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Cannot Hold It When It Thaws
"An angel falls to their hubris. It's a story as old as time. It's a story you already know, under countless names and through countless retellings. But knowing doesn't change anything; Soo-Won was more aware than most. And she knew that they would know she knew - and that scared her more than anything.
This is the day Jormag's heart freezes over."
[Pre-canon drabble, 2k words, Soo-Won and Jormag-centric. Angst. Exploration of Jormag's affection and corruption. No trigger warnings that I can think of, aside from a low-detail description of drowning. Art and writing is mine, Guild Wars 2 belongs to Arenanet. Dialogue inspired by Gen 3 Legendary Weapons. Divider graphic belongs to @soulbeastdragon. Keep in mind this is merely my interpretation of these characters :) Enjoy!]
"I want to make them permanent, Mother. I want to make them last."
"You know you can't do that." She smiled - in the sense that she radiated warmth, something that would perhaps best be described with a single word. Dragons could be infinitely complex, after all. "That is their beauty. They are fleeting. And so, their eyes are uniquely open."
"There is no beauty in passing. And yet.. it's gone. You unmade it. Why? Why did you close its eyes?"
Soo-Won could only linger in silence, dark eyes as unfathomable as the ocean. She knew well that the true depth of existence could not - and would not come easily to her child, not when they were so young. Perhaps, that was her curse. Either alone beneath the sea of stars, or surrounded by little things who only reasoned as little things could. Specks of light, innocent flickers of pure magic. Innocent, but destined.
The small dragon pawed at the ground, attempting to gather close the dust that once was a creature. A fruitless effort, with massive claws not fit to be this gentle. "It's still alive, you see? I can undo it."
"He. Not it. Please, let go, now. His soul found silence at last."
"No, no... It's not silent—you aren't listening closely."
Her tail softly brushed aside arms that had no real will to stop her, sweeping the last of the dust away. Finally allowing the once-mortal to scatter to the winds. The crystalline sparkles shimmered as they sailed the sky, a soul bidding its - his - last farewell.
"They are not... suited to our lifetimes, my child. Their minds cannot last, even if their bodies can be made to. Even if you make them pristine forever, they will not last. That is not their will."
"But I did not force them." The young dragon chirped, head turning in puzzlement as their already brilliant mind worked overtime behind sad blue eyes. "I asked it. I asked him. He agreed. But you unmade him. You took him from me."
"It's wrong, baby." She nuzzled her dragonling, wishing only for the depth of her love to soothe the turbulent soul. "Just because he agreed does not mean he knew what he agreed to. He can't have known. Us Dragons are of a different type of existence. Seeing things through our eyes, ah... well, I'm not surprised he..."
He broke, she wanted to say. But she couldn't. Not with the way they looked at her, resentment building behind those same orbs that once adored her.
But they finished it for her. "That he broke, Mother? How did you know? How COULD you have known? You didn't even ask him."
"My baby - they always break. It's inevitable -"
"You didn't ASK him like I DID!" Jormag boomed, breath coming in heavy pants from between jagged fangs. If a thing such as them could cry, she felt their eyes would be shedding waterfalls. "And you didn't ask now, either. If he wanted to live. No. You simply unmade him."
The matron of the ocean shrank away. Fear permeating an ancient body, an emotion she hadn't truly known until that moment. Even though she foresaw it, even though this fate was written in stars older than even herself, it was a different matter entirely to simply know and to experience it firsthand.
Her child. One of the only creatures she felt she truly, wholly, loved - and they lay destroyed in every timeline. The massive whorl of her body spasmed with terror.
The first thing that went was always their heart and there were no words she could possibly say to heal it. She ran a billion worlds through her mind and there was not one, not one life in which they understood.
Jormag simply continued to gaze into their mother's eyes, hitched, raspy breaths slowly evening out, like a stormy sea mellowed out into a calm. Before she knew it, they were as unshakable as a statue yet again, that same cold persona of reason they had since grown into.
"I see. So you've embraced fatalism." They commented, in an almost condescending manner.
Like they thought she wasn't even worth conversing with.
Like she was a relic who could not possibly understand. And yet, she did. She comprehended it all, every facet of it, and it was ever-so-slowly killing her. A deathless thing, watcher of every world that was and ever could be. And she was killing her child, too.
Soo-Won was glad mortals did not have to bear this burden. Yes, their minds were small, so very delicate - but they held a view of life no Dragon could hold. Something that only came with this same fragile grace, a flame burning bright before flickering out into the night. And so, she tried.
It would be futile. Again.
It was always futile, but she loved them and could not help trying anyway.
"The Cycle is life and death. Things come, and they go." The tip of her tail moved, a soft motion of rising and falling. "There are seasons in this world, my child, and it is our duty to guide their dance. Even the oldest ice thaws, and then comes spring. Can you not hear the birds sing..?"
"When the birds sing, the rot sets in."
The world was an enormity even she could not hold. Oceans would forever remain her home, but Tyria was so much more than endless waters. And so, in order to encompass such wealth of life, she bore that which granted her this name - this curse. Mother.
Lifegiver. As it all did in this world, their existence was spawned from water. As much as they rejected her, in the end, their domain would remain the very closest to hers. She could already feel the low growl building in their throat.
"You wallow in entropy and call it renewal." The scion hissed, stalking lightly back and forth like an ambush predator. "Cycles within cycles... grinding everything to dust. Does that make you happy?" The tip of their tail twitched, the only part of her child's body which so readily betrayed emotion. She thought back to the times they'd hide their tail under their form so that Primordus could not read their annoyance, and once again, she smiled sadly.
"It's not entropy." Though it may have seemed that way, it was the only way the world may continue. "It's balance."
She did not have the heart to answer the question.
"It's so delicate, but it repeats itself forever." The adolescent dragon mused. "Why? Why destroy something just to replace it? What about this carnage says balance to you?!"
Cycles upon cycles. She had no answer. Or, rather - she did, but not one that would ever soothe them. This glass-frail heart, so eager to chip, shatter and break.
"Why can't they.. stay forever with me...? I cannot hold this love of mine when it thaws. I cannot..."
"Jormag... love comes and goes. That is its beauty."
"There is NO beauty here! It's obscene."
She stilled. Every fin, every whisker. So too did her words still between her jaws, not even a sigh escaping their monumental clutches. The hand of her mind retreated when she felt Jormag's own slap it away. It felt cold.
It stung.
"All you had was the quiet void in which you dwelled. All those years in the abyss. Not even your domain is kind. Bring a mortal down there, and it ruins them in seconds and lingers while they scream. There is no sound as their lungs fill with water. The pressure crushes them. Warps them into shapes unfit for life." The scion spoke, in a droning, monotonous voice. A perfect façade for all the pain they kept - hidden just beneath the surface. Their voice, the only thing that could set it free, but continuously refused to do so.
"Down there, in your home, nobody would even hear them scream. But not in mine. In mine, I will be there. I will listen. Always. And I will talk. I will make sure they know they are never alone. Not even for a second."
"Jormag!" For once, she was forceful. Her own voice crashed into theirs like a tidal wave. "You are what will ruin them!"
Her offspring recoiled, betrayal briefly shining in cerulean orbs - no, there was more. A bubbling, seething hatred, an emotion of unparalleled intensity that ill befitted her gentle child. That explosive rage remained, coiling and writhing like a serpent, before it slowly warped into something more insidious. There was disdain, mockery even. "Oh..? Have I troubled you? Replace me, then."
"I cannot -"
"Cannot? So you WOULD have done so if you only could, hmm? I see. Am I broken in your eyes as well, Mother? And if so, since when?"
Since forever. As they all were. But she could not bear to let them know. Her imperfect children, spawned from a womb which failed them. But in the end, they would know that she knew, and that scared her more than anything.
"..Why can't you love me, Mother? Where did I go wrong? And when? Tell me the exact moment. So that I.. may make it immortal."
Their mind smirked at hers. Just for you, dearest Mother.
Stop.. please, just stop.
But they would not. No, they would not. For that was their destiny. Their great, terrible, self-wrought identity: and yet, she did not stop them. It was not hers to take away the choice they made - kept making - in every life. Her gut twisted, a familiar hurt burrowing through her vibrant body, her fraying spirit. The event horizon sneered at her distant gaze.
"You never loved any of us. It was all a deception so that we may fit your purpose. Enact your grand design which you forced upon us. But that is alright, for my voice is my own. I will speak my truth, not yours. And I will make this choice everyday. For as long as I breathe." Jormag continued, every word as sure as an avalanche falling. As a dagger caressing flesh before sinking in. "And I will ask a question you had never once asked any of us."
"Is this what you want?"
Their words were loud. Her thoughts were quiet. But she already knew. Oh, from the beginning of time, she knew.
"...And they will answer: Yes. Oh, yes. I do."
The scion turned, and she felt it like a wound. The splinter of ice that burrowed into her soul, never to leave. The final farewell from their own bleeding, shattered heart. Her only keepsake of Jormag, the Kind, who would become everything but.
White wings opened, and each feather sang like a winter wind. "Goodbye, Mother." The title sounded like poison in their mouth. "As always, you've left me nothing to mourn."
They were not the first to leave, but it hurt all the same knowing that the home they shared was home no longer. If a thing such as her could cry, her eyes would be shedding waterfalls.
You let this happen. Never forget that.
I won't, dear child. She could only watch as they departed. She could only ever watch, after all.
I will remember for as long as I breathe. For as long as my thoughts last. For as long as my mind keeps its vigil over this world. She felt her soul quiver, an earthquake at the bed of the seas.
And I will sing your name in my dreams, for as long as my voice is still my own.
#gw2#guild wars 2#guild wars 2 fanfiction#gw2 fanfiction#gw2 fanfic#guild wars 2 fanfic#fanfiction#gw2 jormag#jormag#gw2 soo-won#soo-won#soo won#gw2 soo won#my art#gw2 fanart
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Story Summary: Sabine and Ezra do their best to enjoy a rare day off at home as their daughter, Mira, begins her days in the Academy. But, as it always is with these two, things are never that simple for this star-crossed pair . . .
Day 1, SabezraWeek2024 Prompt: Slice of Life - Domestic Sabezra
@sabezraweek
I used to be a morning person.
In the early days, back when I was still on the Ghost with Kanan, Hera, Zeb, Chopper, and Ezra, I relished being the first person awake during our long travels around the galaxy. Walking into the communal area, brewing up a fresh mug of caf, and then sitting in the Phantom alone, watching the stars pass by in silence. It was such a brief respite from the general chaos of our everyday existence, fighting a war against an implacable foe than never seemed to falter in its cruelty.
(Well, technically, I was the first person awake. Hera never really seemed to sleep, always tinkering with her ship at odd hours.)
Even back then, being involved in a war for our survival, I couldn't resist against the sense of optimism that flowed into me, looking out at the vastness of space. I felt young and invincible, able to shape the future as I saw fit.
There was no challenge that Sabine Wren, Mandalorian, could overcome.
But now . . .
A sharp series of pokes at my cheek, accompanied by giggling.
"Papa, I don't think she's going to wake up." My daughter, Mira, attempting to rouse me from my slumber.
My husband's voice, intimately familiar and filled with easy-going humor, replied in an amused tone. "Try the other cheek, maybe?"
Deciding to be playful, I let out a noise that some would unwisely call a snore. This was shortly joined by more giggling from my daughter.
I felt some pressure on my other cheek - and then, with lightning quick reflexes, snatched my daughter into a bear hug. "Aaaahhhhhh!" I growled. "Who dares disturb my precious sleep?"
The giggling erupted into squeals of laughter, bright and lively. "Mama!" Mira said, as I rolled around with her on my bed. "You're finally awake."
I peppered her face with kisses. "All thanks to you, little one. As punishment, I give you death by a thousand kisses."
"Gross! Papa, help me out here," complained Mira.
My husband, Ezra, stood at the side of our bed, dressed in casual sleepwear. His hair was still a little floofy from sleep, along with rumpled clothes. In the early morning hours, it was undeniably an extremely attractive look - well, at least it was to me, which is all that mattered. He stroked his beard, recently trimmed, looking thoughtful.
"Actions have consequences, cyare," he said sadly. "I'm afraid that's a fact of life."
Mira wriggled out of my embrace to glare at her father. "This was your idea, Papa," she retorted.
"Was it? I can't recall. Must be my old age."
I snorted and sat up in bed. "Is it time?" I asked.
My daughter looked at me, annoyance momentarily dropped. "Yes. Leaving for the Academy today."
"Soon, I might add," Ezra stated. He looked at his chrono. "Head over to the refresher, Mira. Let's get you ready now."
I stroked her hair, suddenly overcome with emotion. It seemed only yesterday that a medical droid had handed her to me, so tiny and fierce with life, swaddled in a blanket. The labor had been long and arduous, full of unexpected complications, but holding her in my arms afterwards - the ultimate manifestation of the love shared between myself and Ezra - was one of the happiest moments in my entire life.
She was our heart in physical form, stepping outside our chests into the big, wide galaxy. I knew we couldn't protect her forever, much as I wished sometimes to just lock her inside the comm-tower - she needed to spread her wings at some time.
I just wished it hadn't come so quickly. If only I had more time . . .
My thoughts wandered towards my late mother and father. Did they feel this way when Tristan and I started making our own way through life? Making choices that caused our paths to diverge far, far from home?
