#he was so desperate to win his father's love but it was NEVER enough it was NEVER going to be enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katebishopsbow · 6 months

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MISSING PIECE • F1 GRID

pairing: f1 grid x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: you have always taken pride in your ability to handle the press, until a journalist mentioned a sensitive topic that you had tried desperately to avoid – your estranged father. you struggled to give a response, and your fellow drivers showed no hesitation to jump in and defend you.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of abusive parent, found family

word count: 3k

(image is not mine)

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Formula 1 journalists have always been known to be brutal – asking questions that teetered on the brink of privacy violation and unnecessarily hostile probing with the excuse of “providing insightful coverage” on the highly competitive sport.

That was why media training existed – to prepare drivers for the harshest, most demanding questions thrown at them and rewire their brains such that instead of lashing out, they would be able to gracefully divert the focus to something else while also preserving their pristine image.

You had always excelled at handling the media, and your ability to constantly remain level-headed even when they asked the most ridiculous of questions was something you took pride in – until a journalist purposefully asked about a subject you had desperately tried to avoid ever since your F1 career started.

The relationship you and your father had was rather difficult to explain. The two of you became distant since the day your parents divorced and you decided to walk away from his constant emotional unavailability and manipulation he so skillfully disguised as paternal love. He didn’t bother asking you to stay – well, he never bothered doing anything when it came to you. He called occasionally, only when he needed something from you and your mother, and sent birthday cards out of obligation a month late because god forbid he remembered your birthday if your mother hadn’t reminded him.

Then the calls became less frequent, and then they stopped altogether, and his empty promises of visiting became blatant lies that you no longer believed in. Your father gradually turned into a stranger, a missing piece, a clouded memory left behind in the childhood days of your life.

It was a hard subject for you to talk about, something you would much rather keep away from the limelight and scrutiny of the world. Unfortunately for you, secrets weren’t really a thing in F1, and the obvious absence of one of your parents on the grid and in all your victory celebrations had been noticed by the public’s watchful eyes.

So your secret was no longer a secret. All the drivers on the grid were aware of it, and a few closest to you had known the full truth of your strained relationship with your father, but they all avoided mentioning it as they knew it was a family matter you wanted to remain private. Most journalists were also respectful enough to avoid asking insensitive questions when interviewing you, phrasing their words like “How will you celebrate the win with your family?” instead of using the term “parents”, and you were more than appreciative of that.

So when the voice of a certain reporter who was known to be ruthless with his questioning echoed through the press conference, directing the uncomfortable and out-of-the-blue question toward you, you suddenly found yourself at a loss for words.

“Rumors have been circulating the Internet recently about you and your father. There are accusations against you claiming that you were ‘selfish’ and ‘ungrateful’ for cutting off ties with your parent, that a callous and unforgiving person such as yourself does not deserve a seat or to be the inspiration for young minds. What are your comments on such claims, and have you ever experienced regret for turning your back on your family – your very own flesh and blood?”

The sudden silence in the room was suffocating, and the only sound you could hear was the heartbeat that was drumming loudly in your ears as the colour drained from your face. The discussion revolving around your relationship with your father wasn’t anything you were unfamiliar with, but to hear it being brought up so directly in front of the press and all your fellow drivers, and all the demeaning names that people had called you – it had felt so demoralizing.

What happened between you and your dad was entirely private, people outside of your family who had never gone through what you had experienced should never have the right to make comments on your decision to leave. They didn’t know what it was like to have a father who was never there, who constantly let you down with his lies and broken promises, who subjected all his volatile temper and toxic outbursts to his daughter and wife.

You had enough of his bullshit and were simply sick of pretending to be the perfect little family, so you left with your mother and told yourself that you would never look back. It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t miss the presence of your dad every now and then – the palpable emptiness he left behind had and would continue to haunt you – but you also never once regretted your decision.

“I – I don’t think… these accusations… umm –” The composure you had always displayed in front of the media was long gone, and you struggled to find the right words to say in response to such an uncomfortable question. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixated on you while that journalist watched you with an inspective expression on his face, just waiting for the moment when you break – wanting you to lose control so that he could have the reaction he needed to write his article.

And all of a sudden, you were back in your childhood home, standing in the living room with your head hung low, fighting back tears as your father unleashed his wrath at you over the smallest, most trivial things. “What’re you crying for, huh? You want me to give you something to cry about?” he would say to you, his voice harsh and venomous as he screamed out insults that scarred your fragile little heart.

Then you were back in your grade school classroom, standing in front of the whole class and staying completely silent after your teacher assigned you the speech topic “My dad is my hero”. Your classmates looked at you as if you had grown a second head, confused by the way you were struggling to speak about a topic they could so easily blabber on for hours. You just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything – your dad was never your hero, he was a distant stranger who struck fear within you whenever he was around.

Then you were back in the bedroom at your new home, reading the birthday card that your dad had sent to you a month late. Written in the top left corner of the page was a scribble of your name, completely misspelled. You closed the card with tears brimming in your eyes, knowing that your existence was slowly beginning to fade from your father’s memories. You tried to remember what his voice sounded like, his calloused hands, his boisterous laughter on the rare days when he wasn’t screaming profanities at you and your mother, and then you realized that he was beginning to fade from yours, and it had felt so, so painful.

Blinking away the hectic memories, you were quickly dragged back to the reality of the press conference. Everyone was still waiting for your response, and the reporter continued to wait for you to crumble under pressure, but all you wanted to do was to run out of the room and hide from people’s blazing eyes, to not have the world criticize you on how you dealt with your family trauma.

“I think that is an absolutely unprofessional question to ask if I am being honest.” Max’s stern voice finally broke the silence, and you were still attempting to process the situation when he continued to chastise the overstepping journalist with an irritated scowl, “The focus of the press conference is to discuss the races and the drivers’ performances on the track, not to delve into people’s personal matter and bring up their family situations which clearly do not have any relevance to the sport.”

The Dutch driver had always been brutally honest, never afraid to speak his mind and call out the press for their bullshit, and this was no exception. Having a complicated relationship with his father himself, he knew the hardships of being in your situation and struggling with toxic family dynamics, and he experienced first-hand how the media loved exploiting such issues for the sake of a story. More importantly, you were his friend, and he would do anything to defend you.

You exchanged thankful glances with the driver next to you, feeling the warmth that blossomed over your heart when Max placed his hand over your trembling ones beneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze in a way that meant “Don’t worry. I got your back”.

Upon hearing what Max had to say, the reporter was quick to defend himself. “I was merely hoping to get some insights on whether or not the recent rumors had affected her performance on the track. That’s all,” he attempted to reason, trying to rationalize his intrusive question but was interrupted by another driver who frankly also had enough.

“I think everybody in this room is well aware that is not your intention,” Charles spoke up from his seat, staring at the lying journalist with a tight-lipped smile that was far from friendly. Being one of your closest friends on the grid, Charles was also no stranger to your father’s abusive tendencies and knew how tough it was for you to open up to him about such horrible memories. To see the press tried to take advantage of your vulnerability and blatantly lie about their ill intention sickened him, and he was not going to just sit and watch it happen.

The McLaren driver sitting beside him nodded as he let out a light chuckle, “Yeah I mean – I’m literally an idiot at reading the room but even I can tell that getting racing insights was not your only intention, mate.” The audacity some of these journalists and reporters had was astounding, thinking they could get away with asking disrespectful questions just because of their job titles. When it came to snapping back at their baleful antics, Lando did it once on camera with his iconic “Who are you?” and he would certainly do it again.

Carlos couldn’t help but smirk at Lando's cleverness – masking his reproval at the journalist with a self-deprecating joke. When his attention landed on the audience seated before him, he allowed himself to enjoy the caught-off-guard look on the journalist's now reddened face. “Serves him right for asking stupid questions,” Carlos muttered in a hushed voice just loud enough for himself to hear before turning his head to catch your eyes, shooting you a quick smile as a sign of support. You returned the kind gesture, thankful that your friends were standing by your side when you needed help.

As the journalist busied himself with trying to recollect his composure, an awkward silence hung upon the room once again. That was when Daniel perked up from his seat, the usual cheerful smile on his face as he proceeded to do what he did best – easing the tense atmosphere and diffusing the tension with a touch of humour. “Well, I can totally affirm that Lando can be an idiot sometimes,” he joked while grinning mischievously at the papaya driver, and the mood in the room visibly lightened as a few reporters laughed at his playful words.

“But on a more serious note though, I do believe it’s important to remember that drivers are also human beings, and we all have our own struggles and difficulties both on and off track. It’s crucial to respect drivers’ boundaries and not exploit their personal struggles, and our sole focus should always be on the sport and racing,” Daniel voiced out respectfully, emphasizing the one thing that people always seemed to forget – that drivers deserved privacy and owed nobody any explanations on their personal lives, even if they lived under the spotlight.

Oscar and Pierre who were seated at the further end of the table also nodded at Daniel’s resonating words, expressing their agreement on the importance of maintaining a respectful and uplifting environment for all drivers. “What are your thoughts, y/n?” A female reporter in the crowd raised the question, subtly giving you an encouraging smile as she steered the attention back to you, offering you the chance to speak your truth and address the situation directly.

The fear and dread within you slowly dissipated, replacing them was the heartwarming gratitude at your fellow drivers who showed no hesitation in defending you in the face of intrusive questioning. It was then that you realized you were never alone in this journey, that the other drivers on the grid were not only your competitors but your family who understood what you had gone through and would unconditionally have your back.

It was their reassuring glances, their wholehearted support, and their willingness to stand up for you that enveloped you with the strength and courage needed to finally speak up for yourself. “I would like to start off by thanking all the drivers here with me, and thank you to the journalist for that rather personal question,” you spoke clearly at your microphone, your voice emboldened by the newly found determination as you watched the journalist shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“While I do appreciate the public’s concern regarding my family issues, I would prefer to keep my personal life private. The decision to distance myself from my father to prioritize my well-being and emotional health is not something I regret doing, and it is not fair for people outside my family who don’t understand the complexities of our relationship to make assumptions on the matter.”

Taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts, you made the closing remarks to your statement, “Which is why I kindly ask for your understanding and space moving forward, to respect the privacy of not only me but everybody on the grid and allow us to deal with our personal matter privately, and ultimately create a respectful community within Formula 1.”

You looked around the room when you had finally finished speaking, meeting the eyes of your fellow drivers and the rows of reporters sitting before you. Your hands were still shaking from the nerves that pulsated through you, but a firm squeeze of Max’s hand pulled you back to the present before you could begin spiraling. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said with a gentle smile.

The media training sessions had come in handy once again, and you managed to address the situation in a graceful manner without revealing more details than you were comfortable sharing while also highlighting the importance of personal boundaries in the world of motorsports. “Thank you, y/n,” the previous female reporter nodded at you with a proud smile, glad that you put those unprofessional reporters who had no sense of boundaries back in their place.

Among the sea of cameras and eager reporters who could so easily expose the vulnerabilities of the drivers with a simple flick of their pens, some suddenly found themselves becoming the subject of such exposure, called out for their prying questions and insatiable need to twist people’s words for a click-worthy story.

It was evident that what you and the other drivers said had struck something within them as they silently began reflecting on their roles and responsibilities as reporters, and perhaps remembering the reason why they had chosen journalism in the first place – to report the factual truth to the public, or to fabricate things in exchange for views and attention?

The press conference proceeded to continue, but the shift in the atmosphere was apparent when journalists asked their questions with more sensitivity and introspection, mentioning topics that genuinely mattered instead of blindly chasing exclusive headlines. When the conference finally ended, you and all the drivers collectively exuded a breath of relief, feeling a weight being lifted off your shoulders now that the far-from-enjoyable media day was over.

As you exited the room and were away from the cameras and people, you turned around and gave your friends an appreciative smile. “Thank you all… for standing up for me.” You must have sounded like you were close to tears because Daniel began cooing at you teasingly as if he were comforting a crying child, “Aww… don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

Charles leaned forward to ruffle your hair almost like what an older brother would, and he said to you tenderly, “We’re a team, and we’ll always have your back.” You were not going to cry initially, but now you weren’t so sure. At that moment, you had felt so loved, so supported, and it made you want to hide under the covers and bawl your eyes out from the rush of emotions that crashed over you.

Your friends, understanding the depths of your emotions, gathered around to offer you their words of encouragement and gentle pats on your back. “I love you guys, really…” you whispered quietly, looking at them with such sincerity and gratitude. How lucky were you to be able to have these people as your competitors, your friends, your found family?

“Who wants to go and eat because I’m actually starving,” Lando exclaimed as he began walking in the direction of the restaurants, and a few of the drivers tailed behind him as they joined in on the rant about how hungry they were. You watched them with an overwhelming sense of fondness, and when Max reached out his hand for you to take, you gladly accepted it.

Listening to the light-hearted banter and laughs that filled the air with your best friend right next to you, you knew that this was exactly where you belonged. Not in the tiny living room with your father screaming at you, not in the classroom with the kids who didn’t understand what you had been through, not in the bedroom where you cried over your fading memories with your father, but right here – with your favourite people who would always be there to fight your battles with you.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #f1 drivers x reader

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reticent-writer · 2 months

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Hey hey hey! I hope your life is doing well. I have a request about alastor x teen reader, could you maybe, possibly make angst? Like reader encountering their father, and maybe he beats them up or just slaps reader, then our lovely adoptive father comes to the rescue! Feel free to decline, I just want more alastor x teen reader.

use this and this is a reference

Warning: Choking, Bad Parenting

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After the win against the angels in the extermination you had found a new sense of hope. You forgot about all you troubles and focused on the present and hopefully the future.

Out on the streets of hell was death, a sight that you've gotten used to. You walked without a care in the world and held your head up high.

"Well look who it is. Y/n in the flesh. Ya'know I thought that hotel would've killed you, glad to see that you're still alive." Vox smiles as he materializes in front of you.

"Is it so hard to enjoy 1 day without being annoyed with someone I don't want to see or talk to." You snapped.

"Woah woah I'm not the one who wanted to see you. There's a man that works under me who wanted to talk to you."

"Who?"

"You'll see If you come with me." He held out his hand for you to take but you just stared at it, debating if you should trust him. I mean he's never hurt you before plus he only has beef with Alastor.

You sighed and took his hand. You felt a tingle all over your body as you were teleported outside of a speakeasy.

"He's waiting inside," Vox said, letting go of your hand and opening the door for you. Vox lead you to a table towards the back where a man was seated.

You didn't recognize him until you got close enough to the unique smell of your dad's cologne and alcohol.

"What the hell is-" You spin around to confront Vox but he's already gone.

"Y/n." Your father said sternly. You kept you back towards him.

"Y/n."

"I really don't want to talk to you." You said through gritted teath.

"Y/n please, I know that I wasn't the best dad in life but death has given me a second chance." He got up and walked around to see your face.

"Someone like you can never change. I would rather side with a cannibalistic murderer than you."

That set him off. He slapped you, Hard. He grabbed you by your neck and backed you into the table.

"HE is the one that ruined your life. I was trying to set you on the right path. I gave you life. Who are YOU to disobey ME." He was so blinded by rage that he couldn't feel you desperately clawing at his hand, making him bleed in the process.

"I'm trying to change but that bastard keeps messing with me." He was clearly going off the deep end. You thought Your weak cries for help weren't heard until you felt the hand around your neck loosen.

Your dad's hand was completely chopped off.

"It's good to see you again, old friend." The radio demon said with a stitched grin, "I believe they said that they didn't want to talk to you. If I ever see you around them I. Will. Kill. You."

Your father slithered away.

"I would've been here sooner if-"

"You came right on time."

