#he's there for one frame that's good enough
Note
sukuna and servant!reader is so good!! looking forward to rescue more of them <33
Eyes On Me | Sukuna Ryomen
king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader
Sypnosis: Uraume can't play chess with the king right now, you must step up.
Contents: Obsession, pining, kinda fluffy, mentions of blood and body parts. Uraume uses they/them pronouns.
Word Count: 2404 words.
Author's Note: I love writing this ship. People have been asking me to make this a series. I'll try my best lol I think you can still read them individually, but there's a preferred order.
Beginning. ← Previous |
Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on temporary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining.
Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it’s up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although… There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing.
You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked about themselves, you never asked.
“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire.
Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef.
“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him.
After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence.
“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him.
“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture.
Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen the king playing. You knew from the other servants that he was a good player and only plays with Uraume or some brave guest. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw.
“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity.
Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and taking orders, but what else can you do?
“Yes,” you answered with a smile.
That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that.
“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you.
“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down.
Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it.
“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.
“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be.
Your father had taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn’t take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions.
This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple movement of his fingers. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. This was a good opportunity to do so.
Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.
“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square.
Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble.
“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king.
At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to concentrate on what he was doing. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.
Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts.
“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up.
“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king.
“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king.
“Well, well...” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started.
There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade.
Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.
“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology.
“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction.
Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them.
“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed.
“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room.
Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.
“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move.
“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle.
“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat.
“She has potential.”
“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their eyebrow at the confusing statement.
“She has the potential to become a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently.
Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that.
The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table.
“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful woman, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question.
“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.
Author's Note: I poured my poor knowledge on chess for this lol I hope it makes sense.
Order your own fanfic!
Masterlist.
#fanfic#fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#jjk imagine#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#fluff#jjk fluff#king x servant#sukuna x reader#ryoumen sukuna#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk ryomen#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#ryomen x reader
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It’s part 2 of THIS :)
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader
summary: your new sex routine with Lewis: having sex while watching your sex tapes.
word count: 2k
warning: 18+ only, nsfw, explicit sex content, sex tapes, oral sex(m received), P in V sex, dirty talk, slightly Dom/Sub, spanking, praise kink. If you feel uncomfortable, please exit promptly.
note: Italicized text represents the content and dialogue from the video. That idea was sparked by an anon, thank you! As always, welcome any advice or suggestions.
“Baby, which one should we watch today?”Lewis took out the videotapes and placed them on the cabinet, looking at the marker-penned labels as he asked, “The Christmas one? Or the one I made you cum with my fingers?”
You lightly tapped his shoulder. “Hey, that wasn’t just about me.”
He gazed at you intently, black eyes filled with earnestness, “But you looked especially beautiful when you cum.” As if to say tonight’s dinner was particularly good.
That time was really intense. What happened again? Oh, you think it was because you both had a bit to drink. Does alcohol-free tequila also make people drunk? Once in a tipsy mood, after a few kisses, desire surged like a tidal wave.
Lewis turned off all the indoor lights, leaving only a floor lamp on.
“Hey, today was dd/mm/yy.” In the scene, a gentle flush colored your cheekbones, and your eyes sparkled with a radiant smile.
Ah, how did we get into that state? Did we have a few drinks then?
“Here is... Lewis.” The next second, like a beacon of charisma, Lewis’s face emerged in the frame, his beautiful brown skin radiant under the lights.
The video suddenly paused.
“What’s wrong?” You turned to look at him.
“Can we have a competition?” Okay, his desire to win extended beyond the race track.
“What are we competing in?”
“Whoever initiates the kiss first loses.”
As the video resumed, his arms wrapped around your middle as he hugged you tightly into his chest, and one of his hands slid down between your legs.
“Take your clothes off, Lewis.”
Were you always this direct when you were tipsy?
Sure enough, the next moment his palm rested on your mound. But surprisingly, he just left it there, without making any further moves.
In the video, the two of you had already started stripping each other’s clothes off. The camera was placed on the bedside table. With rustling sounds, you hastily removed your clothes, letting them fall to the floor, and without a pause, you began kissing passionately.
As the camera zoomed in on the intense kiss between you and Lewis, you shifted in your seat, feeling your tongue moistening your lips in anticipation. Your inner thighs brushed against his wrist, nestled between them, and you sensed a delicious dampness beginning to seep through your panties.
You couldn’t get wet that soon. Otherwise, it would seem too eager.
You stole a glance at Lewis’s profile beside you. the contours of his strong nose and the hint of a well-groomed beard were illuminated softly by the ambient light. He was completely absorbed in watching.
The sound of kissing in the video was accompanied by a soft, wet noise.
Damn, regretting it now. Why did you make it a competition? He should be kissing you right now. You really want it, your whole body is tense, wanting to be devoured by him.