"Mama?" asked Mira, her voice worried. She stared curiously at me, her features a mix of Ezra and mine; I saw his smile at times, bright and guileless, but her eyes flashed briefly with a fire that reminded me all too well of my own - and my late mother's.
"Are you okay? You look sad."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. "It's a happy kind of sad, cyare. You grew up on us so fast, little one."
Mira smiled. "I'm a kid. That's what I'm supposed to do."
I laughed and pulled her into a big hug. "And you're doing such a great job of it."
Ezra seemed more composed than I did, but I felt through our bond in the Force that he was going through the same emotional turbulence I was. His tone was gentle as he said, "Mira, it's time. Say good-bye to your mother now."
My daughter gave me a farewell kiss on the cheek and sprinted out the door. Ezra looked at me. "Are you going to be alright?"
I sniffed. Allergies, I told myself.
Sure, Sabine.
"No," I admitted. "I just thought . . ."
"That today would take longer to get here?" Ezra said, finishing my train of thought. "I feel the same way, Sabine."
I reached out to grasp his hand. He squeezed it affectionately. "You get it."
"She's with us for only a little time," Ezra said quietly. "Let's just enjoy it while we can."
I couldn't say anything to that. I heard someone say once that children are a gift that are loaned to us for only a little while. At some point, we had to let them go find their own way.
Why is the last act of love always letting go, I wondered.
He leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead before leaving to attend to our daughter. "Get some more sleep," he said. "I'll see you after I drop her off."
_ _ _ _ _
I awoke an hour later to the rich aroma of freshly brewed caf. Shuffling out of the bedroom, I found Ezra in the kitchen with a mug of my favorite beverage.
I accepted it gratefully and collapsed onto the couch. Murley sauntered by, brushing his face against my legs - a regular routine for him, since the act resulted in his daily allowance of petting. With fond annoyance, I reached down to do so.
Once he was satisfied, the mangy loth-cat let out a purr as thanks and stepped away to find a warm spot to doze in.
"You live such a charmed life," I noted.
Ezra joined me on the couch, a bowl of freshly sliced golden plait-fruit, berries, and meilooruns on his lap. My stomach growled at the sight.
"Hungry?" he asked.
I held back from snatching the bowl from his lap. "You have to ask?" I said, trying not to sound like a hungry loth-wolf.
My husband grinned. "No. But it's fun to do so."
He picked at a slice of fruit and popped it into my open mouth. I chewed slowly, savoring the fresh fruit. In between bites, I finished my caf, and leaned my head onto Ezra's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.
"What's on the agenda for today?" I asked. My voice was still slurred slightly, a result of not fully being awake yet - the caf had yet to take effect.
I felt Ezra shift uncomfortably on the couch. "Well . . ."
I groaned. "Is that today?" I asked. "I thought it wasn't for another week, at least."
"Hey," Ezra retorted. "It was your idea. You said we shouldn't put off cleaning and maintenance any longer. This was the day we both agreed upon."
I grimaced. He was right. Ezra was a Jedi Knight, which came with enormous responsibilities, and Bo-Katan - the current leader of Mandalore - always needed my help corralling the clans into focusing on rebuilding our home world instead of warring against each other.
Add all that with the time-consuming demands of being a parent, meant that the comm-tower we called home had fallen into disrepair. We made it work; it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but that meant some things fell through the cracks.
"I've changed my mind," I said promptly. "Let's wait another week."
"Sabine," he said patiently. "We have a pile of dirty laundry that is literally taller than our daughter. It needs to be done."
I really did not want to clean the comm-tower. Ezra and I had been so busy over the past few months and with Mira finally out of the house starting Academy, we finally had some alone time.
I had needs that had to be addressed.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, I thought.
With a firm hand, I turned his face gently towards me. His expression was curious, a question presumably about to be asked but I had already pressed my lips hungrily against his.
There was a moment of surprised silence before he melted into it, his need rising to meet mine. I pushed gently against his frame, and we fell gently onto the couch, still kissing passionately.
"Sabine," he groaned. "We have so much to do today."
"We do," I agreed, tracing a line of smooches down his cheek, his neck, aiming to make my way further down into more enticing territory. "So, it would be best if we finish this first so that our focus can be fully on the chores."
His voice dropped into a husky growl, signaling that I had won this particular battle. "You are incorrigible," he huffed out.
I was in the middle of pulling his shirt off as he spoke. "Oh?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "Should I stop?"
He glared at me. "Come here."
I lowered my face to his, holding back laughter.
Ezra grinned and he pulled me into a warm embrace, kissing and making me breathless; making me feel alive.
_ _ _ _ _
True to my word, I was locked in on the chores after we finished.
Ezra puttered around the house, cleaning up the various debris littering the floors first before putting in the hard work of sweeping, dusting, and mopping to make sure our home was habitable again.
Meanwhile, I focused on the maintenance: checking the electrical systems, the power generators, and communications array.
Early on in our relationship, we had figured out a good system to handling the daily mundane tasks of everyday life. Ezra had clocked immediately that I hated cleaning; something that shouldn't have surprised him, given our prior co-habitation on the Ghost.
When I had poked him about it, since he had visited my room countless times, he pointed out that we were at war with the Empire during that period.
"I assumed that was the reason," he muttered, after seeing my incredulous expression. "I didn't know that was your default state, Sabine."
"It would have been," I admitted. "If Hera and Kanan hadn't kept being annoyingly persistent about cleaning up after myself."
Meanwhile, I had realized that Ezra lacked the mechanical knowledge and expertise that had been ingrained into me since birth - which, if we lived in a normal state-of-the-art apartment complex in Capital City, wouldn't be necessary.
But we had decided to stay in the old comm-tower instead. During long years of isolation and loneliness, the aging structure had served as home for both of us. It was an easy choice, one of the first we made together as a couple.
But that meant someone had to look after and maintain it. Which meant me.
Parts for upkeep were increasingly rare since the comm-tower was already past its prime during the Empire's reign, as the last of its line of communications towers before being phased out of service. When the Empire came to power, this proved to be a boon to the Bridgers, since the outdated machinery meant that it was overlooked during the initial Imperial survey of Lothal's resources - and continued to be so when their son claimed it as refuge after they were taken.
Because of the rarity of parts for use, that meant I had to regularly scavenge in junkyards across the galaxy to find components that could be used. My husband was competent in quite a few forms of mechanical repair, but the tower was a long-term care project and required the kind of ingenuity and complexity that he simply wasn't equipped with.
And I really, really did not like to clean.
So, the bargain was struck - I handled maintenance, he handled cleaning. It was a good deal which enabled us to avoid arguments and turn our attention and energy to more pressing matters (like what we had just done on the couch.)
I was on my back, dressed in an old flight suit borrowed from Hera, covered in old grease and spatters of oil, halfway inserted into an open vent that led to a circuit board that controlled the flow of our air conditioning. It sparked erratically mere inches from my eyes, which were safely shielded behind a pair of mechanic's goggles (also from Hera, but she didn't know that I had them).
I frowned, holding back a curse. This circuit board had been a problem since I had procured it from a shady Quarren vendor on Kijimi. But the discount he had offered was too good to pass up.
I see now why it was so cheap, I thought grimly. Should have known better, di'kut.
There was a nudge at my foot. I peered out to see the face of my husband, looking concerned, holding a large trash bag full of -
"Is that hair?" I asked, shocked. "That can't be all hair, Ezra."
He gave a faint look of disgust and shook the bag's contents. "Afraid so. I can't tell if this all Murley's or if Mira's been letting in some of his feral friends while we haven't been paying attention."
I craned my neck to find the accused in question and found Murley, our resident loth-cat and menace, taking up his usual place on my personal tool bench. He was watching us with curious eyes.
I pointed my electric torch at him. "Stop loafing around and help out. I don't let you squat here just to be cute and keep us company, you know."
Murley mewled in what I construed to be polite disagreement.
I wagged the torch aggressively to emphasize my next statement. "I'll kick you out," I promised. "For real this time."
The loth-cat blinked - and then proceeded to cough up a disgusting hair ball.
Ezra sighed. "Great. I have to clean up that now."
"He has his charms," I said, grinning.
He folded his arms, annoyed. "Which are . . .?"
"Well," I said. "For one, he does remind me of a certain handsome Jedi."
Ezra squatted down to me, a slight smile breaking through his annoyance. "Oh, does he?"
I reached up to stroke my husband's face affectionately. "Why do you think I kept him around so long?"
"Figured it was the other way around. He was hard to get rid of."
"So were you," I pointed out. "Seems like I have a penchant for being liked by strays."
He leaned into my touch - and then laughed when my stomach growled hideously.
Feeling my face flush, I went scooted back into the open maintenance shaft.
"Guess it's feeding time," Ezra chuckled. "What are you in the mood for?"
Trying - and failing - to sound nonchalant about the egregious announcement of my bodily functions, I answered, "Two Bantha burgers, large fries, and a meiloorun smoothie."
"I'm assuming both of those are for - "
"Me, yeah," I grunted, stifling the mild spike of annoyance. My hunger was finally making itself known after an hour of toiling away in the mechanical guts of our home and I felt it begin to poison my jovial mood.
"So, that will be three bantha burgers, large fries, and two smoothies, then. From Paldo's?"
Paldo's. My favorite local fast-food diner in Capital City run by an elderly Twi'lek named, you guessed it, Paldo. I was considered royalty by the manager there, much to my husband's amusement. There was even a framed picture of me on the wall, first thing you saw when walking inside. Mira always laughed with delight whenever she accompanied me for a meal.
"Yup," I said.
He eyed me. "I don't understand where you put all that food."
I gestured proudly at myself. Years of hard work, battle, and a stressful childbirth and yet my figure was still in top form for my age. "It's all in the genes, cyar'ika."
"Is that so," Ezra said dryly. "And are those same genes the reason why you eat like a newborn rancor, my cyar'ika?"
"No. That was the result of being raised with a brother, as you know."
"Oh, I do know," Ezra replied. "I met him, remember? Poor Tristan was all skin and bones, if I recall."
I swatted at him. He let out a bark of laughter and pivoted to the side, avoiding my hit. "Go get my food, husband mine. Or you'll see how a baby rancor reacts when deprived of sustenance."
With a teasing grin, he gave a mock salute and headed for the elevator. A minute later, I heard the tell-tale grumble of a speeder engine starting and then the familiar swoop sound as it sped off into the distance towards Capital City.
Sighing, I returned to my repairs -
A chime came from the communications console, indicating a visitor.
I frowned. Had Ezra returned already? I didn't hear the speeder.
I got up and walked towards the console to press the intercom. "Did you forget your credit chip, di'kut?"
The response was laced with sardonic amusement. "Hello, Wren. It's been a while."
I froze at the voice, familiar but not in a way that invoked pleasant feelings; it was familiar in the way that a warrior knew the sound of a knife escaping its sheath or the sound of a blaster powering on.
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. Already my mind was racing, racing with horrible thoughts of Ezra and Mira.
"There's something I need to show you. May I come up?"
"No," I said firmly. "I'll come down to you."
"Sure," she replied. "It will be like old times."
I grab my lightsaber off a nearby work bench before heading down to see why Shin Hati had come to visit.
_ _ _ _ _
I have nightmares about this sometimes.
In my nightmares, she and I are dueling again. That cold night, years ago, after I had just unlocked the map to Ezra.
I beat the assassin droids and give chase to her, like always. She is wrapped in a cloak, blacker than the night surrounding us.
Her lightsaber blazes scarlet in the dark courtyard. I activate my own - and strike, my emerald meeting her scarlet in a blaze of sparks.
And then, in the nightmare, I stumble. My blade swings wide and I am left defenseless for a critical second.
Shin's blade comes down in a vicious arc, right through my exposed neck.
And I wake up, in a cold sweat. Ezra doesn't ask, he doesn't need to. He just wraps me in his arms and gently lulls me back to sleep.
This isn't my nightmare, however. But a part of me still feels the hot blaze of a blade made from pure plasma erupting in my gut.
Shin Hati stands across me in the tower's courtyard in broad daylight. Next to her is a speeder, sleek and shiny with fresh chrome. She's dressed in gray combat fatigues with a black bolero jacket worn over it. Her platinum blonde hair is longer now, tied into a short ponytail.
I probably don't look all that intimidating to her, now that I think about it, covered in an old flight uniform that's seen better days. But I hope the lightsaber hilt gripped in my hand is enough to make her cautious, at the very least.
Her eyes pierce mine with a wolfish stare. Finally, she shakes her head. "Well, you didn't have to dress up for me," she said.
"You should have called ahead," I replied. I made sure that my thumb was right over the activation switch on the lightsaber hilt. "I would have freshened up."
Shin cocked her head. "Thinking about it now, you didn't look that good last time we met like this."
She smirked. "Remember?"
An old searing pain ached in my abdomen. The scar.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
She slowly pulls from her jacket a holo-puck. "You need to see this."
"Toss it to me."
Shin complied. I caught it deftly, my eyes never leaving her face. She didn't move immediately for a weapon. I felt some of the tension drain from me - but not much.
"Play it," she urged.
I did so. The holo-puck emitted a recording, the blue static focusing into something sharper -
Something in my chest tightened and I felt myself inhale sharply. The recording was of Ezra and Mira.
