else.

“please — please —“ you choked, smacking against the arm rest. he pulled your free arm back behind your back, forcing you to take everything he gave you.

“not stopping until that pussy creams, baby,” he spat into your ear. his hips were relentless against yours, plunging in and out of your wet folds as he kept them tight and controlled for his use. “when that dumb fuck comes back, to get his stuff? i want him to know who’s pussy this is now. that fucked out look on your face? yeah? that’s all that sack of shit is gonna see before i slam the door in his face.”

“fuck, logan —“ you whimpered. “i’m so close. f-feels so good. please, don’t stop —“

“i know, baby, i know….” he moaned. you reached underneath him, grabbing at his heavy sack and rolling his balls with your finger tips. he jumped at the feeling, curious how a fucked out little thing like you still had so much energy to tease. “never ends with you, huh, does it? always wan’ more?”

“cum with me, lo —“ you choked out. “come on — make me feel it.”

he smacked your ass once more, grasping onto the rippling skin. you could feel your tight muscles, like cement — knowing they would be sore in the morning. you rolled his balls in between your fingers, keeping as controlling of a grip on him as he kept on you. his breaths were ragged against your neck, broken and feverish. your eyes were screwed shut, trying to find his lips in the darkness as you fought with and against logan.

“fill my pussy, baby,” you whined, reaching to any part of him you could grab.

when he saw your eyes, most of the begging in them rather than your tone — he couldn't help it. it took over him before he could even realize it was happening. how could he deny you so,ething you wanted so badly? asked for so sweetly? logan came before you did — much to his dismay, but only for a moment. he felt his skin shiver before his hips snapped forward once to meet yours, trapping you against the arm rest. he rutted into you as the walls of your pussy were coated — dressed in his seed, his spend, his claim. you could hear a growl rumble low in his chest, tearing up at the sound of such a big and strong man at his most vulnerable, his most peaceful state — only for you.

when you reached for your clit again — whining and wanting, ready to take advantage of hearing his satisfied moans in your ear — he smacked your hand away. you scoffed at his movement, but he shut you up quickly. his own fingers found the spot, and his fingers felt better than yours. you should’ve known they would, with the way they attacked you through your panties.

“pussy’s filled to the brim, sugar —“ he grunted. “now i wanna feel it shake while you’re full of me.”

he was so tired, but not his muscles — definitely not his muscles, nor his grip. it held you tight and upright — forcing you to take it in your weak, fucked out state.

“you want me to fuck my cum farther into you, darlin’?” he rasped, fighting his exhaustion through gritted teeth. “i’m too deep, aren’t i? i’ll fuck my cum into your womb if i’m not careful… but you'd like that, wouldn't you? dirty little thing..."

his warning was a threat, but your mind was too soft to realize. too pliant, too ready for him. all you could do was stare off into space as he held you close to him. his fingers spun circles around your puffy clit, his still hard cock piercing into you. “so very deep, lo…”

and when he smacked your clit once before continuing the assault, you came. you came harder than you ever had before — alone, or imagining something in your head as someone else fucked you. it was like your primal nature was being ripped from you, wanting to show and present itself to match logan’s — to show logan you were his match, that you were his equal. you bucked your hips back to meet his, letting the tip of his sensitive cock graze your sensitive walls as you screamed his name. it filled the room more than anything had for him — and it was all he would think about in the days to come. this woman, so worthy and so ready for him — only for him, and all for him.

“that’s it, sweetheart. work for it, that’s right…”

and as his seed slipped into your womb, open and ready for him as you came, you felt his lips press hard, sloppy kisses against your jaw. your own mouth was open, cries falling from it.

“my good girl learned her lesson, didn’t she?” he rasped. “don’t matter now, anyway — no one but me is gonna be in your bed. i'll burn his shit later."

———

i need to touch grass - L xoxo lmk what u think

#wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #the wolverine #logan wolverine #wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett

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luveline · 3 months

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Idk if you've ever written it, but like, hotch having to save bau!r after she's been kidnapped and tourtered and shit and when hotch finds them, babes is BLEEDING and shit and like barely coherent but spewing the absolute most random bullshit to hotch bc their panicking and whatnot?

thank you for requesting 💌 fem, 1.2k

Hotch has felt sick for three days.

He stands with his ear pressed to his shoulder, as though holding the ear piece further in will bring news of you quicker. His hands are up and ready, torch and firearm held aloft, wrists crossed.

Morgan has to go in first. Morgan, because if you’re dead, Hotch will take actions that will disbar him from being Unit Chief. He can’t keep his head, not if you’re gone. His anger will swallow him whole, and he will do things that can’t be forgiven.

His stomach churns, waiting, waiting, waiting. The sky is dark as pitch and the house they surround doesn’t stir for a time.

Then, low and long, carrying heavy through the air like a sledgehammer to his chest, is the reed of your screaming. It’s a strangled sound, sobbing to begin with, begging as it ends. Hotch hears your, “No, no, please! Please! Please.” Your third please fractures into a writhing scream as the pain begins again.

Hotch’s arms twitch, threatening to fall to his sides. You’re alive, but…

“Okay, we’re going in,” Morgan says through the ear piece, clearly having heard the same agony as Hotch. “Right now. Team two with Hotch. Everyone ready?”

You must have screamed so loudly for it to get through walls. That’s all Hotch can think as he follows behind the second team, the sounds of cracking wood and tight footsteps ahead.

He’s not in the room, but he’s down the hall, he can hear the fuss as he hurries forward. “Drop the weapon!” Morgan shouts, evidence of his own anger in the sheer booming volume of his voice. “Drop the weapon now! Drop it!”

A sharper crack as a bullet hits something and a thud. Hotch forces himself into the room just in time to see a large, short-haired figure fall to the floor.

You’re covered in red and purple and brown, blood in long lines and gushing from deep wounds, a mess of it. He doesn’t even know where to start, your gutted, exhausted sobbing like a knife in his stomach, your limp hands hanging either side of the strange chair you’ve been strapped to. “Morgan,” you say, audibly relieved and yet your pain obvious and electric as you gasp for air, “Morgan, you have to get me out.”

“I’ve got you,” Hotch says, holstering his gun in one breath and by your side the next.

A SWAT agent begins to saw through your binds with a serrated knife. Hotch’s hands stutter on the metal ends of the chair, wanting to touch you but terrified he’ll put a hand in a wound he hasn’t noticed.

“Hotch,” you say, and your relief is worse now. Like you aren’t covered in your own blood, like his being there has fixed everything.

“Y/N,” he says back, holding your elbow carefully, “it’s okay, it’s all right.”

“You have to get the straps off of me. I need to go home-”

“I know, that’s what we’re doing. We’ll get them off of you–”

“–I have to go home, Hotch. You have to take me home.”

He knows that medical are close behind them, they’re coming in just as soon as the building has been cleared, and there’s more than enough agents to have it done in the next thirty seconds. He has to assess you in that time. He can take care of you.

The SWAT agent cuts your last bindings and you immediately attempt to get up, gasping in pain when four hands push you down at the same time. “Sit down,” Hotch says, “Y/N, just stay there, just for a second.”

“No, no, let me down, I need to go home, I haven’t looked after anything and– and the laundry’s piled up, and–”

“Honey,” he says firmly, “I’m gonna take you home. I am.” He meets your eyes, panic and tears and concerning bloodshot clouding your vision. “I’m gonna take you home, but please stay still. Just until the EMS is here. Just so they can look at you.”

“I want to go home now,” you say, nearly shrieking, grasping at his arm. It’s so loud in the room with so many people speaking that he’s almost glad for it.

Your fingers slide down his sleeve and leave streaks of gore in their wake. Your hands are caked in your own blood. Done with his bargaining, you push up into his arms and get onto one of your feet, an incredible amount of force behind you as you get your way. Your knees buckle immediately —Hotch scoops you up and dumps you back in your chair, even as you cry and cry into his chest.

“No, I need to go home, I have so much to do, I can’t stay here,” you whine, pain eating at your voice, your fingers weakening where they’re pressed to his stomach.

“I promise I’m going to take you home,” he says, ducking to speak directly into your ear. “Do you trust me? I promise I’m going to take you back home. Please, please, sweetheart, trust me.”

You hiccup, tears thick running down your cheeks, and orange where they collect at your chin, chest heaving as you border incoherency. “I do trust you. I– I trust you, I just–”

He takes a showful breath. “Deep breath. I’ll bring you home soon.”

“All my plants are dead,” you mumble, blood smudging over your eyelids as you rub them harshly.

Hotch holds your wrists.

— <3

He keeps his promise (though you don’t remember him making it, not beyond what Morgan recounts). Hotch takes you home when you’re well enough to be there, and he, done with pretences, stays for a while as you recover.

“What are you doing?” you ask, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life, peering at him through sticky lashes where you lay in bed.

He’s odd to see without shoes. “Nothing,” he says, misting the leaves of your window plant with a frown. “Just hoping I can bring this one back to life.”

You’re not sure why he’s so worried about the plants. It can’t be judgement; he knows exactly why they died.

Well. Whatever professionalism was between you is well and truly gone. You wonder what it is you said to him that made him finally snap, but it was nice to wake up with his hand in yours, and it’s nicer still to see him each morning. When you clear your throat and look at him longingly, you know without asking that he’s going to find his way back to your side, and kiss your cheek, hands smelling of fresh soil. He does it all with ease.

“You brought me back to life,” you joke weakly.

“I had much more help than the plants.” He’s been panicky around you sometimes since he found you again, but not scared. He tilts your face gently one way and then another. “You look pretty, but very tired. Why don’t you sleep some more, hm?”

“Can I… I mean, do you think you could…”

He takes your arm as he settles in to comfort beside you. His fingers begin to trace a gentle line down your arm, meandering around cuts and bruises.

You close your eyes, hesitant of the darkness. “Are you sure I’m okay?” you ask quietly.

“You’re home, honey. Safe and sound.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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atomicami · 2 months

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bull ride

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: you spend the night out at a bar and decide to challenge yourself on the mechanical bull to impress abby. when abby sees you from the crowd, she ends up giving you something else to take a ride on. (part 4)

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel and jerry are both alive, jerry is not a doctor, reader has a business degree, family & work drama, bar setting, some alcohol consumption, truck sex (bit of a quickie), fingering (a!receiving), strap usage (r!receiving), strap sucking, abby referring to the strap as her cock, basically save a horse ride a cowgirl tbh 🤠

- author’s note: hi everyone… i know i’ve been very inactive this year but this part has actually been sitting in my drafts since march so i figured i’d at least post it for the few people who’ve been waiting this long to read it, i hope y’all enjoy it

previous parts: quick fix, surprise visit, charity work

It’s been a week since the bake sale, meaning that it’s also been a week since Abby last had her hands on you.

You’d be lying if you said that this week was flying slow for you right now, because to your surprise, seven days flew by like seven minutes, and before you knew it, it was officially Saturday.

You’re sitting in your room by your dresser, fully dressed from head to toe in the finest Western apparel that you own, finishing the touches on your makeup in the mirror. You then look down at your phone for a moment, still eyeing the last text that Abby had sent you.

She invited you to go to Wild Randy’s tonight, and while you were excited to see her again, you were dreading it at the same time.

It was mainly because Wild Randy’s was the go-to place for you and Joel, and as bad as you want to sneak off with Abby again, you knew that you’d also have to make sure you wouldn’t get caught by your dad either.

You take a few deep breaths before standing up and adjusting your belt, then grabbing your phone and bag before exiting your bedroom.

“Dad! I’m ready to go!” you call out as you strut down the stairs. Given that you always take longer than him to get ready, you figured he’d be sitting on the couch waiting for you, but to your surprise, he wasn’t there.

“Dad? Where are you?” you call out for him again, entering the kitchen to find it empty as well. You roam around the house for a bit before entering the garage, seeing him still in his work clothes working on blueprints. “Dad…are you not coming?”

Joel looks up at you, frowning once he sees you ready to leave. “Oh, shit…it’s Saturday isn’t it?” he says, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry kid, I know we go to Randy’s every Saturday but…work’s just been tyin’ me down lately.”

You nod to your dad in acknowledgment. “Well, we can skip tonight if—“

“No, no, no, s’alright,” he says, quickly cutting off your words. “You go. There’s always next weekend right?” he looks down for a moment at his workspace before looking back up at you. “Are you gonna drive yourself there or…?”

“Oh, um it’s okay Dad, I can text Dina for a ride.” you take a few steps closer to him before continuing. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask him, receiving a nod from him in response.

“Okay, well…don’t stay up too late, we have to go to the hardware store next week to start getting supplies for the Mitchell home.” you remind him as you walk your way to the door.

Joel clicks his tongue at you in response. “Thanks for remindin’ me, kid. Don’t have too much fun out there, alright?”

You smile and nod back at him before leaving the garage. Even though you felt bad that your dad couldn’t come, you can’t help but feel relieved about it either. With your dad out of the way, you’d be able to get some time with Abby without the risk of getting caught by him.

You pull out your phone to send a text to Dina telling her to pick you up, and in less than ten minutes she was already honking at your door. While checking to make sure you have everything, you exit your house before locking it, walking down the porch to see Dina inside her car with the windows rolled down.

“Hey, you!” she shouts out, leaning forward over her steering wheel. “Ready for Randy’s?”

“You bet I am!” you shout back to her as you hurriedly get into the passenger side of her car and sit down.

The ride to Wild Randy’s was pretty quick, given that there’s never a rush hour on Saturdays. Aside from the twenty minutes it took Dina to find an available parking spot, the two of you were now quickly settled at the bar.

“So tell me, how’s it going with you and Abby?” Dina asks you as you both sit yourselves down on the bar stools.

Before you can respond to her, Jesse ends up cutting in from behind the bar with two beers in his hand. “Wait a second, you’ve been having a thing with Anderson?” he asks you, popping open the two bottles before handing them to you and Dina. “Didn’t you say that your dad doesn’t want you around her?”

You nod to him in response. “Yeah, and I mean I’ve been doing that for what, four, five years now? But I needed her to come over a few weeks ago to fix an outlet in my living room and it just like…happened, you know?” you explained, taking a sip from your beer.

Dina quickly gulped and set her bottle back down on the bar. “Wait a minute…is that why you were acting so weird during movie night?”

“Yeah…” you tell her with a nod, taking another sip out of your beer. “Anyways, she told me she was going to be here today so…” your words drift off as you turn your head around in search of her, and you are quick to catch her entering the bar with her group of friends. Not only that, but her father was also nowhere to be seen.

It was the first time you saw Abby like this, outside of work and not in her work clothes for once. She was wearing a pair of jeans instead of her usual cargo pants, a pair of western boots instead of her usual work ones, and her tool belt was ditched for a leather belt with a metal buckle on the center. She also had on a tight button-up that showed off her muscles, and to top it all off, a cowboy’s hat that rested over her braided blond hair.

You hate to admit it, but she was looking pretty damn good right now.

Dina suddenly snaps her fingers at you to get your attention, causing you to swivel your chair back around. “She’s there right now isn’t she?” she asks you, receiving a nod from you in response.

“Yeah, I want to go talk to her but…” your words drift off again as you turn back to see her. As you check her out, you notice from the corner of your eye some movement going on towards your left. You fully swivel your chair around this time to get a better look. It appeared to be a group of employees carrying out a large mechanical bull inside an inflatable ring, while another employee stood next to them, giving them orders on where to position the machine.

“Jesse,” you call out to him, swiveling your stool back to face him. “They’re bringing back the bull?”

Jesse looks up briefly to see the mechanical bull being set up before looking back down and pouring some contents into a cocktail shaker. “Yeah, we’ve been getting so many requests to bring it back up after our last bull broke down last year,” he explains as he continues preparing the cocktail for the customer in front of him.

You briefly look back at the bull for a moment, then look over to where Abby was. At that moment, an idea instantly sparked in your mind. What better way could there be to catch Abby’s attention than impressing her by taking a ride on the mechanical bull?

The sound of a loud microphone tap shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over to see the bar’s owner standing in front of the bull with the microphone in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he calls out, quickly grabbing the attention of all the patrons inside the dimly lit bar. “I’m pleased to announce that we now have our brand new and improved mechanical bull back into our bar!” he announces, quickly receiving cheers and applause from the customers. “Now who in here…” he says, pointing a finger around the bar. “Is gonna be the first one to be brave enough and take her for a ride?”

You look around the bar to see several amounts of people already preparing themselves for the challenge. Part of you wanted to not do it, but a bigger part of you wanted to ride that damn bull like there was no tomorrow. You were willing to do it, just for the sake of impressing Abby. Neither of your dads were here right now, so who knows when you could get another opportunity like this? It was either now or never.

“I’ll do it!” you shout out, quickly raising your hand to get the owner’s attention.

Dina quickly grabs your hand and pulls it down to your lap. “What are you doing? Are you seriously gonna ride that thing?” she asks with concern.

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by the owner shouting at you. “You right there! Come on up here!”

You look over at the man before back at Dina. “I guess I am now,” you tell her with a shrug, hopping off of the bar stool and approaching your way towards the ring.

As you walk away from the bar, Jesse comes to Dina from behind, leaning into her side. “I’ll bet you $20 that she won’t last the full five minutes.”

You watch the owner squint to try to get a better look at you as you get closer to the inflatable ring. “Well well well, what do we have here!” he says as you make it to the ring, now standing next to him. “If it isn’t Joel Miller’s daughter herself. You think you’ll be able to handle the bull, Miss Miller?” he asks, pointing the microphone towards you.

You grab the mic from the owner and hold it closer to yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see but…I think I could handle her,” you tell him with confidence before handing the mic back to him.

Numerous amounts of patrons clap and cheer you on in response. As the owner continues to speak to the audience, you step into the inflatable ring, watching as your boots sink inside. You look at your surroundings for a moment, seeing all of the customers placing their bidding money into a hat and passing it around the bar. The hat goes around past Abby as well, and you could’ve sworn she had slipped a hundred-dollar bill in there for you. Her eyes then meet with yours for a moment, and so does that stupid smirk of hers.

“Alright Miss Miller, you have five minutes up on the clock now, if you can make it to the end, you win the bidding money, got it?” the owner explains to you.

You nod at him in acknowledgment. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

You then turn back around so you’re facing the bull. You take a few steps backward as a head start, then quickly run forward and hop on top of the bull. Your hands quickly grab onto the handles, and you keep your legs wrapped around the sides of the bull. Lastly, you position your hips on the bull by pushing them forward, keeping yourself as close as possible to the saddle.

The bull was quickly activated as soon as you sat down, and so was the timer. The machine began to rock back and forth, slowly to start. Once you felt like you were getting the hang of it, that’s when the speed began to go faster. Your grip on the bull progressively gets tighter and tighter the more that the speed increases. It eventually escalated to the fullest speed, the bull now moving and spinning around like crazy. Time has never flown by slower for you than at this moment. On the inside, you were getting so dizzy to where you were going to be sick. But you couldn’t express that. Not in front of the audience. Not in front of Abby.