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#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin x reader #male reader #female reader #gn reader #child reader #x child reader #teen reader #platonic #reticent writes #reticent writer

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dewdropdinosaur · 2 months

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Our Mom

LUCIFER x (F) READER

Part One

Summary: You like Lucifer and he likes you. One problem though: what will your 'kids' think? Based off an comment from @river-ride

Warnings: NONE

OMG!!! My lovelies, thank you so much for the support on my last Lucifer fic. Y'all are amazing! Remember, requests are open for lots of fandoms etc. Thank you so much for all of y'alls love and I appreacite you.

For now, enjoy more Lucifer my dears!!

In the bustling corridors of the Hazbin Hotel, where the damned sought refuge from the fiery depths of Hell, Y/N was a beacon of warmth and solace. She was more than just a resident; she was a pillar of support, a confidante, and a pseudo-mother figure to many within those crimson walls.

Among those she touched was Lucifer, the charming and enigmatic ruler of Hell, who found himself inexplicably drawn to her gentle kindness and unwavering compassion. Yet, despite the undeniable spark between them, neither dared to voice the truth lingering in their hearts. Despite being quite close after the battle with Heaven and the rebuilding of the Hotel, neither party could seem to bring themselves to speak their feelings.

On one hand, Y/N feared two things: that Lucifer could never like a lowly sinner like her and that since she was a pseudo-mother to all of the hotel’s residents…dating the King of Hell may cause a few setbacks in relationships that she desperately did not want. Y/N loved each and every resident in the Hotel, an older demon herself who never had the chance to have her own, everyone under the crimson fading roof became like a child to her. She adored Angel’s compassion even in the midst of despair, she loved playing cards with Husk(who definitely didn’t let her win to see that small smile of hers), time spent chatting and planning with Charlie was always a blast, and yes…even time with Alastor listening to old jazz tunes had found its place in the grand scheme of things. So, her feelings for Lucifer would have to be put on hold indefinitely for this arrangement not to break.

On the other hand, Lucifer the King of Hell himself was a wreck. Every time he saw Y/N, her smile, the way she carried herself with compassion but still headstrong it made his knees buckle and he could have sworn he was back in Heaven. She was like an angel, ironically so. He fully knew of her past, her sins. Yet, she was so willing to help and assist others at a shot of redemption she knew she could never have struck a chord within the lonely ruler of the Underworld.

However, one fateful evening, as the residents gathered in the grand hall for their routine meeting, tensions simmered beneath the surface. Charlie, along with Husk, Angel Dust, and Alastor, had grown wary of Lucifer's aloof demeanor towards Y/N. They knew of the unspoken affection that brewed between the two, and they were determined to push the devil to confront his feelings(or perishing for daring to even look at Y/N was another option considered by some…ahem…Alastor and the beloved Sassy Narrator)

As the meeting progressed, Charlie cleared her throat, catching everyone's attention. "It has come to our attention," she began, exchanging knowing glances with the others, "that certain... feelings may be harbored within our midst."

Husk smirked, Angel winked mischievously, and Alastor's grip tightened, his eyes glinting with murderous amusement.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he let out a breathy chuckle, sensing a trap. "And what feelings might those be, my dear? I surely hope no animosity has been brewing."

Charlie gestured subtly to Y/N, who stood by the sidelines, her gaze fixed on her ‘children’ around her.

"Feelings of a... romantic nature, perhaps?" Charlie smiled but her eyes were nervous. She knew her father well enough that it was indeed time to move on from Lillith and Y/N was no better candidate, doing a better job than Lillith herself ever did. But what if she was wrong and her father really had no interest in her ‘new’ mother. Or the other way around?

A collective murmur swept through the room as the residents exchanged curious glances. Y/N's cheeks flushed crimson, and Lucifer felt a strange warmth spread through his chest at the mention of romance.

Clearing his throat, Alastor leaned forward, his grin widening into a smirk. "Now, now, Lucifer, don't be shy. We all know how dear Y/N is to you. Why, if anything were to happen to her, well..."

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Lucifer's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you threatening me, Alastor?"

Alastor chuckled nonchalantly, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement as he waved his hands in a circular motion around his cane which made ominous shadows appear around Lucifer’s chair.

"Merely stating the obvious. After all, we wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to our dear Y/N now, would we?"

The tension in the room was palpable as Lucifer's jaw clenched, his gaze flickering between Y/N and the others. Husk flicked his claws open, Angel smirked with a glinting knife in hand, and even Vaggie tilted her head to gesture to her angelic spear. All of them were in agreement… ‘hurt our mom and you will wish you got to die a second time.’

Sensing his inner turmoil, Y/N stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm.

"Lucifer, you don't have to listen to them. Whatever you feel, whatever we feel, it's... it's our choice."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as Lucifer met her gaze, his expression softening with an unspoken understanding.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out to cup Y/N's cheek tenderly. "Perhaps... perhaps there is truth in what they say," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But know this, my dear Y/N: I would move mountains to keep you safe, to cherish you, for as long as you'll have me."

A soft smile tugged at Y/N's lips as she leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with a newfound sense of courage and hope. "Then let's face whatever comes together," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

And as the residents of the Hazbin Hotel looked on, witnessing the delicate dance of love and redemption unfolding before them, they knew that no matter the trials that lay ahead, Y/N and Lucifer would weather the storm together, bound by a love that transcended even the depths of Hell itself.

And even if something did ever happen…well they would kill the King himself without a second thought and Lucifer knew it.

#romance #hazbin hotel fandom #vizziepop #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust #husk hazbin hotel #nifty hazbin hotel #friends to lovers #charlie morningstar #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor

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evilminji · 6 months

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A Moral Dilemma! Question!

Let's say there is a trucker. An average man. Kind enough, did okay in school, loves his wife and misses her like you wouldn't believe every time he has to go. Misses his little girl even more. HATES he's missing the early years of her life. First day to school, getting her up and brushing her hair into pigtails, making pancakes like his Pa used to make. The works.

But the economy is shit. Him and his wife have to work. Make ends meet. They're DESPERATE to get out of Gotham. Move somewhere boring. Safe.

But... well, places like that cost money. Kids cost money. And he did OKAY in school. Not a lot of jobs out there for "Okay" guys from Gotham.

His cousin finds him a route though. A solid job. Really pulled through when push came to shove and things were looking bad. Like he might have to take up that offer to Goon. Now he's a trucker.

And his route? Well the half way point is Amity Park. He stops to stay the night every time. Never really STAYS, has heard they got themselves a Cape and such, but? It is what it is. He's from Gotham. He minds his business. Parks on the outskirts of town to avoid getting hit.

Doesn't realize, he's getting SOAKED in Ectoplasm every time he's in town.

And this trucker? Not the healthiest man. He wishes he could be. But life on the road is not exactly conducive to fresh fruit and leafy greens. He eats more grease and sugar then his doctor would EVER recommend. In fact, has specifically warned him not too.

But some days you just need a warm meal. You miss your kid, your wife, your bed. And you know it'll be days before you can see any of them. But at least there is pancakes.

You can pretend you're eating with your family. Or at least, let the coffee be warm enough for the two of you. God, but the poor man is tired.

And as he gets close to Gotham?

Breaking News!

The Joker. AGAIN. The trucker cringes, horror filling him. What poor soul has that mad man hurt NOW? When will it end? Him and his wife are so close to getting the hell out. Thinking Kansas. His wife has been joking about pie baking competit-

No.

Oh God No.

There, on the screen, tears streaming down her beautiful face? Is the love of his life. His best friend. His EVERYTHING. And in her arms, trying so, so hard to be quiet. To muffle her terror born sobs... is his little girl. One pigtail torn from its srunchie, blood on her tiny face.

The trucker knows how this story ends.

Batman will try. He ALWAYS tries. And sometimes... sometimes that's enough. But he knows the odds here. His family are in front. Stars of this sick show. The trucker can't breathe. His heart is pounding, too hard for a man of his health.

He's not young. Should be on blood pressure meds he simply cant afford. Is panicked by a terror few should ever suffer. And? What runs in his family, strikes true. It feels so far away, the pain in his chest. He... No, he can't.

He can't.

His family.

He can't die. Leave them. They're in danger! They can't die like this. So close to freedom. Happiness. They... the..y.. ca..n..t...