From this morning. I watched the miniature holographic forms of my husband and child play out for a few more seconds - Ezra giving our daughter a hug before waving her off to the Academy - before the recording fizzled out in a shower of sparks.
I winced, dropping it. I realized a second later, seeing the warped and twisted metal, that I had squeezed it so hard that it broke.
I looked back at Shin. Something in my face must have spooked her because the former mercenary took a step back with her hands up, palms facing outward, in a placating gesture. "Wren, I promise. This was not me."
"Who?" I asked. The voice that came out was cold, colder than a winter on Krownest.
"Bothan private investigator. Their name - "
"I don't care for a name," I hissed. "Where are they right now?"
"I took care of them. They won't be following your family anymore," Shin said quickly. "But, more importantly, their employer is someone you know."
My teeth ground against each other in frustration. "Say it."
"Senator Xiono. He hasn't given up his personal crusade against you and your husband."
My stomach dropped at the name. Xiono.
He had already been a paranoid, suspicious politician before Thrawn had returned. The Imperial warlord's campaign against the New Republic had brought his planet's people nearly to ruin - and his wife had suffered grievously during the Grand Admiral's bombardment. Beset with grief and rage, the senator had railed against the Security Council for their failings - and had taken up a special fixation on myself and Ezra, who were caught in the middle of that mess.
There were only a handful of people who were aware of my involvement in Thrawn's return: Ezra, Hera, Leia, Zeb, Kallus, Ahsoka, and Chopper (no one actually told the astromech, he just figured it out all by himself). All had sworn to keep it secret, to protect me - despite my insistence against doing so.
But Xiono never gave up his line of inquiry, I knew. Chancellor Mothma had strong armed him to stay in line, but I always suspected that he continued to probe whenever he could.
The senator blamed Ezra and myself for what had happened to his home planet - to his family.
And he wasn't entirely wrong, a dark voice whispered in my mind.
But this was a new low.
My anger threatened to erupt from my chest, bellowing and screaming to the Lothal sky with all my pent-up rage.
Shaking, I asked Shin, "Why are you helping me?'
"I'm not helping you," she said, watching me carefully. "Your daughter deserves to have a family. I would not see her lose either of you, if it was within my power to prevent it."
I blinked, my rage momentarily forgotten. "I . . . I really don't know what to say."
Shin shrugged. "My job here is done, then." She took out her comm-link and proceeded to input a series of commands.
My own comm-link, hanging off my belt, chirped with an alert that a message had been received. I checked it quickly.
"What is this?"
"A place and a time," she responded. "The senator is expecting to meet his private investigator there. I thought you might like to meet him instead."
I considered briefly what Ezra would think. But he wasn't here.
"Thank you," I said. The rage came swarming up again, hot and eager. "I think I will."
_ _ _ _ _
The establishment was on the seedier side of Capital City. A dive, made from the wreckage of several TIE fighters clumped together, that served pirates, drunkards, and other sentient beings of dubious repute.
It was the perfect place for an incognito meeting, considering all the noise and ruckus.
A cloaked figure made his way hurriedly through the crowd, heading for a stone table enclosed in a dimly lit booth on the opposite side of the room. Another figure, slender and hooded, waved him over.
With the utmost discretion, Senator Xiono slid into the booth, huffing slightly. "This update had better have something good," he snarled to the booth's other occupant. "My contacts said you were one of the best, and I have yet to see anything of interest other than what color shoes Wren and Bridger's daughter wears to school!"
I lowered my hood. "I'm sorry you find my family so boring, Senator," I said.
To his credit, Xiono did not scream. His face went bloodless and pale, his lip trembled, his eyes widened - but the man was otherwise quite still.
Somewhere, amidst the storm of rage swirling inside me, I felt mildly impressed.
"Wren," he whispered. "Why are you - "
I placed my hands on the table with a gentle thump. Finally, he flinched.
I smiled, showing my teeth. "Do you read Mandalorian literature, Senator?"
He stared at me - and then, the faintest of sneers appeared on his face. "I wasn't aware your people had literature."
The sneer told me that he had been emboldened by my empty hands. But there were other ways to make someone afraid, I knew.
I nodded. "That's a fair point. Most of it was lost in the Purge. But the best stories always survive through word of mouth. Have you heard of the great Mandalorian warrior of legend named Akilles?"
"I have not." The disdain dripped off his tone, so thick I could almost see it congealing on his lips.
"Shame. You see, Akilles had a friend - another great warrior. One day, he found out that his friend had a mortal enemy, who swore to vanquish them. Akilles, upon finding out, proclaimed that there is no greater enemy than the enemy of his friend."
The ghost of a smile twitched on the senator's face. "Well, it seems that this Akilles and I agree on that."
I let my smile widen, showing more teeth. "Akilles went to confront the mortal enemy of his friend. And he gave him one warning."
I leaned forward; Xiono leaned back, as far as the booth would allow him. It wasn't much.
"There is no weapon; no army that can protect this enemy from the sheer hell that is Akilles rage."
"And," Xiono whispered carefully, "what happened to this enemy?"
"Akilles ran his sword through his gut. And then dragged his dead body throughout the streets of Sundari."
A chill silence fell between us in the booth, only interrupted by the occasional burst of laughter and conversation from the other diners.
The senator swallowed hard, his eye twitching. "What . . . might this enemy have done differently to avoid such a fate?"
I seized the front of his cloak and pulled him half across the table. He yelped, his hands scrambling, clawing for freedom but I ignored his feeble attempts at defense.
I stared into his wide eyes, unblinking. The fury within me seethed and poured molten fire into my next words.
"He could have left the planet. When he still had the chance." At the last word, I threw him back into his seat. He sagged, whimpering something incomprehensible.
I swept from the booth and went home.
_ _ _ _ _
"Mama!" yelled Mira, as I stepped from the turbolift. My daughter jumped into my arms.
"Hello, cyare," I said, squeezing her close. "How was the Academy?"
"It was a lot more fun than I thought. Made lots of friends - and a couple enemies, too," she added, almost as an afterthought.
I looked to Ezra. He shrugged. "I've already gotten some reports from the principal. She was standing up to some bullies."
I sighed and ruffled her hair. "It's a Wren specialty to have some archenemies wherever we go," I noted to him.
He snorted. "Don't I know it."
Mira squinted at me. "What's an 'arch-nemony'?"
I poked her in the forehead. "What, they didn't teach you that in linguistics class? Or, let me guess, you were too busy doodling in your sketchbook to pay attention?"
My daughter scrambled from my embrace. "I just remembered that I have to do homework. Gotta go now!"
I shook my head, amazed at her speed. "Never seen her so excited to do homework. She's hiding something."
"Yup," Ezra said. He glanced at me. "She's not the only one."
I kept my face still, turning to hang my cloak on a nearby coat hook. "What do you mean?"
"Sabine," said Ezra patiently. "Don't hide things from me. It doesn't work."
I scowled at him. "You know, sometimes it sucks being married to a Jedi."
"It's not the Jedi part that's telling me you're hiding something. It's the husband part."
He folded his arms. "Out with it. You were acting weird after lunch and then you vanished with barely a word."
I looked at the door leading to my daughter's room, biting my lip. "Can we talk about this outside? I don't want Mira to hear this."
I felt Ezra's worry rise considerably at my request, but his expression remained calm. "Of course."
Once we stepped outside, I spilled everything to Ezra. All of it.
When I finished, he let out a hiss of air and leaned against the balcony railing.
I went next to him, looking out over the view of Lothal's plains of grass and the glowing lights of Capital City in the distance.
"Bad, I know," I said quietly.
He reached out to take my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We can handle it. But next time, let's do it together, okay?"
As always, my husband's simple enduring faith in a better tomorrow continued to surprise me. "You're not mad?"
He snorted. "Mad at what, Sabine? You being yourself?"
I looked at him, smiling slightly. "You agree with what I did?"
He grimaced. "No . . . but I get why you did it."
My husband gave me a knowing look. "It won't keep him quiet for long. This will just fuel him to dig harder."
I nodded. "I know."
My voice hardened. "But he needed to know, Ezra. What it means to cross my family. Maybe, at least, he'll aim his fury at me next time - and not at you and Mira."
Ezra stood to look me directly in the eye. "Our family, Sabine. Promise me you won't go after him again. Not by yourself."
"I can't - I can't lose you. Either of you," I pleaded. "I can't bear it."
"It won't happen. If he comes after us again, we will face it together. I want your word, Sabine. Swear to me."
I let out a shuddering breath, feeling all the negative emotions escape with it. Then, quietly, I reached out for his hand and brought it to my heart. "I swear on my word and my honor as a Mandalorian," I said.
His blue eyes searched mine - and he nodded once, satisfied. "Okay."
"I'm sorry," I said. "What I did, all those years ago - it won't ever stop haunting us, will it."
"Don't be sorry," he replied softly. “You are worth it. Always. We will find a way."
I didn't know what else to say. I just hugged him close.
We stayed that way for a while, swaying gently with the evening breeze.
Then: "Ewwwwww."
I rolled my eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be doing homework?"
"It's finished," Mira said, sounding bored. "I want to play now."
Ezra smiled, shaking his head. "Too smart for her own good," he muttered to me.
"No such thing," I said, mildly offended. "Too smart for her own peace of mind, well, that's a more factual statement."
"And our own," he added.
I grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way, would you?"
"Nope." His smile lessened for a moment. "We had such a busy day. I'm sorry you didn't get a quiet night, like you wanted."
I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Ah, this is much better. There will be other nights."
"Promise?" he asked.
"Promise," I said. And we went inside, together.
_ _ _ _ _
I used to be a morning person.
I used to relish being awake in the early morning, watching the galaxy stream by in lines of stars, feeling invincible and young.
I watch my husband and young daughter sleep on the couch, her body sprawled across his lap in the boneless way that only youth can manage.
I don't feel young anymore. Or invincible.
I've traded that away for this. And, yes, it brings fear, and heartache, and the seeds of future joy.
That's life, as I've come to learn. Today was an odd day, full of challenging events, both big and small.
And it was not yet over. I snuggle close to my family - my two hearts, beating in quiet rhythm with one another - and prepare to fall asleep.
Tomorrow is another day. And I will meet it with both of them.
#sabezra#sabezraweek2024#sabine wren#ezra bridger#mira bridger wren#star wars rebels#star wars#sabezra fanfiction#eman esfandi
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was trying to enjoy my evening by listening to bokuaka playlists while reading, but TELL ME WHY IT IS THAT WHEN I SEARCH FOR PLAYLISTS I KEEP GETTING ONES FOR IN ANOTHER LIFE!!!?@?!1!@!????
#I DONT WANT TO REMMEBER TJAT FIC I READ IT ONCE LIKE 5 YEARS AGP AND IT CAUSED IRREPARABLE DAMAGE#that fic taught me the importance of reading tags i wish i could say im joking#I WANT SILLY SWEET U ARE MY UNIVERSE MY STAR AND GUIDIJG LIGHT WE ARE THE PROTAGONISTS OF THE WORLD#KIND OF PLAYLIST NOT#SHUTTINGDOWN BC I CANNOT PROCESS MY EMOTIONS AGTER READING A FIC THAT REWIRED MY BRAIN#i am a weak person i need bkak to be the bestest of friends and sweetest of lovers forever and ever and let them rule the world and live#long happy fulfilling lives until they are 130 years old i need them to remian in each others lives to always be the constant for each othe#i need bokuaka protagonists of the world always forever until the end of time for all eternity i need them together and not separated#i need them making weekly visits to see each other during volleyball season i need them living together during off season i need#them going on morning runs together getting groceries together giving eschother hugs and kisses and cuddling in bed and saying i love you#to each other 395857380192 times a day i need them to constantly send each orher owl puns good GOD#rambling about stuff
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One of the most frustrating and confusing parts of life is when I start to do something for closure and then realizing this closure may do more to harm me than heal me like I hoped it would.
#looking through my moms old school year books#reading all the messages her friends wrote her and learning more about her and her actual personality outside of being a mom#every day I wish I got to know her for real. I wish she could have been herself forever. I wish i could’ve really learned who she is#instead of reading past memos for someone who is now a shadow of a person#this hurts more than I thought it would#I just wanted to learn more about my mom#she had so many good friends and they had so many nice things to write in her year books#also a reminder that I never got to have school year books#I never got to have friends like this in my teenage years#a reminder of how lonely I was and how awful high school was for me#but I’m glad my mom had fun back then#I’m sure she misses these friends sometimes#and I’m sure they miss her#I wonder if they’ve ever tried to get in contact with her and came up with static and wondered what happened to her#how many middle and high school reunions would my mom have been invited to if she actually got to live her life#this isn’t fair#this isn’t fair to anybody involved#I wish my mom was still here to tell me about all these people and stories
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My 14th birthday during the War
Hello, my name is Ahmad. I’m 14 years old, and I want to share my story with you—one that comes from the heart of Gaza, a place I call home.
A year ago, our lives changed forever. The world around me grew dark, and the sounds of laughter turned into echoes of sirens. Every day became a struggle for the basic necessities: clean water, food, and safety. I watched as our once-vibrant community faced unimaginable sorrow, losing loved ones and friends—a total of 41,000 martyers, including 16,000 children. Some of them were my friends.