Regardless of it, you refused to let go. You held onto the bull like your life depended on it, waiting for the timer to count down to zero. Five minutes felt more like an eternity to you right now, but you soon start to feel relief once you hear the audience begin to count down.

Ten, nine, eight…

You lock down your grip on the bull’s handles.

Seven, six, five…

Your legs remain secure on each side of the saddle, and your hips push forward against it. As much as you were trying to hold onto the bull, you couldn’t help but imagine your hips pushing forward on Abby’s str—

Four, three, two, one!

The timer goes off, and the bull begins to slow itself down. As the machine comes to a stop, you instantly loosen your grip on it. You let out a breath of relief as you look up, watching all of the patrons cheer and applaud you. One of the employees approaches to help you, and you carefully hop off the bull before exiting the ring.

“I have to say you did phenomenal on that bull there, Miss Miller.” the owner tells you through the mic, handing you the bidding money. “Anything you wanna say to the audience?”

You take the money from his hands before taking the microphone. “Well, first of all, thank you all for bidding on me, and second…” you pause for a moment before continuing. “And I don’t mean to self-promote but…if anyone here needs any construction help…be sure to contact my dad’s company, Miller Contracting. We’re the best in all of Austin.” your eyes scan around the audience before your gaze fixes on Abby. You keep your eyes on her for a little bit, smirking at her before looking back at the audience and walking off, a last set of applause happening as you do so.

You make your way back to the spot where Jesse and Dina remain. “See? Told y’all I’d beat that thing,” you say, flaunting your bidding money in front of them. Jesse leans forward on the bar to get closer to you. “Mind if I get a cut of that?” he asks, trying to grab the money from your hand.

You move your hand away from him and shake your head. “Hell no, I won this fair and square,” you tell him, clutching the money close to your chest. “Besides, didn’t you bid against me anyway?”

Jesse scoffs, still leaning forward on the bar. “Yeah, but I still have rent to pay,” he replies before taking his weight off the bar to assist another customer.

You simply roll your eyes at him and chuckle in response as you count your money. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not even that much—“ your words quickly cut off once you notice something unusual on the hundred-dollar bill. You pull it out of the thin stack, seeing a note attached to it that reads:

“Meet me at the parking lot in five. —A”

You smirk to yourself upon reading the message, not even realizing that you were doing so until Dina points it out. “She wants you to go see her, doesn’t she?” she asks, crossing her arms at you.

You simply nod at her in acknowledgment. “Yeah, she does…” you reply, reaching to the bar to grab the rest of your things before saying goodbye to Jesse and Dina. Upon leaving, you look over to see Abby on the other side of the bar. You watch as she pays for her beer and leaves from the other exit. The thrill and excitement starts to consume you already in seeing her again.

The cool air hits you once you exit the bar. You roam around the parking lot in search of her until you hear a faint whistling sound from behind. You turn around to see Abby’s prominent figure from a distance leaning on the side of her truck. You don’t approach her quickly though. Instead, you take your time walking your way towards her.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the bull tamer herself…” Abby says, taking her weight off the truck. “You looked good up there, you know…riding that thing.”

You smirk and take a step closer to her. “I’m glad. Wanted to put on a show for you there,” you tell her quietly, and she leans in to give you a kiss, the rim of her cowboy hat slightly brushing over the top of your head as your lips briefly connect.

“You know…” she tells you quietly, slightly separating her lips from yours. “I’ve got something else that you can take a ride on for me…”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper back to her. “And what might that be?”

“Why don’t you hop in my truck and find out?”

And with that you take a step back, letting Abby unlock her truck before opening the passenger door and entering inside. Upon opening the door, you couldn’t help but notice that the windows in Abby’s truck were slightly darker than the last time you saw it…did she seriously get her windows tinted?

Abby holds the door open for you, and you quickly climb inside and hop onto her lap before she closes the door and locks it, now confining the both of you inside. Your thighs wrap themselves around Abby’s lab and you push your hips forward over her crotch, just like how you did on the bull. You could practically feel the bulge of her strap under all that denim.

Abby lets out a soft groan at the sudden friction. “How about you get it wet for me first, yeah?” she says, reaching down to the lever on the bottom part of the seat and pushing it back to give you some space on the ground.

You don’t even think twice about it, instantly dropping down to your knees and unzipping her jeans before pulling the thick black strap out of her boxers. After seeing the sight of it, you were pretty shocked. You didn’t get a good look when she fucked you last time, but now that it’s in your hands, you’re amazed that you were able to take the immense length of Abby’s strap.

Your fingers wrap around the large piece of silicone before you lean into it, lips instantly wrapping around the tip. You gently suck onto the tip for a moment, then slowly work your way down to the base of the strap. However, your mouth couldn’t last being down so deep, so you briefly pull it back up to the tip before going back down, repeatedly continuing your movements thereafter.

Abby lets out a quiet groan as she feels the base of her strap rubbing against her clit. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up for a moment to see her head slightly tilted back, her cowboy hat obstructing her view as well.

You keep stroking her strap with one hand, spreading your saliva all over from base to tip to distract her. As you do that, you use your other hand to gently shift the harness to the side and sneak your fingers into the crotch of her boxers, instantly finding access to her wet pussy before sliding two of them inside.

Abby notices the sudden shift of movement and looks down at you. “What the hell are you—oh fuck—“ her words get cut off with a quiet groan as you begin to curl her fingers inside of her. “Oh fuck yeah, k-keep doing that…”

You smirk back at her as you continue to pump your fingers inside her, now fully diverting your attention away from the strap for a moment. Your other hand moves to keep the harness of the strap pushed to the side while you finger Abby’s pussy, and you look up to keep an eye on her every movement—the way her hands grip the seat of the truck, the moans and whines escaping from her mouth, and how her eyes were tightly shut and the head was thrown back in pleasure. You’d be lying if you said that the way she looked right now wasn’t turning you on because you can just easily feel your arousal pooling in between your thighs as you do this to her.

“God, fucking hell—go…go faster…” Abby whines out to you, tightening her grip on the seat as she manspreads herself farther on it to give you more space. You simply nod in acknowledgment, speeding up your pace inside her in a desperate effort to get her to cum.

You can visibly see her breaths getting deeper, and you can practically feel the way her cunt began to contract around your two fingers, knowing that she was getting close. Within moments, your fingers get instantly coated with her release as she cums around them with a loud groan. Her breathing soon slows down as she recovers from her orgasm and she looks back down at you. Your gaze stays fixed on hers while you slide your fingers out of her pussy and place them into your mouth, sucking them clean while you get a taste of her release.

“My god…” Abby pants out, still trying to catch her breath. “No one’s ever made me cum that fast before…you’re good at this too, you know.”

You smirk back at her as you sit back for a moment, briefly resting your weight on the back of your boots. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s good at making a quick fix, Anderson.” the blonde simply shakes her head at you in response before patting her hand on her lap. “Your turn now, angel. Get on up here.”

Without hesitation, you slowly lift yourself from the floor of the truck and climb onto Abby’s lap in the passenger seat, her large hands quickly roaming up and down your hips as you do so. You watch as she scrunches up your skirt around your hips and brings one of her hands down to the crotch of your underwear, smirking once she senses the wetness underneath it. “Looks like she’s pretty eager to take a ride, don’t you think?”

You nod quickly in response, and you lift yourself to hover over the strap. Abby helps you out by shifting your underwear to the side and spreading your puffy folds open. You grab the strap with one hand to align it with your entrance while you grab onto Abby’s shoulder with the other to support yourself as you go down.

The tip meets with your entrance, and you whimper at the sudden stretch. Your grip on Abby’s shoulder tightens as you try to maintain your balance over her lap. And then, little by little…you begin to sink down her strap, all the way until your folds were pressing over the base of it.

Once the entire length was inside you, you used your other hand to grab Abby’s other shoulder for balance. The feeling this time was a little more difficult to handle in comparison to how Abby had fucked you at the bake sale. You weren’t bent over, nor did you have the support of the counter either. You were completely sat upright, in the confined passenger seat of Abby’s truck, with her strap so far inside you that she could visibly see the tip poking out of your lower stomach. It sure felt overwhelming, to say the least.

“Fuck…you look good for me like this…” she mutters out quietly as she runs her thumbs down your stomach, gently pressing onto the bulge that was being formed from her strap. She watches as you continue to stay upright, now squirming in her grasp as a response to the pressure she was giving to your stomach. “You know…it’s not gonna feel any better if you don’t move.” she continues, now bringing one hand further down to rub your clit. “Take a ride on it, princess…It’ll feel good once you start moving.”

Your eyes flicker down to the watch that was wrapped around Abby’s left wrist. You glance at the time.

10:39…10:40.

You take a deep breath and tighten your grip on Abby’s broad shoulders. As her hands remain planted on your body, you begin to lift yourself up before going straight back down. You repeat the process, now developing a slow pace on her strap.

Abby smirks as she looks up at you, watching every moan and whimper escape from your lips as you fuck yourself on her cock. “There we go, that’s it…atta girl…” her praises and coos continue, now leading you to move at a faster pace. As you begin to ride her faster, Abby notices how close your head is getting to the ceiling of her truck every time you go up. While keeping one hand planted on you, she quickly takes off her cowboy hat and places it on your head, fixing up the rim so she can still see you. “Prettiest cowgirl I’ve ever seen,” she mutters out quietly, placing her hand back onto your hip as you keep riding her.

As you keep riding Abby’s strap, you take a glance out the window, making you slow down to get a better look. You see some people leaving the bar and walking their way back to their vehicles, and your heart begins fucking racing when they pass by Abby’s truck, completely oblivious of the events that are happening inside it.

“Hey,” Abby squeezes your hip, causing you to direct your attention back to her. “They’re not seeing any of this, you know…” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “But I bet you want them to, don’t you? It’s obvious you enjoyed throwing on that little show back there at the bar earlier, so would this be any different?” she asks, leaning in to kiss you. “Would it be any different if those same people saw a pretty cowgirl like you slutting herself out for me like this? Riding my cock and making a mess all over my lap? Hm?”

You whine back at her, shaking your head. “Yeah, I knew you’d like that, my filthy little cowgirl…” she responds with a smirk. “But you see, that’s why I have all of my windows tinted now…because I don’t want anyone to see what’s really mine.”

Your pussy practically throbs at her words. You were so distracted by what Abby was saying to you that didn’t even realize that you had stopped riding her. Your arousal was now just soaking up her cock and jeans. Abby looks down at her lap and smirks before looking back up at you. “I didn’t tell you to stop now, did I?” she asks, giving you a smack on your ass. “C’mon, cowgirl…keep fucking riding me.”

Your pace now begins to quicken this time, and you move your left hand to the armrest that was above your head, gripping it as you keep your other hand on her shoulder. “F-fuck, Abby…f-feels so good….” you moan out to her, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the tip of her strap presses onto your cervix while you ride.

“Oh yeah? Does it feel good, princess?” she asks, admiring how you were starting to go dumb on her cock. “That’s it, keep riding me, just like that…Ride me just like how you were riding that damn bull.”

Abby’s words had your stomach doing fucking flips. You tried your best to maintain your fast pace as you rode her strap, but your legs were quickly starting to give out. “A-Abby, help me…please…”

“Aw, you poor thing, getting tired already now aren’t you?” Without any warning, Abby tightens her grip on your hips and begins to slam her cock right into you. You yelp in surprise as your left hand flies from the armrest back onto Abby’s shoulder, and you continue to push your hips down as Abby keeps thrusting inside you. “C’mon cowgirl, be a good girl and cum for me now…”

Your cunt begins to clench around her strap, indicating that you were about to cum. Abby looks down at your pussy, watching in awe as a white ring began to quickly form on her strap. Her thumb meets with your clit, quickly rubbing it as you continue to cum all over her cock, whimpering and moaning out her name as you do so.

As you finish riding out your orgasm, your pace begins to slow down and you rest yourself on Abby’s chest, panting deeply as you try to catch your breath. Before Abby pulls herself out, you grab her left wrist again and glance back down at her watch.

10:43…10:44.

“Four minutes,” Abby says, looking down at her watch. “Looks like you made a new record.”

You playfully push her arm back as she brings her hand back onto your hip and slowly pulls her strap out of your fucked out pussy, causing you to whine at the loss of it. Keeping you in her arms, Abby trades places with you and carefully rests your limp body onto the seat while briefly she gets onto the ground. She peeks through the fogged up windows, making sure that the coast was clear so she could get out of the truck.

As you watch Abby hop off her truck, your eyes start to feel heavy from the exhaustion before quickly fluttering shut for a moment. As your eyes were closed, you could feel Abby’s large hands move your body around before the sudden warmth of her tongue makes contact with your sore cunt, causing you to involuntarily jerk away.

“Hey, relax…I’m just cleaning you up a bit,” she mutters out to you. You simply nod in response, eyes remaining shut as your body eases in and relaxes into her touch again. The gentle movements of Abby’s tongue and lips on your pussy easily removes the tension in your thighs, making you feel as if you were now sinking into the leather of the seat. You then start to feel some shifting of your clothes along with the sounds of the truck doors opening and closing right before you briefly fall into a state of slumber.

The sudden rumbling movements of the truck cause your eyes to slowly flicker back open. You wake up to find yourself lying on your left side in the passenger seat, but now with the seatbelt secured over you. The dim lights of the truck are no longer present, only the faint brightness of the music player on the dashboard is the only thing illuminating your vision right now. The sounds of the few cars on the road surround you, along with the country music quietly playing inside as well. You look up to see Abby with her gaze fixed on the road, with one hand planted firmly on the steering wheel while the other simply rested over on the center console.

You rest your hand on top of hers, and Abby quickly notices that gentle touch of yours, briefly glancing down to look at you. “Hey there…” she says with a smile before looking back up at the road. “You were out for most of the ride, feeling any better?” she asks, gently enclosing your hand into her large palm.

You shift around in your seat, no longer feeling as sore as you were before. “Yeah, a little…” you tell her, resting your head back on the seat as you watch her drive. “I had a really good time tonight, you know…” you tell her, to which she smiles in response.

“I did too,” she replies, quickly looking over to you again. “Felt nice to finally escape from our dads for once.”

The speed of the truck soon starts to slow down before coming to a halt. Your heart instantly sinks to the pit of your stomach, and your smile begins to fade. You knew what this meant.

It meant that you were back home. Your time with Abby was now up.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up completely to look over at the sight of your house. All of the lights were shut off, except for the faint blue light of the living room TV, and you could easily see your dad’s head tilted to the side, indicating that he was now asleep.

You let out a sigh. “I…I don’t want to go back in there,” you say, turning your head back to look at Abby. She simply sighs and gently rubs your shoulder. “I know you don’t, angel…but we can’t risk it. As much as I can’t stand your dad, I don’t want him to get worried about you either.”

Your head hangs low now, nodding in acknowledgment. Abby’s hand gently holds your chin to lift your face. “You know this won’t be the last time, right?” she asks you, to which you nod again.

“I know, I just…I’ll miss you, Abs…who knows when we’ll see each other again?” you ask back, looking up into her soft blue eyes. She nods back at you in response. “It’ll happen again soon, okay? Just know that I’m always gonna have you on my mind, alright?” she says before quickly leaning in to kiss you, the rim of her hat on your head brushing over her hair this time as she does so.

You instantly kiss her back before pulling away to grab your things from the ground. You take a deep breath and open the door, exiting the truck and closing it. Your boots now meet with the concrete of the sidewalk, and you walk your way to the front door of your house. Before you go in, you look back to see Abby watching you from her truck, and you two give each other a final wave before she drives off to park into the driveway of her house.

As the lights of Abby’s truck shut off now, you turn back to the door to unlock it. You slowly open the door just enough to squeeze yourself inside before closing it and locking it again. You turn around to see Joel fast asleep on his recliner while the TV screen illuminates the whole room. Without making a sound, you tiptoe on over to pick up the remote from the coffee table and shut off the TV. You set the remote back down and turn over to pick up a throw blanket from the couch to tuck your dad in before heading upstairs to your bedroom.

The door creaks slightly as you enter inside. You slowly close the door before letting out a sigh as you set your bag down on the ground before kicking off your boots. You take off Abby’s hat and set it on top of your dresser before the rest of your clothes come off of you and to the ground until you’re down to your underwear. You pick up a random oversized shirt from your dad’s company and throw it on. As you’re taking off your makeup, your phone buzzes on your bed, and you reach over to pick it up.

“Abby: I’ll be thinking of you.”

You look up from the screen to your right, seeing her broad silhouette in the bedroom window across from yours. The two of you stare at each other for a bit, until you wave her off and get into bed, to which she does the same right after.

Not only was this the first night the two of you had officially spent alone together, but it was also the first night where you both just couldn’t take each other off of your minds now.

And all you could do was just wait until your path meets with hers again.

- tags 🏷️: @nyctophiliq @lucidfairies @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @abbysfavewh0rx @lia-winther @grooviestcowboy @pretty-prrincess-13 @iwillkilyou @erinsdeluluworld @elliens4 @totallyghostdgirl @sirenbxby @bellaramslover @uraesthete @cherrycolouredflunk @whorn3y @thatonementallyillsimp @elliewilliamsmunch @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @mochiivqi @floptron @swtsuna @naomis-daydream @hunnybunnyhazel @paprikahoernchen @bbglmfao @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @littlegingerperson @ur-fav-pixi @2busyfangirling @lmaoo-spiderman @olive-fics @onlinelesbo @piscesfairyyy @mrsandersons (striked means i couldn’t tag)

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unclewaynemunson · 10 months

Text

After Eddie and Max were brought into the hospital, the waiting room was packed with people. But as time passed by, it got quieter. One by one, worried parents came by to pick up their kids.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with me?” Robin asked Steve when her mother arrived.

Steve nodded. “Go home, Rob, it's okay. Just wanna make sure Max's mom and Eddie's uncle get here.”

She shot him a worried look, but she knew him well enough to recognize when she wouldn't be able to persuade him – and Steve in turn knew that there was no way Mrs. Buckley would leave the hospital without Robin, after all that had happened that night.

So Steve stayed and waited with Lucas in Max's room for Mrs. Mayfield. When she arrived, he decided to give them some privacy and wandered over to Eddie's room a couple of doors down the hall.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if Eddie would already have returned from the operation room – and if so, if it would be good or bad news waiting for him on the other side of the door.

He swallowed. Waiting motionlessly in the corridor wouldn't change what he'd find. So he raised his hand and slowly pushed the door open.

Eddie was inside, leaning against a pillow in his bed. He was as white as the sheets around him and he had large stitches in one of his cheeks, but other than that, he looked – alive.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed out while an overwhelming wave of relief washed over him.