THEY WON'T. HE REFUSES.

~~~

So! Here in comes the QUESTION! As you sit, watching this terrified child call for her father, ripped from her begging mothers arms, you see a green opaque man full body tackle the Joker.

You watch his eyes visible glow and change color, fight a visible STRUGGLE, like jeckle and Hyde, for control of his body. Between the monster known as Joker and what seems to be? The little girl's newly Meta father.

The Father wins.

You watch the Bat arrive with the police. Thank the man and say he can release Joker into custody. See the EXACT moment the Meta realizes something. Turns to look at his daughter, then his wife. Looks back at the commissioner.

Says "No".

Is he right to do this? To Possess the Joker, as a life sentence, to insure the safety of others? He is perfectly will to sit that life in a jail cell. Knows he will never be allowed to roam free again. But! The Joker is contained.

Is this Right? Or merely emotionally satisfying?

Discuss :3

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #to be honest #walker comes to collect the Joker and slaps a prisoner in him in exchange for a reduced sentence #trucker ghost and his wife move to Kansas #sometimes family is you #your mom #and your dad who is a ghost #but oh sweet jesus the screaming ethics debate here at the precinct #jason you are a crime lord #batman stop trying to save the Joker #please

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starryevermore · 1 month

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the house of snow (12) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: you can’t believe that this is truly a good thing.

word count: 2,822

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a hint of fluff, a hint of angst, pet name (petal), not proofread

note: ok the smut isn’t the greatest bc i’ve been out of commission for a while but hopefully it gets better as the series progresses

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

You tried to time your breathing with each tick of the grandfather clock in a desperate plea to not have a meltdown on your wedding night. Your new lady’s maid had just left you after helping you remove your gown. Now, you were left waiting, wearing only a silky red robe, for Coryo to arrive. You fought the urge to bite down on your fingernails. Why had your mother said anything about what your wedding night would be like? With the way your nerves were grating on you, you almost wished you were going into this with blissful ignorance.

You crossed the room and stood in front of the large window that overlooked the grounds. Breathing in time to the ticks wasn’t doing you any good, so perhaps occupying your mind with the outside world would help. But as you looked over the rose gardens and the stables and the distant pond, your mind kept trailing back to where you were, what you were wearing, and what was going to happen.

A pair of cold hands settled on your waist. You yelped, jerking away. When you turned, ready to strike, your husband stood before you. Husband. What a strange thing to call Coryo now. You had known this day was coming, but now that it was here…It felt different. Not like you would have expected.

Coryo raised his hands and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, petal,” he said.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you said, adjusting your robe to cover you more. It mattered little, of course, but it brought you some comfort.

“My apologies,” he said. He sounded sincere enough. Could he be sincere? If you could believe your father, that Coriolanus had asked for your hand three times before he was told yes on the fourth, maybe he could. Unless it was all an elaborate ruse, some way for him to lord this final victory over your head. The one time he could truly win.

“It’s alright.” It wasn’t. It was. How could one man—how could Coryo—scramble your thoughts like this?

Satisfied that you weren’t upset with him, he took a step toward you again. You fought the urge to back yourself against the window, pray that it might fall out and take you with it. He raised his hand, caressing your face. You allowed yourself to lean into it. Your eyes fluttered shut as he stroked his thumb over the swell of your cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You fought to keep your mouth from falling open. Love? Did he truly? You weren’t sure how much you believed it. When you were still in school, you once told Sejanus you were sure Snow had a heart of ice. The idea that he could love anyone…It felt laughable.

“I love you, my beautiful wife,” he repeated.

Were you supposed to say it back? It would have aided your act, to be sure. But you were half-certain that if you said those three words with even an ounce of insincerity, he would know. He would know, and you would be left dealing with whatever horrible aftermath he would deal you.

His lips pressed against your forehead. “I just wanted you to know.”

Maybe you should’ve said it back, if only to lessen the blow. Because Coryo looked stricken as you said, “Please…don’t hurt me.”

He pulled away, his hands falling your shoulders. If it was to brace himself, or to keep you from crumbling, you weren’t sure. “What? Why would you think I—?”

“My mama said that this…hurts. That it can hurt. That women seldom feel pleasure from it.”

Rage flickered in his pale blue eyes. “And she thought I would hurt you?”

“I…She just wanted me to be prepared for what might happen.”

“Petal, for as long as I’m alive, I would never let you be hurt, not by my hand or anyone else’s. I don’t ever want you to think otherwise. Am I understood?”

Words failed you, so you offered him a nod.

“If you are ever uncomfortable, if I ever cause you even the slightest bit of pain, you tell me. And if you even want to wait until you are ready, that is fine with me. Okay?”

Again, you nodded. This time, though, it wasn’t enough.

“I want your words, petal.”

“I understand.”

You lifted your hands, letting them settle on Coryo’s broad chest. For the first time, you realized that he was dressed down, too. Instead of his usual red attire, he was wearing a loose, white linen shirt and trousers. The shirt was thin, so you could feel the muscles of his chest. It was hard to believe the scrawny boy you once knew at the Academy had become…this.

“…And I would like to…do this.”

The corners of Coryo’s mouth tugged into a smile. If he minded your awkwardness, he gave no indication. His hands fell back to your waist and he tugged you against him. His trousers were as thin as his shirt. You squeaked as you felt him against your thigh. “Oh, petal,” he sighed, “I am going to make sure you enjoy this.”

He pulled on the tie holding your robe together, letting it fall open. Coryo glanced up at you, watching for your reaction, as he pushed the silky material off of your shoulders. You found yourself reaching for hand, guiding him to caress your soft curves. His lips captured yours. Coryo kissed you like you were giving him air. Though you were already pressed against him, his arms wrapped around you, as though if he pulled you against him more, you might meld yourself into him, become a part of him like a lung or an arm.

Your hand found itself entangled in his white blond hair. A low growl rumbled in Coryo’s chest. “Don't tease me, petal. Not tonight,” he said against your lips.

That felt more like a challenge than anything. You weren’t sure if this experience would be enjoyable for you, even with Coryo’s promises, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find your pleasure elsewhere. “Where’s the fun in that?”

When Coryo pulled away, his eyes were noticeably darker. “Oh, you’ll have your fun.”

He led you over to the bed, urging you to lie back. You expected him to climb over you, to lay with you, but instead, he settled between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. What was he doing? Your mother never told you about this. Why was he spreading you apart with his fingers and—

“Oh god,” you cried out as he licked a long stripe along your intimacy.

“Not god. Your Coryo,” he mumbled before pushing his tongue back inside you again.

Your brain turned to mush as he found his rhythm, found out what made you cry his name over and over again. Your hand fell back to his hair, gripping it at the roots, pushing him impossibly closer to you. Fuck. Coryo wasn’t lying when he said you would enjoy this. Could you keep him here like this all night? Forget the rest of the act, the part that necessitated making an heir. With Coryo between your thighs, you could live the rest of your life a happy woman. A pleased woman.

Something deep in your stomach began to tighten as Coryo pushed his fingers inside of you, too, stroking your walls. Your toes curled at the sensation. “Coryo, I feel—”

“Shh. Let go, petal,” he cooed.

It felt like something erupted inside of you. As you let out a guttural scream, your legs shutting around Coryo’s head. What was that? Was this the pleasure that women so seldom get to experience? How could other men rob women of this? You had half a mind to stay in bed for the rest of your life with Coryo if it meant you got to feel like this again and again and again.

Your thighs trembled as you released your hold on your husband. He lifted himself, pressing wet kisses up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, until he settled on your lips. Your arms wrapped around him, keeping him close to you. It was strange, wanting to be near him. Wasn’t it just a few months ago, a few weeks ago, that you wanted nothing more than to run away from this sort of life? To be anything other than the wife to a King? Oh, what you wish you could tell your (only slightly) younger self. Would she even believe you? Could you even believe it now?

How could so much change?

“You’re perfect,” Coryo whispered against your lips. “So perfect for me.”

He began to sit up, eliciting a whine from you. He gently pushed your hands away before reaching for his pants and undoing the ties. You were captivated as Coryo pushed the thin fabric down his thighs. And what lay between them…Oh, was this why it would be painful? Curious, you reached for it. Coryo guided your hand around him, encouraging you to give a few gentle pumps along his length.

“Be gentle?” you asked as you dropped your hand, letting Coryo drape himself over you again.

“For you, I’ll be anything you want.”

You let out a hiss as he guided himself inside you. God, the stretch. Your brows pinched together, your eyes screwing shut. It was too much. Yet, Coryo was slow, taking his time. It made you keenly aware of the feeling, but you supposed it was better than rushing into it. You shuddered at the thought of how painful that could be.

Coryo pressed a kiss to your lips. “You alright, petal?”

All you could manage was a strangled whine.

He grabbed your face, but didn’t say anything until you opened your eyes. He made sure you kept eye contact with him as he said, “If it’s too much, we can stop. Don’t think you have to do this just because it’s our wedding night. I would rather you want this than feel like you’re being forced.”

A part of you wanted to tell him to stop. But a greater part of you, the part of you that remembered the pure ecstasy you felt just moments before when his head was between your legs, wanted to experience that all over again. (Was that selfish? Maybe. But after this mess of an engagement, maybe you deserved to be selfish.) So you found yourself pulling Coryo down for another kiss, whispering against his lips, “I want you.”

Coryo kissed you as he rocked his hips into you. And, oh, if you thought the stretch was too much, you had no idea what was coming for you. You could feel him—every part of him. The entire world faded away until all that was left was your Coryo. Another whimper escaped your lips. You felt a question on the tip of his tongue. You kissed him harder, hoping that if you distracted him enough, he wouldn’t stop. Because, for as intense as this was, you were chasing that high and you would be damned before you let anyone get in the way of it.

Slowly, though, the pain melted into pleasure. Your moans echoed off the walls, Coryo taking it as a sign to pick up the pace. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingernails digging into his back. You were sure you would be frightened by the sight of the marks, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing else mattered right now.

You let out a strangled cry when Coryo hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you. Stars dotted the corners of your vision. You almost convinced yourself it was a lie that women couldn’t feel pleasure from this. Or was this just because it was with Coryo? Coryo, who seemed to so genuinely love you? Was this why some women called it making love? The idea made bile rise in your throat. Could you love Coryo?

You screamed as the pleasure overtook you. All of the other thoughts washed away. All that was left was you, and Coryo, and this oddly perfect moment. You were so wrapped up in the new sensation that you didn’t notice your husband pulling away until he was nearly gone. He paused as your hand gripped his wrist, urging him to stay. Why would he leave?

“I’ll be right back, petal. I need to get something to clean you up. You made quite the mess,” he said, teasing lilt rising at the end of his sentence.

You weren’t sure how long he was gone, but it was long enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. At least, enough feeling that you were able to push yourself up into a seated position. You tucked your legs against your chest and stared at the mess. Your mother hadn’t told you that this would be bloody. How could you not notice that? Were you that blinded by pleasure that you ignored your pain? You hadn’t realized that Coryo had that sort of effect on you. What happened to the girl all those months ago that would have spat in his face for touching her? Where had she gone? So much had changed in such a short amount of time.

The bile began to rise again. How could you have let yourself fall under his spell? You once laughed with Sejanus about how all the students at the Academy fell over themselves for a moment with the charming Coriolanus Snow. What had he done to you for you to ignore the beast inside?

A cold hand on your knee made you jerk. When you lifted your head, you saw Coriolanus standing at the edge of the bed. He pushed your legs apart and dragged a wet cloth you hadn’t realized he brought between them. You flinched. It was too rough. He was too rough. Or was this all in your head?

Coriolanus must have seen something on your face. “Are you alright?”

You pushed his hand away and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You glanced around the room, searching for your robe. The room felt like it was spinning. Where was the damned robe? Stumbling over to the window, you finally found it. You were too exposed. After plucking it from the floor, you wrapped it around yourself as tight as you could manage and tied the string into a knot.

“What are you doing, petal?” Coriolanus asked. You heard him walk close to you, but you propelled yourself toward the door on the other of the room. The one that connected the King’s chambers to the Queen’s. “Come to bed. Please. Talk to me.”

“I’m going to bed,” you managed as you reached the door.

“Then why are you running?”

You pushed the door open. “I don’t wish to sleep with you.”

He followed after you. His long legs brought him to you in a few short strides. Coriolanus captured your wrist in one hand, urging you to stop. “Did I do something wrong? Petal, if I did, it wasn’t intentional.”

“I wish to be alone.”

You couldn’t look at him. You were scared to see his beautiful blue eyes dotted with sadness as he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

You wrenched your hand away. “I’ve done my duty for the night. Now, I would like to rest. Alone.”

Perhaps it was cruel to say such a thing. Perhaps Coriolanus didn’t even deserve it. But hurting him was easy. Striking him where it hurt was easy. Coriolanus Snow might genuinely love you, and nothing in your life scared you more.

“…If that is what you wish, I won’t push it. But I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re just a duty to me. You are the petals of the most beautiful rose. You are everything.” Coriolanus looked like he was near tears when you allowed yourself a glance at his face. “We leave in the morning for my family’s cottage. I thought you might like to spend our honeymoon away from prying eyes.”

You had already gone this far. “Don’t pretend you do anything for anyone but yourself.”

Coriolanus reeled back as if you slapped him. It might have hurt less if you had. Why were you being as cruel as him? “Everything I do is for you.”

“Then let me go.”

He took a step back. So did you. Two lovers, staring at each other, neither quite sure where they went wrong. Except, you did know this was your fault. But, dammit, he started it. Coriolanus confused your thoughts. You knew him as cruel and calculating for so long…How could you trust that anything he did was truly sincere? How could you believe that a man like him could love a woman like you?

You shut the door.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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whitedarkmoonflower · 3 months

Text

Traitor

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: a big thank you to awesome and incredible @little-diable for having the wonderful and crazy idea to write this together. I loved it so much! You are such an amazing writer.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst

Summary: you thought you had been prepared for everything as you were sent to spy on Uhtred, until the moment you met a certain Danish warrior

Word Count: 4,8 K

Headers and dividers by the lovely @arcielee

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list - write to me.

I'm not sure if this letter will ever get to you or if you'll even want to read it. But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

You probably already know, and it's true. I was sent to spy on Lord Uhtred, on orders from Lord Wihtgar, Uhtred’s cousin and the current ruler of Bebbanburg.

I came here as a spy and an enemy, full of suspicion, hate and disdain. I was sent to spy on a traitor of his own kin, on a heathen teamed up with the Danes to try and bring down my Lord, the rightful ruler of Bebbanburg.

But now, as I'm leaving, I want you to know I'm going as a friend and an ally, even if you can't quite believe it, even if you all rightfully see me as a traitor.

These past few months have taught me so much - about trust, relying on others, feeling accepted, and being valued. But most importantly, I've learned what it means to be loved.

I'm sorry. I know it's not enough, and it never will be…

"It's all blurred and smudged from here. I can't decipher it," Osferth looked up from the small piece of vellum he held in his hands. His gaze wandered around the dimly lit room before settling on the silhouette seated at the table, with elbows propped up and head resting on hands, fingers entwined in hair.

"Read it once more," Sihtric growled, his voice rough and slightly trembling.

"I've already read it to you five times. What do you expect to uncover?" Osferth shrugged. The sound of the bench falling echoed as Sihtric suddenly sprang to his feet, knocking it over and grabbed the cup from the table, draining it in a few hasty gulps. He stood there for a moment, examining it in his hand. Moments later, the cup was hurled to the ground with such force that it shattered into countless small pieces, causing Osferth to flinch.

"Nothing," venom dripped from Sihtric's voice, "I'm a fool, a damned idiot. How could I not see it? How could I be so blind?" he roared before storming out of the room.

It had been surprisingly easy, much easier than you had anticipated. It appeared that Uhtred had a soft spot for taking in masterless dogs and those less fortunate. All it took was a heart-wrenching tale of being captured by Scots as a child and raised as a warrior to win his acceptance. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disdain for his kind-heartedness and naivety. He truly didn't deserve to be called a Lord.

A Lord should be stern and ruthless, someone who instilled fear in their subordinates, devoid of the lower emotions like love and compassion that made people vulnerable to manipulation. This was what you had been taught, ingrained in you since childhood, nurtured by your mother's milk, and enforced by your father's strict hand.

You happened to be the sole child of Bebbanburg's commandant and the trusted right hand of Lord Ælfric Uhtredson. Your father had always yearned for a son, but fate had dealt him a different hand – a daughter, a fragile and small creature with large, inquisitive eyes and infectious laughter.

The carefree and joyful days of your childhood came to an abrupt end when your father finally acknowledged your existence. Around the age of ten, as it became apparent that your mother would not provide the male heir he so desperately desired, your father’s attention shifted to you.

And now, here you were – a grown woman, a trained warrior, and a cunning spy, with deep and sorrowful eyes, and a laughter that had been absent from your life for years. This was how you entered the service of Lord Uhtred.