On the eve of my 14th birthday, I sat in our small tent with my little sister, Rema. She smiled at me, her eyes glittering with a hope I wished I could share. “We can celebrate, right?” she asked. My heart ached because I didn’t know how we could celebrate amidst the chaos.
The morning of my birthday was filled with joy, even in the midst of difficulty. Rema and I sat together, sharing the simple but precious feast we had. As we ate, I closed my eyes, making a wish. “I wish for peace,” I whispered. Layla squeezed my hand, and we dreamed together of a future where families like ours could reunite without fear, where children could play and laugh again.
I want the world to hear my story, to understand that even in the darkest times, there is still a flicker of hope. My home may be caught in the storm of war, but our dreams are strong. Each story shared, each voice raised in unity, brings us one step closer to the peace we long for.
So, I speak for myself, for Rema, and for the children of Gaza. Let our voices echo across the world, so everyone knows that we are here, hoping for a brighter tomorrow. Together, we can create a future filled with laughter and love, a future where every child can dream without fear.
@sar-soor @appsa @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @thatdiabolicalfeminist @sayruq @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisectionmoth @belleandsaintsebastian @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @ot3 @the-bastard-king @pcktknife @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @90-ghost @skatehani @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @variantsofblue @schoolhater @thedigitalbard @socalgal @paper-mario-wiki @ibtisams @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @nabulsi @lesbianmaxevans @transmutationisms @buttercupagere @malcriada @dykemarcille @dlxxv-vetted-donations @paparoach @neptunerings @newporters @postanagramgenerator @alivehouse @meshugenist @mangocheesecakes
#free gaza#gaza genocide#save palestine#free palestine#gaza strip#i stand with palestine#gazaunderattack#gazaunderfire#palestinian genocide#all eyes on palestine#birthday
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outlaw
𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
"another one, sweetheart."
i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.
"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.
your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.
if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.
"you're quitting school."
just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.
"hey, bitch, over here!"
monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.
reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.
the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.
sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.
you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.
a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.
the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.
"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"
you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.
"hungry?"
this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.
"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."
he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.
"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."
charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.
"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."
but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.
"clumsy girl," he teases.
you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.
"wyatt," he calls.
the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.
"you go on. i'll catch up with you."
without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.
you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.
the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.
"if you're done staring, you can join me."
caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.
"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."
and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?
you should really get home.
thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.
"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.
it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.
"i'll take you home."
"no!"
the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.
you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."
"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"because."
"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."
if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.
fuck.
"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.
"lies."
"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"
"does he beat you every day?"
he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.
"or only when you do something wrong?"
"i don't see how that's any of your business."
"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."
you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?
"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."
you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.
when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.
he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.
"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.
"i'll be fine." you lie.
you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."
he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.
"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."
he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.
weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.
you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.
the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.
"what's wrong, boy?"
denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."
"who is?"
"the stallion."
you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.
your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.
"good day, darling."
your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."
"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.
"uh, yes-"
"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.
the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"
"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."
the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."
you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-
"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.
"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"
defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."
alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.
"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"
you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.
his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"
you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.
"that's okay."
his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.
he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.
realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes.
as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."
hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.
you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.
and you don't even know his name.
"did he touch you?"
"what?!"
"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"
"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"
he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"
"like?"
"anything."
"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."
smack.
nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.
"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."
"but it's dinner time-"
"judith will help me. go. now."
not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?
you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.
"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.
"oh." is all you manage to say.
"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."
"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.
"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"
no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?
"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"
you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.
"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."
other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.
"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."
you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.
"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."
his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?
"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."
"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"
"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."
"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"
"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."
"i didn't want to-"
"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."
"no."
the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.
your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.
"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."
tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.
"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"
his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.
"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."
you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?
"let's get you washed."
after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.
you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.
if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.
the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?
for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.
saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.
"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."
"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"
"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.
they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.
but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.
slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.
"gin."
"right away."
the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.
"say, when are we going to have fun again?"
"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"
yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.
"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.
he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.
"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.
"what?"
"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."
"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."
"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."
great.
you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.
he is so manly, so handsome, and so...
"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"
he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."
you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?
"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."
"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.
you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-
"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"
"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.
"give yourself some time to think."
the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.
"uh... can you sit up straight?"
yunho raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.
"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"
"right away, darling."
he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.
"you missed a spot."
"huh?"
"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.
"oh, sorry."
he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.
"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.
"but-"
"i'll finish up. go."
coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.
yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.
you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.
"i can't do it."
"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."
"i need time."
jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?
"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."
"what, he spoke to you about me?"
wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.
"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.
you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"
the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."
"what do you mean? yes or no?"
"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.
"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."
you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."
"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"
"jongho. shut the fuck up."
"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."
the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.
the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.
how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.
it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.
the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.
"aren't you cute?"
your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.
"moonshine."
click. click. click.
"come on, girl."
the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.
"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"
your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.
"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."
his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.
"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"
the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.
"heavens." he exhales.
you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.
"darling?"
his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?
you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.
"had a good nap?"
"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.
"that's no place to sleep, dove."
"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."
he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.
"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."
"i'm not sure-"
"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.
the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.
"go on, climb her."
"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."
"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."
with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.
"is she fast?"
"she can be. want to see?"
"i don't know. i might scream."
he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?
"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.
you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.
you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.
his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.
"you alright?"
"yes!"
"how do you feel? scared?"
"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"
his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.
"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.
"a bit."
this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.
you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?
"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."
and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.
"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."
"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."
"take it."
"no."
"take it."
"i don't want to."
yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-
"why would you do that?!"
you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.
"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."
"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."
his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.
"you know my name."
"yeah."
"how?"
and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.
"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."
you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"
"a psycho."
"oh."
"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."
he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."
"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."
"then... why did you keep it?"
"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."
"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."
he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."
so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?
"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"
"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.
"he stole your first kiss."
"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.
"what- what are you doing?"
"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."
you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.
you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.
he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.
"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.
"like what?"
"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."
"maybe i do."
"you're saying risky things, sugar."
seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.
"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.
he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.
"what is it?"
"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."
the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."
"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.
"like a feast."
with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"
"sit."
"what?!"
"sit."
you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.
"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."
you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"
the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.
"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.
deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"
"yes, please."
"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."
he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.
"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."
you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.
"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."
he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?
"this good, darling?"
"yes."
"yes, what?"
"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.
he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.
"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"
"what?"
"do you wish to be mine?"
do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:
"yes, sir."
"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.
"yunho."
he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."
"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.
"again."
"yunho-"
"more."
"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"
he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.
"does it hurt?"
"no," you reply.
"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."
that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.
"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."
"me too," you moan.
his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.
"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."
"so sweet"
"even your moans are so beautiful"
"use me for your pleasure, darling"
you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.
"yunho..."
"yes, my love?"
"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."
"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."
you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.
"let's try this."
he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.
"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.
"wait, what about you?"
"i'll just- i don't know."
his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?
"are you sure?"
"positive."
"absolutely sure?"
"yunho?"
"yes?"
"please cum in my mouth."
and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.
"you are just perfect, aren't you?"
in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your shoulder as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.
upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?
he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.
"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.
"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.
you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.
"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."
"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."
blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."
"he shot her."
"you shot my father!"
"he deserved it!"
"no, the fuck he didn't!"
you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?
"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.
"don't touch me."
"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."
he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.
"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.
"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."
he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?
"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."
"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."
yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?
"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."
and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.
why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?
"you're all mine now, sunshine."
feedback greatly appreciated! <3
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teddy bear 🏹 daryl dixon
summary: just pure dad!daryl fluff tbh
author’s note: genuinely i was just trying to sleep when this popped into my brain and i had to get out of bed to write it otherwise it would have been lost forever. i hope you enjoy !
if you liked my work, please leave a like, reblog, and don’t forget to follow to keep up with my writing ! 🫶🏻 as always, requests are open
warnings: nada
word count: 1,555k
by the time daryl had realised he actually wanted kids, he thought it was too late. that he was too old to be a dad, and he’d be stuck with the “uncle daryl” title for the rest of his life. it hurt him, sometimes, thinking he couldn’t give you what you both wanted, and constantly kicked himself for thinking he didn’t want to raise a child in a world like this. you never blamed him either, for not wanting children. because he was right. this world wasn’t exactly made for kids.
daryl would constantly watch you with the kids in the community, the sight of you with children tugging at his heart strings, wishing they were your own children. and he’d sit and wonder what they’d look like. would they have his blue eyes? your nose? his loyalty? your loving heart? it made him regret what he had told you all those years ago, and how you simply agreed with him. because what if you didn’t want kids anymore either.
so when daryl climbed into bed with you one night, his chest pressed against your back with his arm wrapped around your waist, he had mumbled something that you didn’t quite catch.
“is it too late to ‘ave kids?” he spoke a little louder, his gravelly voice low in your ear. you felt your stomach flip at his words, turning around in his arms to face him, looking into his steel blue eyes.
“you want kids?” you questioned, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek and gently stroke your thumb across his cheekbone as he nodded his head, avoiding eye contact with you in case he had said the wrong thing. “i would love nothing more than to have your babies, dixon.” you chuckled softly, a small smile on your lips. “but only if you’re sure.”
“i’m sure.” he mumbled, his forehead pressing against yours. he may have sounded blunt, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he had never been more sure of himself.
“i guess we’re gonna have a baby then, hey?” you giggled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips as he wrapped his arm around you tighter, pulling your body on top of his.
— — —
you had been trying for what felt like forever for a baby, but there had been no signs of any little bundle of joy showing up in your lives anytime soon. until one day you had just woken up with this… feeling. you weren’t 100% sure that it was something, but you also thought it couldn’t be nothing. so you had made your way into the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers for the pregnancy tests you had found on a run a few months ago ( because you never knew when you’d need one ) and took the test. you paced anxiously in the small bathroom, chewing on the skin around your nails as you waited for what felt like forever, but was only a couple minutes before you flipped the test back over, seeing the little positive sign on the test.
absolutely overjoyed that you had actually managed to get pregnant, you couldn’t wait for daryl to come back home and ran out into the community to find him. you had located him by the front gates, running over to him.
when daryl saw you running towards him, his first reaction was to panic. he thought something was wrong, that something bad had happened to you, but when you had said those two words that he had been waiting months to hear, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off the ground and swinging you around.
“y’aint lyin’?” he looked at you after he put you back down on the ground, watching as you shook youre head with a huge smile on your face. “oh my god, ‘m gonna be a dad,” he grinned, hugging you tightly once more. “yer gonna be a momma, ‘m gonna be a daddy.”
“you’re gonna be the best daddy.” you squeezed him back just as tight, burying your face into the crook of his neck.
— — —
throughout your pregnancy, daryl had been amazing. he made sure you were always comfortable, that you had eaten enough— and would even try to give you food off his own plate. even if you protested every time. “don’ care. baby’s gotta eat,” he’d huff, scraping his food onto your plate, ignoring your huffs.
he’d make sure you didn’t do anything to strenuous, and when you were further along in your pregnancy, he would try to be by your side as much as he could. and when he couldn’t, he’d send carol to look after you. you’d tell him you didn’t need to be babysat, but he’d simply ignore you. because he wanted nothing more than to keep you both safe.
when you had gone into labour, he had ran to get siddiq, leaving you back at the house with carol just until he got back. he held your hand the entire time, letting you squeeze as hard as you needed too. and you were sure you were on the verge of breaking his hand multiple times, but he didn’t wince once. because he knew what you were going through right now was ten times worse than a broken hand.
“i can’t— i can’t do this.” tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, hours of being in labour had exhausted you, but you were so close. so close to delivering that little baby that you both wanted so badly.
he wiped the sweat from your forehead, brushing away your hair that had clung to your skin and pressed kisses to your face. “you can do this, baby. yer strong, ‘kay?” he encouraged you, squeezing your hand. “plus, i don’ think there’s any backin’ out now.” he tried to joke, but you just groaned, your head falling back as siddiq instructed you to push again.
when daryl heard the little cries coming from the little baby, he squeezed your hand once more, kissing all over your face. “ya did it, sweetheart. ‘m so proud of you.” he murmured, looking at siddiq as he had announced it was a boy. “a lil boy, we have a son.”
he watched as siddiq wrapped him up, placing the tiny little baby on your chest before stepping out of the room to give the both of you some privacy. you both stared in awe at the baby in your arms, your pinkie finger tracing over his tiny, delicate features.
“he looks like you,” you whispered, looking up at daryl with an exhausted smile.
“ya think?” he asked, his large hand brushing against the baby’s cheek, in absolute awe that the both of you had created something so precious. so beautiful.
“yeah. he’s got your nose, and your lips.” you pointed out, fingers tracing over each feature as you listed them off. and when your little boy opened his eyes for the first time, you grinned. “and he’s got your eyes. i’ve literally just given birth to a mini daryl dixon.” you rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head.
when it came time for daryl to hold him, he was told to take his shirt off when he held him. you watched as there was no hesitation in him taking off his top as he sat down, his large hands gently taking the baby from your hands. you noticed how much tinier he looked in daryl’s hands, and your heart swelled with happiness.
“wha’ do we name ‘im?” daryl asked, eyes not leaving his little miracle once.
“i like theodore. teddy for short.” you looked at him for his opinion, and he had nodded his head, finally looking over to you with the proudest look on his face.
