#he still makes my heart feel safe . even now i still wanna just hug him and bury my face in his chest and forget abt the world

[chrisbangs]

[singmyaubade]

No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

A/N: First, I wanna say thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean for letting me be inspired by her story even though I am stupid, lol, but seriously (not kissing ass), check her series out; it is fantastic. Thank you to everyone for the kind comments, reblogs, and likes. I'm overwhelmed with love, and I'm so thankful that people actually want to read more of what I write but anyways, enjoy!

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you all the way?" Your mother asked, squeezing your hand.

"I'll be fine," You caressed her hand, "I'm still your baby, though."

She laughed lightly, "Make sure to write always," She held your face with her hands, "Have fun; it's your last year."

You touched her hand on your cheek, "I will."

You hugged her one last time, taking in her scent. Every time you said bye to her, it was as sad as the first, without you crying and begging to stay.

"Okay," She smiled, taking her hands off your face, "Are you still sure you don't wanna wait for James here? I mean, you've done it all these years."

Little did she know, you had been ignoring James's letters, all 128 of them. He had been persistent, asking you what was wrong and begging for a reply to know you were safe.

You even received a letter from his mother, Euphemia Potter, asking how you were and everything was in Paris. You would never have it in your heart to ignore Ms. Potter, so you replied dutifully and happily.

And then you got a letter from him saying,

Dear Y/n,

Are you really going to reply to my mother and not me?

Sincerely,

Your BEST FRIEND, James Potter.

You didn't reply, scoffing at the bolded best friend. The last letter you received was last week, him telling you he couldn't wait to see you and wanted to talk as soon as he got to you.

Bullshit.

"Yeah," You gulped, "I'm just gonna meet him inside."

"Well, I'm sure he misses you," She started fixing your coat, "I mean, you have been in Paris all of this time, and I just think it would be good for you to-"

You cut her off, pecking her cheek, "Love you!" You yelled, going towards the train.

She shook her head, "Be safe!"

You smiled at her, going through the wall to the train. The feeling still felt the same, nostalgic. This was the last time boarding the train, and it felt sad.

You remembered the first time you ever boarded it. James was practically high on excitement on his first day at Hogwarts. You were scared out of your bloody mind, not wanting to leave your mum and dad.

When you had finally stopped crying and holding onto your mother's leg, James was the one to hold your hand and tell you that he would take care of you.

Maybe that was the first time you had realized James was more than a friend to you, or perhaps you were a naive child.

But either way, he was the one that you needed protecting from. You realized he hadn't been your friend since the fourth year.

But this year wasn't about James; it was about you having the best last year of Hogwarts that you could have ever had.

You boarded the train, moving through the compartments to where Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, and Lily usually were.

Compartment 222.

It was pretty lucky; it is where you guys first met.

You opened the compartment, "Did you guys miss me?"

They excitedly cheered, "Now tell me, Y/n, how many French boys did you end up shagging in France?" Marlene asked.

"I would say about thirty, oui oui." You joked in a French accent as they all started laughing.

You sat down next to Dorcas, giving her a side hug. You saw Lily and Mary whisper something to each other, to which Mary said, "Just say it!"

You could see Dorcas in the corner of your eye, shaking her head no aggressively. Apparently, Marlene was the only one not in the plan, continuing to look at her newsletter.

Your eyebrow raised, "Am I missing something?"

"It's really nothing," Lily nervously said.

"Okay, so what is it?" You laughed.

"Well," Lily fiddled with her fingers, "You know how you specifically requested that none of us tell James that you were replying to our letters and not purposely ignoring him."

You said, "Uhuh." Already knowing where this going.

"Well, I accidentally let it slip out over the letter you had spoken to Marlene and me." She admitted.

Your mouth agape, "Lily."

"I know, I know," She groaned, "It was a total accident."

"How do you accidentally slip something out over letter?" Marlene snorted, earning a glare from Lily, but she still looked at her newsletter.

"What did he say after?" You asked, kneading your forehead.

"Why is she ignoring me?" Lily answered, "I just said it was none of my business, nor was I involved."

The group stayed in silence, waiting for you to reply.

You sighed, thinking about how much James would bother you more now that he knew you ignored him.

"Are you mad at me?" Lily asked quietly.

"No, of course not," You smiled, looking at her, "I just don't want to talk to him and explain everything,"

"Who says you have to?" Mary asked.

You looked at her confused, "I just can't ignore him." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why not?" Marlene asked, now looking at you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. You thought about it harder, and why wouldn't you be able to ignore James? Maybe it was hard because you have never done it before.

"So I just don't reply when he tries to talk to me?" You asked.

"Well, I don't support this, but," Lily started, "You could always just walk away when he says something to you."

"Wouldn't that be mean?" You asked.

"What did I tell you in person and in the letter?" Dorcas asked as you looked at her.

"Give him hell."

"So do it." She said.

They were right; you couldn't keep explaining to James what he did wrong; you just had to be done with him. You missed your friendship, but it took a turn years ago; you never said anything.

And you had to start not caring about him.

"So, how was your guy's summer?" You changed the subject, grinning as Marlene went on about how she perfected her Quidditch skills and would finally be the best chaser at Hogwarts.

Then Lily talked about her poetry that she started over the summer and how her sister had ripped a few of them, but she fixed them with a single swish of her wand and appreciated magic more.

Mary talked about how many soap operas she had seen and how she might even go into it after she graduates from Hogwarts.

Lastly, Dorcas talked about how this year was her year to be a seeker and how she got a whole book collection from her sister in New Zealand.

You began talking about how you tasted so many new foods and learned a bit of French, showing off your knowledge of the profound language.

You were interrupted by someone opening the compartment doors, "Hello," Remus greeted as you stood up to hug him immediately.

He caught you as you almost made him fall over by the movement, "Remmy, how much I have missed you," You said, kissing him on the cheek.

"And Y/n, how was France?" He asked, smiling.

"Quite a bore; every man was all over me; I was getting exhausted," You exhaled, sitting back in your seat.

"Well, if you ever want to get with a real man, I'm here, Y/n," Sirius said, nudging next to you as you looked disgusted.

"Did you have to bring him?" Dorcas asked Remus, rolling her eyes.

"He insisted," Remus shrugged.

"There needs to be some form of restraining order against him by all of us," Mary sighed.

"I thought his STDs were enough of a restraining order for us to keep away from him," Marlene teased.

Sirius interrupted before another insult could be made, "Ladies, this Sirius Black hate train is honestly starting to hurt," He pretended to be hurt.

"Aww, poor baby," You said in a baby voice, pinching his cheek as he swooshed your hand away.

"Now, Y/n, why are you ignoring poor Prongs?" Sirius asked as you wanted to throw him out of the train through the window.

"I thought he told you to dance around the question," Remus snorted.

Sirius disregarded, "What did my poor, stupid boy do this time?"

"I'm afraid it's none of your business, Black." You simply said.

"It is my business when my friend is sulking and bringing down my mood," He explained, "So why are you upset with him?" He asked.

Marlene abruptly laughed, "I'm sorry, but he really thought you would be the one Y/n would say something to,"

Sirius fake-laughed, "Oh McKinnon, I'll be laughing like that when you fall off of your arse on the field,"

Marlene mocked his facial expression as he did the same thing to her.

"May I please just arrive in peace without one word of James Potter? I'm begging." You reasoned.

"Well, at least I can tell him I tried and that Moony was no help." He glared at Remus.

"I told you I wasn't going to talk to her for him; it was all up to you," Remus said as Sirius went outside, and Remus waved everyone goodbye before closing the doors.

You could already tell it was going to be a long year.

After finally sorting the first year, everyone was allowed to dine. One thing you always missed about Hogwarts was the fantastic food; it was always incredible.

You were sitting in between Remus and Dorcas when Remus abruptly got up.

"Where are you going?" You asked, mid-laugh from a joke Marlene had made about Dumbledore and McGonagall in their secret chamber.

"Don't kill me," Remus stated before leaving. You looked confused, and James took the spot in front of you. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your meal.

"Please talk to me, Y/n," James pleaded.

You continued to stay silent, not even giving him a look as you looked at Marlene. She shook her head, and you continued to eat.

"I just wanna know what I did," James begged.

When you still didn't respond, he grabbed ahold of your wrist in an attempt for you to look at him.

"Don't fucking touch me." You spat before getting up and leaving the dining hall, telling your friends you were just gonna meet them in the dorm.

You tried rushing to the common room, but James was behind you.

"Y/n!" He yelled, speed-walking after you.

You continued to ignore him, going to the common room until you were stuck with the singing lady at the door who would not give it a rest.

"You have to talk to me," James demanded while the lady continued to screech.

"I don't have to do a thing you say," You scoffed, "In fact, I would prefer if you screwed off and stopped talking to me."

You went to one of the corridors, trying to escape him, but he followed you.

"Can't you just explain to me what I could've done for you to treat me like this?" He said roughly.

You turned to him, "There is not a single, simple explanation of what you could've done; there is a book of things," You snapped, "And treat you like this? Ever since I fucking stepped foot into your life, you have continued to treat me like shit." You stepped closer, "I stuck with you despite Lily, despite what other people said, and despite what you have shown me."

He continued to stay silent, "And now that I finally stick up for myself, I've done you horribly? Bullshit." You spat, "You have continued to show me exactly why I will never ever love you again, and yeah, for a matter of fact, I did love you, but you don't deserve me and never will."

Your words shocked him, not being able to mutter a word.

"Now you have nothing to say?" You manically laughed, "The smooth-talking and fantastic golden boy that shocked the century has nothing to say? What a pathetic-"

He kissed you suddenly precipitously, his tongue entering your mouth, entangling with yours.

For a second, you were drunk on his mouth, engaging with his kiss with as much passion as he gave you. His hand pulls on your hair lightly, making you moan.

His lips went from your mouth to your neck, sucking hard, red marks into your skin, knowing it would bruise.

Then you remembered everything. You remembered James's bitter words, his voice mocking you, and the boys laughing in the locker room.

You pushed his hard chest off you, breathing hard from the whole interaction. He looked at you, breathing as hard as you; realizing what he had done, he tried to touch your hand, but you pushed him again.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, "You're such an asshole," You cried, going to the Gryffindor common room.

You rushed up the stairs, immediately going into your bed. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

A part of you wanted to be grateful, grateful that you pushed him off, and realized that he only wanted to be with you when he felt convenient.

Another part of you wanted to continue kissing him, laughing with him, hugging him. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you had never figured it would be painful.

What if you had loved James for so long that you didn't know anything but to love him?

It was stupid and pathetic.

You were tired of being stupid and pathetic, you just wanted to move on from James Potter and get away from him, and if that wasn't possible, you had to make him regret being friends with you in the first place.

So you did.

You got up fresh and early in the morning when all of your roommates were sleeping, taking a shower immediately.

You looked in the mirror, your mascara smudged and dark red and purple hickies wearing your skin. You placed a shit-load of powder and concealer to cover up the parts you could.

You tried several spells to cover it up as best as possible, changing into your uniform.

You slipped into the most showing tights you could and wore your skirt from the fifth year that you so obviously outgrew, showing almost your ass cheeks.

You would be thankful not to get a write-up from McGonagall.

You unbuttoned two buttons off the top of your shirt, showing a tiny bit of your bra. It wasn't the most rebellious or seductive, but it could work.

The first challenge of that day was Potions; all of your friends were there, including all of the Marauders. But, thanks to Merlin was also Jacob Carrow's class, the Slytherin Captain that James hated with a burning passion.

They both could not be in the same room without spitting a hateful insult at the other. James once had a dream that you and Jacob had gone out, and he refused to talk to you for an entire day until you convinced him you would never do that.

You never considered yourself a liar.

The only problem was that Jacob was a dickhead, but so was James. You were surprised they didn't get along, maybe in another life.

You went inside Potions with your friend group, and you spotted Jacob Carrow in the back with an empty seat next to him as you told your friends you were gonna sit in the back.

You were thankful none of his friends were around him; it would be ten times more unbearable.

You sat next to him with a wide grin painted on your face, trying not to show your pain.

"Sitting next to me, Y/n?" He smirked, "I thought you were Potter's little puppy."

You tried to ignore your annoyance, "Pets tend to lean away from their owner at points; I guess that's my case." You shrugged.

"I am no Potter; I don't like having little girls follow me and do my shit for me." You could tell he was insulting you, but you stood tall.

"Good thing girls don't like to be in your presence." You snickered.

He smiled, "Love a kitty with claws," He leaned into his chair, "What do you want?"

"Do I have to want something?" You asked, popping your chest out to show your tits as he looked down at your face.

"You finally trying to make your boy toy jealous?" He asked.

You dropped the facade, "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Control the temper, baby; I just wanna know what's in it for me." His body faced you.

"Isn't James being angry enough?" You asked.

"Nah, I can piss off Potter by just existing." He replied.

"What do you want?" You asked, half-annoyed.

"Meadows on a date with me."

You laughed, "Dorcas would never go on a date with you."

"Then no deal." He said with a fake smile.

"Ugh, fine, I'll talk to her if you just make James's life hell for a few minutes." You said.

"Okay, deal." He smiled, "Do you want me to touch you or,"

"Sure, but don't overdo it." You warned.

"I love when you flatter yourself." He said as James walked in, laughing with the Marauders.

Jacob immediately placed a hand on your thigh, slightly higher than preferred, but you continued smiling.

You started fake-laughing at Jacob's joke, which immediately caught James's attention. You looked behind you, and James's head looked like it would explode.

You looked back at Carrow, touching his shoulder and admiring how much muscle he had.

"What else do you want me to do?" He said through his teeth.

"I'll scoot closer to you, and you can put your hand on my waist." You suggested as he nodded.

You faced the front as Jacob touched your waist, tickling you with his fingers as you laughed.

"Mind keeping it down?" James scowled, "Not everyone wants to fucking hear that shit."

"How about you piss off, Potter?" Jacob mocked as he gripped your waist tighter, which pissed off James even more.