“You’ve got a knack for it,” Finan chuckled approvingly, and you saw his hand extending towards you to help you up from the ground. You hesitated, uncertain if he genuinely meant it, half-expecting him to withdraw his hand at the last moment, his warm smile giving way to a mocking grin. He had bested you fair and square. Again. Finan the Agile, they called him, and rightly so.

He had the appearance of a large, affable bear, with warm brown eyes, that always seemed to twinkle mischievously. What a deception! That man moved as swiftly as lightning. Despite investing all your strength, skill, and effort, you found yourself seated in the dirt, gasping for breath. The surprise in your eyes was impossible to conceal as you kept glancing at his outstretched hand. Even though you knew by now that his hand would remain there, that you could rely on it and you could trust it not to turn against you, old habits died hard, etched into your very bones, causing you to hesitate once more.

Finally, you mustered the courage to grasp it, allowing Finan to help you to your feet. "That move earlier, when you suddenly changed direction and lunged to my left, almost caught me off guard. That was impressive," the bearded Irishman continued, his genuine smile unwavering. He retrieved your sword and handed it back to you. "Ready for another round?"

You thought you were prepared for anything. You were ready to fight for your place among the warriors, anticipating challenges and the disdain that comes with being an outsider, a newcomer, and a woman. You were prepared for the sly glances, whistles, and crude remarks, for unwelcome advances and dirty hands trying to grope you. Having been raised in the world of men, you knew their ways well.

"Hey, let the lady catch her breath," Osferth's ever-cheerful voice echoed across the yard as he approached with a pitcher and ale mugs in his hands. The shy former monk was undoubtedly the most peculiar addition to the pack around Uhtred. Why was he even carrying a sword? He seemed clueless about how to use it. Initially, you assumed he might be warming someone's bed, but it soon became evident that this was not the case.

There was no logical explanation for his presence in a warriors' camp, but there he was, offering a bashful smile as he filled the mugs with ale and handed the first one to you. You couldn't deny the calming and radiant aura that accompanied him, something intangible, something elusive that defied explanation. Always courteous and attentive, unwavering in his faith in God's benevolence, he carried the weight of being born out of wedlock with quiet dignity and bestowed genuine kindness upon those around him.

You had believed you were prepared for anything – ready to endure contempt and hatred, to withstand pain and humiliation, to employ your body as both a weapon and allure. You had experienced it all, endured it all, and each time emerged stronger. But there was one thing you hadn't been prepared for – to be accepted just as you were, to be treated with respect and appreciation. Friendship and loyalty had taken you by surprise, and above all, you had never anticipated being cared for and loved.

Love. It had been an empty word, devoid of real meaning to you. In this cursed world where power, authority, and control were the sole currencies of worth, there was no room for something as seemingly foolish as love. How could you have prepared for it when you had never felt it?

Love didn't strike you suddenly, nor did it assault your senses and reason. You might have recognized it then if it had. Instead, it arrived slowly, subtly, through tentative glances and concealed smiles, in the hesitant brush of fingers. It infiltrated your everyday life as helping hands to maintain your weapons or carry your saddlebag, as a casual shift to the side, making room for you at the fire, as unassuming inquiries when you appeared tired or unwell. The genuine care and attention that the reserved and initially withdrawn young Dane with that stern and piercing gaze framed by two mismatched eyes offered so effortlessly and unpretentiously wrapped around you like a soft, welcoming blanket. It dulled your wariness, dazzled you like freshly brewed ale, and you fell for it without regret.

“Fuck,” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed against the cold ground. You were lying flat on your back, unable to take another step. It had been a foolish mistake, really, one second you had tried to prove to the guys how easy it was to balance one too many cups of ale in your hands, the next you had found yourself on the ground. One of the other drunken guys had rammed into you, forcing you to the ground without another warning.

It had taken you a few seconds to realise what was going on, blinking the tears away that welled up in your eyes due to the pain sticking to your foot. Voices had echoed in your ears, growing louder by the second, forcing you to at least try and sit up. All you could do was watch how Finan had to hold back Sihtric, who was about to tear the guy to shreds.

You had murmured Sihtric’s name, hoping to catch his attention. If there was one thing you hated, it was being the centre of attention – and being the reason for a fight amongst the guys would definitely put you further into the said centre. It had taken Finan a few moments to get some distance between Sihtric and the guy, forcing the Dane to finally focus on you.

“Can you stand?” Sihtric had kneeled in front of you, worried eyes flickering between yours and the hurt ankle you pressed your hand against. A whimper had left you as you had to rise, plopping back to the ground with a huff. There was no use in denying the shame thumping through your veins, filling every inch of your body. Only as Sihtric had placed his hand on your chin, redirecting your gaze towards him, had you managed to look at the handsome Dane again, sending him a smile.

“Up you go.” Without another warning, Sihtric had picked you up, strong arms wrapped around your cold body. The shriek that had clawed through you had left Finan and Osferth laughing, watching Sihtric carry you towards the tent he was supposed to sleep in.

And now here you were, placed on the warm fur, eyes studying the Dane’s every move. You could tell that something was holding Sihtric back, not daring to touch you for more than a handful of moments, pulling away whenever his eyes found yours as if your mere closeness set fire through his body. It frustrated you, seeing him this weary, scared to touch your already battered body.

“Sihtric,” you murmured his name, once again sitting up to be closer to him. Your hand darted out to find his warm cheek, trying not to pay the way he seemed to hold his breath too much of your attention. Slowly your thumb began to move, stroking his soft skin, the small marks and scars littering his cheeks, marks you couldn’t help but admire. He emanated strength and danger, and yet you felt awfully safe around him, knowing that he’d always protect you – should you need it.

With your breath hitched in your chest, it took you a moment to realise what was happening. Sihtric had pressed his lips against yours, hand placed on the back of your head to keep you close, not daring to let you go. Your heart was racing, torn between excitement and confusion, since you had hoped you’d eventually find yourself in a situation like this, and yet you haven’t dared to overthink it much.

“I am sorry.” Suddenly he pulled away, trying to get some distance between the two as if you were some addicting poison he needed to stay away from. Your wide pupils followed his every haste movement, not understanding what was going on. “You’re hurt, I shouldn’t touch you, not like this.”

A soft laugh broke out of you, hand reaching out for him to pull Sihtric in for another kiss. The moan that clawed through him left you grinning against his mouth, slowly parting your lips to deepen the kiss. You found yourself pressed against the fur, with Sihtric hovering over you. Neither of you dared to break the kiss this time, not as his hands began to work on your clothes, not as you fought against the need to arch your back to let go of a deep moan.

“I want to take care of you, take away your pain. Will you let me?” His raspy voice shot shudders down your spine, eyes rolling back into your head the second his warm mouth found your chest. All you could do was moan his name, teeth running along your lower lip to somewhat try to be quiet, not wanting to attract the attention of nearby drunkards. Expectedly he sucked on your hardening nubs, grinning whenever you choked on his name. “My pretty shieldmaiden, the fiercest warrior I aim to claim.”

“Gods, Sihtric, more. Please.” Sihtric blindly followed your choked command, kissing his way down to your heat. You were dripping for him, needing to feel his hands and mouth on you before he could fuck you like you had dreamt of him doing for a while now. The way he groaned at your taste left you clenching around nothing, fingers holding onto the furs to try and ground yourself.

His colourful eyes watched you intently, not wanting to miss one single expression, telling him all about how you felt buried beneath him, with his mouth on you. You felt as if you were drowning, clinging to every breath you were allowed to inhale, close to passing out. But Sihtric was determined, wanting to push the most sinful yet most beautiful sensation through your body.

“I must have pleased the Gods for being allowed to feel you this close, you’re mine now.” A hum left you, unable to reply with words as he forced two fingers into your tightness. Your walls clenched around him, telling him that you were already close. The grin he wore on his lips was devilish as he spoke up once again, “Say it, say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, fuck, only yours.” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came on his fingers, whimpering his name. Sihtric’s thumb kept circling your pulsing bundle, prolonging the intense sensations for a few more moments. For a second it felt as if you were reborn, heart racing too fast, palms sweaty from the way you had tried to hold onto the furs.

You tried to rise from your position, wondering what he’d do next, but Sihtric kept you pressed to the ground, looking like Loki himself, the trickster with a grin that could fool anybody. With wide eyes, you watched Sihtric undress, leathers plopping to the ground to expose his carefully chiselled muscles, gracing his stomach, his arms, and his thighs. All you could do was choke on your breath as your eyes focused on his hard cock, begging for your touch, to feel you wrapped around him.

“I promised to take care of you, but I won’t be gentle, not when I’ve got you buried beneath me like that.” Sihtric’s voice dripped with possessiveness, lust, and excitement, once again leaving you covered in goosebumps. You nodded, unable to speak up as his mouth found yours, kissing you breathless while he aligned himself with your cunt. “Hold onto me, mark me up.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, clawing your fingernails into his warm skin, adding more scars to the ones he had collected on battlefields. And yet he’d be prouder of the ones you added than any other, he’d fight any war if it meant getting to be with you. The both of you moaned in unison as he pushed into you, forcing your walls to adjust to his size.

Sihtric hadn’t lied, he wasn’t soft, wasn’t sweet, no, he fucked you like a man on a mission, a man who followed his lord’s commands. And you loved every moment of it, every rough thrust that managed to set your body ablaze, every thrust that left you choking on the air you were desperate for. Your nails left bloody marks down his shoulders, holding onto him as he fucked you on the fur, hoping that this was the first of many nights you’d spent on this fur together.

“You feel so good around me like the gods have crafted you for me, mine to own, mine to love.” Sihtric’s words almost drew tears to your eyes, desperately wanting to reply, to tell him about your feelings, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, once again close to falling off the edge. With one last kiss pressed to your lips, you came, moaning his name into the cold night. Sihtric fucked you through your release, groaning into the crook of your neck as he came only a few seconds later.

You both panted heavily, slowly coming down from your highs, as your foggy mind gradually cleared, and your hazy gaze locked onto Sihtric's mismatched eyes.

This was the moment you always hated the most - the moment of harsh and uncomfortable truth, filled with awkward glances, whispered words, and hurried, clumsy movements. It was the time when one inevitably left, fumbling for clothes and murmuring promises that were never meant to be kept.

You had been on both sides often enough; it was neither new nor unexpected to you. However, for perhaps the first time in your life, you felt an inexplicable emotion creeping beneath your skin. It drove you to dig your fingers into the plush, sweat-soaked furs beneath you, restraining the impulse to pathetically wrap your arms around Sihtric's shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving.

Sihtric crushed down beside you, his breath ragged, and his strong arms instinctively encircled you, pulling your back flush against his chest as though he feared you might disappear.

"Will you stay with me?" a hoarse whisper brushed against your ear, igniting a new sense of life within you.

"I couldn't leave even if I wanted to," you chuckled softly.

"Do you want to?"

"No, I don't," you whispered, turning to face him.

"Good, because I don't want you to either," Sihtric murmured, pressing his lips against yours.

I'm sorry I never found the courage to say these words to you. I always thought there would be enough time for that.

I just hope you felt it, I hope you sensed it, how much I loved you. And I still do. I want you to know that will never change. I will always love you, until my very last breath.

Tears welled up in your eyes, falling onto the vellum before you.

Muffled noises from outside caught your attention, and you hastily rolled it up, inadvertently smudging the ink where your tears had fallen. Time was running out; you had to leave. There had always been rumours of Uhtred having his own spies in Bebbanburg, though no one had ever managed to prove them. Today, you had seen him - the blacksmith from Bebbanburg, here in Rumcofa, in Uhtred’s hall. You had tried to hide, but it had been too late. He had seen you, his eyes glued to your pale face, as your heart frantically drummed against your ribs. He had recognized you, just as you had recognized him, and in that moment when your eyes met, you knew your mission had reached its end.

It was too late to confess your true purpose for coming here. You had wanted to reveal your real identity so many times, but the right moment had never seemed to come. And now, it was too late. Your past life had caught up with you, its cold, bony fingers slowly closing around your throat. You didn’t want to leave, but you couldn't stay.

Silence, absolute silence enveloped you, devoid of any sound—no voices, no footsteps, no creaking doors. There was nothing to attract your attention, it was as if the world itself had stilled, allowing your thoughts to flutter through your mind like startled birds, beating against the cage of your consciousness. You had never imagined that silence could be so agonisingly painful, so suffocating.

He will not come! He hates and detests you! You deserve it! The cruel voice echoed in your head, driving you to cover your ears with your hands. Growls of frustration escaped your lips, reverberating against the thick walls of Bebbanburg's dungeon, as you attempted to silence the relentless taunting.

Bebbanburg had fallen, or rather, it had been reclaimed by its rightful owner. You had always known this moment would come, understood that Uhtred would never relinquish his birthright, his lands, or the fortress of his ancestors. You had simultaneously dreaded and longed for this day, aware that it would spell both your doom and your salvation. And now, it was a reality.

God as your witness, you had tried to forget him. You had attempted to banish him from your thoughts, to expel the longing from your mind. For a time, you had even believed you had succeeded, drowning your yearning and hunger for Sihtric's touch, for his commanding yet gentle voice whose orders you had been so eager to obey, for the stern yet loving gaze of his mismatched eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

But the moment you laid eyes on him and Finan on the upper walkway, flanked by guards, you knew it had all been an illusion. You knew you had failed utterly. Your hand shot up instinctively, covering your mouth to stifle the scream threatening to erupt from your chest.

As if in a haze, you recalled following the guards, sneaking into the dungeon—this very dungeon whose walls you had been pounding in anger and despair for the past few hours, leaving your knuckles raw and bleeding. Then, like a bolt of lightning carrying God's wrath, like a spear hurled by an enemy's hand, it struck you. The coldness in Sihtric's gaze as he lifted his eyes from the lifeless bodies of the guards on the floor to meet yours froze the words forming on your lips, causing them to hang in the air before shattering into a thousand pieces upon the ground.

"You?" was the sole word that escaped Finan's lips as you swiftly cut through the ropes binding their hands, yet even that was laden with disdain and revulsion. You had shown them the way out, the concealed passage to the main hall, and they had left—no words exchanged, no glances shared, no turning back—just silence, relentless silence. The same oppressive silence lingered as Ælfwynn and Hild departed the fortress through the small, secret door you had revealed to them. Traitor, her eyes had silently screamed at you.

You could have fled, escaped, started anew far from this cursed fortress, far from everyone who governed your life. You could have been free. Yet, as tempting as it was, you knew there was no escaping yourself, no escaping the searing shame and longing that had gnawed at you from within all this time. You couldn't leave, not again.

It was Sihtric's hands that seized you, wrenching you to your feet and twisting your arms behind your back when they found you seated in the main hall, awaiting their arrival. You offered no resistance; the touch of him, even as his eyes blazed with hatred, sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed yourself to be dragged to the dungeon in silence. What could you say? How could you explain the inexplicable?

Leaning back against the cold and unforgiving stone wall, you felt the rugged surface digging into your skin even through your clothes as you slowly sank to the ground. Here you were, locked up in the dark and soundless cells beneath Bebbanburg, waiting for something you knew would never come. Closing your eyes, you let the silence envelop you, to become a part of you, to seep into your soul. You were alone, yet strangely, you felt free. No more lies, no more disguise. Just you.

A creaking sound reached your ears, and you slowly, almost unwillingly, opened your eyes to meet whoever had decided to disturb your silence.

“I should have known.” You’d always recognise his voice, wrapping itself around you like the warm summer breeze. But now it wasn’t warm, no, it was set on freezing you, leaving marks that would forever remind you of your betrayal. Your eyes watched his every move, wondering, perhaps even fearing, that he’d step even closer.

God, how could you have betrayed the man who owned your heart? Why did you keep quiet, when he was right there to hold you, to take away your pain?

“A traitor, good for nothing. I should be ashamed that I touched you.” At first, his words hurt you, cutting deeper than the swords he had held before ever could. But the more you pondered on them, the more you found yourself focusing on the “should” that had rolled off his tongue.

“Should?” It was just a whisper leaving you, and yet it was enough to draw a sigh from Sihtric. He unlocked the cell and stepped into the small space you were forced to call your own.

“As much as I want to hate you for betraying my lord, for betraying my family, for betraying me I can’t. The Gods know how much I tried to.” Sihtric crouched down in front of you, his differently coloured eyes wandering over your features, unable to bite down the smile that tugged on his lips as you leaned closer. Carefully he cupped your cold cheek, pondering on his next move.

“I am sorry, so very sorry.” All he did was hum, dipping his head down to kiss you. You knew that he wouldn’t forgive you easily, but yet you hoped that he’d learn to, no matter what it took, you’d do it if it meant regaining his trust. Within seconds you were pulled to your feet, front pressed against the cold stones, away from him.

The whine rumbling through you left Sihtric chuckling, a sound so familiar and yet it dripped with something you weren’t used to, something dark, something that left your body covered in goosebumps. You wanted to look at him, it had been too many hours since you had last gotten the chance to, but Sihtric didn’t loosen his grip, not even as he freed you from the fabrics and leathers covering your body.