“theodore dixon. my lil teddy bear.” you heard a sniffle come from him, noticing the tears in his eyes as he looked at teddy. “thank ya, baby. don’ think ya know how much ya both mean t’ me.”
— — —
as teddy got older, being a dad had really changed daryl. he was ( obviously ) super protective over his little teddy bear, not letting him out of his sight if you weren’t around. and when he got to that wild toddler phase, daryl was having the time of his life. he loved to chase after his son, watching as his little legs carried him as fast as he could to you, wrapping his little arms around your legs for protection from the tickle monster. or how his giggles never seemed to end when daryl was blowing raspberries on his tummy. daryl was full of pure bliss when it came to his family.
he loved to lift teddy up onto his shoulders, walking through the community with the proudest smile on his face. and he especially loved when teddy would crawl up between the two of you in bed, planting himself right in between his two favourite people. when teddy had a bad dream? daryl was there. when he fell over for the first time? daryl was there brushing his tears away and kissing his sore knees better.
it made your heart swell at how much of an amazing dad daryl was, and you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to raise a child with in this world.
#🦇 — vi writes#🏹 — daryl dixon#dad!daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon oneshot#daryl dixon headcanon#daryl dixon imagines#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon#twd daryl dixon#twd daryl#the walking dead#twd#the walking dead oneshot#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead fanfic#twd oneshot#twd fanfiction#twd imagine#twd fanfic
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life after you and satoru adopt the first years 💜💜
fic of that here. i recommend reading that before these hcs 💕
contains: mentions of pregnancy / birth
yuuji still can't believe it. he now has a large room in you and satoru's large home, parents that adore him, and siblings that'll forever have his back. he cries about it sometimes. after everything he's been through, he finally has his happy ending.
megumi is the most relaxed he's ever been in his life. it felt so good resting, knowing that he was safe and that you and satoru wouldn't let anything happen to him. he sleeps so much. you and satoru saw it coming. he's been in survival mode ever since he was a kid. of course, he's going to want to rest. whenever you see him napping in the sunroom, you put a small blanket over him.
like yuuji, nobara also can't believe it. sometimes, you see her just watching everyone else in disbelief, unable to believe that she's now a part of the family. she's always smiling, though. her favorite part of the day is that last hour before bed, where she's next to you in one of the large bathrooms doing skincare together.
three months into the adoption (and four months into your pregnancy), you ask the three of them if they'd still like to be sorcerers. to your surprise, they said yes. when you ask why, yuuji points his thumb over at satoru and says, "gotta help dad out."
satoru definitely cried later because yuuji called him 'dad' for the first time.
though satoru accepted that, he preferred for the three of them to take far fewer missions so they could enjoy the rest of their childhood. to his relief, none of them disagreed with it.
however, the higher-ups of jujutsu society weren't too thrilled at the news of you and satoru adopting them because that meant that they would have fewer sorcerers.
what they did express great interest and delight in, was the fact that you were pregnant. they were already chatting about how powerful the baby would be and what great things they could achieve; not just with satoru's technique but also yours. hearing those old bastards talk about his child as if they were already a perfect weapon, like he was made to be, made his blood boil.
satoru shut it down swiftly and told them that the baby wouldn't have anything to do with sorcery, regardless of what technique they were born with. they deserved a happy, safe life far away from the horrific system that devoured children. he saved yuuji, nobara, and megumi from it before it could kill them. every day, he wished that he and suguru were saved from it.
when the higher-ups objected, satoru gave them a chilling warning—that he'll show no mercy to anyone who tries to threaten his family's safety and happiness, and that's final.
yuuji, megumi, and nobara keep up with their training, but they also spend a lot more time doing things that genuinely interest them.
you and satoru spoil them rotten. obviously. when it comes to fun family trips, you all always go overboard, but it didn't matter. all three of them never got to have fun experiences, plus, you can tell that satoru is making up for all of the things he missed as a child.
your old colleagues and students from jujutsu tech showed up to your baby shower, and it warmed your heart to see just how loved this baby was even though they weren't born yet.
you and satoru decide to wait to find out the gender until they're born. every evening after dinner, all five of you sit on the large couch in the living room, and the four of them take turns talking to your stomach.
they're always so excited when the baby kicks.
the final empty room in your massive home is stocked with everything that your newborn is going to need.
you're with megumi and nobara when your water breaks. you call satoru, who was shopping with yuuji, and tell them the news. "don't panic, but my water broke, and-" too late, they're both already screaming.
after so many hours of labor, you finally give birth to your beautiful baby girl. her hair is mostly like yours, but she also has a few white strands that she took from satoru.
she also inherited the bluest of eyes, and while satoru is extremely happy, he's also worried. because of the power he was born with, he was hunted. he never wanted that for his princess.
you can tell what he's thinking, and you stroke his cheek, telling him that it was going to be okay because your daughter had so many willing to protect her.
yuuji, megumi, and nobara—a little teary-eyed because their new baby sister was so freaking cute—assure satoru that he wouldn't be the only one with the role of protecting the family. they were sorcerers too, after all.
that brings the most gentle smile to satoru's face.
#this is literally what i daydream about 24/7#written by rey <3#satoru gojo x reader#parent au#jjk#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x f!reader#gojo x you#gojo x female reader#satoru gojo#gojo imagines#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#satoru x reader
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Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations
Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)
Series Masterlist
Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.
{Reader's POV}
12/07/2012
Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.
02/01/2013
OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.
I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.
My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.
So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.
After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.
Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.
18/12/2013
Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!
I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.
04/03/2014
Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.
Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.
We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.
After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.
17/05/2015
Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.
09/08/2015
This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.
[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#f1 x y/n#formula 1 fic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 fluff#f1 angst#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula one x y/n#formula one fluff#formula one angst#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 angst#max verstappen x you#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen angst#mv1 imagine
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Hi! How are You? Hope u are good.
Can I request Spencer with a reader that had unsub parents? It can be female ir male
You can ignore this is You want! Thank u for hearing me
I'm so sorry for the delay on this request, I'm crap at trying to come up with unsub plot lines but I hope this somewhat lives up to the imagine you had envisioned my love !! Thanks a million for the request and I hope you enjoy <3
ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇꜱ ꜱ.ʀ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
Summary: After half a decade, Spencer's worst fears are assumed to come true...
Themes/Warnings: gn!reader, pre-established relationship, mentions of kidnapping, unsub parents, angst, general themes and violence of the show. | PSA!! This imagine is loosely based on Mosely Lane |
You hated having your picture taken. The knowledge that you could never truly have control over what will be done with it haunts you even to this day.
The physical danger may be gone, but your memory, one which was shared with the many children who, unfortunately, found themselves locked away behind the dingy cellar door, forever remains.
Spencer knew of the horror stories. Of course he did. You made it your mission to tell him yourself before one of his FBI buddies could find out for themselves. However, hearing the admissions fall from your mouth did nothing to soothe Spencer's fear and anger. Fear, for your safety. Anger, for the knowledge that you lived in fear for the majority of your life. Anger, for the knowledge that the only thing separating you from your parents was a couple layers of cement and a cell door. He knew first hand just how ineffective prison can be for victims safety - if an unsub wanted to achieve something or other, all it took was speaking with the right person. He hated that he knew that.
Especially when he received a token in the mail.
A small parcel, barely the size of his palm. A little thin package addressed to Whom It May Concern. Assuming nothing of it, he opened it. You had already left for work, bidding him his goodbye kiss and promising a home cooked meal by the time he returned from the office. There was no sense in waiting until you were both home to open it, what if it was urgent?
And so he did.
And oh how he wished he never had.
There in his hand, sat a small polaroid of a child. At first, he didn't recognise you - for the ten years he had known you, and the five you spent living together, you have all but refused to dig up any childhood photographs. However, the longer he stared, the more he noticed your teary eyes. Your scrunched nose and furrowed brows. The same expression you wear to this day when you wake from a nightmare, when you watch a scary movie, and when you first told him of the horror house your parents ran. When you told him of the polaroids you were forced to take of your 'brothers' and 'sisters', and of your task of lugging those who disobeyed your mother to the crematorium.
Yet you'd failed to tell him that your picture was taken along with the other victims. That your little face had been a part of the morbid photo album which remained in the evidence case. Perhaps you didn't know? Did you even remember having this picture taken, you couldn't have been more than 7 years old. Spencer felt sick. Suddenly, it dawned on him what he was holding. How did he come to have this. Who had left this at your shared doorstep. They knew where you lived.
They knew where you lived.
He just about caught the bile in his throat before he felt his pocket buzz.
Struggling to pull his gaze from the omen in his hand, he reached for his phone and answered, failing to see the caller ID.
"Reid?"
"Yeah. Hotch I know, but I might be a bit late."
Before he could provide a half-assed excuse to buy himself some time - time to think on how he was to go about bringing this up to you and the team - Hotch beat him to it.
"Reid," His voice was solemn, yet calculated, "We've received a package. Well - JJ has."
"It's them Hotch."
The silence was pregnant. Deafening.
"I know."
--
Your foot shook, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. The fluorescent glow of the BAU was straining your eyes, leaving a slight pound in your temples. However, the main focus of your stress induced headache remained on the ambiguity surrounding as to why David Rossi appeared at your work to escort you to Quantico. And why your boyfriend has locked himself and Aaron away in the conference room for the last forty minutes. You were scared. You couldn't let it show, you'd learnt that the hard way. But, in a room full of profilers, it was hard to hide - you were convinced that they could all genuinely smell fear.
In fact, your fear was so prominent, you failed to hear Morgan calling your name until he was crouched in front of you.
"How bout we go into Reid now, huh?" You met his eye only briefly.
Carefully, you chose your next words, "Will you all tell me what's going on?" Pleading with your eyes, Morgan felt his stomach twist.
"C'mon sweetheart."
You didn't take much convincing. All you wanted was Spencer, to curl up into him and forget all about this disruption to your day. Part of you began to wonder if you were being completely over dramatic and misreading the situation, maybe he had a surprise for you. A date? But you knew, in your gut you knew. They'd come back to haunt you. Why else would this dread be bubbling in your stomach?
Derek opened the door for you, leading you gently by the shoulder. There, you saw your boyfriend, bent over the table resting his hands on either side of what looked to me scraps of paper. His sleeves had been messily pushed up over his elbows, top button undone and his hair was tussled, a tell-tale sign that he had been pushing his hands through his curls. But for why? You still didn't truly know.
He looked up. His stomach dropped.
Wringing your fingers together, you stood before him with a sheepish look across your face. He knew you suspected something, something bad. And maybe you were right. It still didn't make telling you any easier.
"C'mere honey," He held his arm out to you, inviting you to slot into his chest, "Can you look at these with me? I'm right here."
You wished you'd stayed at work.
There on the table in front of you, sat three polaroids. One, you recognised to be Laney, the girl you had befriended for years. The photo, you had taken of her, as you had of all the others, to keep in an album. Why? You didn't know. Proof? Maybe a part of you knew that one day the horror would stop, and you'd need to show someone some day what had happened in your house. Someone had to remember all those who couldn't survive. Like your Laney.
The other two forced your head to bury itself into Spencer's chest; one, was of your bedroom, or rather your cell, and one of you. Little you. When it was taken, who had taken it? You weren't so sure. Laney? Your father? Everything was a fuzzy mess of guilt, shame and fear, so much so you couldn't remember the half of it.
The one thing you knew for certain, you remembered hating having that photo taken. For what reason? You couldn't place. But you did know that to this day, you still hated having your picture taken. That would never change.
"Where did you find these?" He almost missed your words completely, you spoke so softly, voice strained and distant.
A shaky breath left his lips.
"They found us angel, I'm so sorry."
Your heart lurched. Surely you had heard him wrong. You asked him, silently begging you had indeed misheard, but to your horror, that just was not the case.
Just then, JJ stepped forward, a small piece of paper outstretched to you, "Spence received the one of you at your home. We were sent the other two here, along with this note."
Shakily, you grasped for the paper, sparing Spencer a short glance before guiding your eyes to the words scrawled out in front of you.
Your old home address, a date and time. A demand for you to be there alone, or you would be 'collected' regardless of your showing up or not.
Your head spun, had it not been for Spencer's firm grasp around your waist, you were sure you'd have collapsed then and there.
Tears welled up as your eyes locked with his. His own frown matching the drop in your stomach.
They were back. You both knew it, and for once, Spencer didn't have all the answers.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#bau team#derek morgan x reader#aaron hotchner fanfic#derek morgan fanfiction
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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄
I : The Call of the Circuit -> II : Dreams Ignited (soon) -> III : Untitled (soon)
masterlist
Max Verstappen x Schumacher!reader
Synopsis: childhood friends Max Verstappen and you, the daughter of racing legend Michael Schumacher, evolve from best friends to fierce rivals to teammates. maybe then to lovers....?
Monday, 10th December, 2018 Faenza, Italy
You sat alone at your new office, your eyes fixed on the glowing screen of your phone. The Twitter announcement you had posted earlier that day was still causing ripples across the internet, igniting a firestorm of reactions and responses from fans and followers around the world.
As you scrolled through the flood of comments, memes, and well-wishes flooding your feed, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The overwhelming wave of support and excitement from your supporters served as a poignant reminder of the incredible journey that lay ahead.