Before James could say another word, Slughorn started the class.

Throughout the class, Jacob would squeeze your thigh or tickle you, almost rising to touch your tits. Whenever he did those actions, you would giggle, earning daggers from James.

Once Slughorn instructed everyone to look inside their microscopes at the different ingredients used in Veritaserum, you took the opportunity to sit on Jacob's lap, looking in the microscope as he bounced you with his knee, causing you to laugh.

This really pissed James off, him storming up to you both. He grabbed your arm, practically flying you off of Jacob.

"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn yelled as the class watched the entire thing.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her," James said brusquely.

Jacob scoffed, "What will you do about it, Potter?" He stood, going closer to James.

You rolled your eyes due to the amount of testosterone in this conversation.

James got closer as you grabbed his hand, pushing him back, "Stop it." You said to him as he looked at you.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the classroom to an abandoned bathroom.

"James, let go of me!" You yelled as he pushed you inside the bathroom.

He was fuming, and you could tell which scared you. You hadn't seen him this angry since he lost a Quidditch match against the very man's lap you were on.

"You dragged me in here, so is there something you have to say?" You looked at him angrily, hands on your hips.

"Us not being friends anymore doesn't allow you to be a slut," He ridiculed.

You slapped him, "Don't you fucking dare call me a slut; I can do whatever the fuck I want,"

He wiped his mouth with a smile, "You think he gives a shit about you? He would fuck you and then dump you." He said as he moved closer, and you backed up.

"You don't know a thing," You replied nervously.

"He wouldn't even clean you up after," He continued, "He would let you rot there like a slut," Another step closer, which you took backward. You didn't understand if he purposely tried to intimidate or lecture you.

He didn't stop.

"He would tell all of his friends after," Another step, "He wouldn't dare spare you a minute after," Another step, "You would mean nothing," You were backed into the wall now, "But it's okay because you can do whatever the fuck you want."

"James." You kept eye contact with him, his eyes beaming into yours.

His mouth lowered to your ear, "But I think you want me to give a shit; you wanna see me mad." His hand snaked to your waist, "I guess you win." His body left yours, storming out of the bathroom.

Did you really win?

A/N: Y/n: 2, James 0??? There is also an alternate chapter to this because I couldn't stop writing two plots LOL.

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[hwaitham]

𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

boothill x f!reader . nsfw — mdni . comfort ?? fluff ?? angst ?? i dunnoooo ! ! ! a bit of everything . established relationship ﾉ implicit mentions of oral sex ﾉ i am running with the idea that boothill doesn't have a human heart + cannot feel touch on any metal part of his body . . if this is not what is canon i am ! Sorry ! ! ﾉ things get rather prosy n perhaps pretentiously poetic near the end so i am sorry x 2 ꒱ྀི 855 wc

“so, you can’t feel anything when i touch you here?” 

your cheek is nestled comfortably atop of boothill’s shoulder as you sit straddling him, slip your fingers beneath the rolled sleeve of his vest and feel up the smooth contours and edges of his bicep.

it’s rather bittersweet how you ask, when you ask— seemingly every week now, as soon as the two of you can steal for yourselves a moment of reprieve. embracing him by the fire under the quiet of the dark night, holding your entire universe in your arms.

‘i don’t ask because it turns me off, or anything— nothing like that at all, really!’ you’d explained, when first you asked him some new moons ago. ‘i’m just curious, is all… you don’t need to prove your humanity to me.’

“nope, still can’t feel nothin’ below my neck.” he pops the ‘p’, then pops open an eye to gaze down at your frame settled on his lap. “don’t think i’ll ever be able to, for that matter.”

you look soft. sweet. supple. so warm. limbs flushed with blood, heart beating with love, life. and he remembers well how you feel of it, too. the custardy creaminess of your skin from all those times he’s kissed you to sleep— your cheek and neck and the hot swell of your breast— from all those times he’s devoured you out of your dreams with his tongue, your toes curling over his shoulders.

“not even here?” spreading your thighs further atop his hips, you lower your hand to the strong dip of his side, trace your touch along the various ports lining it, down, down, down, until you’re able to curl your fingertips past the waistband of his slacks, palms pressing into his groin.

“wow… first time you’ve been brave enough to touch me there, doll. what’re you playin’ at?” 

boothill’s eyes turn feverish and he smirks, sun-blood handsome and toothy and ineffably human. 

his hands leave their place behind his head to gently hold your waist, pull you closer into him. “you tryna bewitch me into bed?”

giggling softly, you shake your head, happy to see him smile. happy to see the face you trust, the face you love. “no… just, i was thinking…” you remove his hat, tame the wild tendrils of sleet and onyx hair with a tuck of them behind his ear.

then, you cradle his head within your palms, thumbs smoothing comforting lines over the lift of his cheeks, before you lean in to lay a tender, wet kiss there. 

“… thinking that i should probably give you lots of special attention here,” you kiss his cheek again, and again, and again. “also here,” you lay another to his forehead, upon pushing back his bangs, “can’t forget about here, too…” a third and final to the soft curve of his lips.

you melt into his broad frame when he kisses back, obedient as you open your mouth for him, let him lick over your teeth and gums and tongue and stake his claim, greedily take the burgeoning morsels of your heart that you so blithely offer him.

“mm, this special attention— ‘s real nice… do it more often, yeah?” he whispers between kisses, his hands wrapping further around your waist to effectively hug you against him.

when you’re left bereft of oxygen after a mere few moments of intimacy, nodding eagerly is the only thing you can bring yourself to do— because you just want to be good. 

wanna be so good, wanna be everything to you, wanna keep you safe, wanna make you happy, wanna be a home for you, wanna make you feel.

“when i kiss you, do you feel it here?” you’re breathless as you break free from boothill’s lips, unzipping his vest with haste and tugging it past his shoulders to expose his torso to you. your palm finds the metal plate of his chest and you press down gently over the spot where his heart is… or rather, where it should be.

your lover’s body is always cool, icy to the touch— an alloy of antimony and silicon and whatever other heavy metals his creators have deemed suitable enough to aid in the formation of an unbreakable shield, indomitable weapon. 

and truth be told, boothill does not feel it there— where you hope for a heart to be. 

but he does feel something, a jolt of electricity through the wires that take place of sinew, bolts that take place of joints. it may very well be the effect of a placebo on his mind, a wish for wanting to feel in his mechanical heart when you slather your love over him, though it’s all the same, really: the syntax of his binary language.

you don’t need to prove your humanity to me.

perhaps he is made of elemental scraps, but he is still organic, plum-hearted, throat lined with the warmth of the sun. because where do antimony and silicon come from…?

a planet’s crust that its ocean so tenderly covets and little homes in the sand for little sea creatures from millennia past that she keeps close, safe, happy; that she kisses with, well… warm lips.

“i feel it everywhere.”

[doki-doki-imagines]

tw: smut and fluff, use of safe word, breakdown (Michael), afab!reader.

author note: inspired by his current situation in the manga. And the fact that I miss him. "I miss my wife, Tails. I miss her a lot."

This wasn’t the first time Michael acted like this. Mouth biting into your neck, and hands furiously groping into your fat. Not even a hello before barging into your house, not a single care about what you were doing a second prior; he wants and takes.

You don’t mind that much, a rough fuck is a nice change and it’s not like he ever wants to hurt you, he just needs to release healthily some pent-up anger, and helping him out brings a lot of pleasure to you too. You don’t lose any time in the living room, your legs steady around his hips while he brings you to the bedroom, while his teeth mark the soft flesh of your neck.

The bed creaks under Michael’s thrusts, his strong fingers leaving indents on your skin, moans reverberating in the room. The blonde blue eyes never search for yours, his red eyeliner smudged in the corners. Michael bites his lips until he draws blood to not let any sound escape, something unusual since you tease him for how loud he usually is.

“Michael, red.” But more than that particular is different this time, something hurts and you need to take a break.

But he doesn’t stop, mind lost somewhere else, not with you. Thankfully you are in a position where you can easily move. You sit up, hand gripping his chin to finally be able to see him straight into his eyes. Michael doesn’t stop, if anything his trust only gets deeper, making you wince in pain.

“Stop Michael, you are hurting me.” There is no real anxiety in your voice, you trust him, but there is a hint of anger mixed with pain for obvious reasons.

It’s not the first time you used the safe word, but this time Michael cracks, hips finally stopping. His mouth falls into a deep frown, irises twitching and you can see a sea of anxiety into them, so deep and hurtful that soon fat tears roll down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry-“ He gasps out, hand covering his face, head down in shame. “I can’t make anything-I’m a fucking mess.”  Shivers run down his spine, muscles all over his body twitching and not of pleasure.

“Michael-“ You sit up on your knees after pulling him out. “Look at me.” You softly ask.  Michael refuses, face covered by his hand and soft strands of blonde and blue hair.  “Michael, don’t worry.” You coo, kissing the top of his head while hugging him, drawing small circles on his naked back. He keeps gasping in your arms, face still hidden, but this time in the nook of your neck.

“C’mon look at me, baby” Your voice is saccharine, trying to make him feel as at ease as possible. He doesn’t listen to you, blabbering excuses on your skin, tears now rolling down your back for how copious they are. “Shhh Michael.” You lift his face, your hands cupping his cheek to make sure he has to look at you. His eyes are red, and the pout hits you harder than a stab at your heart.

“It’s not about the safe word, right?” Michael shakes his head in your hand, eyes squeezed close, long blonde lashes sticking together due to the tears. You kiss his eyelid, as fast and as delicate as a butterfly, before asking your boyfriend to open his eyes.

“I think I may know a way to make you feel better? Wanna try?” Michael nods, one hand intertwining with yours before kissing between your palm and wrist.

You take it slow, your lips drifting from his cheek to his jaw, following an invisible path that will lead to his tranquility. Your hands push to his chest “Lay down baby, relax I’m here.” You whisper and it’s enough to convince him, relinquishing the control he so likes to have.

Your lips meet his, and you can taste the salt of his tears on them. It’s a slow dance, no hurry behind your movements, not in your kisses nor in the sweet caresses of your hands. You stroke his dick, grown soft due to the breakdown, making Michael mewl into your mouth, arching his back cutely under your movements.

You lower your core on his dick, making a soft whimper escapes both your throats. It feels so deep, filling you so perfectly you almost think you were crafted for each other. Your hips slowly grind into him, your hands finding purchase on his muscular thighs, immediately flexing under your soft fingers.

“Michael, you feel wonderful-“ You gasp, mouth shaped in a cute ‘o’. The blonde under you bites his lower lip, before looking away, not being able to hold your love-filled gaze.

“No, no baby.” Your hips stop moving while you crouch down a little, hands again on his face, turning it to you “Look at me, look at how happy you make me.”  Your lips are again on his, sucking on his tongue with no finesse, the calm of before brushed away from the passion blossoming into your heart. Your hands wander to his, still gripping into the white cotton covers, afraid to touch you.  

You pull his lower lips with your teeth before breaking the kiss “I wanna feel your hands on me.” It’s an order and Michael doesn’t have the strength to refuse, your softer hands on his rough ones, guiding them towards your waist.

“Only you-“ A gasp breaks your voice “Can make me feel like this” You start to raise your hips up and down his length, thighs already burning, not used to doing the hard work, your partner too used to be in control in any position.

Michael looks like a work of art under you, blue eyes a shade deeper thanks to bliss and lips a delicious shade of red. His abs twitch at your every moan and you can’t resist the temptation to caress them, feeling them under your hands before going to his chest and squeezing his pecs, and playing with his erect nipples that were just screaming for your attention.

You can’t go on for much more, your thighs burn and your apex is approaching, and not just yours.

“Michael, I-I love you.” It’s nothing earth-shattering, words that you both told to each other on various occasions, but a gear clicks in the blonde mind, his fingers gripping tightly onto your skin, for sure leaving signs that will be evident the next day.

He sits up, manhandling your legs around his hips, his forehead knocking against yours.

“Say it again.” He orders, voice hoarse. His hands gripping your middle again, his words sending a shiver down your back.

“I love you, Michael.” You whine, but the sound is broken by his lips on yours. His hands now forcefully pushing you up and down his length, giving you the possibility to fully enjoy him, for your mind to just be filled in pleasure. 

“You are so good-“ Your foreheads brushing against each other, sweat mixing and eyes tearing in pleasure, making it hard to open them up. He pushes you even more towards his body, making you feel every curve and twitch of his body against your softer one.

“I-I’m near-“ You blabber out, but you don’t need to add anything, his tattoed hand moving towards your clit, massaging it with a calm that doesn’t suit the actual situation.

“I love you too.” Michael mewls into your ear, licking the shell.

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back, you slump in his arms, the moans that leave your mouth a telltale sign that you reached your apex.

“Baby, hold on a little longer-“ Your boyfriend gasps, finally looking at you, with no trace of the previous shame.

You feel him twitch inside you, but you don’t feel as overstimulated as you should, your walls still gripping his thick length. Your eyes roll at each of his thrusts, now arhythmic and harsh, desperate for pleasure.

“Look at me.” You have no strength left in you, so Michael takes the matter into his own hands, holding your cheek, almost squeezing your face, not being able to perfectly control his strength.

“You are beautiful-“ He is able to whine one last time, before cumming, tension leaving his body, head turned back showing you his Adam’s apple bobbing.

He lays on his back, eyes closed, pushing you on top of him. His breath is frantic, still recovering from the orgasm.

“Wait-How are you?” His eyes snap open, looking at you remembering how he overstimulated you.

“No, Micha, don’t worry.” You caress his face, brushing away some blonde hair glued on his face due to the sweat. You pull yourself off from him, making you both groan a bit.

“I’m taking a bath, you wanna come?” You ask, smooching Michael on the cheek, your hand caressing his biceps, a gesture he seems to enjoy since he relaxes under your touch.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Michael brushes his eyes, red from the tears and the eyeliner being irremediably smudged.

“You want to talk about what happened before?”

“I don’t want to bother you with my shit.” Michael snaps back.