It was only then that he noticed the other people in the room and stopped in his tracks.

Eddie's uncle was sitting at his bedside, wearing sweatpants and only an undershirt underneath his denim jacket. He looked exhausted, but just as relieved as Steve felt.

But that wasn't what had sparked Steve's surprise. No, the thing that Steve couldn't make sense of, was the man who was sat in the chair next to Wayne Munson. It was Steve's old middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. He was dressed in a plaid flannel that seemed more Mr. Munson's style than his own, buttoned askew on top of a pair of striped pajama pants.

“Mr. Clarke? What are you doing here?” The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Who are you?” Mr. Munson asked Steve before Mr. Clarke could say anything. It sounded defensive on the verge of being aggressive, but Steve couldn't really blame him for that, considering what the majority of Hawkins currently thought about Eddie.

“Steve Harrington,” he said, holding out his hand.

The lines on Mr. Munson's forehead deepened.

“He's my friend,” Eddie said. His voice sounded hoarse and weak, but Steve still felt a rush of warmth course through his whole body because of the words he said. “He saved my life.”

“Oh.” Mr. Munson's eyes widened slightly and he finally took Steve's hand. “Wayne Munson. Eddie's uncle. Pleased meetin' ya.”

“It's good to see you again, Steve,” Mr. Clarke remarked. “You've grown a lot since the last time I saw you.”

“I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. Clarke,” Steve noted, still trying to make sense of what exactly his old science teacher was doing in this room.

“Uncle Scott is also my uncle,” Eddie explained.

Steve looked back and forth between Mr. Munson and Mr. Clarke, trying to find any kind of resemblance between the two of them.

“You're brothers?” he couldn't help but ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. He would never have guessed that those two men were related to each other.

“Steve, no...” Eddie's voice was almost a whisper and had an undertone of something that sounded an awful lot like exasperation. Steve knew that tone all too well; he had never been good at restraining himself from asking stupid questions, after all.

He noticed how the two men exchanged some kind of meaningful glance with each other.

“Um, I think we should go get some coffee, Wayne,” Mr. Clarke said. “Leave the boys to catch up.”

Mr. Munson nodded, but before he got up, he looked at Eddie. "You'll be alright?" he asked, a worried frown on his face.

Eddie nodded. "It's fine, Uncle Wayne." He said it softly, like he was trying to reassure his uncle, and only after Eddie gave him another emphatic nod, Mr. Munson started following Mr. Clarke out of the room.

Just when Steve realized Mr. Clarke must be Eddie's uncle from his mom's side while Mr. Munson had to be his dad's brother, Wayne let his hand linger on the small of Mr. Clarke's back. It was a tiny moment, that only lasted a second right before they went through the door, easy to miss if one weren't paying close attention. But it was still enough for Steve to understand the exasperation in Eddie's voice and the unease on his uncles' faces. That one touch told Steve all he needed to know: there was this casual, easy kind of intimacy behind it that only long-term partners shared. He had seen his parents act like that, and Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair...

“No fucking way,” he breathed out at the moment the door quietly shut behind Mr. Munson. He turned back to Eddie with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

“Your uncle is – and he's with Scott Clarke?”

Eddie's jaw clenched. “You got a problem with that?”

In his pure astonishment, Steve barely even registered Eddie's question.

“That's impossible!” he all but exclaimed. “Here – in Hawkins? How?!”

Eddie looked slightly past Steve's face, to the bare white wall behind him. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” he said. “You've seen dozens of hell monsters and walked through an alternate dimension to fight an evil sorcerer, and this is what you decide is impossible?”

“Well, it is,” Steve stubbornly said.

He remembered how he once felt about his teammate Thomas, back in his freshman year, remembered the ache in his chest exactly because of how impossible it was. He remembered Robin talking about Tammy Thompson in that bathroom stall filled with the scent of their puke. But Tammy Thompson is a girl, he had said, in his instinctive and perhaps naive confusion - not because he deemed it impossible for Robin to feel that way about a girl, but because up until that point, he had deemed it irrelevant. He knew better than anyone that those kind of feelings would flare up from time to time around certain people, but as far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. There was no way to act on it, no point in lingering on something that was impossible to have anyway.

“They've been together for over a decade,” Eddie said. His voice suddenly lacked its usual warmth; a warmth that Steve had gotten used to over the past few days; a warmth that left a weird feeling of loss behind in Steve's chest now that it wasn't there. “They make each other happy. They don't hurt anyone with it. So don't fucking tell me it's impossible, man. They love each other, and if you're gonna be a dick about that, I'm gonna have to kindly ask you to fuck the hell off.”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait,” Steve hurriedly sputtered. “I'm not – I didn't-” The words got stuck in his throat, somehow. He didn't quite know how to explain the storm that was raging inside of him, the many emotions he felt upon discovering that there were two men happily sharing their lives together, who lived in the same town as he did. Two men who were just like him, who had figured out a way to not hide away, who had somehow found their way to each other, and who had fallen in love without it being something they needed to repress.

“I didn't know – that it could be like that,” he finally managed to stutter. “I never even imagined a future like that for myself. I didn't know – I thought we were just supposed to pretend like those parts of ourselves don't exist and marry a woman. I never met anyone who did it differently.”

Finally, Eddie averted his gaze to look at him again. His eyes were a little bit wider and he was staring at him so intensely that Steve felt something stir deep in his stomach.

“Stevie,” he said, his voice quiet and so much warmer than before in a way that sent a shiver down Steve's spine. “Jesus, I'm sorry, I had no idea. I thought you were saying..." He cut himself off and inhaled deeply, slightly shaking his head. "Listen, man, there's always a choice. I'm not saying it's easy; my uncles have to hide a lot of what they mean to each other when they're in public. They're risking Scott's job, and maybe even a whole lot more if the wrong people find out about them... But there is always a choice. They're much happier together than they would've been if they had chosen to hide and marry a woman, or if they'd spent their whole lives alone.”

Steve had to take a moment to let Eddie's words sink in. Eddie merely kept looking at him, not making a single sound, patiently waiting for him to get his thoughts straight again.

“Are there more people like them, here in Hawkins?” Steve finally asked.

“Not many,” Eddie answered. “Most people who are different move to the bigger cities, where you're a bit more free to be yourself. But they're friends with this lesbian couple who lives a few streets over. And they know some people in Indy, but Wayne refuses to move there. He's too much of a small town boy, he says.” Eddie rolled his eyes at that last part, as if he could in no way comprehend the thought of preferring Hawkins over a big city like Indianapolis.

But Steve did comprehend it. Hawkins was his home. Even after everything that happened to him here, it was where he belonged. It was where everyone he cared about was. He wasn't naive, he knew that that was bound to change at some point, but he had never dared to dream about going someplace else himself. He had never even dared to dream about being someone else. Yet here he was, sitting at the bedside of a boy whose eyes he hadn't stopped thinking about for days.

Maybe it was about time to change his perception of what was possible and what wasn't.

“I know one person who's like – like me,” he admitted. He wanted to tell Eddie about Robin. He knew that there was nothing to worry about – but he also knew it wasn't up to him to share her secret. “I don't know if this is a weird idea," he continued, "but maybe we could all, like, get together sometime. Your uncle, mister Clarke, their lesbian friends...” The idea of it made him feel weirdly excited. He couldn't really imagine what it would be like, to spend a whole evening surrounded by people he had this one thing in common with.

“Not a weird idea,” Eddie told him, that soft look still shining in his big brown eyes. “Sounds awesome, actually.”

“If we do something like that...” Steve hesitated for a moment. “Would you be there too?”

Despite the stitches in his cheek, Eddie managed to smile, dimples and all. He raised a pale hand and pulled a strand of his hair across his face, like he was trying to hide something written on the skin around his lips. “I thought that was obvious,” he said with a chuckle.

Steve chuckled as well. “Just needed to be sure,” he admitted.

He stretched out his hand and put it on top of Eddie's, where it was resting on top of the sheets. It only took a few seconds: he gently squeezed Eddie's hand, then pulled back again, still nervous and not quite knowing what exactly they were headed towards. But no matter how short, the touch still sent sparks through his whole body.

“I'm glad you're alive,” he said, softly.

Eddie's smile became just a little bit wider, and a faint blush colored his pale cheeks. “Me too, big boy. Believe me, me too.”

(I wrote this bc this post by @boldlyvoid refused to leave my brain for literal months)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #scott clarke #clarkson my beloved #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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er-osion · 2 months

Text

Small Things They Love About You

pairing: [separate] bruce wayne x gn!reader, dick grayson x gn!reader, jason todd x gn!reader, tim drake x gn!reader

summary: headcanons about the batboy’s lesser talked about favorite thing about you.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none, fluff

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

Bruce Wayne — your routines

Bruce Wayne loves seeing you complete your routines throughout the day. From your morning, to night, to mealtime routines, Bruce loves seeing you go through them. There’s something about watching the familiarity of it that makes Bruce feel all warm and happy. His own routines are often interrupted because of his night job but seeing you go through your own gives him that sense of normalcy he’s always secretly craving. He’s happy watching you go through these little habits without thought, it brings him into the present and really helps him focus on just living in the moment with you, the love of his life.

His joy overflows though, when you bring him into your routines. He didn’t notice at first, but suddenly he caught on to how he’s been roped into your morning routine and mealtime routines. When he did finally notice, his heart fluttered in his chest for minutes and an actual smile creeped into his face. Living in one of your routines with you proved to him that you were truly in his life for good, you weren’t going anywhere, and that made him indescribably happy. These routines you have make him feel so domestic, it fills a space in his heart he forgets was empty until you go pouring your love into it. You’re not even trying, that’s the thing. You’re just going about your day like normal, but seeing these habits of yours play out makes Bruce have to fight the urge to wrap you in a tight embrace and never let go. Bruce Wayne just loves seeing you go through your everyday routines, he loves to see you simply existing in his life.

Dick Grayson — your smile

When Dick Grayson says he loves your smile, he doesn’t just mean the one basic smile you give when you’re happy, he means all of your different smiles. He loves your giddy smile, your smug smile, your surprised smile, your relieved smile, and even your sad smile. He loves the hundreds of different kinds of smiles that appear on your face because he loves each of those parts of you. He has all your different smiles memorized and categorized. Dick makes it his daily mission to get you to show off at least five different types of smiles through the course of your day. All of this honestly boils down to the fact that he likes seeing you happy, he likes seeing you content. Dick feels at peace if he knows his loved one is happy.

Dick gets this bubbly feeling in his stomach whenever he’s the cause of one of your smiles. It quite literally lights up his day to see your beautiful lips pull into a grin. Dick has an entire album on his phone that’s just photos of you smiling. The album is full of photos ranging from pictures of you smiling so wide you can tell your cheeks were hurting, to smiles that hold the weight of sadness and exhaustion, clearly taken after you’d gone through a stressful moment. Dick is fully convinced you glow when you smile. When patrols are especially hard, the thing that keeps him going is the thought of coming home to you and seeing that smile on your face you always wear when he comes back alive. Dick gets visibly disappointed if he thinks he failed at making you smile adequately that day. How is he supposed to be a hero if he can’t continuously bring a grin to his partner’s face? All in all, Dick Grayson swoons when you deliver any type of smile, it makes his world brighter to see you so full of light.

Jason Todd – your voice

Jason Todd loves loves loves the sound of your voice. It’s an orchestra crafted in heaven, a choir of angels in his ears. Whether you talk a lot or a little, Jason relishes any moment he gets to hear your voice. Hearing you speak visibly relaxes him in a way nothing else can. There is nothing more grounding and more comforting than the lovely sound of your voice. No matter the tone you take or the volume, Jason thirsts for your voice like a man trapped in the desert.

Because of this, one of Jason’s favorite activities with you, is reading. It’s become a habit for you to read to him for at least a few minutes everyday. Jason especially likes it when you read to him after patrol, it helps his mind wind down from the chaos that his work as Red Hood can create in his brain. Jason will rest his head on your shoulder and listen intently as you read to him. Your voice is like a gentle hug that makes his insides warm and mushy. Jason loves hearing you talk, he’d let you ramble about nothing for hours. When he comes home he always asks how your day was and he always hopes your answer is going to be long winded and detailed, because that means he gets to hear you talk for longer. When you speak, it feels like his spirit is being revived. Your melodic voice stitches together the torn pieces of his soul. Jason has every voicemail or audio message you’ve ever sent downloaded on his phone, so when you two are apart he can still listen to you talk. Whenever Jason is having a particularly rough day, or he just needs a pick-me-up, he listens to a few of those recordings and he immediately feels rejuvenated and happier. Jason Todd is plain and simply in love with the sound of your voice.

Tim Drake – your thought process

Timothy Drake is obsessed with hearing you explain yourself. Not in a weird way, he just likes hearing your thought process. Tim likes learning about the way you think, in his mind, that’s one of the most intimate things a person could do. When you explain your thoughts or ideas, Tim is over the moon. Tim could honestly sit for hours while you went through in over-the-top detail how you came to a conclusion for the problem you solved earlier that day. There’s just something about learning about the way your mind works that makes Tim feel really special. It feels like such a big demonstration of trust. Tim doesn’t have to fight to learn you, you let him do it for free. Tim makes it his job to learn the way you think, so he can adapt to routines that make you more comfortable.

The way your mind works is absolutely fascinating to Tim. When you take the time to explain your thoughts to him, he feels his heart rush with enthusiasm and enchantment. He truly marvels at the way you process things, it’s one of the most gorgeous things about you —in his opinion. Tim gets really giddy when you explain your thoughts to him, everything about it is just so you and it’s the most lovely thing in the world to him. Tim feels like he’s getting a glimpse of your soul every time you go through your thought process with him and he cherishes those moments like a relic. If Tim Drake could take something to the grave with him, it’d be the heavenly way you explain your thoughts.

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mikanotes · 10 months

Text

up close & personal

hyunsu ? x gn!reader

genre: what. mutual pining?

warnings: sweet home 2 spoilers, mentions of blood, injuries. hyunsu himself is a warning lowkey if u watched the last ep u probably get it… that’s all!

synopsis: You know Hyunsu so well. One year apart couldn’t possibly change that. Except if Hyunsu isn’t alone anymore.

authors note: realized at the end of this fic that i cld compare hyunsu’s current situation to venom like a little bit and that just makes everything so much easier somehow. anyways i don’t really like this but i needed to post smt for him after s2 so!

One year ago, you and Cha Hyunsu would’ve been sitting near the entrance of Green Home apartments, and he would be listening to you talk. One year ago, you would’ve firmly believed that by now, the world would’ve been restored to some kind of peace. It had, in a way, but certainly not in the one your past self would have hoped for. And certainly not the one Hyunsu would’ve wanted for the two of you.

Nevertheless, you remained grateful through everything— As much as you could manage. The shelter was as organized as possible and conflict was a surprisingly rare occurence. Things were alright. As long as you didn’t give time for the grief and terror to catch up to you.

But things couldn’t be calm forever. Especially not in the current state of your world.

When Eunyu disappeared with that man from the military, it only took a day before you grew restless enough to depart from the stadium. After all, Eunyu was the closest thing to a friend you had here, at this point. It only felt right to try and find her. And you did, surprisingly, along with a few familiar faces and an unknown one.

You didn’t expect for the evening you found your friend again to be the very same you would see the person you had considered closest to you at Green Home for the first time in… Over a year.

“Finally asleep.” you sighed quietly, watching Eunyu get the rest her body had probably been begging for. It was difficult to convince her you would stand watch and wait for your friend to wake up in her stead, but her exhaustion made her stop arguing eventually.

You turned towards the room he was in.

Cha Hyunsu.

You crossed your arms and sighed. One year without a single trace of him anywhere. And now he… Just reappears? You wanted to be surprised, but part of you really wasn’t. You were angry, just a little— Spending all this time telling yourself he was gone, only for him to come back as if nothing happened felt like a slap to the face. Still, you couldn’t blame him. Yet. You had no idea what happened to him during that time span.

You felt relieved, if anything.

After some hesitation, you walked over to the glass door. Your hand settled on the handle, pushing it open, before your eyes widened. Hyunsu was sitting on the hospital bed, stretching his neck quietly, not at all perturbed by anything. Hell, he even seemed peaceful.

More peaceful than you’d ever seen him.

You stepped inside quietly and let the door close behind you. Hyunsu continued to move his head, slowly, as if trying to relax, and didn’t acknowledge your presence. His shoulder was bloodstained, still, and his hoodie had cuts here and there. Messy as he appeared, this was your friend from Green Home, there was no denying it. You hadn’t even dared hope he could still be alive, after all this time. You couldn’t give your heart such a high possibility of suffering if he turned out to be gone.

And now he was here. So calm.

He opened his eyes with a soft sigh, before turning his gaze to you. “Finally decided to talk to me?” he asked. His tone was different. Too different. This did not feel like the kind of change that happened in a year. He smiled a little at your silence, tilting his head curiously. “No? Do you need more time? That would be too bad.”

He hopped off the bed with a huff and slowly walked over to you. The closer he got, the clearer it became that his eye color was different. Long gone was the blank, dark brown gaze that looked back at you when you two would talk— Replaced by a vibrant sky blue. A stark contrast from what you were used to, as was everything else about him, apparently. Be it his tone or his mannerisms, it all felt deeply wrong, like it wasn’t him at all. You furrowed your eyebrows but stood still, letting him walk to the very edge of your personal space.

“I’ve been waiting to see you for such a long while.”

“Huh?”

Hyunsu’s eyes widened a little before he grinned. This wasn’t … Him. Not exactly, at least. Not the one you talked to so much. But special-cases, or MH, essentially coexisted in one body. The monster forms around a person’s strongest desire, or whatever it was that scientist at the shelter said.

So perhaps, all the times you and Hyunsu had talked in the past had also been conversations that this side of him had been listening to.

A bit scary. You couldn’t really focus on that, though. You took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Is he well?”

He clicked his tongue, expression growing sour. “He’s fine. Let him get some rest. He’s tired.”

You nodded softly, gaze averting. That sounded fine enough to you. He was right, too, earlier— You had been avoiding talking to him since you met again. With the excuse of focusing on Yikyung and scavenging through the hospital, you had plenty of reasons to act as if you weren’t seeing the person you cared the most for after a whole entire year of thinking he was dead.

But you did feel his gaze on you the whole time. It was heavy, and remorseful. You’d planned to talk to him— In fact, that’s why you decided to come over to the room he was in. You hadn’t expected things to turn out this way, however. Seems like you couldn’t talk to your friend, yet.

“It’s nice to know you care, though.” he hummed, gaze never leaving your face. “He thinks about you so much, too.”

You looked back up at him. If this was the so-called monster part of Hyunsu, then what was his deal? A lot of questions about this situation flooded your head. “What are you playing at?”