“You’ll take my cock and you’ll thank me for it. It’s the least you can do.” The sob that left you was almost pathetic, torn between the arousal thumping through your veins and the fear holding you hostage. Would he ever forgive you? Would he ever ask you to tell your side of the story? Thoughts that were lost the second he pushed into you from behind.

It had been too long since Sihtric had last touched you, and yet your body clung to him, begging him to keep on going, to fuck you like you were his. God, how much you wanted to be his, the one to care for, the one who’d hold you close whenever you needed him to. The way he moaned into your ear, hand placed over your mouth to keep you quiet, made you shudder in need.

“Fuck, they could hang me for humping a traitor, but you feel too good, you always have.” His pleasure-drunken words made you clench around him, eyes squeezed shut to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks. This was your fault, your wrongdoing, and now you were paying the price, taking the cock of the man you loved, while he called you a traitor.

You whimpered his name, unable to keep on speaking as his cock nudged against the swollen spot, making you see stars. With your hands pressed against the cold stones, you tried to ground yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t pass out from the intense sensations, especially when he had you on your two feet.

The sounds of your bodies meeting grew louder as Sihtric felt your orgasm nearing, already done for, set on pushing you over the edge. Tears now dripped from your eyes, guided by the intense pleasure only Sihtric made you feel. Another choked gasp left you as you came on his cock, begging him to follow.

Sihtric came moments later, imprinting himself on your walls with a groan. The both of you were heavily panting, but while you had your eyes squeezed shut, Sihtric already pulled out of you, wordlessly redressing himself. Slowly you turned towards him, eyebrows furrowed, eyes glassy.

You wanted to beg him for forgiveness, once again desperate to regain his trust, but he kept on studying you, wordlessly. And without another word leaving him, he turned from you, leaving you behind, with the cell unlocked. He was giving you a way out, a test, nothing more than a test.

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #sihtric smut

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bestygogirl · 3 months

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BEST YGO GIRL: SEMI FINALS

Match 2

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Isis Ishtar

gorgeous, very caring sister, strong duelist, and the only woman to ever make Seto Kaiba squirm

anyways. not only as mentioned above is she the first woman to make kaiba squirm, but she was by all means going to beat him if not for the millennium rod's millennium interference. yami marik admits that she's a strong duelist with a strategy that's been working for literal years-- and given that she's not like, a professional duelist, thats pretty impressive

she also recently got some really cool meta bumps and let me point out that an "ishizu deck" now includes obelisk the tormentor-- which we knew she had prior to giving it to kaiba, but i think it only solidifies my opinion that she very much could wield an Egyptian God Card, an exclusive little club for top tier duelists

as a character she presents herself with an amazing amount of poise and grace, shes compassionate and kind and stays with mai and serenity even though she only just met them. shes struggling through living the past 5 years of her life drowning in guilt for her family's tragedy just because she wanted to make her little brother happy and shadi is a fucking liar. shes foretold her own death and marches towards it grimly but with so much love in her heart. and even then shes 20 years old and holds an important position in the egyptian government that typically requires a doctorate degree AND has been dealing with mariks off-and-on bullshit entirely by her lonesome. she also likes to flex her fortunetelling a little which is awesome i think she should do that more that scene where she tells the guy exactly how the stele is being transported was so everything

speaking of shes got such an attitude. "is it your destiny to waste my time?" iconic. never seen before will never be seen again. watch the duel between her va and joeys its so fucking funny

shes excult. shes doesnt flinch in the face of god nor death. seto kaiba and yami marik respect her. shes so sad and so sweet and battle city couldnt have happened without her.

also her parallels with kaiba are what motivate kaiba to give yugi the card he needed to beat marik.

kaiba, in duelist kingdom, was ready to jump off a ledge if yugi didnt let him through to face pegasus while trying to save mokuba out of sheer desperation to save his little brother. he KNOWS what that dedication feels like and the iron kind of will you need to have to make that kind of gamble. isis is being so fucking legit with what shes saying and he respects that and her judgement enough to change his mind and not only watch the duel, but give yugi a card that eventually helps him win, even if he has no real confidence in the odds. but theres a CHANCE, which is the same thing he taught her when he beat her in a duel. the layers its her faith that moves him to act. which is so crazy

anyway vote isis shes my best friend forever and a real rep for all the 20 year olds who honest to god did not sign up for this bullshit

Aki Izayoi

An abuse victim who isn't the perfect passive figure but gets to work through her complicated feelings about power, agency, and family. Even with Yusei's help, she is the star of the show when she learns to control her powers and reconciles with her father, it is so fun that a ygo heroine gets to take such an antagonistic role bu not be shamed for her anger

please vote for my main girl, aki izayoi. aki was led to believe she was a monster from a young age by her father, who treated her powers like it made her unworthy of love. as a result, divine was able to swoop in and take advantage of aki's low self esteem. for years, aki believed herself unworthy of love and was molded into a living weapon at the hands of authority figures in her life. she was taken advantage of, and thus when she finally comes face to face with yusei, she refuses to believe he could provide her with unconditional friendship. who would want to be around a monster, after all?

aki also nearly beats yusei TWICE in a duel, bringing it down to a single turn difference. she comes toe to toe with him, and it truly is the result of who dueled better. she remains a fierce duelist, btw. the second season, aki gets her duel runner license, and immediately nearly beats the ass of a tournament winning turbo duelist - to the point where once again, a single card is the deciding factor. that's right: she nearly won. if not for a single trap card, aki izayoi would've won.

a fierce duelist who was shaped into a loving, caring woman despite years of being beaten down by the world: aki izayoi. vote for her now on your phones.

#best ygo girl poll #semifinals #yugioh duel monsters #isis ishtar #ishizu ishtar #yugioh 5ds #aki izayoi #akiza izinski

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dindjarindiaries · 5 months

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DIN DJARIN ONE-SHOTS

Each story below focuses on Din Djarin, with pairings for each story indicated along with summaries.

Stories marked with an asterisk (*) contain sexual, though not explicit/graphic, content.

My ratings are as follows: G (all ages), T (13+), M (18+)

Last updated: March 17, 2024

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

the “heat” of the moment • reader The heat goes out on the Razor Crest and you’re the only one with an electric blanket to keep yourself warm.

my cyar’ika • fem!reader You and Din find yourselves in a marketplace lush with life, and you lose yourself in the fun while Din tries to keep you safe throughout it.

just fine • reader Din comforts you after you suffer through a tumultuous nightmare.

everything i wanted • reader You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host.

riduurok • reader This is the story of how you fall in love with the Mandalorian bounty hunter, Din Djarin.

home • reader After the child is reunited with his people, Din takes you to a place that’s unfamiliar to you but all too familiar to him: his home.

when stars align• reader You spend an affectionate morning awakening beside your Mandalorian, who you have just recently married.

more than words* • reader On the evening of your marriage, you and Din show your deep love for each other in a manner that goes beyond words.

the challenge • reader After winning a drinking challenge, Din returns to the Crest much later than expected in a state of mind much different than usual, leaving you to deal with him and whatever words spill from his mouth.

don’t blame me• reader In the weeks following your marriage, you and Din are desperate to make up for all the physical affection you’ve missed out on—leading you to do whatever you can wherever you can.

said and done • reader With Din being injured from a past fight, you’re the one in charge of the hunts for now—and Din realizes he likes having you in control.

behave* • reader After a grueling hunt, you and Din celebrate your success at a local cantina, both ending up with a little too much that leads you to do things that are a little too risky.

nothing so perfect • fem!reader You and Din think that you’re adding on to your family, only to learn there’s been a mistake—and now you’re both left to cope with the loss you never expected.

next to you • reader It’s been long enough since Din’s promised return for you to assume that he didn’t make it, and now you yearn for the life that could’ve been.

forever and always • reader When you and Din finally find the child’s home, it’s time to say goodbye—but then Din realizes he can’t.

reverence • fem!reader Following the birth of your daughter, Din spends a night marveling at the little life and the way you provide for her.

transmissions • reader When Din’s away on a long job, he gives you a holotransceiver and sends you transmissions to keep you both at ease.

purpose • fem!reader As the daughter of an Imperial senator, the Mandalorian’s hired as your bodyguard—but with the twisted ideals of your father putting you at risk, he becomes so much more than that.

irrevocable • reader After a hunt goes wrong and Din gets captured, you go after him and save him, but you find that they’ve removed his helmet and have done him personal damage that will last for much longer.

mine* • fem!reader With tensions rising not only in the galaxy but also in your relationship, Din proves to you in a new way that he’ll take care of you.

never alone • fem!reader In the aftermath of a bad nightmare, Din receives comfort from an unexpected source: his daughter.

tresses • reader When Din’s hair becomes the object of your and the baby’s affections, he decides it’s time for a trim—although he’s hesitant for a reason you must discover.

enervation • reader Din returns home from his new job as exhausted as ever, begging you to join him in sleep—and trying to make it happen at all costs.

take care • reader After Din sustains an injury on a job, you have to help him take care of himself—something he grows more and more fond of.

affliction • fem!reader When you and Din get recognized at an Imperial gala, you’re both taken into custody, where they begin to use Din to get you to talk—and lead you to do something completely unexpected.

take it off* • reader Your new ally extends his hospitality a little too far—and now Din’s determined to remind you of what he alone can provide you with.

cozy in the cockpit • reader After the Crest suffers through an intense chase and crash, you and Din must figure out how to survive on a freezing planet—your low odds causing your mutual feelings to come to the surface.

beneath the surface • reader You and Din get double-crossed when trying to find other Mandalorians, putting all three of you in deep waters.

touch it softly • reader When you invite Din to play with your hair, you both get a little more than lost in the moment.

alleviation • reader You continue helping Din recover from the traumatizing removal of his helmet, trying to make him understand that it’s okay to not be okay. (part two of Irrevocable)

the right thing • reader Din returns to you on Nevarro after the mission on Moff Gideon’s cruiser—without the child.

ni ceta par gar (i kneel for you)* • reader When Mando needs emotional release, you seek to fulfill your pining by offering something neither one of you can resist—something that could change everything.

in my head • reader The thought of Din plagues your mind—and it won’t be long until it’s forced onto your lips.

hold me in hyperspace • reader After a long hunt, you think Mando just wants some rest—but really, he just wants you.

ner yaim (my home) • reader After a day of work, you get to come home to Din, who’s fitting into his new role well.

mureyca (kiss) • reader The story of the different ways in which you share a kiss with the Mandalorian.

torrent • reader When one of Din’s worst fears is revealed, you’re left to do whatever you can to put him at ease.

bloom • reader With your relationship now in full blossom, a flustered Din takes you on your first date, where he does everything he can to tell you how you make him feel.

before i go • reader Imperial occupation of your covert as well as your mind lead to a devastating confrontation between you and your past Mandalorian lover.

favorite crime • reader When your ex-partner-in-crime and past lover enters your life again, you find yourself looking back on fond memories with a tremendous desire to chase them again.

solace • reader Din reassures you when your perfectionist tendencies catch up to you.

intemperate • reader Mando’s indulgence in liquid courage leads him to say things you never thought you’d hear—and will never forget.

scars • reader When Din shows unprecedented hatred for his battle-worn body, it’s up to you to reassure him of everything you love about it.

seeking serenity • reader Mando, overcome with anxiety in the aftermath of a risky event, needs you to bring him back to reality—and asks for much more along the way.

liberation • reader You lead a mission to free Din from an Imperial hideout, only to discover that he’s in need of you much more than you originally thought.

contrition • reader Din comforts you after you do something drastic to save his life.

bring me home • reader You reunite with your Mandalorian lover after a long separation and realize much has changed since you last him.

safety net • deaf!reader When you and Din are reunited after a hunt that goes longer than expected, your mutual feelings for each other finally bubble to the surface—regardless of the fears you’ve both buried deep within.

selfish • reader Din, who’s helplessly in love with you, is forced to watch you and your partner until he’s forced to come to terms with his feelings.

united we fall • reader Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind.

of bounties and bartenders • fem!reader The mysterious Din “Brown Eyes” Djarin returns to visit you after a job, but trouble is the last thing he’s left behind.

astronomy • reader Crossing paths with a seriously injured Din forces the two of you to come to terms with your relationship.

stardust • reader You finally reunite with your Mandalorian lover, just to learn a devastating truth.

fine line • reader Din tries his best to comfort you in the aftermath of your torturous capture.

scarlet promise • reader Vengeance consumes you when Din’s put at risk, causing him to have to pull you back to reality.

what sits in the silence • reader Your bounty-hunting rival turns to you in his time of need and brings along more baggage than you planned on handling.

when a house becomes a home • reader A new home brings new responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can teach Din how to cook a proper meal: you.

takes one to know one • reader Bounty hunters aren’t supposed to fall in love and you were okay with that. So was the Mandalorian.

love me louder • reader Your secret romance with the Mandalorian is put at risk when you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

shattered • reader When an anxious day gets the best of you, Din seeks to comfort you.

the broken who blossom • reader At long last, Din’s returned home to the covert, but he’s brought a lot more home with him than anticipated.

in sickness & in health • reader Din does his best to comfort you when you become anxious about your health.

doomsday • reader You and Din are interrogated by Moff Gideon, who has quickly realized you’re the best weapon he has to use against the Mandalorian.

i still see you • reader In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

fight for me • reader When Din starts to get harassed at a cantina, you can’t help jumping in to defend him at all costs.

dead to me• fem!oc On the verge of death, Twila takes off Din’s helmet, later having to face his wrath and leave his ship—even though she’s pregnant with their unborn child.

the marshal • fem!oc Din covers his face. So does she. Shrouded in mystery and unable to admit their shared intimidation, the two must work together to save Mos Pelgo—for both their sakes.

aftermath • omera After his quest has been fulfilled, Din returns to Sorgan, needing the comfort and support of someone he could never forget.

stay • omera Din wrestles with his feelings for Omera and tries to tell her how she feels—but has to let her in first.

a warrior’s purpose • daughter Din returns to the planet where he’d left his riduur many years ago to find her again—but instead, he finds someone else.

enterprise • cassian andor, k2so When Mando’s quarry offers him a better deal, he finds himself getting involved in more than he originally bargained for.

malevolence • grogu Din experiences the ghastly side effects of wielding the famed Darksaber.

foster • obi-wan kenobi Obi-Wan comes across an orphan named Din that he can’t help taking under his wing.

as it was • din djarin’s parents The living waters beneath Mandalore bring Din back to a place—and a people—he never thought he’d see again.

people watching • grogu Observation was a skill Din Djarin had mastered for his own safety, but now it sets the scene for his very own destruction.

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin x omera #masterlist #masterlists #dindjarindiaries

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cozage · 4 months

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The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 22: A Painful Departing

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 2k

You thrashed in Marco’s arms, desperately trying to reach Ace. But Marco’s grip on you was iron tight, and you were forced to watch the love of your life throw flame after useless flame. Akainu burned too hot. Ace’s flames had no effect on him. You knew that, and surely Ace had to know that too. And now you had to sit back and watch him fight a battle he could never win.

You saw it before it was going to happen. Your observation haki had never been so clear and concise. But you saw the final punch. The one that went through his chest. To protect Luffy.

You couldn’t bear it. Your father and your lover in the same day. You refused.

You went feral, thrashing in Marco’s hold. Any bit he would give you to break free would get you closer to Ace. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but you held your bracelet against his skin and sunk your teeth into flesh.

“What the hell?!” Marco screamed and you used his shock to rip your body away from him, taking off towards Ace.

“No!” Marco screamed, but you scrambled away before he had the chance to grab you. You said a silent apology to your child as you ripped your bracelet off and shoved it into your pocket, lava coursing back into your veins as you dashed toward Ace and Akainu. You were close. You could make it.

It was a race between the three fire users: Ace, Akainu, and you. Who could get to their target first. Any mistake would end in death.

Lava clashed against lava, your two fists smashing against Akainu’s one. It burned, but you could hold it steady.

“Ace?” Luffy’s small voice came from behind you, but you didn’t dare lose your concentration.

Akainu gave you a wicked smirk. “You’ve gotten weaker,” he chuckled, looking at how much you struggled to keep your hold against him.

“So have you.” Your teeth grinded together in concentration, trying to push him back. Even just an inch.

“Stop,” Ace begged. “Y/N, stop. You can’t-“

“Go!” You screamed. “You caused this! So take Luffy and go! Now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Fuck, Ace! Just listen to me for once in your life!” You screamed. It was ironic those words were coming from you, considering how many times others had said them to you that you had ignored. “Go!”