“It’s not shit, and I want to help you. When you are sad it’s like I get stabbed in the chest, you know?”  You reply your chin on his chest, pulling the best puppy eyes you can muster.

He looks down on you, thinking for a minute about it while brushing your hair, making you purr under his touch.

“Okay then, let’s talk about it while we bathe.” Michael accepts, kissing the top of your head.

You kiss him, a big smooch full of cheer. It’s always so hard to make him open up, but you hope the soft atmosphere will make him melt and finally open up to you.

[avtrbee]

safe

✢ summary: just like everyone else, sometimes megumi just wants his mom.

✢ tags: mentions of the death of a pet, implied satoru x reader

✢ a/n: my friend has psychoanalyzed me with a diagnosis of mommy issues and i have always denied them. then i caught myself reflecting on what type of fanfics i write. especially this one.

Ever since Megumi had started school in Tokyo, he was barely home. Of course, he comes home every now and then, and living within the school's dormitories is part of the high school experience- hell, even you stayed in the school when you were a student- but the house is quiet without him, too quiet, which is probably why he does not go home as often as you'd like- that, among other things.

Everyone in your household knew that Tsumiki was what made your house into a home. Your girl always greeted you with a smile and volunteered to make hot meals for the family when you and Satoru didn't feel like cooking. She was warmth, she was energy, she was life. Until she wasn't.

The house became cold without its fire. You couldn't blame Megumi for wanting an escape from the halls that still echo her memory. Which was why you were surprised to see him sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his thighs, hands buried in his face.

"Megumi?" You call. "I didn't hear you come in."

His head lifts up and looks at you. "Liar," he accuses. "You can sense my cursed energy miles away. You knew I was coming home as soon as you felt it ."

His words were harsh but his tone was not off of his usual deadpan manner of speaking. You can't help but smile. He is still the same child who refused to sleep unless he clung to his divine dogs, Tsumiki, you, or Satoru (reluctantly, of course) in some way. He claimed it was for "warmth."

But he knows you as much as you know him. As he made his way to the house, you noticed something- his cursed energy was off. It was more powerful than usual. Of course, it could be a good thing- perhaps he was doing really well in school, but his downcast eyes and even broodier vibe are telling you otherwise. "What's wrong?"

Megumi leans back on the couch, sighs, and contemplates. He stares at your wall that is decorated with framed pictures and pictures you memories from his childhood. You've even framed pictures of his drawings- usually doodles of his shikigami.

He stands abruptly. "Never mind," he dismisses. "I don't wanna- I don't want to talk about it. It's childish and stupid-"

"Stupid enough to make you retreat back home?" You ask. You watch as your question sinks in through Megumi. Slowly, he sits back down. You sit on the other end of the couch.

"What's wrong, 'Gumi?" You ask again. "Tell me." I can fix it. Whatever it is, if I can fix it, I will shouts your inner thoughts.

"I lost one of them," Megumi whispers.

“Oh, Megumi, I-” you say, racking your brain for something to say. Deaths in the jujutsu world is so common that when you’re within the industry for too long you get used to it. “Losing a colleague- this won’t be the first time, baby. Nor will it be the last.”

“No,” Megumi groans out frustrated. There are tears streaming down his cheeks that he angrily wipes away. “My dogs. I lost one. I- Yuki died.”

Your heart breaks at Megumi’s childhood name for his white demon dog. “‘Gumi, I’m so sorry-”

You move to his side of the couch, wide arms open. Megumi falls in, just like he did when he was small. Megumi feels himself melt in your hold, his walls and defenses crumbling away like ash.

Megumi refuses to cry at all times but when you have his arms wrapped around him he finds himself not caring at all. It was like his heart recognized you too.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you pretend not to feel his tears.

You hold him until he lets you. Megumi is the one to pull away, and you never do. This boy js fickle with touch, and you always leave the duration of your hugs to his discretion.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping away the tear tracks. You’ve never seen Megumi this heartbroken before.

“I told him to scout the area and I just left him for a second- and he-” Megumi hiccups. “His head was on the wall. The curse threw his head so hard it made the pavement crack.”

You do not pretend to know his pain for you will never feel it. Megumi’s divine dogs were his first achievement. He smiled the first time he summoned them, even as Satoru threw him in the air in joy. Those dogs would trail after him in the house, obeying his command. You would turn a blind eye to the spare pieces of meat Megumi throws under the table just so they could taste cooked beef.

Megumi would refuse to let them go even when he slept, and was upset that they would disappear when he rested or lowered his guard. As a present, Satoru gifted him customized stuffed animals of the dogs that he never slept without. You were sure he packed those toys with him in the dorm.

When Tsumiki volunteers to run errands, Megumi would summon a dog and follow her. Just in case. They both always came back safe.

“He just did what I commanded, he was good, he was a good boy.” Megumi said, in a quieter voice.

“The best,” you agreed. “But didn’t Yuki merge with the other one? Isn’t that how your technique works when one of them dies?”

“It’s stupid-” A glare from you was all it took. “It’s not the same,” he admits. “I just want my dogs back.”

You give him a sad smile. You pull him close for another hug, and he melts in your arms once again but this time, he does not pull away. You hold him until his tears have dried, until his breaths slowed down, and until his eyes closed for a well deserved rest.

extra note: yuki apparently means snow in japanese. get it? snow=white demon dog (im not creative at all yall)

[ovaryacted]

I know you have a lot of asks so you don’t need to write anything for this but I wanna give Leon some good aftercare.

Like?? Imagine giving this man the best orgasm he’s ever had. He’s overstimulated, cum too many times and his brain is just not working afterward. He’s fizzled out and so vulnerable

Imagine taking him to a nice warm bath where you wash his skin and hair. He’s out of it, still feeling the aftershocks of ecstasy. Maybe he looks at you with half open eyes feeling nothing but goodness and love for once in his life.

You make him feel so wanted when you give him aftercare. Like? Touch his face, kiss his skin and tell him you love him.

He practically MELTS under your care.

I’m willing to bet he even gets somewhat emotional about it. After he’s bathed and dried off, if you let him lay his head on your chest, he might cry a little bit.

I mean, you are doing this because you love him. You’re not just taking something from him and leaving. You’re staying right there to make sure he’s ok. That he knows he’s loved.

It’s just a pretty picture, you know?

-angsty anon

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Ah yes, the classic Leon Kennedy x overstimulation combination, one of my favorites. I always love the aftercare aspect of things, just being able to take care of him and make him feel loved and safe. I love that shit because it is what he deserves. For the record, I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this, don't ask me why, but that boy deserves a nice hug okay.

-

Leon's body is limp on the bed, completely drained both literally and figuratively. His mind had turned to static, damn near wheezing against the mattress as his heart still felt like it was beating out of his chest. You gave him a run for his money, fucking him until he couldn't fuck back and his soft cock twitched against his pelvis.

You hovered over him and caressed his cheek gently, offering him a soft smile as he caught his breath.

"You okay?", you whispered to him, hearing him hum and making you chuckle. You tried your best to read him when he was like this, so deep in the haziness of his mind that he needed a little help coming back to reality.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?", you asked him, getting a shake of his head in response. "What about staying here for a while? Would that work?", and that got you a nod, so you gave him what he wanted.

You didn't hesitate when his tired arms wrapped around your waist, bringing his face to nuzzle into your chest. As he brought himself as close as he could to your body, you ran your fingers through his blonde hair, pushing it back and scratching his scalp. Sometimes he needs the extra time to cool down before anything else, and you'd happily grant it to him.

His breathing evened out after a couple of minutes, your nails gently scratching his neck and shoulders, running lines up his spine and making him hum in delight. He'll open his eyes after a while, placing a soft kiss on your neck and you took that as a signal that he was a bit more coherent.

"You doing alright baby?", your voice was just as soft as your touches, Leon sighing against you and slowly blinking like a cat.

"Mhm. Can we take that bath now?", he asked, so gently one would think he was a child, but the tone of his voice only made you smile.

"Yeah, come on", as carefully as you could, you'd bring him in towards the bathroom, filling up the tub as Leon stood closely nearby. He doesn't take his hands off you and doesn't venture off too far, affectionately grazing your hips and thighs like a needy puppy.

It's not long before you both sink into the bath together, calming lavender and chamomile filling his senses and wrapping him up in comforting warmth. You sat on top of his lap, rinsing his body off and running some water over his head, caressing his face as if he were a porcelain doll.

Leon's mind is empty, just your presence alone doing wonders to soothe his hyperactive nervous system. You leave soft kisses over his face, on his forehead and eyelids, followed by his cheeks before going to the tip of his nose and his lips. He lets you do it, his eyes closed as he enjoys the much needed attention.

You're so gentle with him, treating him with a certain kindness he hasn't experienced in a long time, probably ever until he met you. For some reason his breath hitches and gets caught in his throat, his chest starting to tighten and before he realizes it he's crying. One would think he was upset or hurt, but what he really feels is gratitude, thankful that another human being wasn't treating him like an object meant to be used and discarded.

You don't flinch away. You don't leave. You simply wipe away his tears and remind him of the truth.

You're safe now.

It's okay. I'm right here.

I love you. So much...

It's things like this that make Leon wonder how he managed to find someone willing to ease his burdens, to remind him of the humanity he thought he had lost years ago. He doesn't say anything until he's back in bed with you, his skin moisturized from when you rubbed your lotion and body oil all over him and dressed him in some baggy clothes.

You find yourselves back in your previous positions, legs entangled in the sheets and his head resting against your chest. He's already half asleep after everything, and as he answers the call to slumber, you catch the mumble that slips out between his lips as his eyes close.

"I love you too"

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Ch II

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

ch.I

Faceclaim: kiki hertz

Tom prided himself in never exposing his soulmark, he let a lot of things out that shouldn't be and his soulmark not being one of those is such an achievement. Mostly because from a very young age, when he started acting, his mother would make sure he covered it up with makeup so that no one, not even those behind the scenes would see it.

"So, you're invited to watch cars drive in circles?"

Meeting Zendaya had been a dream, they both felt the need to be closer to each other whenever possible even before they discovered their identical soulmarks. Both of them working and hanging around each other made it so much difficult to conceal their newfound relationship and eventually the whole world knew that both of them were soulmates, and not just that, everyone was now aware that Tom Holland and Zendaya Coleman were fated to have a third lover, a third soul with them to keep them sane from all the chaos their lives bring in the form of fans and crazy paparazzi.

"How can you say that?" Tom looked back at his girlfriend as he poured himself some tea "you literally met Lewis Hamilton not that long ago!"

Tom was painfully aware of the fact that Zendaya isn't that interested in either of the sports he enjoys: formula 1 and golf.

"Oh yeah, at a fashion show," Zendaya recalls as she moves over to hug tom from behind, resting her chin on his head. "He was nice."

"Do you think we'll meet our darling soon?" Zendaya asked, making Tom leave his drink to hold her hand in reassurance.

"I think so," turning around he let go of one of zendaya's hands to let his palm rest on her cheek "I know that I met you when I kept thinking about my soulmate, so I have a feeling that we'll meet darling soon."

The couple had taken to calling their third soulmate Darling, a nickname that they both agreed to reserve for their missing soul.

"Yeah, I feel so too."

Liked by maxverstappen1, F1wags&faves, verstappentruther and 683,519 others

Kellypiquet: a weekend with her was truly missed.

maxverstappen1: ♥️♥️

username: God, yn verstappen is so pretty

username: I wanna be her soulmate so bad

username: LOOK AT HER CHEEKS! I WANNA BITE THEM!

With his work schedule Tom wasn't able to attend much f1 races, but when he could he did, and most of them were the infamous English track, Silverstone.

But here in Monaco, the races were something else, Tom can feel how the people in this country were raised watching these cars from their homes, cheering for their favorite driver and the preparations for the race throughout the entire country are just mind blowing (he promised himself that he would bring Zendaya here for a vacation, this place is amazing).

"Is something wrong?" The voice of Christian Horner stopped Tom dead in his tracks, the team principle of the red bull formula 1 team making him feel like a little child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Oh, um, yeah, yes-" clearing his throat Tom couldn't help still looking around, wanting to see the reason of the all too familiar tugging his heart "just looking around, the race is very different from Silverstone, the atmosphere is just so..."

And there it was, the reason his heart is pulling, the person he hoped he would meet as soon as he felt their presence in this specific garage, his darling; their darling.

"Well, Monaco is the heart of motorsport, especially formula 1, you can't live here without being a fan really."

Christian wasn't an idiot, he had eyes and his observational skills were too good. It wouldn't be the first time he witnessed a celebrity looking at yn verstappen, the girl hooking everyone in with her innocent face and charming smile. It would, however, be the first time he saw someone loose their breath over her and he knew what that meant, he knew that expression; he had went through it when he met his wife, he saw it on Max when he met Kelly and now he is going to see it on yn.

He thought he met an angel when he saw Zendaya, he thought that the feeling he would get when meeting their darling wouldn't be as strong, as intense, but seeing her there, standing next to Adrian Newey with a notebook and a pen in her hands, discussing something that seemed so important, made him unaware of anything else. She was all he could see, hear and feel. She was who they had been missing, and god did she make him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

He felt his chest swell up with emotions as he quickly reached for his phone, calling the one person he knew would calm him down.

"Hey baby, how's the race going?"

"Z, she's here," Tom rushed out as he maneuvered between the never ending sea of people to a quite place- well as quite as it can get in Monaco during a formula 1 race.

"What? Who's here?"

"Darling! She's here!"

"Darling is a she?"

Gathering her thoughts Zendaya left the lounge area of her hotel suite, dismissing the makeup artists and stylists with a smile and wave of her hand before entering the bedroom within the suite.

"Okay, okay, calm down baby," Zendaya spoke as she ran her hand through her hair "how about you go talk to her, yeah?"