He chuckled softly, before backing up just enough to hold up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Nothing as evil as you probably think.” he said, voice steady. “I just wanted us to talk. Just us.”

“Huh.”

“You see, your Hyunsu has an interest in you.” he said, tilting his head slowly. It felt as if he was analyzing you. It was a bit unsettling, but you didn’t bother breaking eye contact this time. “But I do, too. I’d say maybe… Even more than him?” his grin widened at his own words.

“I find it hard to believe you care about people.”

“And yet.” he scoffed, expression dropping to a blank one, seemingly annoyed. He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. “We decided to work together. Couldn’t have him die on me, it wouldn’t be nice for anyone involved.”

You decided this Hyunsu seemed to mean it when he said they made a deal, just about as much as when he said he had an interest in you. So placing your trust in his bloodied hands for the time being, you tried to be less on guard. He wouldn’t kill you, or most importantly, Hyunsu. That was enough for now.

“Okay.” you sighed, crossing your arms. “So you want to talk?”

He smiled a little. “Yes.” he stated, before taking a step towards you. Only this time, he didn’t bother keeping a safe distance. His face was a touch too close to yours. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“You…” you paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you usually go around talking to people while getting so close to them?”

“I don’t go around talking to people.” he mocked your tone before scoffing, a grin pulling at his lips. He brought a hand up to your face, holding your cheek firmly. His focus turned to his hand, eyes narrowing in its direction. You felt his fingers loosen a little, as if he was trying to control how tightly he was holding you.

Which he was. Now it felt gentle. Almost unfitting. Not only that but the Hyunsu you knew was never this comfortable with anything close to physical affection. It felt so out of place.

“Does it bother you?” he whispered, eyes flitting over to meet yours again. He moved in closer, just enough for your noses to touch. He seemed to be having fun switching between looking at your eyes and at your lips. “Am I too close?”

Before you could think of a way to answer, you froze. The unfamiliar color in Hyunsu’s eyes dissipated, the cocky expression you were almost beginning to get used to replaced by a soft, almost startled one. His voice, much quieter now, whispered your name. Your eyes widened and you sighed in something akin to relief.

“Hyunsu.” you breathed out. The latter looked at you with a stunned look, struggling to find anything to say for a while. He looked into your eyes like he was making sure you were okay— Making sure you were really alive. His thumb moved back and forth softly over the skin of your cheek, his gaze scanning you in an almost panicked manner. He sighed shakily, before he brought your face into his shoulder. He seemed to be almost trembling.

“I’m sorry.” he exhaled, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders hesitantly. Still terrible at hugging. You’d missed those awkward displays of affection so much. “I… I’m sorry, it’s been… A very long time.”

“God, you’re so cruel, Cha Hyunsu.”

He tilted his head down into your neck. Now you felt his tears on your skin. He really hasn’t changed, you thought. It was obvious when he came running for help when Yikyung was badly injured, when he did everything to help her and went all the way to look for that kid— Cha Hyunsu hadn’t changed.

“I’m—”

“Quit apologizing.” you huffed, holding him tightly. “I missed you, too.”

Hyunsu sighed quietly, tightening his hold on you a little. He was relieved to finally have you with him again, but he couldn’t shake off his worries.

“You talked to… Him? Right?”

“I did.” you said, pulling away enough to look at him. The concern on his features was undeniable. “And it went fine. It’s okay.”

Hyunsu’s frown deepened. “I don’t know if it’s alright. Me staying… So close to you.”

“Don’t even think about disappearing on me again.” you warned, eyes widening. “I don’t care about any reason you give me— Don’t leave again.”

The boy sighed, averting his gaze for a moment, before slowly bringing it back to you.

“I won’t.” he assured, “I won’t leave you again.”

He closed his eyes and pulled you into another hug. He had to believe his existence on its own wouldn’t cause more problems for you to deal with. He had to trust that even if it did, you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. He knew you did. You always meant it.

He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the glass door just a bit further away. Seeing you in his arms should have been reassuring. But the blue hue of one of his eyes and the nagging voice in his head seemed to be laughing at his naivety. He pressed his eyes shut again and buried his face in your shoulder.

This is our priority, now. (I know.) No one else comes first. (I know.) Don’t let them get hurt.

I won’t.

#hyunsu x reader #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyunsu x reader #hyunsoo x reader #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyunsoo x reader #sweet home x reader #x reader

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dragonsholygrail · 3 months

Note

*rolls into chat*

Hi. I'm sharing this because of your last post btw

Firefighter centaur!

Reader has to help him get all the gear off after a long tiring day because that's a LOT of hair for someone who works with fires and accidents.

*welcomes into chat with open arms*

And omg this is so good!! (I went off, my bad!) I also had to re-write this entire thing when I was almost done because my tumblr crashed and I’m absolutely devastated but worth it for firefighter centaur.

Imagine firefighter centaur works in forest fires so it’s all the more dangerous and on such a bigger scale when he does get called in. Which of course makes reader even more nervous whenever there’s a fire.

Constantly pacing the living room of your shared home, biting your nails, with your eyes latched firmly on to the tv. Not being able to look away for even a second. Just waiting to hear any news about the crew of centaur firefighters as they come in and out of the blazing flames.

Your heart drops heavily into your stomach as you catch sight of him, being able to recognize him anywhere. You find yourself unable to breathe as you watch your partner jump over a burning trunk with ease. All while carrying a handful of nymphs to safety. A couple in his arms and a few riding his back.

Watching your partner be so heroic like that takes your breath away. Or maybe it’s just because you’re relieved he’s alive. Either way it sends a violent need to thrum through your body. A need to go to him and be near him, no matter the risk. You don’t hesitate for a moment and you’re out of the house before you can even turn off the television.

There’s barricades all over the place when you arrive at the scene. Your eyes search frantically around the area, looking for just one feature that you’re familiar with to find him. But your heart is hammering within your chest and your mind spins with more horrible ‘what ifs’ by the minute.

Given your state, it was no surprise to you that he found you first, calling out your name. You whirl around till your eyes fall onto him. Both of you immediately start heading toward each other. You meet in the middle, arms wrapping tightly around each other. Your firefighter centaur smells so thickly of smoke you want to choke. But none of that matters because he’s in your arms and in one piece. No matter how much of his fur is singed.

“What the hell are you doing here? You could have been hurt!” Your partner shouts, sounding almost as frantic as you feel. He leans back enough to cup your face in his hands, looking as though he’s wondering if this is real.

“I saw you- I saw you come through the fire. And there’s so many things on you that it could’ve caught onto. I had to. I had to come. I had to see you and make sure…” you ramble on, words spilling from your mouth. Your mind unraveling now that you know he's sate. "You're alive."

His face softens considerably and he brings you back into his arms.

"Well you got here just in time. I think the fires coming down anyway." He holds you tight and you clutch onto him just as fiercely. Using his strong hold to assure yourself he's really here.

After you both get back to the firehouse you slowly and gently help him take off all his gear. You can tell he's seriously exhausted. Eyes drooping, shoulders slumped, and tail swooshing lazily.

You let him relax as you get started on cleaning up and preparing his gear for washing. It's a rigorous ritual all on its own and you know he's in no state to take care of it right now. But when he blinks his eyes open and realizes what you're doing, it doesn't stop him from trying to do it anyway.

“Hey, stop that. I can do it fine,” he sluggishly tries to interrupt, not wanting you to do his work for him.

All you have to do is shy away from his mindlessly wandering hands, bringing his gear with you. Unintelligible grumbles leave his lips in response.

“I know how to do it. Watched you so many times it would be an insult if I didn’t. I got this,” you assure him.

After all he went through he doesn’t have the energy to fight you on this. When he doesn’t reply you go back to helping situate his gear. You hear the heavy clops of his hooves and a moment later his arms are wrapping around you from behind, his head resting comfortably on top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says softly, those two words alone dripping with appreciation and love for you.

The firehouse is empty, you two being the last ones left to finish up for the night. It’s in that moment, his body curled up around you as you help him in a way that means more than he can describe, that it was as if neither of you had ever felt safer.

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kiesbrainjuice · 2 months

Text

— FAV HQ BOYS WITH THIS TREND !

pr : timeskip!bokuto x fem!reader; timeskip!suna x fem!reader; timeskip!kageyama x fem!reader; nekoma!kuroo x fem!reader; timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader.

syn : you show your boyfriend a trending photo pose. After some playful banter, you both decide to try recreating the pose.

wc : 3.5k

tw : no noya and kenma :(( suggestive talks and ends, fluff ! credit pic : srkork on insta

— BOKUTO KOTARO

The lazy Sunday afternoon stretched out before us like a cat in a sunbeam. Outside, the world was alive with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of neighbors enjoying the warm weather. But inside our cozy apartment, time seemed to slow to a delicious crawl.

Bokuto Koutarou and I were sprawled across our bed, a tangle of limbs and laughter. The late afternoon sun filtered through our fluttering curtains, painting everything in a soft, golden glow. It caught in Bokuto's wild silver hair, making it shine like a haphazard halo. I couldn't help but marvel at how even in this state of complete relaxation, he managed to look like he'd just stepped off a volleyball court – his muscular arm draped over my waist, a reminder of the power coiled within his laid-back frame.

We'd spent the morning in a whirlwind of activity – a impromptu volleyball match with friends that had turned into a picnic, which had then evolved into a competitive round of frisbee. By the time we made it home, we were pleasantly exhausted, content to lounge in comfortable silence.

Now, we were both absorbed in our phones, sharing the occasional meme or funny video. Bokuto's laughter, when it erupted, was like a sudden thunderclap – loud, infectious, and impossible to ignore. It never failed to make me smile, even when I had no idea what had tickled him so.

I was idly scrolling through Pinterest, looking for new recipe ideas (though knowing full well that Bokuto would eat anything I put in front of him with the same enthusiastic gusto), when a particular image caught my eye. It was edgy, provocative, and unlike anything we'd ever tried before.

"Bo," I said, gently nudging his ribs with my elbow. "look at this. It's pretty nice."

He rolled over, nearly crushing me in the process, his golden eyes bright with curiosity. "What's up, babe? Found another cute owl video?"

I shook my head, angling my phone so he could see the screen. "Nah, it's this new photo trend. Check it out."

The image showed a couple taking a selfie, but with a twist. The guy had his arm around the girl's neck, pretending to choke her in what was meant to be an sexy, edgy pose. It was provocative, to say the least.

Bokuto's eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his messy fringe. "Whoa, hold up! Is he trying to choke her or something? That's...weird!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. You could see the confusion on his face. Bokuto was usually up for anything, but this clearly threw him for a loop. "No, no, it's not real choking," you explained. "It's just for the picture, to make it look sexy and l possessive."

He scratched his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "I dunno, baby… It looks kinda weird. What if I really choke you with those strong arms of mine?"

You turned to face him, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come onnnn, Bo. You could look sexy and scary! You're like a big, cuddly owl."

He puffed out his chest, trying to look offended but failing miserably. "Hey! I can be sexy and scary when I want to be!"

You laughed, poking his cheek. "Sure you can, tough guy. So, do it for me!"

Bokuto's face scrunched up in thought for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Alright, let's do it baby! But if i choke you, we're deleting it and I’m killing myself, okay?"

You grinned back, relieved. "Deal. And hey, if it doesn't work out, do not kill urself please, Bo."

"If you ask!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "But even if you have the picture don’t post it!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "Of course I won’t, Bo. Let's start with this and see how it goes."

After your initial attempt, you had an idea. "Hey Bo, let's try using the mirror length for the picture.”

Bokuto's eyes lit up. "Ooh, yeah! We can see more of us that way!"

You scrambled off the bed and positioned yourselves in front of the mirror. It was then that you really noticed what Bokuto was wearing - one of his compression shirts that he usually wore for volleyball practice. The tight black fabric clung to every contour of his muscular torso, accentuating his broad shoulders and defined chest.

You couldn't help but stare for a moment. Even after all this time, the sight of him like this still made your heart race. "Uh, Bo? Have you always looked this good in that shirt?"

He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a mischievous grin. "Oh? Like what you see, huh?"

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Maybe. Just a little."

Bokuto flexed playfully, striking a pose. "Well, I did just finish a workout this morning. Gotta keep in shape for my number one!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, muscles, let's focus on the photo. Same pose as the pic?"

He nodded, moving behind you and wrapping his arm around your neck. This time, you could feel the warmth of his chest against my back, the firm pressure of his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was... distracting, to say the least.

"Ready?"You asked, trying to keep my voice steady as you held up your phone.

"Ready!" Bokuto replied, his breath tickling your ear.

You snapped the picture, capturing your reflection in the mirror. Bokuto's arm was around your neck, his intense "game face" expression in full effect. But what really stood out was the contrast between you both - his powerful, athletic frame in that form-fitting shirt, next to your smaller figure.

As soon as the picture was taken, Bokuto's serious expression melted into a grin. He peered over your shoulder at the phone screen. "Wow! We look good, don't we?"

You nodded, a little breathless. "Yeah, we do. Especially you in that shirt. Maybe you should wear it more often."

Bokuto's grin widened. "Oh? I thought you liked my owl-print t-shirts better…"

You turned in his arms, looking up at him. "Let's just say both have their merits! But right now, I'm definitely appreciating this one."

You handed him the phone to show him the photo you took. his eyes opened wider and he felt quite aroused by the photo of you surrounded by his arm. “w-wow, you turn me on…”

But he tried to get over it and leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "Noted. So, another picture, or...?"

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I think we've got enough pictures for now. How about we find something else to do…?"

Bokuto's golden eyes sparkled with mischief. "I might have a few ideas…"

As he leaned in for a kiss you chuckled into it…

— SUNA RINTAROU

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The sun was shining bright outside, and a cool breeze was blowing. In your room, everything felt slow and peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that feels good when you're with someone you really like.

Suna, your boyfriend, was lying on your bed, looking relaxed. His eyes were half-closed as he looked at his phone. The sun made his face look nice, showing off his sharp jaw and the small smile on his lips. You couldn't help but stare a little.

You were both doing your own thing, but still felt close. Sometimes Suna would laugh at something on his phone, or you'd say something small. It felt nice and normal. In these quiet times, you felt closest to Suna. He looked softer than usual, and you could see how much he cared even if he didn't say it.

"baby," you said, breaking the comfortable silence. "look at this."

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes, usually half-lidded, showed a flicker of interest. "What's up?"

You showed him the picture on your phone - a couple doing the possessive choking pose with the muscular arm for a selfie. "It's this new photo trend. Kind of sexy, don't you think?"

Suna's eyebrows raised slightly, the most expression you'd seen from him all afternoon. "Huh? Interesting choice for a couples photo…"

You could see the wheels turning in his head as he analyzed the image. Suna was always observant, probably already picking up on details you'd missed.

"Wanna try it?" you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice.

He looked at you, then back at the phone, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You sure about that? I don't think you could pull off the 'dramatically choked' look. You'd probably start laughing."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. He knew you too well. "Oh, c’mon. I can be serious when I want to be!"

Suna sat up, his movements fluid and graceful. "Alright, let's see it then. Your ‘serious’ face."

You tried your best to look serious and dramatic, but you could feel your lips twitching, fighting back a smile.

Suna's smirk grew wider. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Very intimidating."

You grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, which he easily dodged. "It’s your fault, your face makes me laugh! How about you show me how it's done?"

He shrugged, but you could see a glimmer of competitive spirit in his eyes. "Well thanks…” he sighed and raised his eyebrows ”And sure, why not. Could be interesting."

You positioned yourselves in front of the mirror. Suna stood behind you, his arm loosely draped around your neck. Even in this silly pose, you could feel the quiet strength in his lean muscles.

"Ready?" you asked, holding up your phone.

Suna nodded, his face transforming into an intense, focused expression that you usually only saw during volleyball matches. It was almost unnerving how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture, capturing your reflection. Suna's intense muscular arm bore into the camera, a stark contrast to your slightly flustered expression.

As soon as the picture was taken, Suna's arm relaxed back into its usual demeanor. He peered at the phone screen over your shoulder.

"Not bad," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Though I think we just proved my point about your serious face, baby."

You elbowed him gently in the ribs. "shut up. Not everyone can go from zero to intimidating in half a second like you."

He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "It's a gift," he deadpanned, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

You leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. "So, what do you think? Should we post it?"

Suna was quiet for a moment, considering. "Nah," he finally said. "Let's keep this one just for us. It's more sexy that way."

You smiled, turning in his arms to face him. "You know, for someone who acts so aloof, you can be pretty sweet sometimes."

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the faint blush on his cheeks. "Don't go spreading that around. I have a reputation to maintain. And look at you in my so-muscular arm…"

As you leaned in to kiss him, “I look pretty hot like that…”

— TOBIO KAGEYAMA

It was a rare day off from volleyball practice. You and Tobio were in your living room, trying to relax. The TV was on, playing a volleyball match, but neither of you was really watching. Tobio sat on the couch, his posture a bit stiff, eyes darting between his phone and the TV screen.

"baby," you said, gently nudging his arm. "look at this."

He turned to you, his intense blue eyes focusing. "What is it?"

You showed him your phone screen - a picture of a couple doing the possessive choking pose for a selfie. "It's a new photo trend. Kind of sexy, right?"

Tobio's brow furrowed as he stared at the image. "Why would anyone want a picture like that?" he asked bluntly.

You couldn't help but smile at his typical straightforward response. "I guess some people think it looks sexy or possessive, like me. Want to try it? Just for fun?"

He looked confused for a moment. "Is this important to you?"

"Noooo," you admitted. "I just thought it might be fun to see how it turns out. Be please baby!"

Tobio hesitated, then nodded with a sigh. "Okay. If it'll make you happy..."

You both stood up and moved in front of the mirror. Tobio proudly put his muscular arm around your neck, and started flexing to show off his muscles, which made you chuckle a bit.

"Tobio, can you hold less tight," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I know already how you are muscular, don’t worry baby."

He adjusted his grip slightly, his face a mix of concentration and redness. "L-like this?"

"Perfect. Now pose for me, baby."

Tobio's expression immediately changed to his game face - eyes sharp and focused, jaw set. It was almost scary how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture quickly. As soon as it was done, Tobio dropped his arm and stepped back, looking relieved.

Looking at the photo, you couldn't help but chuckle. Tobio's intense muscular and flexed arm next to your slightly amused smile was quite a sight.

"What's so funny?" Tobio asked, peering at the screen while chuckling.

"Just us, baby," you said, still smiling. "We look so serious. It's kind of sexy actually, don't you think?"

Tobio's cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's... different," he mumbled. "But I like how you are in my arm like that..."

You felt a warmth in your chest at his honesty. "Me too, baby. How about we take a nice, cozy pic now?"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Okay. But no more weird poses."

As you cuddled up to take a regular selfie, you kissed his cheek “I love you, Tobio.”