You made sure you turned off the lights of your new office when you were about to go. Settling inside your Audi R8, the soft chime from your phone took your attention away from driving.
As you read Max's message about bringing a Michael Schumacher merch from Germany, a wave of mixed emotions washed over you. The mention of your father's name, especially in connection with Germany, brought back vivid memories of the ski accident that had changed your lives forever in 2013.
your heart felt heavy, a subtle ache resurfacing as you recalled the challenging times that followed your father's accident. The uncertainty, the hope, and the unwavering support from loved ones, including Max, during those difficult years played like a reel in your mind.
Despite the pain and the bittersweet nostalgia, you weren't angry with Max for bringing up those memories. In fact, you felt a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and the comfort of your shared history. Max had been a pillar of strength and understanding throughout your journey, and his genuine care and friendship meant more to you than any merchandise ever could.
Sitting alone in your car, you took a moment to let the emotions wash over you. You reflected on your journey and the pivotal decision to join Formula 1, a deep sense of determination and purpose filled your heart. Since you were three years old, the dream of racing in F1 had been a beacon of hope and ambition, driving you to push boundaries and defy expectations.
You knew that stepping onto the track wasn't just about fulfilling your childhood dreams; it was also a tribute to your father and the legacy he had built. The memories of watching Michael Schumacher's triumphant moments, especially his 6th championship title, had ignited a spark within you, fueling her passion and commitment to chase after her own aspirations.
Despite the challenges and the weight of the past, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and pride. You knew that your journey was a testament to your resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you, including Max.
Sunday, 12th October, 2003 Suzuka, Japan
As a three-year-old, you may not have comprehended the complexity of Formula One racing, the excitement buzzing in the air, the infectious energy of the crowd through the grandstands. The vibrant colors of the racing cars zooming past, the deafening roar of engines, and the flashes of cameras captured your attention, painting a kaleidoscope of sensory impressions.
Although your understanding was limited at such a tender age, the sight of Michael Schumacher, dressed in his iconic red racing suit, elicited a sense of pride and admiration within your young heart.
"That's my dad !" your little fingers pointed at the red car zooming the finish line, practically screaming at everyone as you started clapping then.
The warmth of your mother's embrace welcomed you as you cheered together, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.
your eyes wide with wonder as you watched your father bask in the spotlight and as Michael Schumacher descended from the podium, triumphant and beaming with joy, his eyes sought out you, your mother and your older brother Mick in the crowd. With a tender smile, he reached out to scoop up his young daughter, lifting you into his arms and hoisting you high above the crowd.
the cameras flashed and the crowd erupted into applause, you enjoyed the attention, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world to be held in the arms of your racing hero.
The image of your bond captured for all to see, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever—a moment when you felt truly seen and cherished by the man who meant the world to you.
your dad, Michael Schumacher.
Saturday, 27th November 2003. Gland, Switzerland
you stepped onto the karting track for the very first time, your heart pounding with excitement and nerves. The whole family was there along with your dad's friend's family, the Vertsappens. With your tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of your go-kart, you were confused on how the whole kart operates.
"You've got this schatzi !" You heard your dad cheer for you from a distance, calling you a nickname that means sweetie in German.
Frustrated, you spoke
"How do I do this ?"
Max Verstappen, the seasoned six-year-old racer, flashed you a mischievous grin as he leaned over to offer his expertise.
"Watch and learn, little rookie. First, you gotta push down on the pedal like this..."
With a swift motion, Max demonstrated, his foot pressing down on the accelerator pedal with practiced ease. You watched intently, your eyes wide with fascination.
"Like this?"
you mimicked Max's actions, but your foot hesitated on the pedal, unsure of the right amount of pressure to apply.
Max chuckled, reaching over to gently guide your foot.
"Almost there, y/n ! You just need to press a little harder."
you nodded eagerly, determined to master the art of go-karting with Max's help.
"Got it! Thanks, Maxie !"
As you zip around the track, the conversation turned to your shared love for Formula One racing.
"Do you think we'll ever drive in Formula One, Max ?"
Max grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
"Of course! And when we do, I'll be the world champion, then Mick and you will be my trusty sidekicks."
you rolled her eyes playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.
"Dream on, Max! I'll be the one leaving you in the dust!"
"Hey, you two ! How's it going ? " a familiar voice chimed in from behind you, causing both Max and you to turn around
Max grinned, giving Mick a playful nod.
"We're having a blast ! little rookie here is a natural behind the wheel."
you blushed at the praise from Max
"Thanks, Maxie ! And hey, Mick, I'm going to beat you someday !"
Mick laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Is that so ? Well, I look forward to the challenge ! Let's see who can get to formula one first"
Your banter filled the air with laughter as the three of you raced around the track, your friendship growing stronger with each passing lap. And as you crossed the finish line second, just a few millisecond behind Max, a smile grew wide on your face.
"Looks like you've got a prodigy, are you sure this is her first time ? She's a natural" Max's dad said, a chuckle escaped from your dad
You crossed the finish line just 4 tenths of a second later than someone who was 3 years older than you. You can feel the pride surging even when you were just so little.
"wow you're fast" your older brother said, giving you a high five as you returned it enthusiastically with a tiny jump
"yeah, not so bad little rookie !" Max also gave you a high five
you smile with your tiny teeths showing, your dad embraced you, lifting you up in the air
"my daughter is a soon to be formula one racer, and the world shall know you as for you are, not the daughter of a six time world champion but y/n Schumacher."
you couldn't help but feel grateful for everyone's guidance and support, knowing that with them by your side, you knew you were able to achieve anything.
Thursday, 14 March 2019 Melbourne, Australia ROUND ONE
As you took your first steps out to greet the fans, a wave of exhilaration and gratitude washed over you. The energy from the crowd was palpable, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and overwhelming support. The sight of fans waving flags, holding up banners, and wearing team colors was a surreal and heartwarming experience for you.
Walking along the barricades, you were met with a sea of merchandise bearing your name and face, along with the iconic Michael Schumacher memorabilia that fans had brought along. The presence of the Michael Schumacher merchandise added an extra layer of emotion to the moment, reminding you of the legacy you were a part of and the immense responsibility that came with it.
As you greeted fans, signing autographs and posing for photos, several fans couldn't help but comment on the striking resemblance between you and your legendary father, Michael Schumacher. Their kind words and compliments about your beauty and resemblance to your father filled you with a sense of pride and humility.
Amidst the flurry of interactions, one fan caught your attention with a cheeky remark that left both of you laughing.
you backed away with laughter, cupping your mouth, looking at a marriage certificate by an older fanboy, a good looking one you couldn't lie.
"I'm 19 !" You exclaimed, a wide laugh still visible on your face
"Maybe in a few years !" You joked, before moving to another fan, signing her cap with the number 57 on it, a number you chose to drive for.
It was media day today which means there's no driving and the press conference began with Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel of Ferrari, Daniel Ricciardo from Renault, Max Verstappen of Red Bull Racing and of course yourself, y/n Schumacher from Scuderia Toro Rosso.
"We’re gathered under very sad circumstances, following the news that Charlie Whiting, the FIA’s Director of Formula One died during the early hours of this morning. I’d like to start this press conference by asking each of the drivers present for their thoughts and memories of Charlie. Lewis, could we start with you, please?" Lewis spoke to the mic
"I’ve known Charlie since I started in 2007. I made some comments this morning on my Instagram. It may have not worked, as I think it’s down but obviously incredibly shocked this morning to hear the sad news and my thoughts and prayers are with him and his family. What he did for this sport, I mean, his commitment… he really was a pillar, as Toto said, such an iconic figure in the sporting world and he contributed so much for us, so may he rest in peace."
as the other drivers stated their comments regarding the passing of the late Charlie Whiting, it was your turn to answer
"How about y/n ? I believe this has come to a big shock as well as your father was also racing when he was the f1 racing director ?"
"yes, my father raced during Charlie's tenure as F1 Racing Director. I've met Charlie a few times and found him to be a wonderful person. His dedication to safety and fairness in Formula One was unmatched. Charlie's ability to connect with everyone in the paddock and his unwavering passion for the sport made him irreplaceable. My thoughts are with his family, friends, and the entire FIA community during this tough time. His legacy in Formula One will always be remembered"
as they continued tho the next question, you were shocked as to how bold and daring for this male interviewer to ask the whole lot of drivers with you
"Given the whispers around the paddock about nepotism getting y/n Schumacher this seat due to her father's legacy, and considering she is the sole female on the grid, do you drivers genuinely believe she is as competent as the other drivers, or do you acknowledge a potential gap in her skill?"
As the interviewer's words cut through the tension of the room, your face tightened, a blend of disbelief and frustration clouding your features. The weight of the question bore down on you, amplifying your discomfort and vulnerability in that moment.
You felt exposed, the spotlight glaringly bright, intensifying the scrutiny you felt as the only female driver on the grid.
Sensing your discomfort, a subtle shift occurred amongst the drivers on the panel. Eyes darted towards you, expressions reflecting concern and empathy.
Among them, Max Verstappen's gaze lingered a moment longer, his usually confident demeanor softened by genuine concern for his fellow driver.
The collective silence that followed the question seemed to stretch on, the atmosphere thick with tension. But within you, a resilient fire ignited. Drawing strength from the supportive glances of your peers and your own unwavering determination, you steadied yourself. You would not let this moment define you or shake your belief in your own capabilities.
"could we start with you again Lewis ?"
Lewis's expression tightened, clearly upset by the nature of the question.
"Honestly, I find it disappointing that in this day and age, we're still having these discussions. Women have proven time and time again that they can compete at the highest levels of motorsport. I've been a staunch supporter of women in racing, and I've seen firsthand the talent and determination they bring to the track."
"Look, in Formula 1, everyone's path to the grid is different. Yes, some of us come from racing families or have certain connections, but ultimately, talent and hard work are what count. I've faced skepticism throughout my career for various reasons, and I've always chosen to let my performance on the track speak for itself. As for y/n, she's shown promise and skill in her journey to F1. The sport is better when we have diverse talents, and I believe she deserves her place here"
"Thank you for the answer, could we move on to Vettel next ?"
Vettel's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and growing indignation. "It's disappointing, really, to hear these questions. Every driver on this grid has earned their seat through dedication, hard work, and skill. Formula 1 is a tough environment, and to suggest that anyone is here purely because of their name or gender undermines the effort we all put in. I've met y/n and seen her commitment firsthand. She belongs here as much as anyone else."
Then they moved on to Danny. His jovial demeanor momentarily shifted as he heard the interviewer's pointed question directed at you. Being someone who often exudes positivity and fairness, Daniel values meritocracy and respects the grind every driver goes through to reach Formula 1. Hearing a fellow driver being questioned on the basis of nepotism and gender struck a chord with him.
"Ah, the old nepotism and gender card. It's not a new question in F1, but it's one that misses the mark. Sure, having a famous last name might open some doors initially, but it won't keep them open if you can't deliver on track. As for being the only female driver, I think it's about time we focus on skills and capabilities rather than gender. I've had the chance to get to know y/n, and she's got talent. End of story."
Then they moved on to Max, who is known for his fierce competitiveness and straightforwardness. It was clear that he was infuriated by the audacious implication and the discomfort it caused you.
Seeing you visibly uncomfortable only intensified Max's emotions. He felt a surge of protective anger, recognizing the unfair scrutiny and challenges you faced as the only female driver on the grid. In that moment, the friendship among drivers was evident, as Max's concern for your well-being was palpable.
His eyes flashed with fury as he seized the opportunity to address the interviewer's audacious question. His voice dripped with venom as he unleashed his pent-up frustration.
"Firstly, the audacity to question anyone's place on this grid based on gender or family name is just absolute garbage. She's earned her spot on this grid through sheer talent and hard work, just like the rest of us. Anyone who suggests otherwise is either blind or just plain ignorant."
His words were sharp and cutting, each syllable laced with disdain for the backward mindset behind the question. Max's aggression was palpable as he continued to tear down the baseless accusations.
"In case you missed it, Formula 1 is about racing, talent, dedication, and hard work, not gender or who your parents are. It's disappointing to still be facing these backward stereotypes in this day and age. We should be focusing on racing and the incredible talent we have on this grid, not trying to create controversy where there isn't any . For the record, I've raced alongside her, and I've known her my entire life. Y/n is an extraordinary racer through and through, and she's proven herself time and time again."
He paused, taking a breath to temper his rising emotions before continuing,
"So, how about we focus on the actual sport instead of dredging up this garbage ?"
Max's aggressive defence reverberated through the room, leaving no doubt as to where he stood on the matter and silencing any further attempts to undermine your place in the sport.
As you listened to Max's vehement defense, a mixture of emotions washed over you. Initially, there was a sense of relief and gratitude. Max's and the other drivers' unwavering support and fierce defence of you felt like a shield against the unfair scrutiny you had faced. It was reassuring to know that your fellow drivers stood your her and were willing to call out the injustice.
Your eyes briefly met Max's intense gaze, conveying a silent thank you and mutual understanding of the gravity of the situation.
Then it was finally your turn to answer
With a poised demeanor, you addressed the room, your voice steady and confident.
"I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation to my fellow drivers for their support. It speaks volumes about the fellowship and respect we share as competitors."