"I can't, oh my god, what if she doesn't even feel the same pull- it's a stupid way to describe it but you know that's how I felt when I met you and it's the same but so much worse cause you're not here with me and I can't do this-"

"Honey, calm down, it's okay, let's take it step by step, did you check her wrist?" Being met with silence worried the tall girl, she knew how it might come off to him when she was basically asking him to check actual evidence and not take his feelings too seriously "I know your feelings, I get that, I felt the same with you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," shuffling was heard before Tom apologies for, what zendaya assumed, pumping into someone "no, yeah, you're right, stay with me on the line, I'm going to try and see. She's wearing a sleeveless dress so that will make it easier."

Even though she didn't want to spoil it for herself, she wanted to get 100% of the awe and the fondness for herself, Zendaya couldn't help but ask "what does she look like?"

"So beautiful, Z" the way Tom spoke, the breathlessness and amazement in his voice made her want to cry, she wanted to be there, she wanted to be with him when they first saw her, that's how they always envisioned it.

"Okay, so I checked, and oh my god it's there, it's the same Z, what am I supposed to do, oh my god"

"Here's what you're going to do, you're going to tell her right now!"

"There are like 100 people around, how am I supposed to do that!"

"I don't know tom, tell her you wanna speak to her or something, make it up!"

"I can't do this, I can't, I am freaking out!"

"Oh my god, you're an actor, pretend it's a scene"

"Will you be able to pretend?"

"Well no, but I'm not the one that can see her, am I!"

"Okay, okay, deep breaths, I am going to tell her with you on the phone, alright?" Tom said as he started moving towards the blonde, his confidence building up with his taller soulmate cheering him on through the phone

"Holy shit" and there goes the little confidence he had

"What? Tom! Answer me! Is she dating someone, I swear to god if she is-"

"No, no, she's not," looking back at his soulmate "at least I don't think she is. God, there's no way I am telling her shit now."

"Why not?"

"Her brother can literally run me over with his small rocketship of a car! I am not doing anything when he is literally two centimetres away from her!"

What Tom failed to realise was how Christian Horner had joined the pair of siblings, telling Max and Yn of his earlier observations, which made all three of them look at the young brit in sync.

"Um, Z, I think we won't have to worry about me telling her."

{taglist: @celesteblack08 @minkyungseokie @woozarts @keii134 @celesteblack08 @sainzluvrr @fangirl125reader}

[agi-ppangx]

💭you’re safe now

bang chan x gn!reader

an: based on this request<3 not really proofread so i apologize in advance for any typos and mistakes !!

you heard chan enter your shared apartment around two in the morning. you were sitting in front of your computer, random show playing in the background, but you didn’t really pay attention. your whole day felt like a blur - you woke up in the middle of the night from a particularly bad nightmare. you had them almost every day - they caused you to be constantly tired due to waking up with a pounding heart long before your alarm. you were anxious all the time and you couldn’t concentrate. today was no different, except the nightmare that woke you up was different, scarier, and it caused your day to be an absolute disaster. you couldn’t concentrate on your way to work, almost bumping your car into another in front of you. when you arrived and your boss saw you he immediately ordered you to go home, because oh, my god yn, you look like a zombie! you came back to your apartment and just sat down, crying your eyes out, feeling completely helpless and defenceless. then you played something on your computer and here you were, your eyelids so, so heavy, but you were too scared to give in and fall asleep, knowing all too well that it only meant another nightmare.

“yn?” you jumped when chan’s hand caressed your shoulder. “hey, it’s just me,” he continued, his voice quiet and soothing. you relaxed once you fully comprehended the situation and sighed loudly. “what are you still doing up, hm?” he hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “i don’t want to go to sleep,” you whispered, your eyes welling with tears already. chan noticed your state and immediately paused the show which was still playing quietly in the background. he picked you up from the chair and you didn’t even protest, seeking comfort in your boyfriend’s arms. he sat on the edge of bed, situating you on his lap and you instantly nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, the scent of his cologne reaching your nose. “i’m so scared,” you sobbed into his hoodie, wetting the material. he squeezed your waist, encouraging you to tell him more so he could understand you better. “i don’t want to experience this again. it was so terrifying and when i close my eyes i can still see it and-” you were starting to hyperventilate and chan had to stop you and instruct you to take a few deep breaths. you hugged him again, your cheek placed on his chest. chan started to rock you gently in his arms. “you’re safe now, baby. i promise everything is okay and you’re not in danger,” he whispered into your ear, placing a kiss on your temple. you just nodded, knowing he’s telling the truth. “maybe… maybe you could make an appointment with your therapist? you haven’t seen her for a while, so perhaps the pills aren’t working anymore. how about that, love?” he asked you gently, carefully picking the words. he knew it was a sensitive topic to you. “i should probably do that, shouldn’t i?” you answered, yawning and he quietly chuckled at your response. “i just think it would be the best idea.” you hummed at that and before you could say anything more, tiredness overpowered you and you fell asleep in chan’s embrace, feeling safe enough to let your guard down and rest.

taglist: @lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n

let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist🤎

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

[fourmoony]

omg haii, i read ur mini seiries called hope, and i absolutely ADORE it!!! you're probably already writing a part 4, but i wanna request an idea - her first b-day and she meets regulus and lily for the first time where regulus is kinda quiet, not involving himself that much and hope penguin-walks over to him and hugs his leg and regulus goes full-on sweet mode omgg and he baby-talks her like "heyy hope" and "i'm your favourite uncle, right?" and hope babbles back <333

i would be in total awe if i saw this in at least one of your parts, it's also my birthday in 10 days so perfect fit in with hope's birthday!!

tysm for reading <333

hi! I love this idea... sorry it took so long, I've been swamped with college work. this one only features Regulus because the story got away from me, but I could do a separate one for Lily if you like. happy belated birthday, I hope you had an amazing day :) hope you like it

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟒) - james potter x f!reader - this part doesn't have much james content, sorry!

summary: Hope and Uncle Reggie fluff. 1.9k

masterlist - part 1 - part 2 - part 3

--

There’s balloons and banners on every wall, presents on every surface, toys strewn all over the floor, and paper plates dotted in various areas.

Hope stands in the middle of it all, in the eye of the storm, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on her chubby little face. It’s strange, when you really think about it, that she smiles just like James. Considering she’s not biologically yours, nor his. But she smiles like him. Unabashedly, bright, all of her tiny little teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners from the sheer force of her happiness. You’ve wrangled her hair into pigtails and she’s wearing the pink corduroy pinafore Sirius bought her with matching pink socks. She’s the epitome of cuteness and your heart can’t take it.

It’s surprising – and yet not at all – that she hasn’t napped all day. It’s not long gone four pm, the party winding down, and there’s been not a single tantrum, nor a moment of calm from your daughter. James, on the other hand, has had several tantrums. He’s adamant Hope has defied all biological laws and is growing too fast. He says it so often you think he might have wished it true, because today, for the first time, you see it.

She’s no longer the baby James brought home bundled in a blanket, with a nervous smile on his face. She’s a bright, loving, happy little girl with so much attitude, so much love, so much energy, and you really feel like maybe she is growing too fast. You can’t slow time, no matter how hard you try, and that makes your lip wobble as you stare at your daughter, pointing sticky fingers at Remus who tries to dodge her, and your boyfriend, who’s trying to corral her with a baby wipe.

All the kids invited to the party have long gone, stuffed with cake and with a complimentary party bag. The cottage is no longer crowded or overrun by hyperactive children. Calm has resumed – well, as calm as any residence with your daughter and your friends inside of it can be. Sirius is half passed out on the sofa from hours of keeping up with his god daughter, legs swung up over the arm, a haphazardly placed party hat on his head. Remus is still trying to dodge Hope’s sticky fingers but is now the one with the baby wipe trying to corral her. He won’t win. You know your daughter and by now, Remus should know that his attempts are futile. But they’re both laughing, even if Remus keeps grimacing every time her hands land on his beige trousers.

“So,” James appears beside you, an overly fond look in his eyes, “Hope’s Epic First Birthday – success?”

You hum, lean into the arm he’s wrapped around you, emulating warmth and comfort and every bit of him you’ve come to love over the years – home – “Massive success. Best parents ever.”

James huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. He tenses when the doorbell rings. It’s habit, after the war, but you’re safe now, so he releases you with a chaste peck to the lips and jogs off to answer. Remus has strong armed Hope into his lap and is wiping down her hands. You smile. He’s better with her than he would ever know. You can hear James happily talking away to someone, shoes are discarded with a familiar thump by the front door, and then he appears back in the doorway with a wide smile.

Regulus appears behind him, a tentative smile on his face. He’s so similar to Sirius it’s kind of shocking, but the differences are there. Where Sirius is punk rock and messy black eye liner with leather jackets and shaggy hair, Regulus is stoic, regal, neat and put together. It’s been an odd adjustment, watching the two brothers become acquainted with each other again after years of being apart, but it warms your heart every time share a smile or a joke, sometimes an awkward hug. Winning the war was mostly because of Regulus and his behind-the-scenes efforts and when Sirius found out, it shattered everything he’d ever thought about his brother. Watching him recover from what he thought would be mourning his brother, but actually turned out to be healing with his brother, has been beautiful.

“Sirius,” You call, “Regulus is here.”

Sirius perks up, all sense of exhaustion gone, and smiles wide at the sight of his younger brother. Regulus is wearing all black – slacks and a button up shirt. They have the same eyes, same cheek bones, same nose. But Regulus is, for lack of a better word, serious. He’s well put together, posh, a man of luxury, after inheriting half of the Black family riches two months ago.

It’s why, when you spot the sparkly pink gift bag in his hand, you have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“Reg,” Sirius stands, hesitates, but ultimately decides to go for a hug, anyway, “You made it.”

Regulus hugs Sirius back, albeit a little awkwardly, “Of course.”

He turns to you and James, “Sorry I missed the party. All the people, I just…”

James waves a dismissive hand, bright and easy smile on his face, “Honestly, mate, don’t worry about it. Twenty screaming kids is anyone’s worst nightmare.”

Regulus smiles a little, nodding in way of an answer. Hope has wrangled her way out of Remus’ grip and is tottering across the living room floor, dodging stray balloons and wrapped presents as she goes. When she reaches Regulus, she stops, tiny fist clutching at the leg of his trousers. Regulus hasn’t spent much time around Hope. You don’t know if he really likes kids. But when he crouches, a soft look about his eyes you’ve never seen before, you release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. James guides you to the armchair, pulling you into his lap.

You sit happily, watching the scene before you unfold. Sirius and Remus seem to be as mesmerised by this version of Regulus as you are.

“Hi, Birthday Girl,” His voice is quiet, sweet like honey as he holds the bag out to her, “This is for you.”

Hope looks enamoured by the pink glittery bag, let alone whatever could be inside. Regulus sits it on the ground, legs in a basket to get onto Hope’s level. The bag sits between them like a peace treaty. Hope stares at Regulus and he waits, face blank, lips upturned maybe a little. Her tiny, little hand reaches out, palm flat against his cheek and Regulus closes his eyes for a second before a wide grin spreads its way across his face. Sirius steps around them carefully to reach for the camera by the mantle. Without another word, Hope clambers into Regulus’ lap and sits down. She’s never been shy, so you don’t know why it surprises you so much.

“So,” Regulus starts, holding open the bag so that Hope can see inside, “Start with this one.”

He hands her a neatly wrapped gift, white paper with little pink hearts and you melt at the idea of cold, stoic, Regulus Black in a shop somewhere buying pink gift bags and wrapping paper. He helps Hope a little to unwrap it, and then holds it out in front of her. It’s a book, from what you can see, with a tiger and a little girl on the front cover.

“This book is called The Tiger Who Came to Tea. It’s a muggle book, one my cousin Andromeda used to read to me. I think you’ll like it.” He’s talking so quiet you really think he’s only intending for Hope to hear him.

Your daughter looks entirely fascinated, enthralled by the attention she’s gaining from Regulus.

Sirius snaps a picture, but Regulus doesn’t look up.

He pulls another gift out of the bag, a smaller box, which he helps Hope unwrap again, “Your Uncle Sirius says you’re going to be a famous Quidditch player, one day. This is Plan B. You don’t have to be magic to make potions,” He flips the lid on a little wooden box, engraved with her name, and inside are loads of scribbled on pieces of parchment, “These are my perfected recipes. You’ll go a long way with these, but something tells me you’re going to surpass them by a mile.”

Your lip wobbles as you watch. Throughout the nine months Hope has been your daughter, you’ve thought many times about her future. Sirius has a can do, no worry attitude about her becoming a Quidditch star. You think he’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen for her. But Regulus has given her the beautiful gift of his own potion recipes, and the ability to create and succeed in something she can do with no boundaries.

He’s given her an heirloom, a starting point, an incredibly thoughtful gift and it’s truly beautiful.

“Your mum and dad can probably hang onto this for a few years. But it’s yours, don’t let your dad nick it, I know how bad he is at potions.” Regulus looks pointedly at James, who wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs.

You place your hand over his heart and share a look you’ve come all too familiar with – how lucky are we to have a little girl who is so adored?

The last present Regulus takes out of the bag isn’t wrapped. It’s a teddy bear, brown and small enough for Hope to carry. She takes it from his hands with a wide smile, giving him a small ‘ta’ as way of thanking him. Regulus smiles, nods his head, “You’re welcome, Hope. Happy Birthday.”

She’s up like a shot once presents are finished – as is to be expected. She totters over to Sirius, who looks equally as teary eyed as you and James and shows him the bear with great enthusiasm. You stand to collect the box of potion lists from the floor, holding it gently, a smile on your lips. Regulus is standing now, so you look to him, finger rubbing softly over the engravement of her name, “Regulus, I- thank you. This is a beautiful gift. And the book, she loves tigers.”

He smiles softly, nodding his head, “Remus told me she made Padfoot wear a Halloween costume of a tiger.”

You laugh fondly at the memory as Sirius – who’s holding Hope in his arms as she wriggles – growls at Remus for recounting the story. Remus holds his hands up in surrender, a knowing look in his eyes.