— KUROO TETSURO

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at training camp. You were sitting on the grass outside the gym, enjoying a brief respite from the intense volleyball practices. Kuroo sauntered over, his trademark messy hair even more disheveled than usual, and flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh.

"Exhausted already, captain?" you teased, poking his side.

He flashed you his signature smirk. "Me? Never. Just giving the others a chance to catch up."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Hey, check this out."

You showed him your phone screen - a picture of a couple doing the possessive choking pose for a selfie. "It's some new photo trend. Pretty hot, huh?"

Kuroo's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh? Trying to tell me something, kitten? Didn't know you were into that kind of thing..."

You felt your cheeks heat up as he leaned close to your face, brushing your lips with his at the end of his sentence. "Tetsu! It's not like that. It's just supposed to be…artistic or whatever."

He chuckled, leaning in closer. "Relax, I'm just teasing. Though I gotta say, it does look nice for us. Wanna try?"

You blinked, surprised by his enthusiasm. "Really? You don't think it's too weird?"

Kuroo shrugged, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Hey, I'm always up for trying new things with you! Plus, it could be fun to mess with the team later."

You couldn't help but laugh. "You're impossible. Alright, let's do it and my arm is muscular, I could show you..."

You both stood up and moved to a nearby wall. Kuroo positioned himself behind you, his flexed arm draped around your neck. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back, and it was... distracting, to say the least.

"Ready?" he murmured, his breath tickling your ear when he leaned down just to adjust right after.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure as you held up your phone. "Okay, try to look hot."

“Try?? I don’t even need to try!” He acted offended. Kuroo's expression immediately transformed into his focused game face, the one that always sent shivers down opponents' spines. It was almost unnerving how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture, then turned in Kuroo's arms to look at it together. The contrast between his muscular arm and your slightly flustered expression was striking.

"Well, well," Kuroo said, his voice low and teasing. "Looks like my arm is so hot, don't you think? Though I gotta say, you look hot under the collar there, kitten. Was it something I did?"

You elbowed him gently, but couldn't help smiling. "Oh, shut up. You're such a tease."

He laughed, pulling you closer. "You love it though, admit it, baby."

You leaned into him, enjoying his warmth. "Maybe. But don't let it go to your head. It's big enough as it is."

Kuroo gasped in mock offense. "My head is perfectly proportional, thank you very much. Anyway, now I can show to everyone that you’re mine…"

He kissed your lips with hunger, but you pushed him back gently. “Not here…”

He took your hand and brings you up, the silly photo forgotten for the moment.

— ATSUMU MIYA

The MSBY Black Jackals' training facility was quieter than usual, the usual squeaks of shoes on polished floors and the thunderous impacts of spikes replaced by a lazy afternoon lull. Most of the team had already left for the day, their energy spent on grueling drills and practice matches. The air still held a faint scent of sweat, mingled with the sharp tang of air salonpas.

You had been waiting for what felt like hours, alternating between watching Atsumu's extra practice through the gym windows of the lounge area and idly scrolling through your phone. It was a familiar routine - Atsumu pushing himself just a little further, always chasing that perfect set, while you patiently waited, a silent pillar of support. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the lounge area where you sat, when you finally heard the telltale sound of the gym doors opening and Atsumu's distinctive footsteps approaching.

"Oi, still hanging around?" he called out, a smirk playing on his lips.

You looked up, matching his smirk. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't overwork yourself, the Pro Athlete."

Walking behind you to give you a shoulder massage for a few seconds and kiss you on the mouth from behind, he stopped by to sit on the sofa in the lounge next to you to cuddle slightly.

Atsumu plopped down next to you, peering at your phone. "Whatcha looking at? Better not be Tobio-kun's serves again."

You snorted. "As if. No, look at this trend."

You showed him the picture of the couple doing the possessive choking pose. Atsumu's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, ain't that something," he drawled. "People really do anything for likes these days, huh?"

"Says the guy who spent an hour perfecting his hair for his official team photo," you retorted.

Atsumu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Your wounds cut deep, ya know that?"

You laughed, then had an idea. "Hey, we should try it."

"Try what? You wanna make out here, huh?" Atsumu looked skeptical but was ready to jump on you if you nodded, which you didn’t.

"The pose, dummy. Could be funny."

Atsumu's eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh? You want me to manhandle you for the 'gram? Kinky."

You felt your face heat up as you gently push his head of your shoulder to face him. "Shut up, 'Tsumu. You in or not?"

"'Course I'm in. Can't let my baby down, can I?"

You both stood up, moving to a clear wall. Atsumu positioned himself behind you, his flexed arm tight around your neck.

"Ready when you are, darlin'," he murmured close to your ear.

You suppressed a shiver. "Okay, press."

Atsumu's arm pressed your cheeks and flexed his muscles. You snapped the picture quickly before you could faint from blushing.

Looking at it together, you couldn't help but laugh. "We look ridiculous."

"Speak for yerself," Atsumu retorted. "I look dashingly hot."

You elbowed him playfully. "Your ego is showing, 'Tsumu."

He grinned, pulling you closer. "Ya love it though."

As you leaned into him, he carried you like a princess to the lounge sofa: he had locked the door…

pic :

tag : @haechansbbg

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mydearlybeloathed · 5 months

Text

── 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and zoro train together every morning, so it was only a matter of time till one of you got hurt (spoiler: it's not zoro)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: requested, sword fighting, reader gets injured, artist!reader

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The deck of the Going Merry was hot and blistering under the heat of the sun. You’d just taken a few steps outside when you turned right back around and bolted back below deck, grumbling as you found a set of shoes.

“Stupid heat,” you lamented, somewhat longing for the days you’d galivant your village barefoot without a care in the world. Now, you had a very many number of cares due to your new way of life.

Who knew piracy could be so stressful?

Certainly not you, but you wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. You may be fighting for your life every other Tuesday, but you were loved and cherished and that was something you treasured far more than the security of a home that didn’t jump on the waves.

Besides, the Going Merry was cozy once you got over the sea-sickness.

You raced back into the sunlight of daybreak, practically skipping as you headed up to the foredeck to meet the crew’s swordmans. You shouldn’t be so chipper to see him, after all he made it clear he didn’t want you intruding on his daily training. Still, you couldn’t help but admire Zoro in every sense of the word, and then some.

Nami said you were caught in the web of love. You only laughed, never once denying it, but never agreeing either.

The swordsman was just about to begin running through his katas without you, almost daring to hope you’d slept in. He knew it was foolish when he heard your cheerful humming as you bounded up to him, and then he was daring to be relieved you hadn’t forgotten.

(He liked your presence more than he’d ever admit to anymore, and that was a very close guarded secret).

“Ready?” he said simply, always wanting to tell you so many things, aching to ask you questions so mundane they felt silly, but always settling for one word. You never minded; that much was clear from the way your smile warmed and your eyes met his unabashedly.

“Always.” You beamed as he handed you one of his swords, Yubashiri, and Zoro quickly averted his gaze. You pretended not to see right through him. “Are you?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.”

By the end of an hour, you were thoroughly exhausted, yet somehow feeling alive enough to run a marathon. You spun the sword around your wrist, a trick Zoro had taught you a while back, and giggled to yourself, drawing Zoro’s attention.

Caught offguard by the way the sun beamed down and highlighted everything he liked about you, and how your skin shimmered like glass with how you sweat now, Zoro couldn’t help but stare and pray you didn’t notice.

The gods must’ve been merciful that morning, for you turned your back to get a drink from your water bottle the next moment, only turning back around once Zoro had composed himself. Still, you must have caught the awkward stiffness in his shoulders. You tilted your head the way you did when you were concerned, like some lost puppy, and Zoro’s heart dropped.

“You wanna stop now?” you asked without a hint of disappointment, but Zoro knew better. This was your favorite part of the day, or so you said. He hadn’t a clue as to why fighting him in the blazing sun was so memorable, but he never tried to come up with a reason why your smile was so bright every day.

Either way, he would never cut this short himself, for reasons quite beyond him.

“And leave it at a draw? Not a chance.”

That grin slid across your face, the one that told Zoro he’d wait for your every morning, even if you were three hours late, if sparring like this made you happy.

But then he made a mistake. He got too cocky, too comfortable—Zoro’s usually solid restraint wavered as you snickered and ducked under his sword, passing your hand over his side to tickle him. He stammered and jerked away, unable to help but smirk as he surged forward once more.

The next blow of the two swords knocked you off balance. You stumbled back, losing a solid grip, and raised the blade to parry another attack. Your sword faltered and clattered to the deck, but Zoro out too much power behind his move. The edge of his sword stabbed the air too close to your arm, and Zoro felt all the air leave his lungs.

Well, he thought it only caught the air until you inhaled sharply, fighting back a wince as he practically jumped away from you. Zoro’s sword was back in its sheath in seconds. He inched toward you, hovering a hand over your shoulder as crimson starting to spread from a slit in the material. “Shit, I—”

“It’s fine,” you said through a weak smile, rolling our your arm with a barely there laugh. “See? Just a scratch.”

“I’m—Sorry…” He searched for something better to say, eyes wide whilst you just grinned up at him, eyes all squinty.

You knelt to pick up Yubashiri from the ground with your good arm, handing it back to Zoro as tears started to well in the ducts of your eyes. A pit formed in Zoro’s chest as he just set the sword right back down, holding you by your good shoulder. He ignored your swatting hands an delicately pulled up your sleeve, gawking at the less-than-fine gash he’d inflicted.

His eyes darted up to meet yours suddenly; your hand was now placed over his, your gaze reassuring as you blinked swiftly. “Really, it was an accident. Don’ worry.”

Nodding, Zoro backed away silently, looking anywhere but at your face. “Should probably let Chopper look at that.”

You nodded too, waiting for him to say anything else, staying put for an awkward amount of time just watching him. You felt awful, really, even though you’re the one who got hurt. Hopefully, he wouldn’t beat himself up too much.

The next morning when you rose with the sun as you had every other day, you sauntered up to the deck with a sketchpad and pencil in hand. Zoro was leaning against the mizzenmast, idly tapping at the hilt of the Wado Ichimonji.

“Hey,” you greeted, inwardly sighing when his eyes were instantly drawn to the bandage on your arm. You stopped short and tilted your head, a tired look in your eye. “Look. I’m fine. I know it was accident. Let’s just move on, ‘kay?”

Instead of answering directly, he nodded at the sketchpad in your hand. “What’s the book for?”

“Chopper told me to take a break until it heals over,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Confusion swarmed Zoro’s face.

“So… if you’re not training, why’re you up?” Everyone else would still be asleep by now, save for the cook if he was doing breakfast that day.

You shrugged and nearly skipped to a barrel a few feet off, dragging it closer to where Zoro would be training and perching yourself atop it. You crossed your legs and set the pad in your lap. “I still wanna spend time with you.”

It was like you wanted to kill him, saying stuff like that. Zoro’s cheeks felt all warm all of a sudden as he cleared his throat, biting down on his lip to keep from smiling. He steeled his face with a grunt, muttering, “Back at you.”

Zoro might have shown off more than he normally would that day, and you might have ended with more sketches of him than needed.

As the rest of the crew rose from sleep and lumbered into the kitchen, Sanji asked Nami ever so sweetly to alert you that breakfast was served, and you could stop humoring the mosshead. Nami rolled her eyes, grinning as she bounded above deck only to falter as she found the foredeck empty.

A quick search led her to the afterdeck, where she stood silently out of sight, spotting two figures in the shade of her tangerine trees. Your spoke with avid hands, holding your sketchpad up for him to see, and Zoro listened with a captivity Nami didn’t think possible of him.

She chuckled as you leaned into him without realizing, distressing a frazzled Zoro. Eh. You two could probably do without breakfast. As strange as the pairing was, if you were happy, she was happy.

And from the way you looked at him as if the very stars were hung in his big dumb eyes, you were very happy indeed.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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The Lost Haven (14/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex content, kind of hate sex too, oral sex, fingering, smut, the angst, drug dealing, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure when she first felt it: that overwhelming, suffocating terror, the unpleasant, cold sweat on her back, the anxiety and fear. Just as in her childhood, such feelings were evoked in her by the darkness, mostly when she did not feel his warm body beside her, his safe arms not embracing her, his calm breath not enveloping her face.

She opened her eyes then, always feeling the same thing: panic.

Her fingers tightened on the duvet as she realised after a moment, semi-conscious, where and who she was, who she was actually waiting for and why he wasn't there.

An almost physical pain accompanied her as she realised that her uncle was not with her, that he had gone again to sink into his Hades, his World of the Dead, full of drugs, shootings and whores, something she never wanted to have anything to do with.

She would then look anxiously at her watch, counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours, flinching at every creak of the floor or sound in the stairwell, her heart pounding in the hope that it was him, that he had returned, that she would soon be able to sleep in peace again, wrapped in his arms and his wonderful, familiar scent.

He did not return, however, and as usual, when her despair reached its zenith her only thought was that he was dead.

That he wasn't coming back this time.

Even though she knew she shouldn't do it, she would then pull out her phone and call him with tears in her eyes, praying that he would answer, her breath stifling in her throat, when suddenly she heard his voice on the other end.

"What is it?" He asked impatient and frightened, as if he feared the worst.

That something had happened to her.

She was relieved because he was alive and didn't know how to act, how to explain the fact that she was actually bothering him with whatever he was doing for no reason.

"I woke up and you weren't in bed." She muttered in pain, listening to his quiet sigh of fatigue and understanding.

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. I didn't want to wake you up. I have to stay here for at least another hour."

She swallowed hard, glancing at her watch, seeing that it was one o'clock in the morning.

Another hour alone, in the emptiness of his flat, which felt foreign and cold without him.

Even with her things there, it didn't feel like home.

It was his flat, his space, his Hades, and she was just a visitor in his darkness.

"Why?" She asked like a small child, looking around her, again seeing the various frightening shapes in the objects that stood in the room.

She closed her eyes, trying not to think about it, repeating to herself that, after all, she had long since outgrown this fear, that monsters did not exist.

"I have a problem with one man. We are clarifying things, but he is…reluctant. He has taken a lot of money from me, but he has not given me what I need. I have to go. One more hour and I'll be back, I promise." He whispered in pain, and she swallowed hard, feeling her heart in her throat.

Had he just tortured someone?

No, he'd promised her he wouldn't do such things.

That he would do everything he could to avoid violence.

"Oh. Okay." She mumbled, unable to get anything else out, feeling even more terrified than the moment she had called him.

Her lower lip began to tremble when she heard him hang up, tears of fear and despair one by one began to run down her face.

She went into the living room, lay down on the sofa and turned on the TV: the sounds that came from it and the light it emitted made the space around her seem less frightening.

She thought she would just wait for him.

However, an hour passed, then another, and he still wasn't there.

She curled up on the couch and began to cry, tired and drowsy, at the same time unable to fall asleep, Vhagar lying next to her on the floor turning from time to time, having no similar worries to her.

She shuddered as she opened her eyes, still half asleep, feeling someone touch her, his familiar arms lifting her up.

"– easy – it's just me, little one –" He whispered tenderly, her hands and legs automatically entwined around him like vines, her heart full of pain and relief at the same time.

He was back.

She stared at him, breathing loudly through her mouth, at his familiar, beloved face, his sad look full of remorse, his fingers stroking her cheek tenderly.

"– you promised –" She mumbled, hurt and disappointed, his broad hand running over the skin of her warm face as his brow arched in pain.

"– I know, baby – I know – I'm here now –"

He always made love to her when he returned, no matter what state she was in. Even if she tried to push him away, to show him her anger and dismay, his hands and lips full of patience caressed her between her thighs until she fell apart in front of him.

He only took her when she was completely vulnerable, her cunt all slick and leaking from her peak offering him no resistance, even more delicate and sensitive to his every sharp thrust. She couldn't push him away then, craving only the embrace of his arms, his lips that devoured her in a thirsty, yearning kiss.

Their hands clenched desperately on their bodies, cuddling them into each other with loud grunts and moans escaping from their throats, wordlessly testifying to the fact that they both suffered the same way through the separations they experienced almost every night, finally being together again. She drew then on his sighs, his assurances and his pleasure, his gaze filled with an affection so deep it frightened her.

There was something beautiful in the fact that he was somehow devouring her, bit by bit.

The feeling of emptiness would only return when he disappeared again a few nights later.

In between, in the time when she woke up in his embrace, when she looked at his peaceful face in the sunshine, she had the feeling that she was a completely different person: everything made her happy.

In her presence, her uncle was gentle; that didn't mean he didn't get frustrated or that they always agreed, but sensing subconsciously that her words weren't meant to attack him, he reigned himself in and expressed the understanding she so desperately needed.

He did not treat her as his housekeeper or maid: together they went shopping, cleaned his flat, went out with Vhagar, did laundry. She enjoyed watching him from the sidelines as he did simple, prosaic tasks: cutting vegetables next to her, reading on the internet how to make a dish they liked, wondering aloud with her if he had just poured too much pepper into the pot.

"– fuck, so spicy –" He muttered when he tasted what he'd made with the sauce, but she decided when she tasted it herself that it wasn't so bad, and that pepper, unlike salt, was very healthy.

He chuckled at her words, looking at her with pity, as if he was wordlessly trying to tell her that she didn't need to show him mercy.

She noticed that he began to laugh and smile in her presence.

That he began to joke and tease her.

That they talked about things that were increasingly difficult and complicated, and that he didn't back down or avoid answering.

That he had changed.

And then his phone would ring again at night, and he would get up quietly, get dressed and leave.

It felt like she was regressing at that moment: all her childhood phobias, the terror of being left in the dark, were coming back to her with redoubled force, and although she didn't tell him, she would light the small lamp next to her bed, calling Vhagar to come inside, wanting to at least hear her breathing beside her.

Only when she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock did she turn off the light, afraid he would think she was being childish, and pretend to sleep until his hands sank into the softness of her body under her shirt, his lips against her ear, whispering:

"– I'm back, baby –"

A few days of sweet peace had lulled her vigilance again, and the appearance of his grandfather on his doorstep made her state of limbo between worlds collapse. As she locked herself in her room, where she didn't usually stay but kept most of her belongings and books, she began to reflect on the fact that although her mother had called her several times, she hadn't had the courage to answer her.

She didn't know what words to use, fearing that she would try to convince her to come home.

But there was no going back for her.

Not there.

It bothered her that this conversation had gone on for so long and she felt an overwhelming urge to overhear what they were talking about, but she held back, thinking that she should trust him, that he surely knew what he was doing. She jumped up on the bed when she heard the front door open and close, getting up uncertainly and stepped outside, looking at his silhouette from a distance.

He was bent over the countertop and had just had a glass of whisky despite it being so early.

Why?

She approached him uncertainly, feeling his aura, his rage and frustration.