Your entire body ignited, pushing lava toward Ace and Luffy so they were forced to flee. You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to the battle. You had to give them enough time to get away. Enough time to be free.

Your skin burned. Your vision grew spotty. You could feel the urge to vomit rising fast, but you forced it back down. You just had to hold Akainu for a few more minutes. Just until Ace and Luffy got away. You could do this. The pain was nothing compared to the heartbreak you had endured.

Akainu gave you a smirk. “I see you’d prefer for me to kill you first.”

“I would prefer that, actually,” you hissed back, starting to lose traction. “Ace promised I could die first.”

His smirk grew to a wicked grin. “Then let me make good on that promise.”

His other fist swung around, aiming to connect to your face. You couldn’t stop it. You knew that. It was over.

A part of you was relieved. You had been fighting just to survive for so long, it would be nice to rest for a bit. You could see Thatch again. You would never have to know life without your father. Your family would be okay. They had each other. And Ace had Luffy. You could die knowing you had made a difference. That’s what really mattered.

You closed your eyes and waited for the impact. For the end.

The sound of a metal sword clanged in your ear, and the heat that was emitting from the Vice Admiral in front of you seemed to disappear. A gasp exuded from the crowd, and your eyes snapped open again.

“Sorry I was late, Y/N.” Red hair and a black cape clouded your vision, Shanks comforting voice filling your ears. “We got a little busy on the way here.”

Just the arrival of Shanks and his executive crew made the Marines stop in their tracks. Even Segoku looked nervous. But all you wanted to do was cry.

“I think we can call this a draw, Sengoku. Don’t you?” Shanks called up to the Fleet Admiral, still holding Akainu with his sword.

Sengoku’s eye twitched, but he didn’t move. “Shanks-“

“You’ve got Whitebeard, we’ve got Ace. Seems like a fair trade off.”

You looked over to your father, still standing tall despite the holes that had been bored through him, and you struggled to keep your composure.

“She’s under my protection now, Whitebeard!” Shanks yelled out, for the entire battlefield to hear. “I‘ll protect them both until I breathe my last breath! I swear it!”

“Go,” your father’s voice came, soft but powerful. “Keep living. That is my final order as your captain and your father.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stared in awe, but Shanks threw you over his shoulder and darted away from Akainu as everyone turned their attention away from you.

“No!” You screamed, smacking Shanks back. “He’s alive! He’s alive! We can’t leave him!”

Akainu quickly recovered from shock and shot a beam of lava at you and Shanks, but Shanks quickly evaded it. However, the brothers in front of you weren’t so lucky.

The beam hit Ace’s back and Luffy’s torso, causing them to collapse to the ground.

“Ace!” You screamed, but he didn’t get up.

“Ace!” You screamed again, twisting in Shanks’s hold to get a better view. “Ace! Get up!”

“Stop squirming,” Shanks scolded. “Trust me and trust them. Stay still.”

But you couldn't do what you were told. You never could. Ace was in danger, and you kicked and shoved until Shanks lost his hold of you.

You dashed towards Ace and Luffy, falling to the ground next to them. Ace’s back was covered in lava, and you quickly worked to move it off him. His skin looked like it was melting, steam emitting from his body as he lay limp and unresponsive.

Luffy was faring slightly better than Ace, but they both had severe burns and wounds from the lava. You couldn’t even tell if they were alive.

“Ace,” you sobbed, trying to shake him and Luffy awake. “Please wake up.”

“Jinbe!” Shanks yelled. “Can you take them?”

“Please,” you whispered, cupping Ace’s face. “Please don’t leave me.”

“He’s dead!” Akainu shouted, approaching the three of you. “And soon you can join him.”

His fist ignited, and you leaned yourself over Ace and Luffy, trying your best to shield them so the lava wouldn’t hurt them again.

“I’m sorry, dad,” you whispered, holding the brothers tightly. “I’m sorry Rayleigh. I tried.”

You could feel the heat of Akainu getting closer to you, just as you remembered in your dreams. You were too weak. You were always too weak.

Suddenly you were lifted up, being carried away. You tried to twist your body, searching Ace and Luffy again, but the grip tightened and was too strong for you to fight. You screamed out, half in frustration, half in pain.

“I have them,” Jinbe said. “Stop fighting me! You’re only hurting yourself.”

Jinbe’s voice gave you a little bit of comfort, but you still panicked as you thought about Ace and Luffy. How were they doing? Would they even make it off the battlefield?

“Up here!” A man atop a yellow ship shouted. “I’m a doctor.”

Jinbe skillfully jumped up onto the deck of the ship and bolted through the door. He dropped you gently to the ground, and then set the two unconscious boys down for the doctor to take over.

You tried to stand on your own, but your vision instantly went spotty. You staggered and tried to hold onto the wall for support, but you weren’t sure how long you would last.

Luffy was being carried away by about five different people when you finally looked up. Ace was face down on the ground, two men tending to his burn wounds.

“Bepo, make us disappear.” The man with the spotted hat watched you cautiously. “At least you’re still standing. Looks like you’re the one I have to worry about the least.”

To counteract his point, you leaned over into the trash can and immediately threw up. You hadn’t had your bracelet on for at least 20 minutes, and you began to fear the worst as your stomach churned and shifted.

“Sea prism,” you choked out, vomiting more contents of your stomach into the trash can. “I need sea prism.”

You reached into your pocket and grabbed your bracelet, trying to cool your body back down. But even with the bracelet on, your entire body felt funny.

You cried out in pain as another sharp stab hit your stomach, causing you to double over as you struggled to breathe.

“You really can’t handle your own ability?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at you. He could tell something was wrong with you. This wasn’t normal levels of sickness due to devil fruit powers.

You began throwing up again though, major cramps still tearing through in your abdomen.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The man hissed, bending down and putting his hand against your forehead.

“Tend to Luffy,” you whispered, gagging and curling into a ball to try and mitigate the pain. You clutched your sea prism bracelet, but the pain wasn’t going away.

“Tell me,” the man said, grabbing your jawline and forcing you to stare at him.

“She’s pregnant,” Jinbe said, watching you wearily. Ace must have told him. They had been together in Impel Down, afterall.

“How far along?” He hissed.

“Five months,” you whimpered, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. You tore away from him to continue wrenching into the trash can.

He sharply inhaled. “Don’t you know not to use your powers during pregnancy?”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you snapped back. “But I wasn’t going to let Ace die!”

A blue hue appeared around you, and then suddenly you were dropped into an ice water bath.

You screamed out in shock, unsure where you were. You prayed the Navy hadn’t found a way to get you back into their grasp.

There was commotion outside, and suddenly Jinbe burst through the door to see you sitting in the tub. The other man followed in after him.

“Luffy and Ace,” you said again, bile rising into your mouth once again. “Go check on them.”

“My crew is prepping for surgery as we speak. Do me a favor and stay still.”

Once again, a blue hue surrounded you. You weren’t sure what this man’s power was, but you were certain it was tied to the strange color that surrounded you now.

He ran a sword along your body, and a scan came up. There were a several red alerts that occurred around your stomach, and your heart quickened.

“Is it okay?” You asked. “Is my baby okay?”

“Ikkoku!” He barked out, and suddenly a woman appeared in the doorway. “Prep her for surgery. 5 months pregnant. Priority is lowering body temperature to normal range.”

“Of course, captain.” The woman said, walking over to you. “You’re going to feel a light pinch.”

“What’s happening?” you cried, the world starting to spin around you. “No, no, no! You aren’t listening to me. I-I need- to-” your breathing became low and rapid, thoughts getting jumbled in your head before you could speak them.

“She’s going into shock,” Ikkoku called out, urgency in her voice.

“Shit,” the man hissed. “The others can wait. Take her into surgery now.”

“No,” you mumbled. Your body felt so heavy. “Luffy…Ace…they…need…”

And then everything went dark.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir @twilight-loveer

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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honeybadger16 · 11 months

Text

Enemies to lovers! Max Verstappen

Paring: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: smut, vulgar language, FILTH (you have been warned) (18+)

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I love an enemies to lovers trope, I hope you enjoy!

Growing up, your father worked as an engineer for Redbull and would invite you to race weekends.

The paddock was a familiar place growing up and you enjoyed the adrenaline racing brought on.

But there was one problem

You could not stand Max Verstappen

He was a hot head, rude, and vulgar at most times, so avoiding him was your specialty

However, you also wore shorter skirts and dresses hoping to catch the looks of a certain Dutch driver

You would never admit to yourself though

He, on the other hand, thought you were a spoilt girl who's main job in life was to make his life more difficult

Everytime he'd see you in the paddock he couldn't help but imagine how your mouth would feel on his or how your hands would feel on his chest and-

This irritated him

He was supposed to be focused solely on being the best driver possible in order to win the championship

But all his mind went to was how pretty you would look with his cock in your mouth

Or how he should just fuck you in the bathroom, against the sink, as a goodluck charm before the race of course

Post race, he would imagine your soft hands were wrapped around his painfully hard cock praising him for a job well done

After another victorious weekend for Redbull, the entire team went out for drinks and dancing

Deciding to have few (or more,,) drinks, the dancing got closer to one another

You could feel a pair of two strong hands in the back of you position themselves on your waist and their body press up against yours

With your new found courage you look behind and see Max staring intensely back at you, with eyes like a lion hunting its prey

Even if you had found Max to be a pain in the ass it was impossible not to stare at his soft lips

He must have been thinking the same thing as your lips connected together, only coming up for air a moment later

"Come with me now"

You didn't have time to respond as Max started pulling your hand towards the exit.

He opened his sports car and pulled you inside with him

Grabbing your face, Max kisses you with all the passion that had been bottled up for years

Moving past your lips he goes to your neck and bites and sucks, leaving marks you had to cover up the next day

He wouldn't want you to cover them

He didn't want anyone else ever producing the sounds- moans that are spilling out of your mouth right now

He removes himself off of you and starts the car

"We have to stop"

"Why?"

"Because I want to look at your pretty eyes when I fuck you against the bed."

After Max had given you the best makeout of your life, wetness had pooled in your panties

Deciding to mess with him, you start touching your aching pussy through the wet cloth

Only soft moans escaped your mouth, but that was enough for Max to turn his head around and notice what you're up to

"Naughty girl can't wait until we get home to touch herself, pathetic."

He replaces your hand with his own, and goes underneath the panties

"Fucking christ, your pussy is dripping wet, is it all for me?"

Both of you knew the answer, Max was just gloating

Rubbing up and down your lips, intentionally edging the outside of your clit, you start to get desperate

"Please! Max touch my clit I need it right now!"

Max being himself laughs and removes his hands from where you needed him most

He takes the fingers soaked with your wetness and shoves them in your mouth

"How do you taste my good little slut?"

You couldn't have responded with his fingers still shoved in your mouth, but no worries, he would taste you from your mouth later

The rest of the ride was a blur and ended with the two of you locking the door as Max starts pulling your dress off

His tongue invites yours in, and gives him a chance to taste you.

"Fuck I can't wait to lick all of you up"

He practically threw you onto his bed and removed your wet panties

"I'm keeping those"

He brings his face closer to your pussy, licking from the bottom all the way to the top, slightly sucking your clit

You start to grind your hips hoping for some friction, but Max grounds them in place firmly stopping any movement

"I need you to tell me what you want me to do my pretty slut"

"Please Max I need you to touch me there"

" I know you can do better than that, if you don't, I stop."

Max being a dick. What a surprise.

But you were desperate and horny, so you had to put your ego aside

"I need your mouth on my clit and your fingers inside me please!"

Max thought he was going to explode in his pants right there and then

Not wasting any time, Max began to lap up all the juices on your pussy and sucked on your clit

You felt your orgasm getting closer once he pushed two fingers into you and started curling them

You neared the very edge once you felt his mouth groaning against your clit

Looking down, he took his hard cock out and was stroking himself fast with the other free hand

With that image in mind you came all over his face and fingers

"Mm just like that you pretty slut, now you're gonna cum again on my cock."

Max lifts himself up and reaches for a condom when you stop him

"I'm on birth control and clean"

He doesn't waste time and begins rubbing the tip of his cock against your lips

Slowly pushing in, Max lets out a grunt while your breathe turns into an airy moan

He waits until you adjust to the size of him and slowly begins pumping in and out of you

To get even deeper, he hoists your legs over his shoulders and leans foward

This position makes you moan out Max's name as you feel him push against your walls

"Fuck baby keep saying my name, I want everyone to feel what a filthy slut you are for daddy"

He began to pick up the pace as he slammed into you, rubbing your clit at the same time

Not long after, you began to squeeze around his cock nearing the edge of your second orgasm

"Don't cum until I say so, okay pretty girl?"

You nod towards him as your mouth could not verbalize any words at the moment

Max went harder than before and turned your head to look straight up at him

"I want you to look at me while we cum together."

Your orgasms seemed to hit at the same time as both of you moaned and grunted through the ripples of pleasure coursing through your bodies maintaining eye contact with each other

Your mouths clashed together as an attempt to make less noise, but was unsuccessful

You could feel as Max cums hard inside of you filling you up with cum, nearly dripping out of you

Once a minute went by and both of your orgasms passed, Max pulls out of you

He dips two fingers inside of you collecting his cum and presses it against the opening of your mouth

You open your lips, allowing his fingers to enter and lick the cum off of him

"I'm going to cum again just by looking at you."

Once Max had his fun, he stood up and got a wet cloth and water for you

After such intense orgasms, both you and Max felt the air shift from steamy and sexy to apprehensive

As if, the both of you wanted to speak out, but wouldn't out of fear of being rejected by the other

Max starts first and asks you,

"How about I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Yeah that sounds nice."

Max looks relieved and gets up again, this time handing you one of his oversized Redbull sweatshirts

After putting it on, putting your head on Max's chest as he wraps an arm around seemed too natural, too easy

It scared you. For years you hated him and now you were nearly falling asleep on him

Admitting any feelings you had towards Max would be a tomorrow problem you said to yourself as you fell asleep to Max's soft snores

Maybe I'll write a second part?

#max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #f1 fandom #f1 #f1 imagine

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iguana-eyanna · 1 year

Text

What They Didn't Know Was Missing

Summary: It's hard to come into terms of becoming a mother, but Sherlock reassures you that he'll remind you every day that you are worthy of being one to your child.

Warning: pregnancy symptoms, labor, mentions of abandonment, mentions of gun violence

It was around noon at 221 Baker Street. Sherlock was walking back home with a small packaged box in hand, holding it a bit tighter than he should.

He makes his way to his apartment, walking on the steps as he turned his key to the room. He looks around, not minding that his organized mess is gone and the smell of his pipe no longer lingered in the air.

Sherlock was territorial when it came to his home, but he made changes in his life when he met you.

You were the owner of a barkeep, feisty, and wasn't afraid of telling a man off when he didn't pay his tab. So when Sherlock came to the bar to ask about a suspect, you'd only answer his questions if he was a paying customer.

Either he was desperate to find answers or he just wanted to stay to talk to you for hours, the Holmes man paid a heavy load.

You both weren't afraid of courting each other in public, even if you two weren't of the same status. But, it was time to change some things. Your pub that you've built from the ground up turned into a legit business and Sherlock turned from his lone wolf days and finally proposed to you.

"I never knew I was alone until I met you, and I don't want that feeling again."

Your ceremony was small, Enola and his mother shed a few tears and you couldn't believe that his eldest brother, Mycroft, came (he never liked you due to your independent spirit, but he started to tolerate you more. Call it a win). Being married for about half a year has been a dream. But like a dream, one has to wake up.

Once Sherlock takes off his outdoor attire, he searches for you and lands his eyes on a figure on his couch.

"Hi." he whispered softly as he kneels to your level as you laid on the couch.

You turn around to face him and give him a tired smile.

"Same symptoms as yesterday?" He asks, unpacking the small box in his hand.

"Yes. When you left this morning, I awoke abruptly and felt sick." You said as your stomach churned.

"Here, chew this." Sherlock said, taking out an herb that was small as a chestnut.

You leaned your head further as he fed you the piece. You slightly grimace at the taste.

"It taste like grass." You said.

"I didn't know that you eat grass." He said, smirking. You lightly smack his chest as you lie on your side.

"It's already fighting off the nausea. How did you know it will work?" You ask.

Sherlock sat on the ground while he combed your hair with his fingers to help you relax.

"I remember my mother used it when she was pregnant with Enola."

You pause at his words, feeling your face pale.

Pregnant... the word scared you.

You got up from your lying position as Sherlock dotingly helps you too. He sits beside you as you laid your head on his shoulder. You've been feeling some sort of way since a doctor diagnosed you alongside your husband's deduction. Secretly, Sherlock was thrilled that he would become a father, he never thought he'd had a chance of having a family of his own.

He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at how you've been losing sleep and appearing almost crestfallen. He knows why you’ve been feeling like this, but he wants to hear it from you first.

“Please, love. I just want to know how I can help you.” He murmurs.

You begin to sniffle as you try to avoid his gaze.

“You can’t, Sherlock..” you said as you were about to get up.

He softly grabs your wrist and guides you to his lap, holding you still so you won’t leave him.

“You won't abandon them.” Sherlock’s voice rose.

“How can you be sure?” You ask, feeling the hot tears roll your cheeks.

You were given up as a baby, growing in an orphanage. When you were old enough, you ran away and decided to work at a pub when they needed a maid. The owner loved you as their own daughter, so they wrote you in their will to become the next barkeep. But even after your entire journey and becoming a business owner, you felt so incomplete of why your parents gave you up.