Pausing momentarily, you continued with a touch of irony,
"Regarding the questions raised about nepotism and being the only female on the grid, I was under the impression that Formula 1 valued skill, determination, and performance above all else. My presence here is a testament to my commitment, capability, and qualities I believe are fundamental to every driver on this grid."
Maintaining your composure, you added, "While these questions may have been posed, my focus remains unwaveringly on racing. I am here to compete, to challenge, and to succeed, just like every other driver. I look forward to letting my performance on the track speak for itself. Besides, I don't see 19 men ahead of me, I see 19 challenges to be conquered."
With this response, you gracefully but firmly addressed the issue, highlighting your professionalism and determination to rise above the noise and excel in your chosen profession.
#f1#f1 x you#formula 1#formula one#max verstappen#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x oc#f1 2024#f1 fandom#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#charles leclerc#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#toro rosso#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen scenario#max verstappen au
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Promise Me
Summary: Aegon is slowly dying of a heart condition, his final wish is for his childhood companion to find true love. Based off this & this request.
Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader
Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader
Aegon’s held a fascination for Y/N since he was a boy. Two sides of the same coin, the heir to the Iron Throne, the girl who would eventually ‘steal’ his birthright, by all accounts of his mother.
Mayhaps Alicent would have pushed harder for a marriage between them, had it not been for Aegon’s condition. He knew as well as any that he would not live to be an old man. He will die young, alone in his bed, with no one to mourn him, if he has any say in the matter.
When King Viserys calls for Rhaenyra, Daemon and their children to return from Dragonstone, Aegon is smitten at the sight of his childhood companion. Now a woman grown.
To his surprise, she and Aemond become fast friends. Then again, there is something to be said for their shared snippy demeanors; forever weighed down by the crown and their places beneath it. Attempting to prove themselves worthy at any cost, studying the histories and learning to speak fluently with two tongues.
Aegon cares for none of it. He is dying. Therefore he is not above following Y/N around like a lovesick hound, licking at her heels for the smallest bit of affection.
The princess does not appreciate this behavior at first, as she is busy with her duties. “What is it you want?” She scoffs.
“To be near you.” Aegon confesses, “nothing more.”
Y/N melts, her eyes softening to an extent, Aegon fears she might cry. “Be near me then.”
So he is, day and night. However inappropriate, they do not lie together, though they share a bed and all their secrets. They do not kiss or embrace, they simply exist, side by side for several moons.
“I want to be near you, always.” Y/N tells him, on the day he begins to withdraw.
“You cannot.” Aegon replies, gently. “You must prepare yourself to take a husband.”
“I should like you for a husband.”
Aegon sighs, breaking both their hearts as he whispers, “you are my friend. Mayhaps Aemond-”
The sting of Aegon’s rejection sends her from his rooms in tears, past the prying eyes of Queen Alicent.
“What have you done?” His mother wonders.
“She wished for my hand.”
“Did you not wish for hers?” Alicent shakes her head. Y/N is all Aegon wants.
“I will not condemn her to love a ghost.” Aegon explains, “she will go to Aemond, he will comfort her. He will be there for her, they might grow old together. He will help her lead. I cannot.”
“Oh, Aegon.” Alicent takes her eldest son into her arms. “If you’d only been honest with her. She would’ve wed you still.”
“I care for her happiness over my own.” He well and truly loves her.
————————————————————————
Y/N grows closer to Aemond in those weeks following Aegon’s rejection. Enough so that Aemond asks for her hand. On the day they wed, Y/N learns the horrible truth of Aegon’s condition. He has only hours left to live and he’s robbed her of so much time with him.
She makes for his chambers with her new husband in tow, wedding gown still adorning her.“You lied to me,” she wails, clutching at Aemond as though she wants to bring him closer and yet push him away. “How could you?”
“Because I love you, darling girl.” Aegon forces out the words, despite the pain of his ailing body. “This is what’s best for you. To live a long and happy life with someone who can. Not to make you a widow before you could’ve been a proper wife.”
Aemond whispers to his wife. “Go to him, sweetling.”
Y/N shakes her head, she loves Aemond. She will be a good and faithful wife.
Aemond sighs, “you are allowed to love him as well.”
Aegon opens his arms for her, allowing her head to rest on his chest. Stroking dark hair as she traces the line of his jaw with her finger.
“I would’ve been with you every second.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve cared for you, you imbecile.”
“You have cared for me, more than you will ever know.” Aegon murmurs.
“I do not know how I can survive this.” Y/N admits. “Who will I wake with in the middle of the night for sweets? Who will listen to me ramble on about-”
“I will,” Aemond hushes her.
“See,” Aegon looks to his brother. “You will be well loved.”
Aemond nods to his brother. “You needn’t worry about her, I will take care of our girl for you.”
“In this life I will be with Aemond. I will be happy and loved, just as you’ve asked of me.”
“Thank you, darling girl.” Aegon says, with a hint of a smile.
“And in every life after I will be yours.” Y/N tells him. “We will fall in love a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. We’ll be together and I will give you everything I could not this time.”
“Promise me.”
“I swear it.” Y/N assures him.
“As do I, brother.” Aemond takes his hand.
Aegon nods, feeling his tired heart begin to slow. “Thank you.” He is ready then, as he will ever be. “Mayhaps we might be one, like the Conquers.”
“I should like that very much, brother.” Aemond admits, “though you must always keep to your side of the bed.”
Aegon lets out a low chuckle. “Of course.”
“I love you, Aegon.” Y/N’s arms tighten around him, as if she holds him close enough, he will not go.
“As I love you.” He murmurs, with his dying breath, “hush now, Aemond will hold you.”
Her husband strokes her hair, sweetly. Knowing there is nothing more he can do. Aegon draws his last breath, Y/N very well knows it. Screaming loudly enough to alert the attending maesters.
“His grace is gone, my princess.” The grand maester confirms. “The silent sisters must prepare his body.”
“I do not wish to leave him.”
Aemond sighs, helping her to sit up and then to stand.
Y/N throws her arms around him. The pain is too great, no person could bear it alone. Her heart splits open, aching for someone she will never see again.
Aemond assures her, “we’re going to survive this, you and I. We’re going to live our lives to the fullest, do my brother proud.”
She nods, head cradled against his chest.
“Breathe,” he reminds her, “for now, just breathe.”
————————————————————————-
Y/N cries for him often, the most gut wrenching sobs Aemond has ever known and he holds her. Rocking her, soothing her as best he can, though there is not much to be done for a broken heart. He prays it will heal in time.
“I feel closest to my brother when I am with you.” Aemond whispers, pressing a kiss to the worried line between her brows. “As though you were two halves of a whole. I do not fault your longing for him.”
“I do love you, Aemond.” Y/N breathes, leaning up to catch his lips.
Aemond nods, “I love you too.”
The future Queen and King Consort bless the crown with four sons. The first of which they name Aegon.
#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon ii#aegon imagine#aemond x y/n#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader
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Late night halloween interruptions
Yoo Jimin x Producer!reader
Synopsis: being one of Aespa’s main producers and songwriters meant having to work restlessly to deliver the best track of the year— even if it meant sacrificing a Halloween night out. however, focusing on work turns out to be rather difficult when a certain blonde idol keeps distracting you from your goals.
Warnings: smut, nsfw
Word count: 2.9k
Notes: you better wish I have a great fckn test thursday and friday. plus I didn’t proofread it and I WILL NOT. I still stuck at writing smut and I’m angry. also happy early halloween <3 blonderina lives forever in my mind and now in yours, too. ps: this was originally dom!reader but I changed my mind so it’s just a mess.
You were busy with the computer in front of you when you heard the click of the door, despite your heavy headphones. The soft, almost unnoticeable sound made you turn your chair to face the stranger who disturbed your work and dared to annoy you long after your work hours, late at night at the firm.
It wasn’t a total stranger, though. Staring back at you was Yoo Jimin, looking as angelic as always with her plump, rosy lips and porcelain skin. She had a sneaky smile on her face, tracing your desk with her featherlight fingers as she looked for any signs of dust.
“What do you want, Karina?” Your words came out harsh, unlike you intended to, but you still didn’t apologize. You could feel the tiredness wearing down your bones, the disturbance reminding you of the reason you were up so late in one of the company’s many music studios in the first place: so you wouldn’t be bothered at all.
Yet, she found you. You didn’t expect any less, with Karina hunting you down ever since she first laid her eyes on you, the day you were announced as one of the songwriters and record producers for the group’s latest comeback. Being only four years older, your lack of age made it easy to bond with all the girls: it gave them confidence to join in the making of their songs, too, getting deeply involved in the whole process of their comeback. The four band members trusted you and loved having you around, confiding their feelings and running to you whenever they felt bad or insecure. They all looked up to you— you knew it as much, and because of that, you were always pushing yourself to be the best, hardworking version of yourself you could.
Which was why you were always making sure to listen to their wishes and give them feedbacks on their ideas, so they’d grow as idols and song producers. You might not be as old in age as most of the producers in the industry, but you’ve already had your handful of successful collabs with well-known artists who did nothing but essentially praise you: you were skilled, and knew what you were doing, so it was only natural you exchanged some of your experiences with the girls.
Nonetheless, said closeness allowed the blonde girl to often stare at you like you were the only possible prey for a wolf who’s never eaten in its entire existence. Provocative dances, gifting your coffee orders each morning, stupid questions that kept you busy with her for hours, when you should be working… She certainly made your life difficult, toying with you while you tried as hard as you could not to indulge the idol. It was forbidden for employees to hook up with the company’s celebrities, after all, and you couldn’t risk losing your job.
“Good night to you, too, Y/n.” She greeted you, eyes darting around the place attentively. To make sure you were alone, most certainly. Jimin’s eyes lit up when her assumptions turned out right, happy to see you weren’t hiding some low-class hookup in the room. No, she’d have none of that. “I was just looking for you. You’re missing from the party.”
SM’s traditional Halloween party, currently happening many levels down the recording and mixing room, was one of the many fancy ballrooms hosted by the company at any given chance with intents to show off its supremacy and, of course, hegemony in the musical field. Your friends and coworkers tried getting you to attend multiple times, but you had shrugged them off. You liked hanging out with them, naturally, but not enough to put on a stupid costume and make small talk with preposterous, shallow people for hours straight. So you denied all the invites, knowing your presence wouldn’t be missed at all: they knew how to party by themselves, beyond everything.
As Karina reminded you of the current event, you took some time to take a proper look at her. Wearing a corset that enunciated her curves and the traditional red cape, along with heavy, black makeup contrasting perfectly with her long, blonde hair, Karina was impeccably dressed as Red Riding Hood. She’d even brought the damn basket with her, currently left hanging in the corner of the room.
She’d grown accustomed to the idol life, you noticed as the blonde stared at you with delight and confidence, certainly not innocent nor shy anymore as when she met you, nearly two years ago.
The old Karina would never wear such a thing. It made her stand out too much, and she loathed it, to have all of the attention and the stares focused solely on her. You still remember that same girl at last year’s Halloween party: dressed as a witch, wearing one of Minjeong’s old costumes, observing the older subaenims and idols with curious, scared doe eyes. Innocent, even.
And the young woman who looked at you like she was ready to devour you whole was anything but.
Karina didn’t mind your lack of manners, though. Leaning on your mixing table as if she owned it, she tried again, “Aren’t you coming to the party? Really? Come on, it’s Halloween! Don’t be so boring and live life for once, for God’s sake.”
You scoffed, coughing hard enough that you had to take a sip of your water to cool yourself, “The party’s for idols and shareholders.”
“And employees too, silly head.” She answered just as quickly, with a broad smile, dismissing all the dryness in your tone. This time, the look in her eyes reminded you of the Karina she truly was: tender, cautious, almost delicate. “I have a spare outfit, in case you want to keep the theme. You’d be the wolf, then.”
You turned your computer off, narrowing your eyes at her. Her intentions weren’t subtle: it was just as clear as clear water for anyone to see, but you couldn’t help it. You just had to have her begging.
For months, you’ve imagined what those pretty lips would look like all messed up with your juices, bruised from your bites and kisses. The thought of it being forbidden only fuels you with the need to ruin her even more. It makes you itch with how much you want to carve your name onto her skin, leaving her as nothing but a whimpering mess until no one— not even herself, could please her anymore. Only you would be capable of bringing her over the edge, from then. Your most feverish wish was to ruin her for anyone else.
You wouldn’t do it, though. It was forbidden, as said before, and you could lose your job for that. So, naturally, you wouldn’t.
She was fucking testing you, though.
“What do you want, Karina?” You repeated yourself, tone incisive, and yet she didn’t let go.
She was having fun with her girls before searching for you. It was her first year attending the party as an official idol, just as she’d always dreamed of. Nothing would piss her off, and she would get what she wanted.
And currently, what she wanted was to have the pretty producer everyone was whispering about around the hallways all to herself.
“It’s Jimin to you, Y/n.” She mumbled, brushing her legs over your arms. Her touch was gentle and patient, making you close your hands into fists to avoid pulling her by the ankles and taking her right in the mixing table. “And I just wanted to check if you wanted to have fun.”
“And it is unnie for you, dearest.” You reminded her, making the girl roll her eyes. She always made sure to forget to use honorifics when alone with you. “I am your producer, darling.” You added, pushing your chair a bit further and managing to keep some distance between the two of you. “So drop whatever plans you have and find someone else to toy with. I’m not falling for it, baby.”