"What did he want?" She asked, watching in horror as he filled his glass anew with alcohol.

"That I should come back. I didn't agree." He replied coarsely, not even looking at her.

She swallowed quietly, glancing sideways at him, her hand touching his shoulder seeing his gaze, frantic and wild.

"Aemond. What happened?" She mumbled and he looked at her in a way that made her feel a cold sweat on her back, a darkness and emptiness in his eyes, something she felt like running away from and hiding under the bed.

"Are you deaf?"

She stared at him with big eyes, feeling for a moment that she had lost her breath and her heart stopped. She turned away, moved ahead and closed herself in her room, locking the door behind her with the key, feeling that her hands were trembling.

Who was this man?

She naively thought that that look, that tone of voice was reserved only for his men, only for those with whom he had to talk rough, whom he had to press down and destroy, but not for her, never for her.

She sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chin, and sat like that, staring dully ahead, feeling shivers with every move or step he made on the other side.

He knocked on her door only hours later, when she was struggling to concentrate on reading one of her textbooks.

"– baby, I'm sorry – he brought me out of balance and I took it out on you – I shouldn't have done that – it's a hard subject for me – will you join me and Vhagar for a walk? –" He asked in a voice she knew well, the same one he had used after he had forcibly kept her in his family home.

In a voice filled with remorse.

She looked at the pages filled with text, thinking with surprise that she didn't want to go anywhere with him, didn't want to do anything with him, didn't want to have anything to do with him.

She thought the look was for everyone else, but not for her.

That she was special.

But she wasn't.

"– I'm reading a book – I'd rather stay home –" She said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear her.

A long silence answered her and she was afraid he would become furious, but he only swallowed hard, as if her words had hurt him.

"– okay – we'll be back soon –"

He made several more attempts to drag her out of the room, she however felt safe there, knowing that he could not violate her space by force and had to stand outside, waiting patiently until she wanted to look him in the eye again.

"– are you angry with me? –" He asked at last.

She felt tears under her eyelids thinking that she was not angry with him.

She was afraid of him.

But she wasn't sure if he would bear those words.

"– shall we watch something on TV? – I'll stroke your head afterwards before bed, just the way you like it – I'm sorry –" He mumbled out like a little boy, and she felt a squeeze in her heart knowing that he had already returned, that he was again the one she loved, the one she wanted, the one she had agreed to marry then, on that beach.

She looked at her bracelet made of candy and then at the scar underneath it, thinking that she was sure the man because of whom she had made it to herself had disappeared.

"– I think I'd rather spend the evening here – if that's okay –" She muttered in a breaking voice, feeling tear after tear run down her face, her lips quivering all over with emotion, with regret that she had to push away, if only for a moment, the man whose presence she craved incessantly, because she needed distance and a moment to breathe.

A sense that she, too, had something to say in a situation where everything really depended on him.

"– oh – okay – I'll be next door if you need me –" He replied, and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line, trying not to make a sound, feeling her chest twitch with each of her quiet sobs.

And then, as the late evening fell, she saw him turn on the light in the hallway, heard him put on his jacket and shoes, and her heart stopped in her throat.

No.

"I have to go out. I don't know when I'll be back." He said loudly, and she jumped up from the bed as if burned, opening her door quickly, facing him, pale and shocked.

"– why? –" She mumbled with difficulty, thinking that she didn't want him to leave, that she just wanted him to let her be alone for a while, but for him to be next door, in the other room.

"– the policeman who was helping us was shot – Tyland is taking revenge for what I did to him – the consequences of my actions are slowly reaching me –" He muttered without strength, as if he was very tired and weary, something in his gaze that told her he had given up.

Tyland is taking revenge for what I did to him.

The consequences of my actions are slowly reaching me.

"Take me with you." She whispered, just wanting to make sure he was okay, that everything was under control, that she would be with him and not in an empty, dark, big, scary flat, counting down the hours and minutes until his return.

"No. I can't. I won't make the same mistake again. The more they are aware that you are not my temporary whim, the more danger I put you in." He said, and she shook her head, deciding that she didn't care what happened to her.

She could no longer stand the terrifying emptiness she felt when the door closed behind him and she was left alone in her cage.

"Then treat me like your whore in front of them."

She saw that his eyes grew big at her words, as if he couldn't believe they really came out of her mouth.

"What did you say?"

"Treat me as if you're bored with me. As if you hold me close just because I am Daemon's daughter. Be cold and chilly. You can hit me if you want." She said without thinking, deciding that it didn't matter anymore anyway.

In their eyes she was just his whore anyway, a deviant, a niece he had raped and made his sex toy out of.

"What? Do you want me to do it so you can find the strength to leave me? Reassure yourself of how fucked up I am?" He asked furiously, gesturing with his hands in a sign of impatience, his words like a cold shower that woke her up, making her realise what she was really afraid of and why she was so desperate to say something like that.

"I don't want to stay here alone, wondering if you're still alive. The fear I feel then no lamp can light up." She muttered with difficulty, feeling that she couldn't hold back the tears that flowed down her face.

His eyebrows arched in pain, as if it was only then that he understood what she was trying to convey to him, something in his gaze that told her he had hesitated, that he felt something, that there was hope.

"– I don't know, baby – God, I have to go – I –" He mumbled, and she nodded, not wanting him to think about it.

"– give me five minutes –" She said and disappeared out the door, looking for some of his hoodies in the wardrobe to put on, feeling relieved.

And then she heard his quick footsteps, the sound of the door opening and closing, the fact that he had shut it with a lock he knew she didn't have a key for.

She ran out into the corridor, looking at it, the symbol of her enslavement, and ran towards it as if she had lost her mind, bursting into a loud sob, banging on it as if she were a small child.

"– NO – NO, NO, NO, AEMOND, DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE – TAKE ME WITH YOU, PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME –" She shouted, choking on her tears, digging her short nails into the wooden structure, pounding on it with her fists only to fall to her knees.

"– I'M SCARED, I'M SCARED, I'M SCARED, PLEASE –" She whined, laying down on the floor, but he was gone.

She felt Vhagar run up to her, sniffing her anxiously only to lie down beside her a moment later and they lasted like that, an hour, or maybe more, lying cuddled together.

When she woke up, she was blinded by the light of the lamp in the corridor – she felt an unpleasant shiver and the fact that she was cold, so she picked herself up from the floor and went to her room. Vhagar moved behind her, apparently thinking that perhaps they would go out for a walk, however, even if she wanted to, she could not open the door now.

He had locked her in here.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling a constriction in her chest, tears one by one running down the side of her face onto the pillow under her head, complete nothingness in her mind, darkness, as if there was not a drop of light left in her.

He didn't return until hours later – his silhouette that stopped in the doorway of her room was dark and tall, as if he were a demon, a nightmare, a demigod, a dream, but not human.

The touch of his hand on her skin, his fingers digging into her flesh, his lip that she bit, the taste of his blood on her tongue seemed at once completely foreign and wonderfully familiar to her.

"– no –" She breathed out, wanting to punish him, to push him away, to make him feel what she felt.

However, her body betrayed her, her pussy leaked under his fingers with desire and lust, with the need for him to embrace her and wrap her in the warmth of his body, for his hard manhood to sink deep into her again and soothe her.

"– I'm back – I'm here, baby – you can let go now –" He whispered, as if uttering some kind of spell or curse from which her body relaxed, allowing him to do what he wanted, to sink her into his darkness and take her for himself.

His voice seemed to come to her from afar, his fingers deep inside her hitting again and again the sweet spot between her throbbing muscles making her lose touch with reality, writhing beneath him in ecstasy.

"– being with me, you won't know freedom – I'm not in a position to choose between that and your safety – if that's what you want, I'll let you leave – but make love to me one last time –" He breathed out and she felt tears under her eyelids, her throat squeezed so tight she had trouble taking a deep breath.

If that's what you want, I'll let you leave.

I don't want leave, she thought.

I just want to be alone.

I want to be special to you, the only one in the world.

Beloved.

"– my sweet baby girl – my little sunshine –" He whispered, taking her for himself, the voracious, desperate stabs of his hips thrusting deep into her slick, hot opening, filling her with his seed with the loud click of her moisture, their breaths heavy and ragged, their embrace tight, full of desire to be reunited again.

His tears joined hers as he pressed his face to her cheek, his broad, familiar hand stroking her head, his breath raspy, surrounding her ear with warmth.

"– my grandfather – what he told me –" He whispered, and she froze, opening her eyes suddenly. "– he said that you wouldn't be able to bear this life, just like my grandmother – that you would commit suicide too – and I don't want to live in a world where you won't be there, even if you are no longer by my side –"

She hugged him tighter, feeling that she suddenly understood what had happened.

Why he had been so angry, why he had looked at her that way, why he had spoken to her that way.

He was terrified as much as she was.

This realisation, the fact that she wasn't the only one living in fear was both depressing and liberating for her, the weight of his words and the emptiness she felt inside her seemed to pull her lower and lower.

When she woke, the sun was just rising – his arms were embracing her from behind, her hand on his palm, his warm breath enveloping her neck.

She knew that something inside her had snapped, that if she just stayed and claimed that nothing had happened, their whole lives would start to crumble around them, and he would feel it.

She stood up quietly and looked at him, putting her hand in the pocket of his trousers. She swallowed hard when she felt the keys to the house by the sea underneath them and took them out quietly, praying he wouldn't wake up.

She didn't know how she would then explain to him what she wanted to do and what it meant to them.

She pulled her hoodie over her head and, dressed only in his sweatshirt, shorts and trainers, with her small backpack in which she had only her keys, wallet, phone and charger, she quietly left the house and closed the door behind her, seeing the look of concern of Vhagar standing in the corridor, not understanding why she had not taken her with her.

Sitting on the bus, she wondered what he would feel when he woke up.

Disappointment?

Anger?

Helplessness?

What she felt every time he left?

She wondered if she should leave him any kind of message, but as much as she wanted to, she wouldn't know what she should write him on it. She felt that she was stuck, unable to either move backwards or forwards.

She knew she loved him and she knew she was miserable.

When she arrived, the sky was cloudy, as if the world around her reflected her state of mind. She only had time to step inside the large, empty house and felt her phone vibrate.

She knew he was awake.

Was he angry?

Desperate?

She unlocked the screen with a trembling hand and swallowed hard to see couple unanswered calls and one message from him.

She closed her eyes, understanding what he was asking, feeling that part of her wanted to do this for him, to reassure him him that she was okay, but she knew how it would end.

He would write another message, then another and another, and she would give in to him and let him come.

She needed to clear her mind, she needed the solitude she had condemned herself to, not forced into.

When she walked into his old room she put her small backpack on the floor and lay down on his bed, looking towards the window. As she looked around she felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that when she was a child it felt like there was so much space, but now she felt it was cramped.

She reached her hand to the shelf standing next to his bed and smiled, taking from it one of the small volumes telling the adventures of the Mighty Vhagar. She flipped through page after page of tales of the Prince and his beloved Rhaenys travelling across distant lands on their dragons, feeling tears of emotion and melancholy pool under her eyelids, clutching her throat.

The Prince, though fearless and relentless, feared, watching the other powerful dragon riders for his beloved's life; her dragoness, Larax, was beautiful, her scales silvery blue, glistening in the sunlight, her figure slender and light, sailing beside him across the sky. However, what made Larax different from Vhagar was size – Vhagar was gigantic like a stone fortress, yet Larax was small and delicate. And so, although his Rhaenys deeply desired to visit the neighbouring Kingdom, he never agreed, knowing that it was a barbaric people, riding dragons that were shrill and terrifying, which he himself feared, though he did not speak of it. He, as a Prince, would travel to this dark land with his father the King, thus keeping the peace, and she would cry when he left her. "Weep not, my dearest," he said, "my heart remains with you."

She closed her eyes, feeling the heavy tears one by one run down her cheeks straight onto the sheets of paper, onto the pages filled with beautiful illustrations of dragons and their riders, stories they had read with hot cheeks all evenings.

She spent the day walking on the beach – the squeals of the seagulls around her and the hum of the sea simultaneously calmed her and filled her with sadness. She put her arms around herself, feeling the coolness of the wind seep through her body, involuntarily smelling his scent as soon as she touched the fabric of his sweatshirt.

It was as if a part of him was still with her.

She looked at the bracelet she had received from him, an expression of his love, so childish, naive.

Innocent.

And yet so dark at the same time.

And then the night came.

Even though she slept in his bed, under his duvet, even though she could smell him, she was afraid: she was not afraid of monsters now, however, but of what was going on inside her head.

Where was she supposed to go back to?

Who was she supposed to be?

What was she supposed to do?

She felt that a sense of meaning had slipped through her fingers: she realised that without her mother, her father, her uncle, her professor, she was nothing.

What kind of person was she really?

What were her values?

What did she want?

For eight years she had only dreamed of being with him again, but she had never thought about what that would look like.

What she would have to sacrifice.

She didn't want to betray him, abandon him – never – but she was terrified of living in constant fear of losing him again.

Of hearing the news that someone had shot him in the head, just as he had once done to Larys.

The next day she woke up even more tired than when she fell asleep: she had nightmares all night.

She dreamt of a monster coming out of the wardrobe, dark, tall and long, who just stood over her and watched her, and she couldn't say anything or scream.

She realised that this was the personification of what she feared most.

The inability to react, to make a move.

The cage.

The fact that she had received another message from him and how he was suffering did not help her.

She didn't know what she was supposed to answer him.

"I'm alive"?

Wouldn't he then feel that she no longer loved him? That she had only written him off so that he would give her a break?

She didn't want that.

She didn't want him to suffer.

Sitting on the beach for hours, gazing at the horizon, she thought of a way out of the deadlock she was in, something that might make her regain control of her life, the feeling that she was co-determining what was happening to her.

But there was a void in her mind, and that scared her the most.

That there was no path in her life in which she could be truly happy.

That she was doomed to wither like a flower, to die while she was alive.

Part of her wanted to give up, to call Daemon and tell him to take her home: however, what kind of life would await her there?

Jace would never forgive her. They would all pretend that nothing had happened, but they would certainly be disgusted with her in reality. After all, she'd fucked her own uncle, run off with him even though he'd hurt her, fooled her, humiliated her.

It was hard for her to understand how one man could combine so many contradictions: her uncle. It seemed to her, although she recognised that this could only have been the result of her vanity, that in her presence he was revealing a part of himself from the past that he had locked away. He was rediscovering a gentle, tender touch, a soft tone of voice, a calm gaze, a lightness in breathing, as if to remind himself that what his men had seen was only a mask.

But was that really the case?

Or was she merely telling herself this to make herself feel better, to look at his stone-cold face when he spoke to them without feeling terror?

That he wasn't pretending at the time.

That he was the other part of himself then.

A monster from the wardrobe.

Could she love someone who soothed and terrified her at the same time?

Or did he need her to subdue that side of himself, to save himself from falling?

In the end, she knew that he himself was afraid of the dark.

She thought sadly, looking at her hands, that they were both just as hopelessly lost, standing on the margins, unable to find a place or purpose for themselves, feeling an eternal, never-ending shame since they were little children.

That night a storm broke loose: lightning struck close to home, thunder shook the ground, loud and dangerous, making her curl up in bed in fear.

And then she heard it: the creaking of the floor.

She clamped her hands on the sheets, swallowing hard and listened with her heart beating in panic, recognising that the sound was coming from the floor below the room.

She drew in the air loudly when she heard it again, this time more clearly, as if someone was coming up the stairs: she picked up her backpack, slid to the floor and hid under the bed, exactly as she had done when she was a small child.

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears of terror one by one run down her face, clenching her lips to make sure no sound came out, thinking it was just a bad dream, nothing more.

And then someone opened the door.

She stared ahead with big eyes, feeling her heart in her throat, begging in her mind that she could just melt into the floor, disappear, dissolve into the air, the footsteps beside her getting louder and clearer, making her realise it wasn't a nightmare.

And then a silhouette knelt beside the bed and she recognised his face.

He was looking at her exactly as he had when he first found her: his gaze expressed shock and compassion, his brow arched in pain, as if he himself wanted to cry.

"– Rhaenys – oh, baby –" He mumbled with a breaking voice, reaching out to her, and she crawled to him quickly, bursting out crying as soon as he enclosed her in the embrace of his familiar, safe arms.

"– I'm sorry –" She cried out, whooping with tears, feeling that her whole body was trembling from fear, sadness, disappointment, the suffering caused by their separation. "– I'm sorry – I didn't know what to do –"

He hushed her, kissing the top of her head again and again, his hands stroking tenderly through her hair and down her back, cuddling her into him, his wonderful scent filling her nostrils giving her relief.

"– no – it's okay – I found you, little one – you're safe now –" He whispered, and she nodded quickly, tightening her hands on his leather jacket.

She felt him take her in his arms and lift himself up, exactly as he had done then, laying down on the bed with her. He pulled off his shoes and jacket before his shaking hand touched her cheek again, as gently and slowly as if she were made of glass.

He gave her one tender, warm look full of relief before his warm, full lips pressed against hers in the sweetest, gentlest kiss she had ever experienced in her life.

He gasped when her fingers ran over his neck, when her body pressed against his, when her lips parted in front of his, trailing over their fleshy structure, just teasing them. She heard his shuddering sigh, felt his hand sink into her hair, combing through it with tentative, affectionate strokes full of hope, the tips of their tongues touched and licked, making her shudder.

There was something perverted and obscene in those kisses alone, in the way their lips, swollen with desire, melted together again and again with the quiet clicks of their saliva as all she could hear around them was the tapping of raindrops against the window.

She thought that only in his arms she was not afraid.

Only in his arms did it all make sense.

The affection, the suffering, the sacrifice, the pain, the joy, the sadness.

It all came down to his person.

"– I love you –" She whispered into his mouth and heard him sigh, his hands clenched tightly on her body, craving those words like nothing else. "– that's all I know –"

His tongue slid deep between her teeth, coming out to meet hers, as if he couldn't take any more of the feeling that was tearing their hearts apart, his hands pulled her closer, allowing her to feel the hard, throbbing bulge in his trousers on her stomach.

She moaned involuntarily into his throat, feeling her nipples harden with sweet desire, the space between her thighs all swollen, producing moisture in response to his treatments.

They said nothing more to each other – his hands slid under the fabric of her hoodie, roaming lazily over the bare, smooth skin of her back, her waist, her thighs. He wasn't in a hurry; she felt that after this sudden, terrifying, shocking separation he wanted to enjoy this moment, the feel of her body under his fingers, everything she was and had become to him.

He pulled away from her to look at her, his free hand stroking her jaw – his thumb ran over the line of her cheekbone as his gaze traveled all over her face, a hot, tender feeling in his healthy eye from which her heart fluttered in her chest. She clenched her thighs together, feeling the tension, just looking at his parted lips, hearing his broken, accelerated breathing, feeling his manhood pushing again and again against her lower abdomen.