“Because you are full of love. You’re able to teach our child how to love, you’ve taught me how to love. There is not one ounce in my body that tells me that you will leave them. And I'm usually right all the time."

You chuckle loudly as you wiped away your tears. Not a lot of people saw this soft side of your husband, and you slightly feel selfish that you want to keep this side of him all to yourself.

You lean into his chest as he holds you closer to him, his hand suddenly resting on your now-showing bump.

"I promise you, I'll be there every second. Even for the birth."

You look at him worried, as it wasn't common practice for the father to be present for the birth. You haven't recovered from the stories from your friends who are midwives.

"Sherlock, I don't think that -"

"My love, I will never let you doubt yourself for one moment. I'm going to be there in your time of need. We'll be alright, trust me." He says, kissing the side of your temple. Sherlock wasn't any conventional man, so you knew his words were true.

You smile up at him as you cuddled closer to one another as you stare down at your abdomen, anticipating the life you're growing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where is he!?" You screamed as you feel a contraction take control of your body.

"Sherlock's been working on a case since noon." Enola said, trying to support you in your distress.

"Typical, that man." You gritted as you sat on the edge of your bed, feeling the contraction go away.

After Sherlock went out during the day, Enola decided to pop in and say hello. She was going on and on about that Tewkesbury boy and suddenly you felt your water broke. Enola was shocked as well as you were and decided to call for her mother as she had no idea how to deliver a baby.

As on cue, your mother in law comes with hot boiling water and a towel on her shoulder, smiling at you.

"How are we doing dear?" She asks, putting the pail down.

"Like my body is splitting in half." You heaved out, gripping the sheets in your hand.

"It means it's almost time. Let me have a look at your dilation." Eudoria said, kneeling down.

You begin to cry, fearing that your husband was going to miss the birth of your baby.

A hostile knock echos the apartment alongside your moans, and Eudoria orders Enola to send off the person interrupting.

"I'm afraid you have to push, my dear." She said, seeing that you've dilated.

You shake your head, crying.

"I can't do it. Not without Sherlock."

"It will all be alright, we need to get this baby out so you can finally see them. Enola! Come quick, I need you to support your sister!"

Enola comes barging in, looking a bit pale at you.

"Please, don't freak out." She begs you.

You're about to ask what's wrong until Mycroft comes in, trying his best to hold your husband up as he was badly wounded.

"I'm sorry, he saw a sniper a few feet from us. Sherlock tried to push me away, but the bullet..."

You begin to sob, seeing your husband like this.

"Take him to the couch and treat his wound, you're upsetting her." Eudoria commanded, not wanting you to be in hysteria.

"No, I'm fine. I'm not- leaving my wife." Sherlock grunted, knowing the bullet went through some flesh and his pain was manageable.

His mother and brother shared an uneasy look, but after you cry again, Mycroft guided his younger brother to you.

Sherlock held your hand as you squeezed it tight, gritting your teeth as the contractions were doubling.

"You're here." You teared up.

"You know I wouldn't have missed this." Sherlock said, kissing your palm as he crawled behind you so you can rest behind his chest.

"Alright, are you two ready to have your baby here?" Eudoria asks. You look up to Sherlock who smiles at you as you shook your head, anticipating the greatest pain you faced to meet.

The birth was excruciating, and there were moments when you wanted to give up. But Sherlock kept whispering in your ear, urging you to keep pushing. Soon, you welcomed a healthy baby who was crying as loud as a symphony.

Now you were in bed, resting with your baby in your arms as Sherlock returned after saying goodbye to his mother, brother, and sister.

He stands there by the door frame looking at you, smiling at such a heavenly scene.

"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asks, knowing you're beyond tired.

"I feel so at peace, I can't take my eyes off of them." you whispered as they were sound asleep. Sherlock slowly makes his way to you and slips within the sheets.

"I was so unsure of what type of mother I'll be... but seeing them now, I never want to let them go." You said.

You turn to see your husband crying a bit, knowing since the day you found out you were pregnant that you'd be an amazing mother.

"I never doubted for one second."

Your foreheads connected as you breathed in his scent.

"I thought I almost lost you." you said in a low tone.

Sherlock sighs, knowing that any case he'd take would permanently take him away from both of you.

"You'll never lose me, I'll promise both of you that." he whispers.

You both lean in for a kiss and stare down at your baby once more. Two lonely souls found each other and they found what they didn't know was missing: love.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes enola holmes #sherlock holmes henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes x pregnant reader #enola holmes

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acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

Text

To The Mother

A shorter Eris x Archeron!Sister fic to add to the collection! I still would like to work on this series of fics (not chronological, but little blurbs from their story) and I have a few more ideas I want to write. Don't worry - I am still working on the Cassian Part II but it's really long so far and I had this idea and wanted to write it out tonight for you!

Warnings: None, angst if you squint

Word Count: 3.4K

“What’s that scar from?”

Eris stared at you, his glowing red eyes wide with shock. His lips parted ever so slightly, mouth ran dry at the question. He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, frozen in thought, without a quick retort - if just for the first time in his life.

You smiled, lips curled upwards at the question. Eris saw how your eyes sparkled, despite the pink blush that crawled up your cheeks. His eyes flitted between you and the young boy in front of you, the one who stared up at the once human female like he was in love with her. Rory’s hands were clasped in front of him, rocking back and forth on his tiptoes as he tucked his chin to his chest. But he smiled at you and you smiled back as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Eris could have laughed, the utter opposite of the female he’d originally brought to Autumn. You had certainly blossomed, adapting to your role as his wife. After months spent getting to know each other - tea time spent talking about everything yet nothing at all, building up to even touch each other, he was able to trust you - and he definitely worked to earn yours.

But even after all that time, years after the two of you had married, even after he’d helped you bathe, after he told you about his father, after you’d confessed everything about your family to him, he’d never asked about that little scar along the underside of your jaw.

Not that you ever asked about his - not really. You could spend hours pointing to each one of his scars and asking him what happened - but you never did. Instead, your kisses lingered along the torn skin of his throat, the marred flesh along his chest, the raised line over his cheekbone. No, your nails simply raked over the puckered skin on his back, tongue traced the ridges over his stomach, legs rubbed against the marks across his thighs. You never asked.

He watched the understanding flash over your face the night he told you about Beron, the centuries of torment he underwent, how he spent most of his life in pain and bleeding. You caught on quickly, blinking away the crystal tears that welled up in your eyes. You’d asked how a father could do such a thing, inflict such damage on his son. But it was the court politics; he told you that you’d understand it soon enough as his wife, living in a court still ruled by Beron.

You’d barely looked the High Lord in the eye since.

But you’d still loved Eris Vanserra, the male who fought and bled for the Autumn Court.

He watched you lean closer to young Rory, who giggled as you whispered the answer to his question. Even with his ears perked up, Eris couldn’t make out the short tale you’d spun, but it had the babe in awe of you - of whatever battle you’d managed to win and earn that small scar.

He watched the little male’s mouth open, a whole storm of questions ready to erupt.

So Eris finally moved, taking long strides to approach your side. “We have to get going,” he simply said, taking your hand in his. “Thank Lady (Y/N) for talking.”

“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, big brown eyes pointed at the ground. His bottom lip jutted out as he kicked the ground. “Thank you, Lady (Y/N).”

You tutted, squeezing Eris’s hand as he tried to pull you away. You narrowed your eyes at your husband, the utter urgency displayed in the tightness of his jaw, desperate to end the personal questions. “Thank you, Rory.” You reached up your free hand to brush his moppy brown hair away from his face. “Now go find your mommy, okay? She’s probably worried about you.”

Rory beamed up at you. He smiled broadly, puffing out his chest in reply. “I’m eight now, Lady (Y/N). My mom doesn’t worry about me.”

Eris cocked a brow, straightening to his full height and lifting his head to scan the bustling village streets. There were clumps of Fae around each of the shops, bystanders watching, waiting, if only just to catch a glimpse of the royal Fae. There was no doubt in his mind they were only out to see you, they all stared in awe at your beauty, the human girl.

You’d had a reputation prior to your marriage, the daring, drunk, fighter Fae from the Night Court. While you may have had a dark spur during your time in the Court of Nightmares, Eris was quick to uncover the real you. You no longer relied on your harmful vices, itching to escape the reality with your family.

After your wedding, the public got a glimpse at said Nightmare outcast - ostracized for a reason, in fact. You weren’t harmful, not scary like Rhysand, or bloodthirsty like the Illyrians. You didn’t show yourself off like they did in the Nightmare, trading in your black silk for Autumnal red.

Eris scanned the crowds for Rory’s mother, eyes sifting through the small crowds. He was quick to find her, chatting with some of the other Fae. As soon as the young boy glanced up at Eris and saw him searching for his mother, the babe bolted, sprinting over to her before the High Lord’s son would have the chance to tell his mother on him.

Eris remained stoic as Rory ran over to her, launching himself at her and went nearly tumbling into her side. He clutched at her skirts and the female was startled, but as soon as she looked up and saw the pair of you watching the scene, she smiled and bowed, then wrapped a son around her hand’s shoulder. He’d certainly get a scolding later. But Eris nodded in response, and he felt you latch yourself to his side, waving at the small group.

You were met with many smiles, small curtsies and bows presented to you. Eris shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the formality. With a smile exchanged with the Autumn Fae, you began walking, opting to save your husband from his own awkwardness.

“You need to work on talking to the babes, Eris,” you teased, wrapping your hands around his bicep. Eris led you down the street, watching the shops and restaurants pass by as you walked. “He’s just curious.”

He hummed. “He ought to learn it isn’t polite to ask those kinds of questions about your appearance.” You opened your mouth to retort, but he cut you off. “About anyone’s appearance.”

You rolled your eyes when he flashed that victorious grin, to which you smacked his arm. “I didn’t know I married a male so intolerant of children’s questions.” You were only half teasing.

He shrugged and bit his lip to hide his smile. “You didn’t think to ask about that before accepting my proposal.”

You couldn’t help but laugh - the very sound made Eris’s heart flutter. “We’ll have to work on that if we’re to have children of our own.”

The male nearly choked. “Is that happening soon?”

You shrugged, shoulder rubbing against him as you tucked yourself closer into his side. “Maybe - should you learn how to tolerate their questions.”

Eris bit the inside of his cheek.

He didn’t tell you about how his chest tightened and eyes nearly welled up at the thought.

“What did you tell him, anyway?” He couldn’t mask the amusement in his voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Lord Vanserra.”

______________________

Eris’s fingers fiddled with the golden buttons on his jacket. He debated asking you the same question all afternoon, since you’d shut him down originally. He’d spent the remainder of the day watching the Autumn Fae fawn over you, giving you flowers and harvest baskets, asking you questions and complimenting you. “So what did you tell Rory earlier?”

He never frequented the villages before you came around - the citizens of Autumn were never too pleased with his father, and Eris was afraid they felt the same about him. They surely did, he figured. Only until you came around. You brought out his softer side, they saw the adoration in his eyes and how you wrapped yourself around him - they watched as he doted on you, never pushed you away or lost his temper. Not like how Beron treated his mother.

You’d thrown a look over your shoulder at the male, who stood facing the dresser, stripping from the regal clothes he donned for the village visit. You smirked, despite the fact he couldn’t see you, and replied: “You really want to know, huh?”

He shrugged, laying his jacket across the back of the chair beside him. He worked his way out of his pants and sweater, not bothering to cast a cheeky look at you while you changed into your nightgown. “He was excited about it.” Eris dug around the armoire for some linen pants. “I figured you might like to share that tale with me.”

You watched him step into the trousers, unable to tear your eyes away from those long lean legs. He tied the string around his taught waist and you snapped out of your gaze. You made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge and applying your salve to your arms and chest, working up your neck. Your fingers traced the small scar Rory had asked about, so faint you were surprised he’d even seen it. “I told him it was from when I fell off a Pegasus.”

Eris smiled, recalling his time as a young babe, the stories of the creatures from the other Courts were ethereal - the young children all dreamed of seeing the Day Court flying horses, the water wraiths in the Summer Court, or the reindeer in the Winter Court. It was rare for the ordinary Fae to leave their courts - even just for a visit elsewhere. It was a luxury given to the High Lords and their most trusted emissaries. To see a Pegasus - let alone ride one - was something poor Rory could only dream of.

Your husband hummed, making his way over to your shared bed. “And I have to learn to talk to children?” He shifted the covers and pulled them back, standing across the bed, waiting for you to climb under the sheets first. “You’re the one lying to the boy.”

You turned to face him, cocking a brow. “You don’t know that’s not how I got it.”

He scoffed, pushing the covers even farther back, impatiently waiting for you. “Yeah I forgot about your little stint with Helion.”

You smiled broadly, climbing onto the tall mattress. “You almost sound jealous.”

Eris groaned, following you under the sheets. “Let’s not joke about it anymore.”

You laughed, scooching closer to him. “You started it!” He muttered something under his breath, dropping back onto the pillow in defeat. “Besides - ” you pulled the covers over his waist. “He and Rhysand are pretty close now - it wouldn’t be too far fetched an idea - ”

Eris grabbed for you, desperate to shut you up, and grasped your waist, earning a high pitched squeal from you. His fingers dug into your hip bones, heat seeping from his hands, a tickle grazing over your skin. He maneuvered on top of you, legs tangling with yours. He ducked his head into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips to the soft skin over the expanse of your throat. He nipped and licked his way up to the corner of your jaw, where his tongue traced the thin scar there.

“So,” he murmured, lips sucking at the soft spot under your ear. “What happened here?” Your hands threaded through his red hair, pulling softly as he rubbed his nose against your ear. “And leave Helion out of it, please.”

You huffed a breath in mock laughter, winding your arms around his shoulders and resting over his broad back. With a hum, you let him settle between your legs, and Eris inched his way down your body until he laid on top of you, head pressed against your chest. You welcomed him with open arms, loving the feeling of his heavy weight against you - like the heaviest, comfiest blanket you had. He listened to your heartbeat jump as you chewed on your bottom lip.

“A bar fight,” you replied quietly, simply.

Eris’s hand crawled up your arm, his thumb ran against your soft skin. “A bar fight?”

You nodded against the pillow, twirling a finger in his hair. “In the Court of Nightmares.”

Eris cursed under his breath. He thought you might have been joking at first. But you told him the story - without any prompting. You trusted Eris with all of the stories of your past - all of them: the good, the bad, the ugly. It was shitty, in reality. Most of the tales of your past were plain ugly.

So you told him about your time in Velaris. How you drank and drank and drank alongside your older sister. All the time you spent pent up in the shitty apartments, when you had to move to the townhouse because Rhys condemned your flat - there was nobody to confide in except the bottle of wine. There weren’t many fights in Velaris, though, just drinking. Not that you hadn’t tried, though, instigating with the big drunk males. But the Fae backed down.

Smart enough not to try a Cauldron Made female, you supposed.

They’d separated you and Nesta, though, sent her to the House of Wind and you to the Court of Nightmares. To break you both separately - build you each into the sisters Fayre wanted.

But the Nightmares fought back.

Fae and slimy creatures alike - if you didn’t start shit, they surely would. You didn’t know what kind of creatures lay in the dark, what was looking to take some anger out on the High Lady’s sister.

“I don’t even know what it was,” you breathed, fingers numbly sifting through your husband’s hair. “It was blue, and scaled.” You shivered at the memory. “I think it had fangs.”

Eris stiffened and pushed himself from the mattress, propping himself on an elbow. His other hand gripped your hip, heat seeping into you. “What was it?”

You watched his jaw set, faelight flickering against his soft skin. You chewed on your bottom lip and closed your eyes, unable to look at him. “I don’t know…” your heart stuttered in your chest, tightness pulling at your throat. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It clawed at me - nicked me right here under my jaw.”

You swallowed harshly, the pit in the bottom of your stomach growing. Eris was pushing himself up off the bed but you grabbed him quickly. You held him by the freckled shoulders and kept him still on the mattress. But his chest was near heaving, brows furrowed. His skin was burning, his anger bubbling up inside of you. “They sent you to the Court of Nightmares as punishment and let that happen to you?” He was seething, tone clipped.

You sucked in a breath, eyes wide as you watched the male above you. “It was just a fight - ”

“(Y/N),” he stopped you. “You may not know what vermin slither around that fucking hellhole, but that bastard Rhysand does.” Eris heaved, chest rising as he worked through a breath. Your eyes fell from those blazing irises down to his chest. His skin was littered with scars, red splotched over his chest - the fire building up nearly visible. “Don’t - ” he grunted. “Don’t make excuses for him.”

“Eris - ” Your hands flew up to his chest, hoping your cool hands would calm him down. His breathing grew ragged as he sank back onto the bed, knees shaking underneath him.

His eyes were wide - anger quickly fading to pain. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He brushed you off, big hands encircling your wrists. But he continued staring at you, eyes trained straight ahead into yours.

Eris sucked in a breath, holding it deep in his lungs as he looked at you - truly looked at you. Your pupils were blown wide, between the fading faelights and the concern that laced your features, furrowed eyebrows and parted lips. But you were glowing.

His chest felt like it was contracting, he was barely able to breath through the throe of his stomach twisting. He thought his heart stopped.

When finally he felt it - the hard pop! that sent his mind whirling.

He was sure his heart stopped.

The beating he felt in his chest - the rapid pumping of his heart - wasn't his.