Your eyes stared fixedly at the video, how could Lewis be so whole-heartedly in just a kiss?
You were pulled closer by Lewis, his hand on your neck, while his other arm wrapped around your waist, kneading your butt.
The hand between your thighs finally reacted a bit, pressing down on your mound at an extremely slow pace. You squeezed his hand between your legs, grinding against his hips while reaching out to touch his chest. Your palm, through his T-shirt, gripped tightly, eliciting a soft moan.
The camera zoomed in, revealing his abs tensing and relaxing. Your throat involuntarily swallowed drools as your hand slid down from Lewis's chest to his thighs.
With a few swift movements, his underwear was pulled down, and his semi-erect cock sprang out. Your smaller hand grasped it the next second, stroking it gently up and down.
“The way you get hard is so sexy...”
“well,” his strong arm appeared in the frame, probably caressing your face from the angle, “but you, baby, are even sexier.”
A rush of heat surged through your body. His low laughter, filtered through the speakers, only made it itchier, so you discreetly rubbed against the bedsheet, your hand slipping into Lewis‘s waistband. After a few strokes through his underwear, you couldn’t resist anymore.
That weighty thing was too enticing, and you wanted to feel it now.
You relenting and tugging his boxers down. Your mouth waters as his hard cock springs free, slapping against his navel with a lewd sound. You don’t hesitate to wrap your hand around the base, angling his pretty length towards your mouth.
No kissing. that’s mean I can kiss his cock?
You lean your head down, suck just the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over his sensitive head. satisfied, and deliberately squinting your eyes as you looked up at Lewis.
“you’re breaking the rules...”
“Rules—” You slowly opened your mouth, allowing the head of his cock to slide into your mouth, and let your tongue swirl around it. “are meant to be broke, right?”
As you finished speaking, you performed several deepthroats, emitting soft moans as your lips hugged the base of the penis, causing Lewis to gasp urgently. You were quite satisfied with the current situation, able to both suck his cock and escape the video, at least for a while.
“You like that, don’t you?”You asked in a muffled voice because your mouth was occupied.
“Didn’t your family teach you not to talk with your mouth full?” Lewis shot back in a cross between an annoyed and sexy tone.
All Lewis received for his effort was you caressing his sacks, and the gentle touch of you cheek against his throbbing member made Lewis clench his fists as he growled.
You raised your eyelids, meeting Lewis’s gaze. The non-kissing contest came to an immediate end.
You were pulled up by the arm and your mouth was covered, Lewis devouring your lips as if starving for days.
There we go. That’s more like it.
“You lost.”
“Yeah, what reward do you want?”
“Spank me.”
The eighth.
You inhaled deeply, silently counting in your mind.
Kneeling on the bed, your buttocks raised high. The only downside is that with a slight lift of your head, you could see the tangled couple on the screen (Currently, you were making loud noises because you were being fingered). Lewis deliberately positioned you facing the screen. Your ears were filled with your own moans and gasps. You momentarily buried your head in your arms in an attempt to escape. Both cheeks were burning with heat, but there was a subtle sense of satisfaction in your heart. Lewis indeed fulfilled his promise, delivering firm strikes with gusto, not holding back at all.
“Feel good?”Lewis laid you back, your head dipping between the pillows.
He was quick to get you out of your panties, he was quick to press his cock to your twitching clit. A steady hand dragged his cock up and down your folds, the cock catching on your bud each time.
“Sir…” You whined, you needed his fat cock so bad. You needed to be plugged up before you sprang a leak. when your drippy cunt squelched, the slick, gushy sounds went straight to his cock as it jumped.
Up and down, up and down. Lewis guided his cock over your clit, and past your fleshy folds, teasing your needy hole by stretching you out with just the tip. Then he pulled out. When he finally fucking pushed into your warmth, you squeezed him tight, he sank in till all of him was wrapped up in your cunt.
The momentarily neglected video suddenly emitted the moans of you two. You reflexively raised your eyes to see Lewis fully inserting his shaft into your pussy.
“It’s all in.”
The feeling of the cock entering you made you toss your head back and moan, bit your lip and didn’t breath as Lewis inched deeper.
“Mmm...You’re so big, ahh, I like it.”
“You were so honest about it... Is alcohol really that magical?” Lewis teased as slowly pulled his dick out and then pushed it back in making your wet pussy sputter out the sound you both loved hearing so much.
Fuck... Is it because of doggy style? Lewis were particularly vigorous today, thrusting exceptionally deep.
“Ahhhh! O-Ohh god!” Your eyes rolled back when Lewis’s hand held onto your waist as he moved inside you in a fast and rough pace as his other hand pulled your hair making you arch your back making him hit a really good spot.
You felt him slightly pull his cock out before ramming back inside making you moan out loud because of the sudden pleasure, his shaft reached so deep because of a one deep thrust.