When his fingers rubbed against the material of her panties she merely nodded, and he took a breath, pressing his thirsty, moist lips against hers again, pulling them off her thighs with a few sure tugs. He didn't unzip his trousers, however – instead, his fingers sunk tentatively between her thighs into her warm folds, drawing a surprised, girlish moan from her throat.

"– shhh – shhh, baby, it's okay –" He murmured into her mouth, sighing with delight as her cunt leaked under his hand, hot and eager, the tips of his fingers wandering lazily around her swollen, sensitive clit made her roll her hips, needing more, harder.

"– please –" She mumbled, throwing her arms around his neck, allowing herself to drift off completely into the pleasure his painfully slow, sure touch was giving her, his movements deliberately gentle, not giving her what she needed.

The corner of his mouth twitched in satisfaction when he noticed something in the expression on her face that told him she would give herself to him completely, his free hand tightening on her hair.

"– I'd rather use my mouth down there – but I want to look into your eyes when you come –" He whispered in a way from which she felt a drop of cold sweat run down along her spine, her lips parted involuntarily in a pathetic moan as the tips of his fingers dug firmly into her silky folds at last.

There was something unsettling and frightening about his dark, defiant gaze, the way it was fixed confidently in her eyes, not allowing her to turn or move away, just to simply take what he was giving her. Her fingers tightened on his black T-shirt as he finally sped up, with each circle around her clit rubbing her throbbing opening, weeping in desire, begging for his attention.

She closed her eyes and gasped as she felt the tips of his two fingers push against her slit, stretching her swollen pussy on their thickness, receiving her quiet cries of desire in return. His hand tilted her head back, his breath heavy and hot on the skin of her face.

"– no – look at me –" He breathed out, his gaze dark and hot with desire, his fingers hitting her sweet spot again and again making her walls begin to clench around their length in convulsions.

"– Aemond –" She cried out and his mouth was immediately on hers, devouring her with greedy, loud, sticky kisses full of his tongue and panting, his fingers pounding into her in a relentless, fierce rhythm making her feel a wonderful tingling in her lower abdomen, in her lips, in her nipples, her pussy beginning to clamp down on them, close to fulfilment.

She squealed and mewled, feeling the tears of relief one by one run down her cheeks as she suddenly reached her peak, her hazy gaze barely able to see his face, his black eye staring at her as if he was seeing a woman orgasm for the first time, wide open in delight and satisfaction.

She felt him slide his fingers gently out of her hot, throbbing insides, hearing the sound of his belt and zipper being undone a moment later, letting the fingers of his hand stretch her slit to the sides, allowing his full, fat cock to slide easily into her without any resistance.

He groaned in relief when he was finally inside her, positioning himself so that the movements of his hips were enough to sink him again and again between her hot walls, leaking from her fulfilment, letting his hands embrace her and cuddle her into him.

He panted into her ear, focused only on himself and his sensations, with lazy, slow thrusts opening her again and again on his swollen length, teasing again her spongy spot inside her, now oversensitive and delicate.

His touch was surprisingly tender, light, devoid of aggression; it made her feel relaxed, herself taking pleasure in feeling him deep inside her, in the way his face sank into the hollow of her neck, his lips brushing her skin encouragingly.

"– oh baby – mmm – my little girl – ah, God, yes –" He gasped, speeding up, chasing his fulfilment without thinking about how long he should last to feel masculine enough, experienced enough, confident enough.

Something about knowing that with her he wasn't worrying about such things, that he was just being, reaching for what he really wanted with a few sloppy, messy thrusts reaching his peak with a sigh of delight, made her simply close her eyes, focusing on how hard he was pulsing inside her, filling her with his release.

They lay snuggled into each other, panting quietly, not saying anything or moving, just lingering in that most natural state for them, where their bodies were entwined together to form one person.

"I know how to fix this, baby. Do you trust me?" He asked in a whisper, and she opened her eyes and blinked, surprised to feel her heart hit harder in her chest.

"What do you mean?" She asked just as quietly, trailing her fingers down his back, pressing her face into his neck, smelling of his aftershave and cigarettes. He swallowed hard, as if gathering his courage, and kissed her forehead.

"I will give you back the premises that belonged to your father."

She froze, not understanding for a moment what he meant, and looked at him, trying to make out anything on his face.

"What?"

"Before Larys took over their entire family business, your father had three establishments: Harrenhal Club, Twins Club and Eagle's Nest Hotel. He got to the point, wanting to get as far away from drug smuggling as possible, that the people working there were reluctant to go back to their old ways. Larys forced them to do so, but most of the best workers fled to my grandfather or Daemon. I didn't know for a long time what to do with these places, but now I think I should just pass them on to you. That will make you able to take part in some of our conversations as an associate, like Baratheon does, for example. I will assign you some of my men to protect you. Some of them are tired and want peace and quiet for themselves and their families. Your presence, the fact that you are with me and at the same time you are Daemon's daughter gives us the assurance that you will not be attacked from any side."

She listened to him in disbelief, thinking, touched, that he was serious.

He wanted to give her some of his power, some of what her father had worked for, so that she would feel that she was not completely dependent on him.

She would be part of his world, not delving into the darkest side of it.

"What about Jace? Luke? He was their father too." She mumbled, thinking that would surely make them hate her even more.

She heard her uncle grin.

"I don't give a shit about them."

She swallowed hard, looking him straight in the eye, seeing the certainty in his gaze that made her feel hot.

"I won't have to store your drugs or sell them?" She muttered, and he shook his head.

"No. You'll just be giving us cover for our meetings from time to time. Nothing illegal that would burden you." He whispered in a trembling voice, looking at her expectantly like a child waiting for praise.

"You'll really do it?" She asked, and he nodded, licking his lower lip.

"Yes. Yes, if you come home with me. We'll go to the notary tomorrow, make it official." He said, excited that she hadn't rejected his idea.

What he was saying simultaneously pleased and horrified her.

"After all, none of them will want to listen to me. They won't respect me. I'm just a little girl, what do I know about their tough world?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders, realising that it all only sounded simple.

"I'll help you. Just like you helped me with my studies. I will teach you everything. They'll respect you, first for the sake of me and your two fathers, and then for the sake of you when they realise you'll protect them and not drag them into this shit." He said looking her straight in the eyes, something in his certainty, the warmth that emanated from his voice made her eyes glaze over with tears.

"Shall we try?" He mumbled, his haze full of hope.

She nodded her head and hugged him, his arms closing her instantly in a tight embrace.

"I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I promise." He whispered.

And she believed him.

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tonyspank · 1 year

Text

STARGAZING

Warnings: fluff, a bit of smut, reader has leg & back tattoos, and reader calls donuts overrated LOL

Reader also has a pp 😱

Summary: You finally hang out with Jenna off duty.

Every weekday morning was the same. You'd wake up, go to the station, talk to some of your fellow officers, maybe even your captain, then stop at the same café. You'd order the same coffee and pastry, and sit down at the same table, with the same company.

Jenna was wonderful company too. Her eyes would light up whenever you walked through the door, uniform on and everything. It was your own little ritual, one that you looked forward to every day. You'd talk about your days, your hopes, and your ambitions.

It was a sense of comfort, one that you could always count on. You could tell that Jenna was always genuinely happy to see you. That smile that you grew to love over the past year would never leave her face when you were near.

You shared a special bond with Jenna that was unlike any other, regardless if you only hung out at the café. It was like home. You'd come in the morning, or afternoon for lunch, maybe even stop by before clocking out.

"Here's your breakfast bagel and coffee, just how you like it." You look away from the window, Jenna grins, placing down your food. "Thank you." You both exchange a look, and you can't help but smile at the girl in front of you.

Jenna sits down across from you, resting her hand on her hands as you take a bite of the bagel, savoring the taste and everything that it represents. "Aren't cops supposed to eat donuts? Not bagels?" You smirk and take a sip of coffee. "Donuts are overrated," you reply, then take another bite of the bagel.

Jenna laughs. "I guess you have a point," she says. "So, how's Chris?" You snort at the question. You had told Jenna about how another officer had to go on a two-week break due to the fact that Chris had broken his butt bone. Jenna laughs at you, her smile widening even more.

"He was in a lot of pain but he's doing better now." Jenna shakes her head, still laughing. "Have you ever seen anyone break their butt bone before?" You ask, still chuckling. Jenna shakes her head. "Nope, can't say I have."

You both laugh, still, in disbelief at the situation Chris had gotten himself into.

Chris had a good sense of humor about it, though, and it was relieving to have a good laugh about it. You both shared a moment of understanding, knowing that accidents happen and it could have been any of you.

You take a sip of your coffee, nearly moaning at the taste. "Your coffee completely beats the Starbucks I had yesterday." Jenna smiles but lets out a dramatic gasp, "You went to Starbucks and not here? I'm honestly hurt!" You laugh and take another sip, "Your coffee's better, I promise. I'll never make that mistake again."

"Good, you know I take good care of you." You smile, feeling the warmth of the coffee and the warmth of her words. "I know you do," you reply. She smiles back and the two of you sit in comfortable silence. After a few minutes, you finish up your bagel, crumbling the trash up.

"What do you do when you're not saving the city?" Jenna asks randomly. You pause for a moment, taken aback by her question. You take a sip of your coffee before responding, "I uh, just walk around...maybe hang out at home, why?"

Jenna shrugs. "Just curious. It seems like you're always in your uniform. It's nice to hear you take some time to relax." You smile, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah...I guess I just like the feeling of doing something meaningful."

You then pause, thinking about how to word your next sentence. "It makes me feel like I'm doing something with my life."

Jenna nods in understanding. "I get it. Everyone needs a purpose to feel fulfilled." You take a deep breath. "I don't feel like I'm drifting anymore." Jenna smiles. "That's great. You've found something that makes you feel alive, and that's all that matters." You smile, subconsciously grabbing Jenna's hand that rests on the table.

"Maybe tomorrow we could hang out and relax together." Jenna nods, squeezing your hand. "I'd like that. Now I can finally see you outside of your uniform." You nod in agreement, the two of you still smiling.

You both laugh, and you feel your heart swell. Your shared laughter is infectious, and you can't help but feel a sense of joy and warmth spread through your chest.

You look into each other's eyes, your smiles still lingering on your faces. You feel an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a connection that you can't explain.

You clear your throat, letting go of the girl's hand and start gathering your stuff. "Well, I gotta go save the city now. I'll um...I'll pick you up tomorrow from work. What time do you get off?"

She smiles and says, "I get off at three. I'll be waiting for you." You nod at her words, sending a small smile. With one last glance, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there, still smiling.

You were right on time, three o'clock on the dot, waiting for Jenna outside of the café. Jenna emerged from the café, a smile still lighting up her face. You got off your motorcycle, taking off your helmet. You waved to Jenna, who waved back. "No! I wanted to ride in the police cruiser!" Jenna teased you as she brought you into a hug.

You laughed and hugged her back. "Maybe next time," you said as you mounted your motorcycle. You pulled Jenna onto the back of your bike and handed her your helmet. She gave you a tight squeeze, then put the helmet on.

You felt her arms wrap around your waist as you started the engine and drove off the wind buffeted you as you travelled, and you felt Jenna's embrace tighten with each passing mile.

You pulled up to your destination, and Jenna hopped off the back of the bike. "Where are we?" She questioned, looking around at the greeny area.

You smiled at her and said, "This is my secret spot. I wanted to share it with you." Jenna's face lit up with joy as she looked around, taking in the beauty of the place. You held out your hand, and she took it before looking up at you with a smile. "C'mon, I set up a picnic."

You led Jenna down the path, and soon you arrived at the clearing with the picnic set up. Jenna was amazed, and you smiled as you watched her in admiration. "This is insane." Jenna turned to you with a look of awe. "How did you do this?" she asked.

You simply smiled and replied, "It's my pleasure. A return for your wonderful company and coffee this past year."

Jenna smiled and hugged you tightly. You enjoyed the moment, feeling content and grateful for the friendship you had built. When she pulled away you gestured her to sit, joining her shortly after and reaching inside the basket.

You pulled out a container of fruit, sandwiches, and a bottle of sparkling cider. She laughed, delighted by the surprise. "I am... astonished... honestly."

You laugh before raising your glass. "To Jenna's amazing coffee and bagels!" She smiled and raised her glass to yours, clinking them together. "To my coffee and bagels," she said, and you both took a sip.

You both shared a laugh and put your glasses down. Jenna looked at you and said, "I didn't know you had tattoos." You chuckled glancing at your legs, "Yeah, I usually have to cover them for work. I also have one on my back."

Jenna smiled and said, "Really? Can I see?" You nod in response. Jenna quickly gets up, kneeling behind you. She gently moved your shirt and her eyes widened. "That's a really awesome design."

You smile and reply, "Thanks." Her hands begin tracing the tattoo and you can't help but shiver from her touch. You turn your head slightly, meeting Jenna's face as she places her hands on your shoulder, her face only inches away from yours.

"It looks so good on you." You blush and thank her again. She gets up, moving back to her original spot. She smiles. "I'm really glad you decided to get it. It suits you."

You nod in agreement, feeling a warmth inside that you hadn't felt in a long time. "Could you pass me a grape?" Jenna reaches into the fruit container, a grab in her hand. "Catch it."

You open your mouth, trying to fight back a smile. "You think I won't catch it? I was pro at this in high school."

The grape flew in the air, and you caught it, your reflexes still sharp. You grinned in satisfaction, and Jenna clapped her hands in surprise. "That was impressive!" she exclaimed.

"Here you try." Jenna hands you the container before preparing herself to catch the grape. You took a grape from the container and threw it up in the air. Jenna's reflexes were still a bit rusty, but she managed to catch it with her hands.

"Cheater! You gotta catch it with your mouth." You quickly grabbed another grape, throwing it at Jenna, unfortunately, it fell short. Jenna tried her best to catch it, but it was too late. "Damnit!" She laughs, her hands resting on your thighs.

She pouted playfully. "I feel like a loser." You shake your head, keeping your eyes on her as you reach into the container for a strawberry.

"Here's a reward for trying." You hold out the strawberry to hand it to her, but instead, she bites it from your hand, her eyes on you the entire time.

She lets out a small moan at the sweet taste of the berry, dramatically rolling her eyes. "So good." Her own hands reach into the container, picking out a strawberry. "Try one."

You couldn't even protest before she holds the strawberry to your lips, her left hand still resting on your thigh. You take a bite, the juice of the strawberry running down the corner of your mouth.

She gently wipes it away with her thumb, her eyes never leaving yours. You can't help but blush at her closeness. "Mmm..." You hum, nodding your head, approving of the taste. She smiles at your reaction, her hand still lingering on your thigh.

Her eyes leave yours, moving to your thigh. "Did this one hurt?" She asks, her finger tracing over the tattoo on your upper thigh. You take a deep breath, feeling her gentle touch. "A bit," you reply, your voice barely audible. She nods, giving you a reassuring smile.

She pauses for a moment, her eyes locked on yours. "Jenna..." you whisper out, swallowing the lump in your throat. She nods, telling you to go on. "Can I kiss you?" Again, she nods, causing you to smile. You lift your hand to caress her cheek before closing the distance and pressing your lips to hers.

You feel her arms wrap around your neck, her breathing becoming more shallow. She parted her lips slightly, deepening the kiss. You felt like you could stay there forever, lost in the moment. You eventually pull away, both of you breathless. You smile at her, and she smiles back, her cheeks blushing.

You both laugh nervously, and she leans her forehead against yours. You stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, feeling a connection that was unexpected yet undeniable. You stay like that for a while, just enjoying the moment and savoring the feeling.

"Fuck the police?" She mumbles, biting down on her lip. You can't help but chuckle. "Fuck the police."

And fuck the police was she doing. "Shit, Jenna..." You whine out, grabbing her hips. She grins, pushing you back onto the bed. "You know you love it," She says, her lips curving into a smirk.

She moves her hips, and you gasp, lost in the moment. You grip her hips and pull her closer, letting out a moan as she continues her movements. "Fuck me."

"I am, baby." She laughs before letting out a loud moan. "You're so big, fuck." Her hand moves from your core to your thigh, and her movements become faster and more intense, pushing you closer to the edge.

She's clearly enjoying the experience, her movements are becoming more passionate as your pleasure intensifies. You can feel her desire to bring you to the peak of pleasure and you give in to it, letting her take you there.

"I'm cumming!" She yells out, her grip on your thigh tightening. Her back arches as she rides you, her muscles tense as her orgasm takes over her body. You can feel her body shudder against yours as she comes down from her high and collapses against your chest. You wrap your arms around her, before flipping her over on her back.

You start to move inside of her again, your movements slow and gentle. She moans softly, her eyes half open, her breathing heavy. You kiss her gently, your lips lingering at the moment as you both enjoy the sensations of being together. She wraps her arms around you and pulls you closer, her fingers tracing circles on your back, over your tattoo.

She looks up at you, her eyes full of love and desire, and you know she'll remember this moment forever. You kiss her again, this time more passionately and with more urgency. You both know there's no need to rush; the night is still young and you both have all the time in the world.

You begin trailing kissing down her neck as your hips move slowly against hers, her breathing becoming heavier as her hands grip your shoulders. You whisper in her ear softly, "You feel so good, Jen."

She moans in response, her fingers running through your hair as you press your lips against her collarbone. You feel her body quiver beneath you as your hands travel down her curves. Finally, you meet her gaze, and she smiles.

"Faster, Y/N..." she whines, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. You comply, increasing your movements, and soon she's clinging onto you, her breath coming out in short gasps. "Yes, fuck." You can feel her body quivering beneath you, her grip on your shoulders tightening with each thrust. She screams out your name, her head thrown back in pleasure as you hit the right spot.

"Right there, shit. I'm about to cum again." You continue to move inside her, your body responding to her every whim. You lean down, your lips seeking hers as you both reach the peak of pleasure together.

She cries out your name, her voice low and husky as she comes down again, her eyes closed and a satisfied smile playing on her lips. You collapse onto her, both of you panting and sweaty as you bask in the afterglow.

You stay like that for a few moments before you reluctantly pull away, looking into her eyes with love and admiration. You give her a gentle kiss on the forehead, a silent promise of more to come before you both drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was now morning time and you leaned against Jenna's kitchen counter, sipping on a mug of coffee she made for you as she took in your features.

She smiled lovingly at you before speaking up. "I could get used to this. You just walk around my place in your underwear, showing off your body and tattoos."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth inside your chest that made you feel like you were home. You grabbed her hand and pulled her close, pressing your lips against hers. "Me too." You placed another kiss on her lips before pulling away.

"Hungry?" She smiled and nodded. You stood up and began walking to the fridge, but Jenna stopped you. "No, baby. I'm hungry for you." Your eyebrows raise in surprise, "Oh."