It was yours.

He felt the confusion, the pain, the fear, the utter fucking love that poured from your heart.

His hand clutched at his chest as he sucked in another breath. The male’s red eyes burned into you incredulously, and in that moment you weren’t sure if heart attacks were only limited to humans.

“(Y/N),” he breathed. “(Y/N) - ” he cut himself off, lurching forward, and grabbing you by the cheeks. He smashed his lips against yours, to which you couldn’t help but yelp as he pulled you into him. “You - you’re my - we’re mates - ”

You froze against his lips, eyes wide as your hands flew to his chest. “I’m what?”

Eris was incomprehensible. His mind wasn’t working, his throat choking on each syllable after. All he could focus on was the string that tied itself in a pretty bow around his heart, the one that tethered itself to you. Warmth flushed through him - not like fire, no.

He felt you.

Eris laughed.

He just sat there and laughed.

The smile was one you weren’t sure you’d seen before. Different than after your wedding, when he’d spent the whole evening with that shit eating grin, that I’ll devour you grin. It wasn’t like the first real smile he’d given you, tight lipped but made his eyes crinkle. Nothing like the laughter he’d produce after you both recalled childhood stories. Definitely not like the chuckle he’d emit after you’d cleverly insult the Night Court.

No he was laughing - in utter disbelief.

After centuries of torture and abuse, the male had finally been handed something he’d been dreaming of. And all he could do was laugh.

So much so, that tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

He was overcome with emotion.

“Eris Vanserra, you better speak up right fucking now.” Your mind was moving a thousand miles a minute.

Mate?

You almost didn’t believe him.

Not until he grabbed your shoulders and kissed you again, and again, and again. A thousand chaste kisses as he fought for his own breath in between.

“(Y/N) Vanserra you are my mate.”

His smile was contagious, and apparently so was the warmth burning in his chest.

You took a shaky breath, your own throat closing with emotion. You tried to swallow past the knot that was forming there instead of words. All of the words you’d imagined you’d say in this exact moment - the confessions, the profession of your undying love.

Eris kissed you again before pulling you fully into his arms, sat up in the bed, legs tangled together. His arms wrapped around your waist as he hugged you so tight there was barely room to breathe.

Not that either of you sought oxygen at that moment - only each other.

His face fell into the crook of your neck, where his nose brushed against your pulse. “I prayed to the Mother every night for this, (Y/N),” he whispered, afraid his voice would crack if he’d spoken any louder. You choked on a sob, winding your arms over his shoulders. “For Her to mate us.” You felt his warm tears against your neck, a shaky laugh emitted from the male. “From the first night you spent here - you wanted nothing to do with me.”

You sniffled, sighing as you dropped your head against the top of his, the bridge of your nose pressed against his ear. “That’s not true.”

He smiled, arms wrapping around you even tighter. “We hadn’t exchanged more than three words and I knew I was yours.” He smiled against your skin. “I asked the Mother for this every day. I nearly begged her for it.” He laughed, still shaking with disbelief.

You kissed the tip of his ear, nuzzling your cheek against the crown of his head, holding him closer. “My mate.”

#eris vanserra #eris #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris/you #eris vanserra/you #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #acosf

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mastermindmiko · 7 months

Text

Parties

Pairing: Sirius Black + reader

Word count: 1296 (I think I'm really loving these short and fluffy one shots)

Summary: You and Sirius fool around (not sexually) at a pureblood party

Warnings: light and funny hits and smacks, and nothing else I believe but lmk if you notice anything I didn't

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

"On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that one of the dads is going to get drunk and go off the hook?"

"Is there a number above ten that I can use?"

"No."

"Then ten, like you even have to ask." I reply with a grin at the absurd question. Every time there's a party one of the dads get drunk and off the hook, last time it was Avery Sr. His wife had to pull him off the table. I ask, "The question isn't if, it's who."

"Avery." Sirius replies looking at the man, smiling, no doubt picturing his red face wife trying to pull him down the table where he's swinging his tie on. I scoff, "Two times in a row? No way. I think Mrs. Avery has him drinking apple juice tonight."

"Well then who do you think it is?" Sirius asks, and I hum. I look around the room, looking for the older men. Mulciber has been drinking a lot tonight, but he's talking to Malfoy which means business so no way it's him. Then I hit the jackpot. I grin and say, "Your father."

"My father? No way, he's never gone crazy ever." Sirius scoffs and leans back in his chair. I lean closer to his side and start to explain as I fix my eyes to Mr. Black. I explain, "He's gone flushed, and he's not talking anymore which means that he knows that he's going to slur on his words, and he's already taken off his jacket."

"I think you're an idiot and that it's going to be Nott." Sirius says, and I punch him in the arm for calling me and idiot, then shake my head. I tut, "I don't think so-" I say in a sing-songy voice, then continue, "He holds his alcohol well."

"No, he doesn't. A few years ago, he was made a mess." Sirius says, but I still don't agree. I grab my drink from the table, and take a tiny sip before saying, "That was because he had signed the divorce papers from his first wife that morning, other wise he never would have drank so much."

"I still think he's a better guess than my father." Sirius says, rolling his eyes. He hates talking about his father, and he is absolutely right, he's a horrible man. I fold my arms and then suggest, "Alright, what do you want to bet on- and not money, merlin knows we both have enough of that already."

Sirius hums in thought, as he thinks of ideas. One of the perks of being in a pureblood family is the insane amount of money carried from one generation to another, one of the faults, the tedious parties, Sirius makes them better though. He clicks his fingers and I can almost see a light bulb go off in his head. He starts, "A kiss-"

"I already give you those-"

"And a date where I control everything." Sirius grins, and I groan, and cover my face with my hands. I groan, "But you're going to pick a shit place, like madam puddifoot's or something other absurd café."

"If you're scared that you'll lose, I can change it." Sirius taunts, and I look back at Mr. Black and he's already loosening his tie. I grin then hold out my hand to him. I say, "You're on."

Sirius takes my hand, shakes it one time with a firm grip, then hauls me close to him to give me a kiss on the cheek. I yelp, and then put my hand on his thigh to stabilize me enough to go back to sitting properly in my seat. I smack his thigh. Merlin knows what my mother would've done if she saw that.

"And if I win, I want full control over your hair for a month." I say, and watch that smirk of his fade away instantly. He grabs his hair, desperately and shakes his head. He says, "No way, that's same value as one date."

"If you're scared that you'll lose, I can change it." I say in a deeper voice, imitating him and saying his exact words. He gives me a glare, but folds his arms and pouts in his seat. I chuckle at his reaction.

The music is quiet, it's only the voices of chatter that really fill up the room. I look all around the room and notice that Regulus is with one of his friends chatting about something, I recognize the friend as Evan Rosier. Sirius taps my shoulder to interrupt my train of thought.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asks, and he already knows my answer because I soon as I say yes, he's already got my hand in his hand. He stands up, and we look around each of us making sure that none of our family members can see us.

Sirius leads me out of the room and into a corridor. This is Nott Sr.'s house, we knew only bits of it. We get out of the room, and Sirius presses me against on of the walls. He kisses me feverishly and I return it with a smile. His hands caress my waist and they go up and down and up and down, driving me insane.

"so this is why you wanted to get out." I tease, and he goes back to kissing me in seconds. I can't say I'm really complaining though. He breaths out in between kisses, "Can't blame me for wanting to spend time with you."

We part for some much needed air and Sirius looks around. He sees the closest door and he goes towards it, pulling me with him. He says, "Now, what could this be? A bedroom maybe?"

He opens the door and we're meet with the clatter of pots and pains and tiny house elves moving around everywhere, trying to get dinner ready. Sirius sighs in disappointment, and he turns to leave, but I break free of his grip when I see..."Scones!"

I trail towards them and grab a few off of one of the plates that the house elves were carrying. I shoved one in my mouth, and it tasted good. Sirius grabbed one from my hands and started eating it himself. I frowned at him and his reply was poking a tongue out at me.

I finish my scone and maybe two more, then I go to sit on one of the chairs. Sirius pouts when he notices there's no chairs. He grabs me, and lifts me up. I start screaming, "Sirius Orion Black, you better put me down right now. You babbling, bumbling, baboon-"

"You're the only good thing my parents have ever done for me, and quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me." Sirius says in one breath to shut me up. He always does this, randomly he just spills out bursts of emotion. He feels them at random times, but Sirius has never been good at expressing emotions, so I appreciate them when they come.

He sits down and puts me on his lap. I smile at his words and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sirius parts abruptly, "Did you just call me a baboon?"

"Oh no, we need some remedies, quickly!" One of the house elves, enter quickly into the room, and the rest of them bustle quickly trying to find a remedy for whomever just got severely drunk out there. Another house elf shouts, "Who was it this time?"

"Mr. Black."

"Yes!" I shout in triumph and get off of Sirius' lap to preform a victory dance. I clap and dance around, and I point at him and grin, "Get ready to have your hair green!"

"No!"

an: maybe I am starting this marauders era for me, I'm really enjoying it too. I think I should keep writing about them for a while + Reggie of course

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greythemed · 10 months

Text

𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ bloodhounds . kim gun-woo

˚ TITLE 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ how is like to date gun-woo part two ˚ WORD COUNT 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ 1770

dating gun-woo consists of you being a lightweight while he has the best alcohol tolerance in the group, consequently making him your babysitter for the rest of the night no matter how much he drinks (this man's tolerance is no joke, we saw it on episode seven).

he IS the type of boyfriend who spoils you like there is no tomorrow. gun-woo is so detached when it comes to money that soon after winning a pay-per-view match (it was his first one after being officially sponsored by your father!) he was ready to deposit the whole freaking 3 billion wones on your account like that was NORMAL.

"but babe, you don't want it?🥺" he says once he is out of the ring, innocent eyes rising accordingly to your patience. "you can buy whatever makes you happy 'cause i want to see you happy". and you're like "NO GUN-WOO YOU CAN'T SPEND YOUR ENTIRE MONEY ON ME". and he be like. "yes i can????".

honestly we should navigate more of that. gun-woo knows the value of money in this world, he knows that it can change some people's lives. but he never once did something to get money for himself. he was always running and fighting for his mother, her café, her safety and her dreams. so when everything was over and he caught himself with a pile of gold in his hands (he helped his mom and there was still much money left!), he didn't know what to do and how to spend it.

that's when you came through and saved gun-woo's life. because again he has something to spend money with, and someone to spoil.

it doesn't matter if you're rich already (your dad is a ceo and you just became a doctor by yourself!), gun-woo's love language is buying you food whenever he goes out. it is your birthday? expect numerous gifts throughout the entirety of the day. he caught you eyeing something in a store for a little more than 4 seconds? boom! new package arriving at your door the following day.

and that goes even before he became a well-known pro-fighter in korea. when he still was only your cousin's friend that min-beom suspiciously kept by his side during difficult times. he wasn't that big on money, you could tell that, but he still was trying to get your attention by buying different snacks on his way to your home.

HE LOVES HIS PILLOW PRINCESS.

each type of gun-woo's hugs has a different meaning and he is so happy that you caught that in the early stages of your relationship. this six feet tall man is hugging you from behind while you're innocently staring at his penthouse's living room's view? that means he's feeling vulnerable and in need of some of your love.

when you feel his arms enveloping your waist and his lips leaving a kiss on your ear? you already know he is feeling excited enough to express his love for you in many different ways.

gun-woo is a loveable person at the end of the day. he needs some validation from time to time and will get clingy if you don't express your feelings for a while. that causes some agitation in your relationship, including arguments about the different love languages both of you have.

sometimes, you think gun-woo is too honest about certain things. the fact that he wears his heart on his sleeve while being a war trunk makes him incredibly dangerous. how do you expect to act around your gorgeous boyfriend while he is a softie on the inside and you know it? you have no option left but to act like a slut.

he points that out someday when you are both alone. "baby, are you okay? you are staring weirdly at me for the past 30 minutes and i'm getting worried".

and you cannot react, otherwise, you'd be ruining your family dinner and jumping that man's bones in the middle of the fancy restaurant while everyone's watching.

even when he is in desperate need of some affection, he doesn't want to disturb you. he doesn't know how this works in the long run, after all. he doesn't feel confident enough to say that out loud. that he needs you at that moment. so you'll have to get pretty good at reading his signs, especially his eyes.

woo-jin's knowledge comes in handy in times like these.

like the first time you met his mother (you were his first ever girlfriend, so he wanted her to like you too!) and he was staring at her the entire afternoon at the café with so much anxiety coming out of him that you had to drag him to the bathroom so he could calm down.

he had the habit of clenching his jaw when he was anxious. "it's okay, baby, i'm gonna be fine, i'm sure she is lovely". you tried to reason with the boxer, constantly having to cup his jaw so he could relax. "i'm sorry, i'm just apprehensive". he replied with those puppy eyes that you'd immediately pout for.

everything went smoothly with his mother and she even made a special dish for you that day! but the second you're alone in your room that night you call woo-jin and ask for some advice on how to deal with your boyfriend's anxieties because who else would know about that other than his marine best friend?!

i'm not done talking about this man's alcohol tolerance because is SO FUCKING SEXY AND FOR WHAT?! i swear on that scene in episode seven, my eyes were glued on the screen every time he took a sip like sir please be my boyfriend????

and even woo-jin was surprised it was so funny to me.

so expect your first club night outs (honestly, gun-woo just came because you asked him nicely) to be completely HORROR for the boxers. the second you started drinking, woo-jin and gun-woo didn't take their eyes off you because they KNOW how YOUR alcohol tolerance is almost non-existent but still you want to have a good time.

like "NO Y/N YOU SHOULDN'T PISS ON A BURNING TO TAKE THE FIRE DOWN BC ITS EASIER". and woo-jin would be SO done with you all the time, glaring at gun-woo every time you said something stupid. he'd be like "this is your phd doctor girlfriend???". and send a dirty look to his best friend.

and on the rare occasions where you don't feel like drinking you can't help but stare intensively at gun-woo's adam's apple bobbing every time he takes a sip from the soju bottle woo-jin challenged him to take (it was indeed a rare occasion) because WHY WAS HE SO HOT?!

and then finishing with the most polite smile and the glossiest eyes you've ever seen like IT WAS NOTHING?!?!?

he looked at you asking what was wrong and you would turn nonverbal for the next 30 seconds before kissing him in front of the bar AND WOO-JIN

nsfw under 😳😳😳

hear. me. out.

at first, gun-woo wasn't the most speaker in bed because - let's be honest - the boy is timid. but the second he sees your reaction when he accidentally lets a whimper slip from his mouth one day, a whole key is turned inside the boxer's brain.

when you're riding him, he entwines your fingers with his, placing kisses on your wrist, your palm or wherever possible and just breathing "you're going to make me lose my goddamn mind, fuck".

you get high from watching him orgasm and vice-versa.

when he comes back up from between your thighs for a breather, for example, his eyes notice your clutched hands at your sides, nails digging into your palm - because he pays attention to every little detail you let it slide, you already know that - and he wasn't having it. leaning down to continue from where he left off, he takes your hands in his and places them on his head, a gesture telling you to just pull his hair already.

this man is timid but he's also a romantic. when i tell you gun-woo needs confirmation from you whenever you are together, i mean at sexy times as well. the moment you start to feel too level-headed and too euphoric and close your eyes, he is fast to turn your attention to his voice so he could guide you.

"no, no look at me baby—keep 'em open. need you to see me, ye?". he grunts and your eyes flicker open once again, obediently following his rules, giving him the eye contact he so desperately craves.

there is a thing we need to talk about gun-woo sizing you up for the first time.

when the realization dawns on you, your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. gun-woo was sliding his length past your clit and up your stomach so far that his balls press against your core. he said it was for 'safety purposes' when you caught him doing it, embarrassment evident on his flaming cheeks and stuttering mouth.

but the second time he does it? you were feral, almost coming right then and there. essentially, he was trying to see just how far in he was going to be, just how deep he was going to fuck you and you clenched so hard around nothing that you had to slap him to stop.

"you can't just do this, gun-woo!". you wanted to curse. "s-sorry", he was caught again, but now not a single drop of shame adorning his features. by the looks of it, he was smirking.

cursing? let's talk about that.

you knew you dated an angel so to speak. but the whole angelic persona gun-woo carried on his daily basis was left at the door when he was alone with you. cursing? he did on rare occasions, maybe when woo-jin went too far with a joke about his mother or when he pressed his little finger on the car door while rushing to the gym.

but never with you.

so imagine your surprise when the first string of 'fucks' slipped past this man's lips when he entered you for the very first time. and then the constant self-control he needs to collect when you are too far in orgasmland and whisper dirty things in his ears.

"feel too full woo", you moan absentmindedly and gun-woo lets out a heavy breath, dropping his head down so your foreheads can touch.

"god—fuck—you can't say shit like that, princess". he warns.

i began to pass out and my head hit the wall boom!

i am not proud of this one (sorry for any misspellings, this is not proofread!) and i'm sorry for ending this here hahahahahah leaving y'all dry and wanting because that's what life is about!!! (suffering) THANK YOU ALL FOR THE KIND WORDS YOU GUYS ARE THE LOVELIEST <33

#honestly i dont deserve such kind readers! thx #kim geun woo x reader #kim gun woo #bloodhounds fanfic #bloodhounds #bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds netflix #woo do hwan

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