“And the potions stuff is because there should be something from our world for her to access no matter what. I have a feeling she’ll be one of the greats, I wasn’t lying about that. Just like her mum.”

“Can I hug you?” You ask Regulus.

He nods, and so you do. It’s a little stunted, a little awkward, but it means the world over.

“Okay,” James claps his hands together, the remnants of tears on his cheeks like a little snail trail, “Cake?”

“Please.” Regulus nods and follows your boyfriend to the kitchen.

Sirius hands Hope off to James as he passes, who immediately reaches for Regulus. He takes her wordlessly from James, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Sirius reaches over to the mantle, hands you a photograph that’s been left to develop. Hope and Regulus are on the floor, your daughter curled comfortably onto his lap, smiling brightly up at him as he holds the book in front of her. He looks so happy, so content, nothing like the boy you knew in school, Sirius’ estranged brother. He looks like Reggie.

You smile, take your wand from your back pocket and wave it over the photograph.

In small cursive letters, underneath the moving photograph, appears: Hope and Uncle Regulus on Hope’s First Birthday.

Sirius beams.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Headcanons for the greasers x s/o who flinches when they raise their hand in a fight

Tw: Angsty ig, light potential violence, slight abusive

Ponyboy Curtis

-you two were arguing about his smoking again

-you really hates when he does it, and he does it too much

-so you express that one night when it’s just you two having dinner at the Curtis house, Darrys still working, and Soda is out with Steve

-“You need to quit smokin so much Ponyboy! It’ll kill you!”

“I can’t quit y/n, yk how I get without my cancer sticks, y/n, just lemme have one more!”

-soon it turns into a bigger arguement, and you both get into each others faces, yelling

-he raises his fist, not thinking, and pauses when he sees the fear in your eyes

-he feels immediately sick to his stomach, at the thought of scaring someone he loved so dearly

-as you run out of the house he yells “W-wait! Y/n! Y/n! I-i ain’t mean to I swear!”

-he feels horrible and definitely breaks down on his steps crying a bit and soda and carry find him there ask him what happened

-he explains and they exchange looks, and they make him go apologize

-he comes to your house with flowers and a handwritten apology, getting ready to leave them at your door when you open it

-before you can get a word in he’s already rambling “Y/n I-I am so sorry I would’ve never actually hit you, I hope you know that I’m so so sorry please don’t break up with me but I understand if you w-“

-you hug him

-“Ponyboy Micheal Curtis if you ever raise that fist again-“

-he never does

Johnny Cade

-it’s so hard to imagine him actually doing this

-I feel like the only way you’d get that kind of reaction out of him realistically is hurting his friends

-but for the sake of the hcs let’s say you both get into a fight and you try getting in his face or sum and he pushes you back, a lot harder then he meant

-you slam into the wall

-with tears down your cheeks, you always thought Johnny was your safe person, the last person on earth who would hurt you

-it wasn’t really about the pain, it didn’t hurt that much. But the fact he did it

-for Johnny, his world just shatters…. He just did what he swore he’d never do… lay hands on you

-he drops to his knees in shock at himself, feeling the worst pain imaginable looking at your wet eyes, your… scared eyes

-he knows that look so well, the one he’s had so many times himself and he feels his heart rip out when you run away from the lot

-in canon it takes a LOT to make him cry and this does it

-he cries in his hands, he can’t believe what he just did

-feels the worst out of all the greasers ☹️

-he lets you come to him, he doesn’t go to you, he wants to give you enough space from him

-when you come back and meet him at the lot his stomach does a flip

-“Y/n I didn’t mean to push you that hard I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you I’m so sorry I’m just like my old man and ma…. I don’t ever wanna hurt you I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry….”

-practically drops to his knees before you

-you look at him, sighing, it’s impossible to stay mad at him

-you look him dead in the eyes as he gulps

“Johnny Cade you best never lay a finger on me again in that way y’hear?”

-he never comes close to doing that again, and even months later apologizes

Sodapop Curtis

-him doing this is so ooc like johnny lmao so it’s hard to protest and I think he’d again only ever do this if you attacked pony or sum

-you’re frustrated with him, he’s smart, dammit! Maybe a little slow, but when he gets things he gets them!

-and you really wish he could see that

-you both have enough collective money to push him through college to get a better job than a gas station

-and even if he is happy, he could be happier

-you both get into another arguement, and he grabs your arm, pulling you closer, and you squeal a little as your arm turns red

-he turns to you and meets your eyes, dropping your arm instantly

-you look at him in bewilderment and… fear as he starts

-“Y/n c’mon now please, wait…”

-but you’re out of that house faster than lightning

-he immediately goes to your house with flowers, and some jewelry that he’s been saving up to buy you

-you open the door “Soda, you can’t win my affection back with a half assed smile and-“

-he cuts you off with a sheepish grin “I- I actually intended to win you over in a different way…. Like an apology. I’m so sorry. I-After Sandy… I just can’t lose you too, to something so stupid. I’ll never do it again.”

-he is a man of his word

Darry Curtis

-one day he comes home, already tired from work and sees you there, crossed arms

-he forgot your anniversary… again

-he tried to apologize and you interrupted, furious

-he shoots back, arguing he can’t remember because he works all the time and actually does something with his life

-you get furious at this remark, and yell up in his face and he shoves you, (pb Curtis style 💀💀😭)

-you sit up, looking at him with tears because hell yes getting abused by Darry’s muscle mass hurts

-you look so scared and when darry meets your eyes his jaw drops, and he tries to apologize but you’ve already ran out of the house

-you head home and he comes to your door the next day, and the next

-your relationship takes the longest to heal

-about a month later you let him in and he’s mostly quiet, he feels horrible

-he lets you tell and scream at him and take out your anger, just so he can at least let you get it all out before he tries to apologize

-“Y/n I-i am really sorry. Sorrier than I ever have been in my entire life. I made one of the biggest mistakes I ever have and I am real sorry.”

-you stand up, and let out a teary sigh “if you ever lay another hand on me again I will leave you faster than you can’t count to three DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

-he nods

-it takes a very long time to repair your relationship, but once you do, he never lays a finger on you like that ever again

Dallas Winston

-one night, he gets a bit drunk and a girl kisses him

-you get mad, and see the whole thing before he pushes her away with disgust

-you think he cheated and yell at him about it when you both get home

-you both get HEATED and get in each others faces, this is definitely the most fast building fight

-he raises his palm up, nearly hitting you but taking a pause when he looks into your alone angry eyes, now with a layer of fear

-for a look the he’s used to getting so much his way, this hits differently

-he drops his hand, and looks down at it then back at you, and immediately tries to apologize

-“C’mon y/n I wasn’t actually gonna hit you you know that stop making such a big deal out of it-“

-you run out and he actually feels badly

-he won’t ever approach you first, he waits for you to come to him

-“Dallas Winston you NEVER do that again. Please.”

-he nods, and even, for the first time, apologizes sincerely

-he doesn’t ever do it again

Two Bit Matthews

-you two were joking around when suddenly he cracked a joke a bit too close to home

-you told him off and annoyed, he argued back

-pretty soon it was a full on fight, and he grabbed your hand and raised the other one

-you looked up at him “Two… were ya gonna hurt me?!”

-he snaps out of it, looking at you and instantly pulling away

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry… I-i don’t know what came over me. You know I couldn’t do that.”

-he looks into your eyes genuinely and you pause

-“Never again?” “Never again, promise.”

Steve Randle

-he left Ponyboy out of another hangout between him you and soda and you were mad, you knew it hurt Ponyboy

-you bring it up to him and he immediately deflects and rolls his eyes

-after a while things get pretty heated and he snaps, and grabs the collar of your shirt

-you gasp, and look down then up at him, and he looks at you, confused then guilty

-he looks at you as you back away “Y/n…… don’t be like that… I wouldn’t- I couldn’t-“

-you run out of the gas station and sit under a nearby tree, your head in your knees

-he runs after you, and squats down next to you, looking you in the eyes

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I know never do that to you. I’ll never do it again.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Omg hey I woul like to request something ! Ken x Reader (male, if possible) where the reader teaches Ken about the real world and they're also very in love. Thank you very much !

When Ken returned to the Real World again, he had a vision similar to Barbie's--realizing his owner was nearby.

Instead of a child....it's you, an adult who (like Gloria) inadvertently projected your own insecurities onto him while looking at an unboxed Beach Ken doll in your attic.

When you were younger, you really wanted to play with it unlike other boys who had action figures and nerf guns...but you were sorta shamed into keeping it boxed, as your parents said it would be more "valuable" one day.

Similarly..Ken had been stuck in a box all his life, trapped in the role of Barbie's accessory until recently.

So there's an instant connection when you two meet.

To make a long story short, you're like "ohhh hey I guess I kinda fucked up your mental stability, bro...you wanna come over and we can talk about it, man-to-man?"

He was very eager to go with you and learn more about your world beyond all the patriarchy and toxic masculinity.

You tell him about using your "male privilege" for good, and one defining example was when a random woman taps him on the shoulder, looking terrified and almost in tears.

"H-Hi, um..this is gonna sound really awkward but can you two pretend to be my friends for a second? This guy has been following me-"

"Of course." You reassure her, before looking to the confused Ken and telling him to go along with it.

The creepy guy comes along and backs off when he sees you two standing there protecting this lady, and once he's gone, she thanks you with hugs before leaving.

"I think I did a good job." Ken turns to you for validation, eyes shimmering. "Was that good, [y/n]? I mean playing pretend is all I've ever done so-"

"Yep. You did great." You chuckle, patting his shoulder. "I'm glad she thought you were a safe person to approach."

He nods and is giddy the whole way back home, especially when you get into your car and show him the different mechanisms, with him clinging to every detail.

These life lessons you're teaching him, however, made him think back to the "Kendom"...and he admits to trying to reinvent patriarchy there and feels ashamed of how he treated the Barbies.

He didn't think he'd open up this quickly to you, considering he never had any "manly" talks with other Kens (besides beach-offs).

But besides you being his owner, there's something about you that just made him feel...secure enough to do so. Like he could tell you anything.

You listen and reassure him that acknowledging his mistakes was a great first step to unlearning those toxic mindsets.

With all of that finally hashed out, you decide to show him the simple pleasures of the real world. Like cooking, watching TV, playing video games, etc.

Just mundane things you regularly do, with Ken picking up on some of your habits/routines as well as having some independence of his own.

You two grow closer as a result over the next few weeks, and you began falling for him and his humor and his charming smiles-

Yeah, you're 100% smitten for this doll who crossed worlds to meet you.

But you're not sure if he felt (or even could feel) the same way, since he was made to love Barbie and was...clearly still getting over his "breakup" with her. So you left it be.

That changes when you show him some emotional movie where the lead male characters showed vulnerability (ie Good Will Hunting or Brokeback Mountain) and he unconsciously holds your hand as he stares at the screen, tears staining his cheeks.

While the credits roll, your heart melts as he looks at you with those pretty blue eyes, his watery smile persistent.

"Th-Thanks for showing me this, [y/n].."

"Of course, Ken. Now you know that us guys don't always have to pretend to be tough. We're allowed to have feelings." You rub your thumb across his knuckles, a sweet gesture which makes him blush.

On the subject of feelings, he realizes that the ones he has for you are...leaning more into romance than "bromance" (yeah you taught him that term and it's part of his vocabulary now).

He becomes uncharacteristically quiet when you ask him what's on his mind, before he leans in to kiss you on the cheek. Purely on impulse.

You're both flustered at what happened, yet he panics internally when you don't say anything, trying to get up to leave so you didn't see him cry over the stupid decision he made-

"Ken, it's okay." You take his hands, convincing him to sit back down. "I had no idea you swung that way, but I'm...actually glad."

"Glad? Y-You're not...mad or anything?" He sniffles.

"Of course not. I....was planning to come out of the closet sooner or later. I just didn't know when or how to bring it up, but....I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore, thank god."

"So...does this makes us boyfriend and g....boyfriend?"

"If you want it to be, sure. I wouldn't mind a handsome doll being the love of my life." You wink.

Ken mirrors your smile, relieved to know you reciprocated his feelings.

Then he gets stumped on something and his eyebrows furrow.

"Wait...what closet were you talking about?"

Oh boy.

You just chuckle and give him a kiss on the lips.

Falling in love with a Ken doll from Barbieland certainly wasn't on your bucket list....

But you're perfectly content with that.

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Night terrors; Mild illness; Minor sexual themes; Allusions to abuse; Mention of scars

A/N: I somehow banged this out with a migraine and a horrible bout of depression, so it may receive further editing. If I change anything major, I’ll highlight it and make it known that there is new content. I’m never confident about my work but even less so this time. This slow-burn is really burning slow because our two damaged, adorable idiots. But they’re making progress! Thanks for sticking with me anyway. 💙

Carol was able to pull Daryl aside early the following morning. When she stopped just below the top step, she could see you were sound asleep on the mattress, curled in on yourself in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. Her heart ached with the knowledge that your trust in her had been damaged, if not destroyed, by two loathsome snakes. 

Beside you, atop a sleeping bag on the floor, Daryl was awake with one arm behind his head while the other hand was busy twirling a bolt between his fingers. He already knew she was there, that came as no surprise. He held a finger to his lips that moved to make a shooing motion as he quietly got to his still booted feet. Carol descended and waited on the bottom step. 

His hand came to rest on the small of her back to guide her to the main door and outside. No way he’d risk anyone overhearing this conversation. 

“What’s up, Pookie?” She grinned at him when he scowled and grumbled under his breath. Why she insisted on calling him that was beyond him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Maybe it had just settled into their own form of banter and he didn’t really mind at all. That’s not why he was here though!

Focus, dumbass. “Need ta talk ‘bout Y/N.” He felt his cheeks begin to warm, finding himself pleading with any deity that it was too early and there was too little light for her to see. 

“So I gathered after that hug I saw.” His gaze snapped up to hers, more surprised than angry. She was immediately holding up her hands to bid him pause. “I wasn’t snooping! I had just come inside and you apparently were so wrapped up— literally —that you didn’t notice me.”