No matter how desperately you wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless.
Your words made her irritated, with Karina’s angelic face furrowing into an angry pout, as it often did when people didn’t immediately indulge her wishes.
A Spoiled princess, indeed.
“Come on, drop that superior shit.” She rolled her eyes, laying on her elbows without a care about the number of electronics placed over the mixing table. The angle favored her costume, and her perfect breasts, just as intended. You gulped, trying hard not to stare, knowing you’d be doomed if you did.
It was nearly impossible, though. To not drop to your knees and immediately indulge to all her wishes. Karina had always had this sweet, dangerous nature: with light kisses and faked innocency, she toyed with people as she wanted, making them give her it all, which they’d always gladly do. How could they not? When she was so polite and attentive, making sure to pay attention to whatever shit they were saying as if it were the most interesting matter in the world.
You know her better than that, though. Better than to participate in her game, no matter how fucking hot she looked.
You’ve always been told it was hard to know what went through your mind, since your face was always blank and serious, almost disinterested. Taking advantage of that, you smiled back at the defiant girl in front of you, placing your arms in each of her sides, but careful not to touch her.
The anticipation drove her crazy, you knew that much as you felt her shiver under you.
Karina hated how, at the moment, she was the one who felt like the prey. Although it thrilled her to feel like she was not fully in control of the situation, it also irritated her for a bit. However, she knew she’d get what she wanted in the end, of course, so she didn’t mind playing with her food for a bit.
“What do you want, darling?” You repeated yourself, using the same indulgent tone you do when talking to her and the girls about their new songs.
Patient, sweet, and attentive, just like you were during work hours and outside of them.
“I wanted to know if you were going to have some fun, finally. But I see the years have made you as boring as the others. Come on, unnie! Don’t I look pretty?” She managed to recompose herself, returning your smile with a venomous one.
“I won’t pamper you. If that’s what you want, go to your little followers. They’d be more than happy to tell you lies.” Your face was so close to hers, yet your words stated the opposite of how you felt.
Truthfully, your cunt ached, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid Karina might hear.
That little prey-game aroused you just as much as it did to her. It was a euphoric feeling, one that blew out your pupils and made the blood run through your veins, giving you that good kind of rush. Only Karina could make you feel such emotions without even touching you.
She was fucking gorgeous, and you wanted every single inch of her for yourself.
“So I’m not beautiful tonight?” She batted her lashes, arms resting on her sides like a crystal princess. “I’ve tried my best to look pretty. I’ve always wanted to be Red for Halloween, after all.”
“Do you like to be a prey, Jimin?” You opened a teasing smile, no longer sustaining your uninterested persona. Your fingers teased her collarbone, making the girl drop her head back to appreciate the touch.
You were doomed. Likewise, you knew that the moment she entered the room.
“To be desired.” She corrected, hands comfortably on your arms like she’s been doing this forever. “Chased, even. It’s fun.” She faced you, suddenly serious. “Will we have fun, Y/n-nie?” Those innocent fucking doe eyes of hers, staring expectantly at you.
You sigh, pulling her onto your lap as you inhaled her sickening perfume. Dangerous and sweet, lingering on her skin. You’d soon make it disappear, leaving her whole body drenched in sweat.
Just as she planned for you to.
Grabbing her beautiful corset, you took your time untying the lace before finally looking at her delicate frame.
God, you were going to ruin her little body entirely, until she was writhing and yelling for you to stop. “One time, and one time only. Got it?” She nodded, seaming pleased enough with your answer.
She’d carve her way onto your brain nice and slow, no worries. So, for now, a one-night stand would suffice.
“Just this once.” She hid her face in the crook of your neck, giggling with delight to have her wishes granted.
You finally gave in to your carnal wishes and kissed her, hard and urgently. You’d let her win, just once.
Because it’s Halloween, and she is indeed the most beautiful fucking woman you’ve ever seen.
-
“H-harder, Y/n. Fuck!” Karina moaned loudly, nails scratching your back to the point where thick red lines adorned your whole back. “Deeper, now.”
Like a queen, she demanded, making you roll your eyes. Her face was all fucked out, her hair unraveled and sweaty from the pounding, and she was absolutely sure her hips, ass and thighs would be all bruised from the way you were gripping them, carving the strap onto her as you made Karina your own personal fucktoy.
“You’re sure too demanding for someone someone who was begging to be filled minutes ago.” You taunted, carving yourself into the girl even deeper. Her hands were interlocked on your neck and her legs did the same to your waist, trying to steady herself at the intensity. “You know how much of a whore you are, right? Going up all those floors by yourself with that fucking strap in your basket just so I could have free use of all your holes.”
“Shut up.” She squeezed her eyes, gasping for air as your hands blocked her pulse point, down her neck. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”
You laughed at her brattiness: she’d never give up, truly. Removing your hands from her skin, you opened her thighs so the strap could reach deeper onto her sweet spot— which it clearly did, as Karina announced so herself. Her wetness was nearly drenching the whole table, making the sound of your thrusts even louder as you placed your fingers on her clit, not yet moving but applying just the right amount of pressure.
“Keep acting up and you won’t get to cum.” You told her, your free hand going up to pinch one of her voluptuous breasts. They were so bouncy and pretty, you just wanted to suck and mark them until there was not a visible inch of her milky skin that wasn’t covered in bruises.
Karina opened her dark eyes, being surprisingly gentle as her teeth scratched your lips. She sucked on your lower lip and, before you had any time to acknowledge, she bit it hard. You drew back, surprised, making her laugh.
“Oh, Y/n-nie,” She licked the blood from your lips, smiling at your reaction. With an unfazed gaze, the girl guided your wrist on her clit, urging you to play with it faster and even harder. She gave your cheek a little kiss, too, adding, “You’re damn cute when you think you’re the one in control.”
You hummed, deciding to focus on Karina’s pleasure instead of indulging the silly provocations she so adored to lead on. With that, you did as told, paying extra attention to her little hole as you returned to your pace, circling and toying with the blonde’s swollen sex until her body began to tremble and she collapsed under you, reaching her orgasm unannounced. You fucked her through it, allowing the dancer to gather her breath and enjoy the final hum of sensations.
Even completely flustered, Karina still looked gorgeous: her body all marked and bruised, a piece of art— your art, and her cunt wet and swollen, still all opened and ready for you.
“You look too pretty like this.” You breathed, verbalizing your thoughts before thinking straight, to which she let out a smile, extending her hand so you’d help her hop off the table.
“I know.” The girl playfully winked at you as her arms found your waist, embracing you in an spontaneous hug.
Of course, you should’ve guessed nothing Karina does is ever not carefully planned. In a second, you find yourself sitting on your chair and she was all over you, now taking her turn into marking her territory. Her mouth sucked and nibbled your clavicle until a line of hickeys are proudly shown, along with her scratches. You don’t mind, though. In fact, you love to have her using you as she wishes, her possessiveness heating up your core at each dirty thing she told you.
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself, too, you know.” Although her tone is light, the murmur that follows is dense and drenched in possessiveness, “We’ll have to fix that, soon. No one can stare at my pretty toy like they currently do.”
“You wish, Karina.”
“I do, my love.” She licked her lips, groping your body like a woman starved. “Now lay down for me, will you? I’m quite hungry, and I need a taste of you.”
You scoffed at her words and the excessive sweetness in her tone, but as always, did as told.
Just for tonight, you reminded yourself. You’d relent to her wishes just for tonight. And only because it was Halloween, and you were working hard. You deserved a treat.
#aespa x you#aespa x fem reader#aespa x reader#aespa smut#aespa scenarios#aespa karina#yoo jimin#karina x reader#karina smut#yu jimin#karina aespa#karina aespa smut#yoo jimin smut#yu jimin smut#yoo jimin x reader#yu jimin x reader#sol writes#sol’s works#s.writes
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Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊
Mother Nature
Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)
Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.
Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...
You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.
The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.
Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.
When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?
One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.
Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...
Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.
You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.
Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.
Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.
Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.
Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.
Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work. Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.
The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.
Not you.
You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.
One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.
Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.
You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.
However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.
For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).
„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"
Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."
"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."
Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.
"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."
You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.
You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."
Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.
"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.
#kurt wagner x reader#nightcrawler x reader#kurt wagner#nightcrawler#xmen#x men#x men comics#x men the animated series#x men 97#x men evolution#x men x reader#marvel#marvel x readre
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marry me | gojo satoru
synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.
wc: 1.1k
cw: just good ol fluff!
a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!
it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.
you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.
“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.
“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.
“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”
“uhmmm, all of it?”
“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”
“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.
“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.
“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”
“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”
you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.
the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:
“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.
and so it becomes a tradition.
satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.
and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.
satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.
now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.
“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”
and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:
“let me take you on a date.”
you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”
he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.
so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.
satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,
“hey baby, let's get married.”
and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.
#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#vela is a softie#vela loves gojo#fics#trying out a new header style also#got tired of finding those stupid manga panels
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♱ — dolor — ♱
A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with a new fic, yes I was gone for like 5 months or 3 or smth. This idea was inspired by @sinclairdoll, and his idea, here! I#bringbacktheoldnoir
WARNING: angst, sad, tw!new noir.
PAIRING: Black Noir x reader
WORD COUNTER: 865
Life was never normal after he died, you really didn't get it. Tears filled up your lashline, as you started sniffling to yourself. Your eyes staring at the photo in your hand, I mean you two were supposed to be together forever, that is what he wrote to you. Giving you sticky notes with his cute cartoony character drawn on the bottom.
You tried to hide your smile from him and ultimately failed, as your lips spread into a grin. You loved it when he drew you pictures, especially of those old Vought cartoons, you always collected every single note or picture, displaying and saving them away. But it was never the same, on the fateful day, it wasn't like it was raining, or something bad╼or maybe there was.
You would always share your feelings and opinions with Noir, voice out your deepest secrets or what was bothering you. You would have thought you did the same for him, well you tried. He was always quiet around you, I mean I guessed he couldn't help it with everything that happened to him. You thought you would live your life with him, but I guess faith had other things in mind.
There weren't any cards or a funeral for him. It was all under the wraps, just how Vought liked it. I mean being a Vought employee yourself, you would understand, no?
You saw it yourself, no secondhand point of view to see it with you. You watched with horrified, shock maybe in disbelief, watching him die. You weren't supposed to be there, nobody was supposed to be there. But you saw everything, Homelander just viciously ripping out his intestine, it was a nightmare, you wanted it to end, maybe stop him. If you did you would just be another part of the collateral damage, but you kind of wished you did do something, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you were able to be with Noir.
When he died, it felt like something you died with him, maybe your morale, your laughter, your hope...gone, it was all gone.
Time passed by you, days turning into weeks, piecing your life together but all grief consumed you whole, you were in a spiral that you didn't want to come out of, a deep depression, that all you could of though of was your past, what you could do to stop him, maybe if you stopped him from leaving you, leaving your apartment, he would have been here with you.
You looked at the ceiling with a blank stare,
But soon or later you were able to leave that dark place you were in, though the pain was still in your heart and panged. You couldn't wish for him back, it was too painful to even think about him without breaking down.
Walking down the halls of the unforsaken building you worked at, you hated, you didn't really know why you were still here. You grumbled to yourself as you walked, fixing the hems on your shirt cuffs until your eyes set themselves on a familiar person.
You were surprised by the revelation.
You wanted to cry, maybe yell, or just jump. You looked in disbelief as the very man you loved walked by you, no hug, no talking, no..nothing. Your heart yearned for anything from him, you were still shocked at how he was still alive.
You watched Black Noir, Earving die in front of your eyes, maybe it was some time of miracle. You felt your throat getting dry, your eyes watering up, and your mind was torn. By the time you knew it, you were already walking toward him, not running toward him.
"Black Noir" You called, you watched as Noir turned towards you. You felt your tears dripping down your cheeks, and you stopped in front of him. "Do I know you?" Your eyebrows furrowed, as you listened to his voice, no way..he talked. I mean he never talked in front of you or around you, maybe he was healed in some way to start talking again,
But your heart panged at the unfamiliar words he used to greet you, "You..talk?" You stammered, "You know whatever, do you remember me, Y/N" You cracked a smile in the joy that it was really happening, tears welling up in your eyes again.
You heard the man you thought was Noir curse under his breath, which confused you a bit, "Sorry, ma'am I don't think I know you" He stammered, you were able to grab his hand before he was able to walk away from you, "Please, just try to remember" You whispered, your voice breaking, you were already a mess, tears escaping you.
He quickly shook his head and took your hands off his arm, before he walked away from you, leaving you a mess on the floor.
It was cruel, a cruel twist of fate, you felt like the ground was ripped out from beneath you, it wasn't fair. You struggled to process everything that led you to this point in life, it was complete utter torment to your mind and your heart.
Your tears dribbled down from your cheek onto the floor, you didn't even process the fact you were crying.
You were alone...
heartbroken,
—and crying on the floor to yourself.
#black noir x reader#black noir#black noir x you#old black noir#new black noir#the boys fanfic#the boyz#the boys#the boys series#the boys season 3#the boys season 4#the boys amazon#earving#angst with a sad ending#sad thoughts#inspired#tw homelander#black noir x y/n#the boys x you#the boys x reader
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