#wattpad #tonyspank #reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna x y/n #jenna x g!p reader #gp #g!p reader

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drluvsick · 2 months

Text

𝐎𝐈𝐙𝐘𝐒 — 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

you get injured and giyu blames himself, although, it’s not really his fault, is it? 📝 gn! reader. for @meowzfordayz 4.1k event! might redo this only because i don’t like how i finished it off… we’ll see! hope you guys enjoy regardless! <3

word count : 600+

𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 . . . 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 (𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘋 𝘜𝘗) — 𝘔𝘈𝘊 𝘋𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘖

“i’m sorry, this is all my fault— ” giyu’s voice shook as his hands trembled. with the snow piling down as the moments passed, you could easily mistake his tremors for being cold. but you knew better from his worried look and somewhat glassy eyes.

“giyu, love, it’s not. stop blaming everything on yourself.” you said back, your voice straining against the pain in your side from which the demon slashed at— blood oozing out as giyu continued to panic.

“if only i’d arrived sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“it’s not deep enough to kill me, i’ll be fine.” you tried to reassure him.

it was all too much, the flashbacks of death, his recent dreams of you in their situations. but he wouldn’t dare break down yet, not while you still needed to be taken somewhere to heal.

he ran as fast as his legs could take him while carrying you bridal style and slow enough so that you wouldn’t feel extra pain from his rushing. he hoped that you were right, that the cut wasn’t too deep, even if it was close to a vital point.

he could see the building of a wisteria house a few minutes later (he’s never been so relieved to see one of these), quickly handing you off and waiting impatiently to see you again after your treatment.

giyu felt terrible. he felt like the worst boyfriend ever as he paced outside the door like a dog waiting for its owner to come home.

could he have prevented this? this wouldn’t have happened had you been paired with another hashira. he’s just that bad. he wishes that you could be with anyone but him, someone that’ll actually protect you and make you happy— not… someone who can’t get over his past traumas and can’t even prevent a demon from attacking you.

he cursed the demon for being stronger than any lower class one. it wasn’t an uppermoon, but a demon with a powerful blood art can be threatening even without some of muzan’s blood.

the sliding door opens, making giyu perk his head up from staring down at the floor.

the elderly lady there smiles, beckoning him to come inside to see how you’re doing, on the way as he’s walking in talking about how lucky you are that the demon didn’t get any permanent damage done. she leaves with a, “i’ll have dinner ready for the both of you soon.”

you smile at him when he’s in view, holding out a hand as he carefully takes it. he kneels down to your level as you sit up the best you can, ignoring his protests for you to lie back down. you give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“it’s not your fault. it would’ve gotten me had you been there or not.” you start off.

“how are you so sure about that?” he tucks some hair behind your ear, interlacing his hands with yours.

“that demon was bad at concentrated shots at one target. it’s better if there’re multiple people, hence why most of its victims were in pairs,” you shrug, “it’s my fault for getting careless, you had nothing to do with it hitting me. i got the job done in the end anyways, and i’m at least alive, aren’t i?”

he nods, kissing your lips. “my heart still hasn’t recovered. it’s like i’m still afraid you’re going to leave any second.”

you smile at him. “i’m not going anywhere.” you pull him closer, his figure hovering over your body as you kiss him again, a little more intimate this time than his fleeting one.

“you’d better not.” he says as you pull away, your head finally resting against the pillow again. you giggle lightly as his own small laughter follows, the only thing on the both of your minds at that moment being so far away from the pain and misery from the world outside, focused solely on each other.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

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postazkabansiriussupremacy · 3 months

Text

Surprise. Pt. 2 Post Azkaban!Sirius x Mom!Reader

Estelle meets Snuffles, and Sirius finally gets to meet with you.

Link to Part One Link to Part Three

Tags: @box-of-kinderjoy

After watching his daughter go back inside and you disapperate away, Sirius has a hard time deciding how to feel or what to do next.

He feels selfishly relieved you’re not married to another man, and yet he feels strangely guilty that you never moved on. Were you too busy being a single mother to date anyone? Or did Sirius hurt you so badly that you couldn’t trust anyone else ever again?

He feels excited to have a daughter, but anxious because he isn’t sure what to do with the information now that he has it. He feels guilty that she’s been raised without a father. He feels guilty that her father is widely known as a ‘notorious mass murderer on the run’.

And given Sirius’s reputation, he can’t exactly stroll up to your front door and introduce himself can he?

Sirius wonders if you’d believe him if he explained the situation to you. It seems unlikely as he’s got no proof to verify his innocence, but he has to try doesn’t he?

There’s no telling when (or if) Sirius will ever be a free man, and he’s already missed out on so much valuable time. What’s the worst that could happen if he tries to talk to you?

Well… you could refuse to hear Sirius out, curse him, tell him off for being a shit person, boyfriend, and father, then call on the ministry to come take him away—effectively breaking his heart and damning him to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.

Sirius sighs. He can’t risk speaking to you with no proof. He’s anxious to see you and to meet his daughter, but he’ll be no good to either of you by acting recklessly and getting himself locked up again.

He’ll just have to be patient. As long as he’s alive and out of Azkaban, there will be more opportunities to prove himself and to make up for lost time.

Sirius’s ears perk up as he watches the front door of your home swing open. Estelle skips outside—a book in her hands and a little black cat at her feet—and goes to sit underneath a tree. The cat pounces around the yard chasing birds as Estelle reads.

Sirius wishes he could see the title of the book; he'd love to have even a small glimpse into her personality or interests. He wonders if she's reading for school or fun.

It suddenly occurs to Sirius that Remus must've had Estelle as a student last year. Sirius will have to write Remus to ask if he remembers anything about her.

Sirius briefly considers introducing himself as Snuffles, but he can't see much of an upside to doing that. For one thing, he might scare the living daylights out of Estelle the same way he did to Harry. And he imagines once you get home Estelle will tell you all about the ‘giant, scary, black dog’ she saw today. You’d most certainly recognize the description.

Just as Sirius starts to think it’s time to leave, the little black cat takes notice of him. With wide, unblinking eyes the cat slowly stalks toward his hiding place.

Sirius relaxes himself on the ground, trying to look as friendly and unthreatening as possible. The cat stops a few yards away, staring curiously.

Estelle is quick to notice her cat’s odd behavior, making Sirius’s heart beat a little faster. Maybe he will be meeting his daughter today.

“What’re you looking at, Toasty?” Estelle asks from her spot underneath the tree. The cat—Toasty, Sirius thinks with a smile and small eye roll—meows loudly and walks a little closer to Sirius.

Not wanting to seem too anxious and scare them away, Sirius lays his head down on his paws and waits for the cat to come to him. As Toasty doesn’t give up on his interest in the large black dog, Estelle gets curious as well and starts making her way over.

“What do you see—oh!” She exclaims as she finally spots Sirius. Estelle quickly scoops Toasty up in her arms and eyes Sirius cautiously.

Sirius, trying to show that he’s friendly, lifts his head and starts wagging his tail. Estelle still doesn’t seem convinced, but is forced to drop the cat as he scratches and bites her arms. “Ow! Toast, no!”

As soon as Toast is free, he comes closer to Sirius and starts sniffing his fur. Sirius wonders if Toast—like Crookshanks—can sense that Sirius isn't really just a dog.

Seeing that Sirius probably isn’t going to hurt her cat, Estelle slowly reaches out toward him. Sirius makes a small show of sniffing her hand, and Estelle crouches down to sit in front of him. Gently petting the top of Sirius’s Snuffles’s head, Estelle speaks quietly as if she’s trying not to spook him, “You are absolutely massive! Where’d you come from, hmm?”

Finally getting a closer look at her, Sirius’s heart swells. It may just be his pride talking, but Sirius starts to think Estelle looks more like himself than you.

He wishes he could speak to her, but he honestly isn’t sure what he’d say.

Sirius actually feels a little thankful he doesn’t have to show himself to her yet. He hates that Harry’s first impression of Sirius was to see him disgusting, still in his prisoner robes, and blatantly out of his mind with rage and grief. Sure, the interaction with Harry went as well as it possibly could’ve given the circumstances, but he’d rather his first face-to-face meeting with Estelle go a bit better than that.

“You’re so skinny…” She comments with a pitying tone, eyeing his dirty, matted fur and bones visible through his skin. “Mum should be back from the store anytime now; maybe she'll have something you can eat.”

Sirius sighs as that's his cue to leave. If you come home right now, you’ll without a doubt recognize him, and he doesn’t want to cause any trouble for either of you.

“I don’t know though; could be hours til she’s home.” Estelle shrugs, scratching the side of Sirius’s neck. “She said she was having lunch with Professor Lupin—wouldn’t tell me why though.”

Sirius’s eyes widen and his heart bursts. You’re having lunch with Remus?! He’ll surely tell you everything that’s happened! If Remus corroborates Sirius’s innocence, then you may believe him!

“Woah! What’s got you so excited?” Estelle laughs as Sirius jumps up, barks, and wags his tail. Happy to make her laugh, Sirius also puts on a little show of chasing his tail.

Sirius follows Estelle back to your yard to sit underneath the tree. Estelle gets Sirius a bowl of ice water and some deli meat that may or may not be going bad soon, but Sirius is grateful nonetheless.

Estelle doesn’t talk much afterward; she reads her book (a book on potions, Sirius notes with mild surprise) and occasionally looks up to make sure Toast is still within her sight. Sirius feels an odd sense of pride towards her. He doesn’t know much about her yet, but she seems like a sweet girl.

After an hour or so, Estelle goes back inside (“I’ll be right back, puppy, need the loo!”), and Sirius reluctantly takes his leave while she’s gone. He’s been here much longer than originally intended, and it’s time to go.

Sirius hides himself in a different spot than before and feels guilty when Estelle comes back outside to find him gone. She looks around for fifteen minutes before giving up and going back inside. Her slumped shoulders make Sirius’s heart feel heavy.

He wonders if Estelle’s ever asked about him, and what you’ve told her about him. Does Estelle think her father’s dead, or does she think he doesn’t care about her enough to be in her life?

Sirius sighs. He wants needs Estelle to know that he cares about her. He’s only known of her existence for a mere few hours and he’s already dying to learn everything he can about her.

Who are her friends? What are her hobbies? Interests? Favorite school subject? Favorite foods? What makes her happy? Or angry? Or sad? Does she like sports? Hate them?

He sighs again. The thought of Estelle thinking Sirius doesn’t care about her is heartbreaking.

A quiet crack lets Sirius know you’re home. He makes himself comfortable, deciding to keep an eye on your home until the lights go off and you fall asleep. He isn’t sure why, but it feels right.

He wonders if you believe Remus.

If you believe Sirius is innocent.

Sirius sits and watches the house for several hours. Through the window, he watches the two of you make dinner and sit at the table. After that, he doesn’t see much of anything. Soon enough all the lights are off and Sirius assumes the both of you are safe in bed.

He wonders if Estelle told you about the dog she met today.

Sirius turns back into himself again and stretches his muscles, readying himself to disapparate. He takes one last look at your house and is surprised when he sees the front door open. He stares as you step outside onto your front porch.

You seat yourself on the steps and stare silently at the ground. After a few minutes, you look up and glance around your house and at the dark woods in front of you.

“Sirius?” You ask loudly. “You still there?”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #post azkaban sirius #post azkaban sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black one shot

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coupleoffanfics · 8 months

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teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that I was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis reader #yandere batfam #God damn you anon #you beautiful bastard #I'll clean this up later when I sleep #x reader #x batsis reader

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justwinginglife · 1 month

Text

Because I Love You (Part 1 of a Series)

Fic request from @adaizel based off of a prompt from @hoshinaideas4all.

Soshiro missed you immensely.

He missed you immensely and he never got to tell you.

He was too busy fighting back relentless waves of Kaiju, too swamped with stacks of paperwork, too concerned for the lives of his coworkers. There were too many things to attend to and not enough time to attend to them, you included.

When he first started dating you, he had been proud of his position as Vice Captain. He had been eager to show off his importance. He had been eager to be of importance to you. But the longer he worked in the Defense Force, the wider the chasm stretched between his work life and his home life. At first, he was just working late nights, but he’d still come home, press a gentle kiss to your forehead and let you doze off in his arms. Now he didn’t come home at all, now it seemed he lived on base, sleeping at his desk whenever he could find the time. And when he’d wake up, realizing his only companion was a hunk of wood chock full of unfinished reports that he’d crammed into its drawers, he’d miss you again. He’d wonder if his job was worth it.

He always found purpose in working here, he felt like he was making a difference, like he was saving people. But what good was saving people if he couldn’t save the one person who mattered the most to him?

It’d been so long since he’d had a proper date with you, since he’d had a proper dinner with you, since he’d had anything with you. He even started hallucinating you on the job. He imagined you were in the building the Kaiju had just destroyed and when he rushed to pull you from the rubble and saw someone else’s face instead, he shrank away, both relieved you weren’t the one who was buried, and disappointed he hadn’t been allowed to see your face one more time.

And when he drifted off, in the transport back to base, he heard your voice in his mind, saw your smile in his dreams. You were alive, you were somewhere, waiting for him, but he was haunted by the thought of you as though you were long gone, as though you were some forgotten memory, some fragment from his past, some figment of his imagination. But he knew you were alive because his heart would break every time he’d see a message from you, begging him to come home, begging him to let you know he was okay, but he never had the time to respond. He would be mid-response, his fingers hovering over the keys, and then he would be dragged to the command center, dragged to the training grounds, dragged anywhere and everywhere but near you.

And then finally, the war with the kaiju let up, he was allowed respite, allowed a visit home. He didn’t bother cleaning himself up, he knew you didn’t care what he looked like as long as he was in your arms, as long as he was beside you. He didn’t bother telling anyone where he’d gone, he was sure they could all guess what was on his mind; it was the only thing that was ever on his mind these days- you. He even broke a couple traffic laws rushing home to you; Soshiro, the man that was so law-abiding that you teased him relentlessly for it, the man who refused to jaywalk, who’d call the police when he saw someone litter. That man was the same man that almost ran a pedestrian over with his car, trying to get to you, trying to be there for you.

But he was too late. When he got home, he eagerly burst through the doors only to find the house was emptied of all your things. He’d been gone so long, the house didn’t even smell like you anymore. He’d always teased you about the millions of candles you had all over the place, telling you the many conflicting scents were overwhelming, telling you they’d never get visitors at this rate; now he was dismayed to find that not a single room in the house had a single candle. Your clothes were gone, your decorations were gone, your piano was gone (he was devastated because that piano was huge and he wondered who was strong enough to help you move it, who was there for you when he couldn’t be, and was the guy handsome and did he love you?), every trace of you was gone. His house was empty and his heart was starting to feel the same.

He knew it was his fault. He knew he abandoned you, left you to feel the crushing weight of his absence each and every day, left you to fend for yourself, left you to feel unloved and undesired, when all he wanted to do was love and desire you. He knew that you probably wouldn’t come back. That you might not ever come back. He didn’t even know how long it'd been since you left. He waited for you, on the couch, all the same.

He waited for you, just like he used to, when you worked later nights than him. When he would stay up for you with your favorite movie set up on the TV, with your favorite robe laid out on the couch, with dinner all cooked, your lunch for tomorrow all packed, ready to love you, ready to pamper you. He waited and he waited on the couch. He waited so long he thought he might just become one with the couch, sink into it, let it devour him.

He wanted to call you, to call your mom, to call your dad, to find you, to search every square inch of this town for you. But he knew he had no right. He had no right to love you, to want you, to hope for you, to think about you. But he did all of those things anyway.

He wondered if you were crying right now. If you were alone, you hated crying alone, he hated the thought of you being alone. Or maybe you were with someone. Maybe you were with whoever moved your piano for you. And he hated that thought even more. And then he hated himself for hating it. If someone made you happy, if someone could support you more than he did, if someone could love you more than he did, then he should let you be happy, because he loved you. Because he loved you, he should leave you alone. Because he loved you, he should let you find peace. Because he loved you, he would withdraw himself, withdraw the right to have you, the right to hold you.

So he took the next train back to base, wanting to drown himself in busy work, but not trusting himself enough to drive without steering his car off a bridge.

All that time pacing through the house, all that time aching for you, and he never once thought to check in the bathroom garbage. He never once thought that maybe you might’ve left because you loved him not because you stopped loving him. If he had taken the time to check before he threw himself back into work, he would’ve seen the positive pregnancy test sitting alone in the trash bin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you first saw the line on the test, declaring you pregnant, you were overjoyed. You were about to be gifted with a permanent reminder of Soshiro’s love, nothing could’ve made you happier. And he was going to be the best father.

You knew he was busy now, but wars didn’t last forever, you could wait for him to come home. You could wait to be a family again. All that mattered was that he loved you and you loved him. Because you loved him, you’d do anything for him.

One day, the bright idea to visit him at work struck you. You cheerfully hummed to yourself his favorite song as you packed him a nice, homemade lunch, you settled a little love note alongside it in the bag, and drove out to surprise him. You thought that with all the bloodshed and fighting lately, he could use a little pick-me-up and nothing lifted your spirits more than the thought of having a baby with him, so you planned to tell him the news that day.

When you arrived, some random footsoldier directed you towards his office and you thanked them, making your giddy little way to him. You were going to see your love, at last. And with the best news possible, too. You were so happy.

When you rounded the corner, you caught a glimpse of him at his desk but he wasn’t alone. He was discussing battle strategies with a high ranking officer, and you knew better than to interrupt. You waited in a nearby chair for him to finish.

As you fiddled with your thumbs, you overheard part of his conversation.

“These damned beasts, they never let up.” Soshiro cursed.

“Well, it looks like we’ve got the upper hand so far.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” Soshiro’s voice sounded strained, tired.

The soldier shifted his weight. “I’m hoping we finish this war soon, sir, my wife wants to have a baby.”

Soshiro clapped him on the back. “I hope we do too, soldier, I hope we do too. Let’s bring this to an end and you can go home and pamper that wife of yours silly, okay?”

“How about you, sir? Any plans for you? I know you got a girl back home.”

Soshiro laughed bitterly. “I’d never bring a child into this fucked up world. What a shitshow. This is no place to be having a kid, you should retire when you finally have one. Me? I’ll probably die in the Defense Force, my girl could do better than to stay with me, god bless her.”

When you heard his words, you wanted to run to him, to tell him you’d never leave his side. To tell him everything would be okay. But he was right. This was not the place to raise a kid. You knew if you asked, Soshiro would retire from the Defense Force in a heartbeat, but you also knew he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it. You didn’t want to make him choose between your baby and his job. So you made the choice for him. You went home that night and packed up all your things, all the evidence that you ever existed, all the evidence that you were ever his.

Because you loved him, you’d do anything for him. Even leave.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #anime #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #angst

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