He held his intensity briefly before he deflated. “Th’fuck am I doin’, Carol?” He valued her opinion. She hardly ever steered him wrong, fearing he’d be hurt either emotionally or physically and that was not something she was willing to risk. He knew that. 

“I told you before. I think you like her. Here, sit down.” He huffed a breath through his nose but obliged nonetheless, climbing on top of a table with his boots on the bench. Carol took her place beside him. “I think you’re feeling connected with her somehow. Maybe like you and me.”

“Nah. Well…maybe.” He growled and propped his elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know I want ‘er ta be safe, wanna protect ‘er. Feel responsible fer ‘er.”

“If you’re asking my honest opinion, and I think you are or I wouldn’t be out here right now, I don’t think this is a question of responsibility, Daryl.” He let his left hand drop and tipped his head to face her, fingers of his right hand still in his hair. “You want to be her friend and even though she’s scared, she wants that too.”

The archer opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a clicking of teeth. He suddenly felt self conscious, worried that his best friend, of all people, would judge him for the explicit thoughts he was having about you. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t divulge that portion of his plight. It made most of the conversation asinine but why did he ever think he could fess up to something so perverse? 

“I don’t think spending a little more time with her would be such a bad thing. If anything, maybe you could help her feel safe again.” Carol looked down at her hands, picking idly at her nails. 

“Ya gon’ try n’ patch things up with ‘er?” Truthfully, he was grateful to take the focus off of himself for even a moment. 

Carol nodded, looking out over the trees at the first light of the morning that began to stretch across the sky. “Yeah, I will. Maybe when she’s in a better headspace.” 

Daryl tipped his chin down in a nod, unable to manage any words of support before the prison door burst open. Maggie called out, most likely for him, but he was already moving at the sound of your screams, passing over the threshold in only a few large strides. He cleared two steps at a time on his way up, no hesitation before kneeling beside the mattress. 

Nightmares were a part of trauma with which he was intimately familiar. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Wake up, girl.” He made sure not to touch you. The presence of hands on you when caught between awake and asleep after a night terror would result in nothing good. He knew from experience. Your head rolled back and forth, tears cascading down your temples, your face red from screaming though you had quieted to moans and whimpers. 

“She woke up the whole prison.” Carl muttered from beside Rick on the steps, clearly annoyed. 

Distantly, Judith had begun to wail; several voices were raised. Daryl turned toward the audience gathered in his space, the discontentment in his glare enough to send them scattering to do damage control. Carol stayed behind, her presence acting as an anchor when he seemed to falter. 

He blocked out everything else, his entire focus on you. He usually woke from his nightmares on his own and retreated, but watching you struggle— watching you suffer —wasn’t something he could sit idly by and do nothing to at least try and help you. It was a long shot, but he carefully leaned across to where you laid, as close to your ear as he could get without touching, and whispered so low that Carol could only watch his mouth move. 

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul n’ sings the tune without the words n’ never stops at all.” 

He felt ridiculous once the first word fell from his lips, but when you began to settle, he blinked and watched you for any indication that you would wake or fall back into your terror. You did neither. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he stood, careful not to disturb the mattress. 

Carol appeared just as surprised. “What’d you say to her?”

It was a reflex to become defensive but the sharp words died on his tongue. Had it been anyone else, surely he wouldn’t have held back. He never meant to be cold or cruel to anyone. It was in his hardwiring, and he had been actively attempting to alter the circuitry since finding a place within the group. 

“Was a, uh…a thing I read once in school. Kinda stuck with me. Ain’t important.” He was scratching the back of his head absentmindedly, more concerned with the flush he knew had assumed residence on his cheeks. 

Carol leaned around him to see you snoring softly. She smirked and patted his cheek, leaving him there to go help with the calamity in the cells. He was chewing his thumbnail seconds after her departure, watching you from the top of the stairs. 

He removed his boots there, afraid the noise would disrupt your newfound peace. A sudden exhaustion settled over him, his sleeping bag feeling like the plushest mattress at the fanciest hotel— not that he knew what that felt like anyway. He assumed it would probably be more of a distraction than a comfort. He’d rather have a cot or the hard ground deep in the wilderness any day. 

Daryl stared at the high ceilings, barely visible in the darkness that had consumed the space without the flashlights and candles of the perturbed residents. Try as he might to focus on the most trivial things, his thoughts continued to circle back to you. 

There was a rustling of fabric and he let his head roll toward the mattress. You had turned toward him, face still relaxed in peaceful slumber. His blue eyes narrowed, the pinched expression he always had when trying to piece something together. Rolling over, he turned his back to you and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He was beyond fucked. 

Over the span of the next week, you could take apart a gun, clean it, and put it back together. You struggled with remembering the order of reassembling at first but, to your pleasant surprise, Daryl was alarmingly patient. His jaw would tick once in a while, obviously holding back the urge to rush you. You had smiled gratefully, stifling a giggle at his mumbled curse. 

You still hadn’t spoken, aside from the first day in Daryl’s perch. No, not even to him. He didn’t seem to mind but you caught the few times he’d speak and look at you from the corner of his eye, almost like he was hopeful that what he’d said would merit a verbal response. 

Regardless, it was as if your voice had just locked itself away somewhere dark in the fissures scattered across your mind. You were even more damaged, more broken than before. 

When Daryl was leaving to hunt, you tried to follow. It was one of the few times in this new dynamic between the two of you that he seemed to lose the composure he had gradually been building around you. 

“Hell nah! Ain’t takin’ ya out there and babysittin’ ya when ya don’ know shit ‘bout wha’ yer doin’ in here! Get on back inside!” 

You flinched away with your lip quivering. He didn’t apologize. With a growl of annoyance, he yelled for the gate to be opened and stomped into the forest. His demeanor was different when he returned, a few rabbits in hand. After prepping and dropping off his kills with Carol, he approached you and said it was time for you to become familiar with a gun. 

You thought that pointing and firing was the jist of it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just like the ‘stab and pull’ at the fence, you would now ‘disassemble and reassemble’. It wasn’t clear to you why learning this step was important but if Daryl was uncompromising in teaching you, then you would learn. 

You worked hard to familiarize yourself with the weapons, scrutinizing each surface, weighing them in your hands, meticulously examining the parts to see how they fit together. You’d catch the archer watching you while he busied himself with other projects; sharpening his knives, carving bolts, tending to his crossbow. There were a few times that you could have sworn you’d seen him smile. 

The man had become a steady presence, allowing you to follow him and learn the more hands-on aspects of protecting the prison. Once you had healed and felt like accompanying him outside, he had trained you for another day with your knife before allowing you to start helping him clear the fences daily. The meals he didn’t skip were spent eating silently beside you, disappearing long before you had finished. He showered daily, sometimes twice. You overheard Maggie and Carol make mention of how they’d never seen him so adamant to remain clean. At the end of the day, sometimes he’d join you in the perch. Other times, you fell asleep alone.

Those nights were when the men that had hurt you would penetrate your dreams, painting them thickly with a suffocating shroud of black and gray. They would corner you, reach out with their filthy fingers like claws, and you’d cower in anticipation of the pain. Always before a single inch of your skin could be marred, a wall erected itself in front of you, protecting you. A warmth would seep from the structure, enveloping you in a safety that forced the darkness from your dreams. You would wake up feeling rested but always still alone. 

Daryl, on the other hand, always looked tired. The days he appeared haggard and sluggish were when his patience flagged. He would raise his voice before he would seemingly think better of it, walk a short distance away for a cigarette, and return with that kindness again present in his exhausted gaze. 

Today was one of those days. 

You hadn’t done anything to set him off, simply cleaning the .22 pistol he’d given you while he sat on the other end of the picnic bench hunched over the table. He didn’t look at you or even check your progress, simply sitting with his elbows on the table and a hand on each side of his head. It was likely better to leave him be, just continue with your task. Attempting to engage him would most certainly lead to nothing good. 

Then he coughed. 

You made quick work of the reassembling, placed the weapon down on the cloth, and folded your hands on your lap, eyeing the archer for several minutes before he noticed no sound coming from your side of the table. Daryl dropped a hand to the flat surface and squinted red-rimmed eyes at you. He was quite pale compared to just that morning when you’d found him outside. He didn’t seem like he was sick very often. Maybe battered, bruised, and bloody but not sick. 

You pursed your lips and slid down the bench, stopping across from him to lean forward with your arms folded on the table. 

“Wha’re ya doin’?” His voice was more raspy than usual, a rougher edge that sounded uncomfortable. Your head tilted even though he seemed less than thrilled to be under your scrutiny. “G’on. Work on the gun.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, a deep sigh shifting into another cough. Daryl turned his face into his elbow and waved you toward the other side. 

You refused to budge. 

“S’wrong with ya? Got a hearin’ prob—” You could see the moment he caught himself and reined in the hostility. “Jus’ take the day. Ya done good. Work on handlin’ the thing tomorrow.” The hunter didn’t wait for you to move. Probably just assumed you would. With his arms now folded similarly to your own, he laid his forehead on top of them with a groan. 

Your concern only grew when he didn’t sense you were still present. With a deep breath, you slid back over to grab the cloth and gun, tucking the weapon into the waistband of your jeans and the cloth into your back pocket. You would be lying if you didn’t admit to feeling a small amount of anxiety while approaching him. You needed to repeatedly remind yourself that it was Daryl and he would never hurt you. 

When close enough, you placed a hesitant palm against the back of his head. The archer flinched and quickly bolted upright, startling you in the process. 

“Th’fuck, Y/N?” He barked hoarsely. Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers loose on the too warm skin in case he pulled away. You motioned for him to follow you with the slightest tug of his arm. He was definitely confused but without knowing what you needed, he followed obediently. Your hand remained around his wrist. 

The gloom inside the prison only made Daryl look worse. He was clearly exhausted and battling what seemed to be a cold. Hopefully nothing more than that. He said nothing as you guided him up the stairs and stepped out of his way upon reaching the top. Brow knitted, he pressed the heel of his left hand against his forehead. 

“Gon’ explain or ‘m I gettin’ three guesses?” His voice strained at the end when he tried and failed to subdue a cough. Ducking your head to catch his eye after the spell, you pointed to the mattress. “Huh?”

You deadpanned. Daryl was anything but dense. He had to be sick if he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to accomplish. You realized that your hand still held his wrist and walked backwards to urge him along, stepping up onto the mattress with what you hoped was an encouraging smile. 

Daryl did not appear to be encouraged. Wide blue eyes vibrated as he attempted to look between your own. “Y/N.” He was gentle when he extricated his arm, stepping backward with a shake of his head. 

It was your turn to be confused. You simply wanted to get him to lie down on the— oh. It started as a giggle but soon you were actually laughing, damn near startling yourself. The befuddled alarm he was wearing so exposedly gradually recast to a warm focus. You placed your palms flat together and positioned the back of a hand against your cheek with a tilt of your head, closing your eyes. 

The archer’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, his face taking on a pink hue that you definitely noticed before he ducked his head and knelt to pull the laces on his boots. It was possibly the first time you would attach the word adorable to any description of the man in front of you. Daryl was quick to redirect your regard with a finger toward your own boots on the mattress. Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you hopped off, removed the gun from your waistband, and plopped onto the sleeping bag. 

“Yer stayin’?” 

You stared, incredulous. Of course you were staying. He was sick, no matter how mild. He had stayed with you while you recovered. Why wouldn’t you return the favor? You nodded and patted the mattress. 

There was an obvious uncertainty in his approach, movements hesitant, deliberate, as if you would spook and bolt. You wished you could find it in you to speak, to reassure him you were okay and you wanted to stay. 

Your confusion regarding the archer was slowly resolving into a confident trust. You were still plagued with doubt and sometimes overwhelmed with questioning curiosity that would result in a reluctance to be near him. It was that gentle luster that would appear in those pretty eyes, subtle and carefully concealed behind an opacity but easily discernible by someone who had been shown nothing by cold cruelty continually for so long, that would coerce you to stay. There was so much more to Daryl than he allowed the world to see. 

He sighed when he finally allowed the side of his face to sink into the pillow, turning his head to cough into the softness. You’d have to wash it once he was feeling better. Quick work was made to settle the blanket over him before his shoulders had stilled from the minor fit, his eyes appearing heavy when he rolled his head back toward you. 

“Don’ hafta stay.”

Your smile and gentle tilt of your head said where else would I go? Daryl hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut. He was asleep within moments. Maybe his lack of rest was responsible for the cold. As far as you were concerned, he could sleep until he could physically sleep no longer. Maybe you could persuade others to let him rest. 

Your knees pulled to your chest, one arm around them so you could rest your cheek there. The other hand ghosted across the fringe that had fallen over the side of his face. His skin was warm but not enough to frighten you. Maybe you could ask Carol for some tea and broth, if there was any available. You needed to speak with her anyway. Well, not really speak. Regardless, you wanted things to go back to how they were.

Dainty fingers continued to stroke across the archer’s forehead, finding an odd sense of comfort in the ability to touch him without inhibition. His demeanor while in your company was in constant fluctuation but rarely relaxed. He appeared younger in sleep, face slack without creases or pinched skin at the corners of his eyes. 

You wanted now more than ever to find your voice. You wanted to tell him how hard you would try to learn quickly. How dependable you would be once you could take care of yourself. How valuable you’d make sure you would become. You wanted to thank him. Others in the prison had done so much for you, but none more than Daryl. 

Daryl was the reason you were no longer under Big Jazz’s thumb. He was the reason you were there at the prison at all. He was training you to protect yourself and to protect others. He made you feel safe. Even with the sporadic apprehension, there was the constant blanket of safety when Daryl was near. If he hadn’t looked for you that day not too long ago… You pulled your knees impossibly closer to your body, a dull ache inside at the reminder. 

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake, even with your fingers now carding through his hair. In the quietness of the moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate how handsome the archer actually was. You had seen the first day, when he had bargained for you. Rugged, rough around the edges, but handsome. For the first time in a very, very long time, you pondered intimacy that didn’t involve subjugation and pain. You wondered how it would have felt if Daryl had taken your offer that first night. Would he have been gentle? Would he have tasted you? 

Those potentially pleasant thoughts couldn’t last once your mind pulled forth the images of him under the spray of water in the showers. Regardless of your name groaned from his lips, you could only see the raised ridges and puckered flesh littered across his back. What had he been through? Had it happened after the fall of the world? Who had hurt him and why? Carol had told you nothing and it was not something you felt you could ever ask him about. It wasn’t your business. 

Still… the thought of someone hurting him, it made you feel something you weren’t sure you remembered how to feel. 

Anger. 

You had spent so much time being conditioned to submit, remain quiet, please, you had forgotten the burn of bitter hostility toward another person. Someone you didn’t even know. You were more than justified in your hatred of the men that had taken you, tortured and defiled and humiliated you. Justified but felt so strange. Finding resentment toward an unknown person for a wrong against a man you barely knew was stranger still. 

Yet, that’s exactly what it was. You wouldn’t hesitate a single second to drive your knife home into their skull, living or dead. You’d stab them over and over, one for each raised mark on Daryl’s flesh. 

A sound from downstairs startled you from your thoughts, a simple day to day chore of some sort that was not meant to raise alarm. Still, it frightened you. Most things did, but it was getting easier to control your reactions. You realized moments later that your face was damp, the hand hovering just over Daryl’s forehead was trembling. More than that, you suddenly felt drained with an exhaustion that left you dizzy. 

Needed nowhere around the prison— your only focus meant to be training with Daryl —you decided it wouldn’t be frowned upon if you were to rest while the archer did. Most knew that wherever he was, he would be instructing you, and would only seek him in the event of an emergency. In that case, the hunter would want to be disturbed. 

Sliding down the sleeping bag, you reclined onto your side and faced Daryl, worrying your lips against one another before you reached onto the mattress and placed your palm on this forearm. He didn’t stir but inhaled deeply, seemingly settling deeper into slumber. The contact was comforting and hopefully a level of noninvasive that he wouldn’t mind. Either way, it was enough to allow you to easily follow him into a restful, dreamless sleep. 

** What Daryl whispers to reader is an excerpt from “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson

Taglist:

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[sashi-ya]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈... Yuuta Okkotsu x F! Reader

⤹˚ synopsis. a silent night, a very calm christmas eve night... a new dawn, on christmas day... the first christmas morning of the rest of your lives ~

tw: nothing, honestly. very, very sweet. a/n: personally inspired on my personal Yuuta Okkotsu, that I won't tag cause I don't want him to think this is an insinuation to get married 👀 well, unless he wants to 🤷‍♂️💕 jk, i love u. calm down. wc: 979.

Ruffled black hair; those perpetual dark circles that will never go away no matter how many nights he sleeps by your side.

You both preferred staying in your own department for Christmas eve. A delicious meal cooked by you two, watching the snow falling down so slow and so peacefully. Your first Christmas together, Yuta makes everything so special.

Both fell asleep in the couch, but he carried you to bed. Hugs, soft kisses on your forehead and cuddles… a silent night, a warm, safe, Christmas night.

You wake up first, in total silence, admiring the tiny little nose of your beloved Yuta pointing at you. His cheeks, a little reddish. His lips, barely separated. Not a single noise he makes, just a soft murmur.

Contemplating his soft features, your eyes get a little watery… it’s been long enough since he came back now, but it still amazes you how he turned your world upside down after waiting for him for three years.

You sniffle. You don’t wish for him to open his eyes and to see you cry. He would get worried; he would be sad and desperate to know what happened. Because Yuta is always worried he might have hurt you, that he might have done something wrong. But how could he?

You notice him moving a little, and his lip shutting. He swallows in his sleep, and so you decide to close your eyes. It is always cute to let him wake you up… even if you were already up.

“(Name)! (Name)! it’s Christmas morning!! Come on, I wanna give you my gift!” he chimes, happily. His loving hands, a little veiny and strong but still delicate, land on you. His caresses are as soft as if they were touching the wings of a butterfly, but as hot as a warming sun in the middle of a winter sky.

“mhh… hi ~” you murmur, noticing your voice is still too sleepy to be able to say much. You extent your arms to him, asking for him to cuddle on your chest. “c’mere”

“But, but… the gift!!” he protests, acceding too easily to your hug request.

Yuta snakes in between your arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You, like a caring protector, pull him close, surrounding him with your arms and the sheets.

“Can we stay like this for some time? I wanna give you my presents too, but for now… just rest a little bit in here” you beg, tracing little circles on his back. The hand you slipped in between his warm skin and his light grey t-shirt feels like heaven to him… to you.

“We can stay for as long as you want, (Name)” he murmurs, getting comfortable there.

Your eyes, a little bit unused to the light coming from the window, detect the imagery of soft flakes pouring from the sky in a slow-motion winter sky.

“It’s snowing today… such a cute gift, right?” you become stupidly poetic when it comes to him. Loving someone makes you an artist; a passionate lover willing to create beautiful art to express the feelings that are even thatyou’re your heart can’t fit inside.

He squirms a little; you notice him a little bit nervous. He probably took a lot of time to decide what to give you for Christmas, that’s probably what it is…

“It’s… ah… yes, a cute gift. Being with you, though… it’s even better” he whispers, kissing your lips ever so softly.

Even if both are grown ups now, and those days at the Tokyo Curse College are far in the past, the innocence has never abandoned you. With Yuta, you can be a child, and you don’t feel the pressure to act mature… being with him, it’s like feeling safe… like your problems never existed in the first place.

His dark grey eyes fix in yours, as if they wanted to say something, as if they wished to scream, to finally express something.

“Are you ok, Yuu?” you ask, taking your hand to his cheek. The tiny little freckles that are almost invisible to many, but not to you, create unique patterns on his skin.

“I… yes… I am a little bit nervous…” “Why?” “Because I am scared of you not liking my gift…”

You ruffle his hair. Anything, from a packet of gummy bears to his whole world, means exactly the same to you… Anything Yuta wants to give you, you consider it to be the most precious gift, a treasure to hold close, to protect, for your whole life.

“Yuta… you know… I-“ you start “lecturing” him about it, but he suddenly stands up from bed and runs away.

You are left there, speechless. What is this boy doing? Why is he leaving? What happened?

You can hear his steps going downstairs, and soon after coming back up. He runs until the very frame of your bedroom door, holding a little package inside his hands.

“I…” he wants to speak, but he clearly can’t. His cheeks have become as red as apples, fading even with his dark circles.

You sit in your bed, frowning. What is happening to him?

“Are you ok, babe? You are scaring me…” you mumble, watching him run towards the bed.

He slides inside and under the sheets again, this time with that little package in his hands. He covers both of you with the sheets, creating a safe fortress for you.

“Yuu?” you ask, confused but still giggly. “Open…” he mutters, giving you the little box in such sweet, shy way it makes you melt.

You see the content, but you don’t really needed to… you already knew.

“Of course I do…” “You do? Really?” “Yes…!” you chime, pouncing on him, kissing every little spot on his face, on his lips and neck.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Merry Christmas, my future… wife” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Merry Christmas, my future hubby”

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Final Part

Atsumu x fem Reader

Warnings: Smut

Words: ~ 2,1 k

About: Not much to say- enjoy the ending! <3

Part I II -> Epilogue

"Y/n!"

He smiles and waves when he spots you, his expression soft and excited as he jogs towards you, passing the court in an instant. You notice Sakusa and Hinata on the field too, waving in your direction, and you hear Bokuto calling your name. You return the greeting and wave at him too with a smile.

Atsumu comes to a stop when he finally reaches you, his hands immediately finding your hips and pulling you close. "What's my wifey doing here?" He leans down to peck your lips, his excitement barely concealed.

"I thought you could use some moral support. And maybe some food." You shyly smile and raise the bag in your hand just a little, the Onigiri Miya logo evident on it. "I asked Samu to make something that works with your diet. And I got a dessert for you, the one from the cafe we visited last time." He looks at you softly, his hands still holding your hips tightly, not the slightest bit embarrassed about showing his affection in front of his teammates.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. Yer always so good to me." You blush at his words, trying to wave it off, but he pulls you closer and kisses you again, his lips now firmly pressing against yours. You easily give in, your free hand resting on his biceps, feeling the smooth and hot skin under your fingers, not caring about the fact that he is slightly sweaty by now. The faint sounds of volleyballs meeting the ground are drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat, and a soft gasp escapes your lips when he ever so lightly brushes his tongue against yours. You pull back, clearly flustered, and he grins at your state. "Wanna come over tonight?" You nod with a smile, and he pecks your lips one last time before letting you go.

"Can't wait, wifey."

xxx

"Tsumu!"

You yell, eyes only on him when he is about to serve. You're fully convinced that he can't hear you in the crowd, yet his eyes still flicker to your direction for a second before he focuses on the ball again, the red uniform a stark contrast to his bright hair.

He looks amazing. He's so focused on the game, you can see it in his eyes. This is the final moment of the game—if they manage to score one more point, the game will be over. You can see the pressure on him in his posture, and you can't help but want to hug him and make him feel more at ease.

He's serving, flawlessly as always, and you hold your breath when the other team receives his mean serve—and you find your heart skipping a beat when it's not Atsumu setting the ball after a fast attack from the other team, but rather Kageyama setting the ball and Atsumu attacking—surprisingly, even though you know that he does decent in every position. And you almost cry when his attack scores the final point, and he yells loudly and raises his arm triumphantly. You hug Yachi, who almost had a heart attack during the intense game, and you look up surprised when you see Atsumu staring at you happily and ignoring the cameras and media to come to you.

You're absolutely flabbergasted when he simply hugs you and slightly lifts you off the ground, grabbing your face almost too harshly before he kisses you in front of everyone. You're frozen, the noises of cameras clicking and yelling people almost overwhelming, but you somehow feel safe in his arms, so you just return the kiss and hug him tight too. He still beams from excitement when he pulls back, and you can't help but smile softly before you gently push some strands out of his face. "Congratulations. You did amazing." He smiles even brighter at your words, and you laugh breathlessly.

"Did it all for you. And for Japan. But for you too." He laughs, his chest still heaving heavily, and you can't help but smile softly. "I'm honored. And Japan too."

You press a last longing kiss to his lips and then you slowly let him go. "Now go—you need to get your medal or something. You're a world champion. I'll meet you after that, and we can celebrate." You smile gently, and he laughs happily. "Sure, wifey. I'll get my real reward later." His smile turns smug, and you blush feverishly. "S-sure," you whisper, flustered by his comment and avoid looking at his eyes.

"My real prize."

xxx

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?" you slightly raise your head, just enough to look at his face. You're comfortably cuddled against his chest, a thin blanket thrown over you both while you watch an animated fireplace and listen to slow music. His utterly relaxed expression is slightly crowded with unease, as if he has something on his mind.

"I was thinking... if you maybe wanna to store some clothes here. Like permanently. I made some space in my closet for you. Not like I want ya to move in already, I know most couples wait- but- just saying. There's space. Technically."

You raise your eyebrows, your eyes wide open, and he clears his throat awkwardly. The way he seems so shy and insecure about it—a state that you have never seen on him before. It warms your heart when you think about how nervous he is to ask just this, but it also fills you with excitement and makes your heart flutter.

"So... you wouldn't want me to move in?" You say while you try to suppress your teasing smile and try to seem as serious as you can. You feel his body tensing under your fingers, and his arm that had been loosely caressing your bare lower back under your shirt freezes.

"I didn't say that." He stretches the syllables while he seems to be in an inner conflict. "I just meant that ya might get uncomfortable if you're already moving in. It's only been a few months, I know that most couples wait a bit longer with that." He looks down at you, his tone showing his serious curiosity. "Are you not against moving in?"

You pause, taken aback by the statement, and proceed to think about it. You know that moving in together is a big step- but on the other hand, you both have been married for quite some time. And being together with Atsumu just feels so right—you really don't mind moving in after seven months.

"I'm... not against it, to be honest. It's unconventional, but we're kinda already married, so I think it's fine to skip some steps. here." A deep relieved sigh leaves his lips, and you feel his posture relaxing once again. "Sounds good. I got ya a key on the counter, we can move your stuff gradually, if you want to? But I made a lot of space in my closet actually, you might wanna go shopping to fill it. My treat of course."

You look at him wide-eyed. "You already have a key for me ready?"

He looks away with a faint blush on his cheeks, his hand absently caressing your back again, but now more relaxed while his lips curl into a triumphant grin.

"Maybe."

xxx

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?" You turn towards him and see a letter in his hands.

"That's um..." he clears his throat, his eyes looking anywhere but your direction. "It's from our lawyer. It's about the divorce. The year is over."

You freeze, carefully making your expression neutral while you wait for him to continue.

"It's um... we can—ya know. Wait a bit. I mean—you're busy with work and I'm also busy with Samu's new shop. We can maybe wait just a bit longer. If you want to. No pressure."

And you finally smile when you reach for his shirt and pull him down to press a kiss on his lips.

"Sounds good."

xxx

Tsumu—"

You look up at him in the mirror with pleading eyes, his hand tightly wrapped around your throat.

"Now come on. Tell me, what ya want me to do?" He grins teasingly, knowing fully well that you can't speak with his hand now firmly wrapped around your throat. You manage to gasp his name, and he raises an eyebrow. "What was that? Didn't hear ya, sweetheart. Might wanna try harder here."

You avert your gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity of it and arch your back slightly against him, offering him your neck submissively. A groan leaves his lips and his eyes soften at the sight of you. "So pretty for me. Always so good." He tilts your face and kisses you, the grip around your neck loosening and his free hand wandering to your chest, gently squeezing your body.

His lips are glued to yours, the kiss starting out softly, but quickly turning into a messy clashing of lips melding together and tongues grazing against each other. It's hot, so, so hot when his hand stops palming your chest and moves further down your stomach, causing you to gasp and whine against his lips as you tense under his touch until his hand stops between your legs. He doesn't stop the kiss, instead keeping one hand loosely around your neck while the palm of the other hand cups your pussy and presses against it. Your hips buck into his touch and you break the kiss embarrassedly after a lewd needy sound escapes your lips.

"What was that?" He asks, a bit breathlessly, but his lips curl into a smug grin. "Gettin' shy on me? You know that I love those pretty sounds. Especially when I do—this—" Two of his fingers push inside of you with no further warning and your body almost bends over at the feeling, but his hand quickly moves from your neck around your upper body to press you tightly against him. "Uh-uh, pretty wifey. Not escaping yer husband. I need to fulfill my duties after all, right? Satisfy my wife and all that. Look at ya, how you enjoy that, huh?" He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, the squelching sound making you whine embarrassedly, yet it feels so good that your eyes flutter closed and your mouth stays agape. He brings you to your high like this and holds you when you tense around his fingers, clenching tightly around him like a vice, his name leaving your lips breathlessly.

"Tsumu—" you whisper, your voice hoarse, but your body feeling so good and satisfied, and he softly pulls his fingers out with a lewd sound. "Oh, love, you made such a mess, huh?" He looks at his fingers with a grin and then down to your pussy, his tongue quickly coming out to lick his lips.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of ya."

xxx

"Tsumu—do we have to go out? We could also relax at home. Watch that movie maybe. Or... do different things." You smile a bit shyly as you hug his arm and press your chest against his biceps in a way that you hope is seductive.

He freezes for a second and then shakes his head. "As tempting as that offer is, we have plans. Or I have made plans. For us." He wraps his arm around your waist and directs you towards a building—that looks suspiciously familiar to you. "Tsumu— is that—no way! Why are we here?" Your eyes grow even bigger when you recognize the building, but he ignores your comment and simply pushes you forward. "C'mon, we have an appointment—and you need to get ready," he grins, but you can see a faint hint of nervousness in his eyes when he opens the door and reveals the club where you had met during your first day. Your jaw drops when you see the decorations—all in a classical wedding style, like the pictures you often like on Pinterest. "Tsumu—don't tell me—"

"Y/n." You hear his voice firmly, and you look at him, who suddenly lets go of you and looks at you a bit mischievously before he smoothly sinks down to one knee.

"I can't remember the first time I did this, but I promise, I won't forget this time. I wanna do everything right, Y/n. Marry you properly, be your husband and care for you."

You look at him, feeling tears dwell in your eyes when you realize how he has spent the last few weeks preparing this—and you bite your lip to avoid a sob when he pulls out a ring—similar to the one he had given you last time, yet even more beautiful.

"Will ya marry me?

xxx

A/n: Thank you so much for following this series! I'll make an epilogue about the night they met around next week-ish! But after that, that's it for the series! I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned for the next one! <3

[riordanness]

my tears ricochet - [p.jackson]

1.3K wordcount

warnings: death, serious angst

requested: no

"Okay, everyone ready?" Percy asked, his sea-green eyes searching the crowd. They locked on me for half a moment, then flitted away.

The campers looked grim, but they all nodded and put on brave faces. This was probably the last battle any of us would ever fight, but we had to try. We were the world's last chance.

Percy grimaced, held up his sword, Riptide, and cried: "For Olympus!"

"For Olympus!" The cheer echoed eerily in the dark tunnel, sounding much louder than us fifty kids should've been able to make.

"Alright," Percy said. "Everyone partner up. No leaving your partner, not for anything. Stick together, stay in sight of other pairs, and keep each other safe."

Everyone immediately started grabbing for their friends, chaos erupting like a bonfire.

Percy moved through the crowd towards me. I managed a smile, but I knew it didn't look genuine.

"Hey," I said, my voice a higher pitch then usual. I shrugged my right shoulder a little. "It's gonna be fine, alright? We've got nothing to worry about."

Percy gazed at the other campers, then back at me. "Yeah... yeah of course."

I reached over and squeezed his hand. "Hey, wanna be my partner?" I smirked a little.

Percy's face melted a little, the smile I loved so much shining through the darkness, just a little. "I guess so."

I scoffed. "You guess so? What, I'm not your best friend anymore?"

He suddenly grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug, arms around my waist. "You're so much more than my best friend," he whispered fiercely.

My heart fluttered, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

"Okay," I said after a moment. "Let's do this thing. And after, as long as you stay alive, lunch is on me."

I held out my pinky, and he linked his around mine. "Deal," he said, a playful gleam in his eyes.

Percy turned to the remainder of Camp Half-Blood. "Campers! Let's, uh, go fight this dude!"

I smiled. This was my best friend. My crazy sidekick. My laughter. My smile. My reason to live. My everything.

He glanced at me, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it three times. "I love you," he began.

"No matter what," I finished with a slight smile. Sadly, Percy's feelings for me were purely platonic.

He would never admit it to me, but I could tell he still had feelings for his ex-girlfriend, Annabeth Chase. She'd left him about two years ago, when her father had dragged her off to Australia.

There was nothing either she or Percy could do about it. They couldn't use phones to contact each other, and Camp Half-Blood needed Percy, so they'd made the decision to break up.

I missed Annabeth. She'd been such an amazing leader, and even though I hadn't known her super well, she'd been so nice to me. I hoped that wherever she was now, she wouldn't mind me loving her Percy.

Percy and I stood back to back, like we had for years. I knew his fighting style so well, and he knew mine just as well.

I gripped the string of my bow, aiming carefully, and releasing it. The arrow soared right into the demon's glowing red eye. Why do they always have to have red eyes?

I cursed under my breath in Ancient Greek. "Dammit," I muttered, biting my thumbnail. I needed to get closer. I needed to get rid of the boomerang thing.

"Percy!" I yelled.

"What?" He swung Riptide into the demon's ankle, cutting a bloody slit. The demon roared in pain, swatting the air in front of Percy, who stumbled out of the way.

"Keep it distracted!" I cried. "I - I think I have an idea!"

His eyes locked with mine. "Are you sure?" His voice sounded shaky.

I nodded firmly. "Yes. Don't worry. I'll come back. I always do. Pinky promise."

I ran to him, linking my pinky with his, giving him one last tight hug. "Okay, now go!" I ordered, pushing him away from me. I couldn't afford to get emotional.

I skirted around the demon's legs, rushing to the back of it. A ruined building lay in pieces, but still had enough intact for me to climb up a fair way. At least two stories, I thought.

I rushed to the building, and inside. A half broken staircase was against one wall, and I hurried up it. At the top, big stone blocks was arranged in a way that made climbing them possible, so I climbed as quickly as I could manage.

I stood at the top of the roof, my t-shirt fluttering in the wind. I brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and drew my bow. I was level with the demon's other eye now. I just needed to get its attention. "Hey!" I screamed. "Ugly!"

The demon turned, and fixed its fiery eyes on me. My insides felt like a puddle of water, but I gritted my teeth and slowly raised my arm, reaching for an arrow.

Unfortunately, just as my fingertips were brushing the arrow, the demon raised it's boomerang. "Ha-di!" It bellowed.

A glowing red picture flashed in the air, and I knew in my heart that this was it, as searing pain ripped through my body, and I collapsed forward, free-falling two stories down.

Pain. Red. Flashing.

My eyes fluttered open, the harsh sunlight sending shoots of pain to my head. I groaned, but the sound that came out was barely audible.

"Y/N?"

A broken voice. Tears. Pain.

"P-Percy?" I tried to say, my vision blurry. My senses were dull; I couldn't feel anything but the horrible pain.

Everywhere. Pain. A bright light.

"No, Y/N, it's okay," my best friend said, as I lay dying in his arms. I had no idea how I was even alive at this point, I'd fallen all the way to the ground. I'd been hit by that magic spell thing, how was I even breathing?

Breathing. Pain. Ragged.

My short, laboured gasps for air sent sharp shoots of pain rocketing through my lungs and chest. My head pounded, and something warm and wet was trickling down my temple. My vision swam in and out, blurry and indistinguishable.

Pain. Crying. Love.

"No!" Percy's voice was becoming more desperate. "No! You can't take her! You can't!" He was screaming at the sky. "Leave her be! Take me instead! You can't!"

Sobs broke out of him, ripping my heart to shreds. "Don't... don't cry for me Percy," I managed. I tried to touch his cheek, but the effort to move made me gasp in pain. It was too difficult.

"Y/N..." The way he said my name, the way his voice sounded, it was like shattered glass.

"Percy," I breathed. "I love you."

"No matter what," he cried, tears in his voice.

"No matter what..." I repeated. I was losing my grip on reality. Already, my vision was slipping even further into total darkness, I couldn't feel anything but the pain. I was dying. I was.

Death. Love. Pain.

"No. No, you can't leave me, sweetheart," Percy begged. "You have to stay, you have to wake up!" He started getting frantic. "Help! Somebody help me! I need ambrosia, nectar, something..."

His voice broke, as if realisation had finally dawned on him. Nothing could save me now.

This was the end.

Campers gathered around Percy and I, crumpled in a heap on the ground. The war was won, the demons defeated, but victory had come with a price.

A sacrifice. A life. A death.

"Someone help me..." Percy sobbed, holding onto my limp body as he cried. "I love you, Y/N..."

My last glimpse of this life were of his sea-green eyes, filled with tears, as they gazed into my own. Darkness filled my vision, and everything went black.

Death. Dark. Nothing.

[cntloup]

Endure

G/N!Reader fluff, angst

As soon as he steps through the door, you’re all over him, latching onto him like a lifeline and he puts his strong arms around you, pulling you impossibly close, it seems your two bodies become one. Finally in his warm embrace after so long... how long was it? it felt like an eternity. But now he’s finally home and you’re in each other’s arms, safe and secure. It feels like in that moment, time stops. Nothing else matters. Just two lovers and the burning flame of their love.

He pulls away ever so slightly to take a look at you with glossy eyes when he feels you shaking with sobs. “Love, I’m home now. Safe and sound.” he whispers as though if he spoke loudly, you’d shatter into pieces in his arms. He gently wipes your tears and captures your lips in a tender kiss, slowly putting you down on your feet. You start to wipe your tears quickly with such force, it makes your skin burn as you nervously laugh with a quiet “sorry”. But the tears don’t stop and you continue to sob as a mixture of emotions hit you, both happy and sad. You had to suffer from his absence for so long and now he’s here, standing right in front of you. You don’t know how to feel. He wipes his own tears that rolled down his cheeks when he saw you for the first time in such a long time also it broke his heart as you broke down into uncontrollable sobs in his arms. He pulls you into a bone crushing hug trying to comfort you repeating the words “It’s ok, love. Just breathe. I'm home.” and he has to feel you against his body again to make sure you’re real and not just a fragment of his imagination.

You start to slowly pull away and force a smile that reach your tear-stained cheeks but not your eyes. “Are you ok? No injuries?” “Just some scratches. Nothing to worry about, love.” You wonder if he’s playing it down again in order not to worry you or if he’s being honest. You take his hand in yours and guide him through the hallway into the living room where you have his favorite food ready for him and a bath upstairs. “You wanna eat first or take a bath?” “I’d like a bath first.”

While he’s inside the bathroom, you try to busy yourself with your own chores, but you can’t stop the thoughts that run through your mind every time while he’s away and comes back after so long. ‘How many times do I have to go through this?’ ‘How long do I have to endure this pain?’ Missing him, his touch, his smell, his unique way of loving you, him doting on you all the while you’re together, kissing his scars and showing him such a tender love and fierce devotion he’s never experienced before and showing him that he deserves it, missing everything about him... and dreading for his life every moment that he’s gone. He steps out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low around his torso, interrupting your thoughts. At any other time, you’d jump him right then and there, but you’re too lost in your head right now to focus much on your surroundings, but still you walk up to him to make sure there’s really no serious injuries on him and he lets you then you let out a sigh of relief when you don’t find any. You face him with a smile but he can see right through you “You ok, love?” he mutters after kissing you gently. You can’t keep up the facade as it hurts too much and you never really want to act in front of him. With him, you can be yourself... even show the darkest parts of your soul and be sure that he will stay. “It hurts, Si!” you choke out after a few moments of silence as you start crying. “What?” he asks worriedly with a confused expression on his face. “You being away for so long and when you come back, I have to pretend like it’s nothing and it doesn’t shatter my heart every time. And while you are home, I know it will end eventually and you will leave again-” a loud sob interrupts your words. You inhale deeply and go on “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I know it’s your job and I’m not asking you to give it up. I knew from the start what I signed up for. But it doesn’t help the fucking pain and torment I have to go through every fucking time.” You say the last part through gritted teeth as the anger and frustration bubble up inside you and turn your head to face him as you both sit on the edge of the bed now and see the tears rolling down his cheeks “It hurts me just as much, love. And I want you to know that you’re the only thing that keeps me going and I promise that I will come back to you every time.”

“Promise you’ll be extra careful?” “Pinky promise.” he replies with a chuckle and locks your pinkies together as you set your eyes on him with a genuine smile this time. “I know it’s something I have to deal with on my own. It’s a weight I must carry myself because I love you... because you are worth the pain.” You utter with a lump in your throat. He can’t believe the words that reach his ears ‘Is this a dream?’ ‘How did I end up with such a patient and understanding person?’ He looks at you as though you're his whole life... his everything. He feels guilty and ashamed of himself that he puts you through this. He feels like he’s torturing you. “I can ask Price to lower my deployment numbers.” He’s sorry that it’s all he can do for now. “For now... we’ll see what the future holds.” “You mean-?” “Yes, love. I will retire eventually. In the near future.” You jump into his arms gleefully with a wide grin on your face making him laugh. He kisses you passionately and you pull away only when you run out of breath. He starts kissing all over your face whispering I love you’s over and over again. “I love you too, Si.” you reply with the same grin on your beautiful face which makes him truly happy every time he sees it.

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