During sex, Lewis was very good at praising. Or rather, he was someone who frequently gave compliments even in everyday situations, but during sex, he was more straightforward with his praise, saying exactly what he felt. Even in the current video, his compliments were non-stop—
“Your pussy is so good…”
“You’re so delicious babe... I could fuck you all day…”
“Look at you, my beautiful gooey slit…”
These deep, seductive whispers, like the voice of a god of desire, swirled around in your mind, turning your rationality into chaos... There’s no need to even look at the video; just the sound alone was enough to intoxicate you. You closed your eyes drowsily, involuntarily matching Lewis’s pelvic thrusts, chasing after pleasure, indulging in the sensation...
“You’re silent today, huh?” Lewis bit down on your neck, leaving it all puffy. His pace slowed, focusing on giving it to you slow and deep, circling his hips so you felt every inch of him. The slow, sticky grind made a wet noise.
Your legs were now shaking as you were already nearing your climax. You tightly gripped the sheets.
“Ohh! D-Don’t hit me there t-too much!”You exclaimed as he continuously hit your favorite spot. He leaned on your back and grabbed your chin making you tilt your head to his direction. His big hand grabbed your tits as he pinched your nipple.
“You’re making me cum, little slut.” Lewis whispered and his thrusts became sloppier, you held onto his thighs, burying your nails in them. “A-Ahh! P-Please! Please! Ohh god!”
"Please what baby?" He teased.
“P-Please let me cum… Let me cum sir—ahh!” You loudly moaned when he moved inside you ruthlessly as his other hand found its way to your clit.
“Then cum. Cum with me.” Lewis sucked on your neck while thrusting as deep and quickly as he could to bring himself to an orgasm. His grunts of power echoed through the room and mix with yours. As you were fucked to an earth shattering climax, he erupted inside of you.
“Y/N, open your eyes.”
Your eyes barely opened, and you saw yourself on the video squirting gently, your legs convulsed spasmodically, your pussy continued dripping.
Your ass was still red, Lewis spread you open to see how your cunt gaped, empty without his fat cock, his seed dribbled out as your pussy contracted, spilling down your ass crack.
As your breathing gradually calmed, the room became quiet.
“Can I film your little hole?”
Both of you instantly turned towards the only source of sound in the room. On the video was an obviously just-squirted you.
The camera shook for a moment, and Lewis’s voice came through again:
“Oh, it’s twitching...”
You weakly emitted a groan. The camera shook again, and your ass and thighs appeared in the frame. Lewis’s fingers, coated with cum, entered the frame, gently stroking the entrance a few times before spreading it open with two fingers, aiming the camera there.
You leaned into Lewis’s embrace, burying your head in his neck, refusing to look. Meanwhile, the voice on the video, now synced with him nibbling your earlobe, said:
“I really love you. I love you the most.”
The video ended there. Lewis gently kissed the top of your head, his hand smoothing over your back. From his neck, a muffled voice emerged:
“I love you too.”
“Yeah, that’s it, the boys are gonna lose their minds.”
“Suck on it, good girl…”
“Ahhh, you are so hot, looking up at me like that, choking on my cock…”
“Ohh, when the boys see this, they are going to get rock hard…”
“Do you like that? my friends watching a video of you sucking me?”
#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 smut#lewis hamilton imagine
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Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.
When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.
Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.
Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.
It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.
He simply didn’t care if you were.
He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.
It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?
He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.
Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?
Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.
When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.
When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.
“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.
You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.
"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.
You were safe.
You weren't going to be tortured.
You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.
“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.
"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.
"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”
It took you a moment to process it.
Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.
And Simon was touching you.
He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.
"Why?"
“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.
"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.
Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.
"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.
"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.
Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."
"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.
"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.
Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.
Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.
Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.
He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.
He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.
You would fall as deeply as he had.
You would come to love your life with Simon.
No matter how long it took you to accept it.
#kidnapping#simon ghost riley#call of duty#obsessive love#yandere#touch her and die#no literally#don't fuck with reader
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can you please write Y/N and Wanda also Natasha is not dead here (up to you thooooo) , and Y/N pretty much replaced Vision. But before these events Natasha has always been there for Wanda, (after Endgame) so she didn’t make a hex but still griefed about Y/N and Wanda making a big move for Y/N’s reincarnation but in a good way. After Y/N being back from the dead. She learns that her soon to be wife has already fallen for Natasha and her reincarnation just meant nothing and Y/N didn’t go on with her life and ended it just there.
Wands regretted everything until she lost herself and made a big mess with the universe (pretty much MoM) and overall Wanda regretting everything, and when she gets us back (it can be Wanda taking another one of us in an another universe) or her just making us alive from the dead *this all can be up to you author*
I love your stories 🖤
I'm Sorry
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Word Count: 3590
Warnings: Cheating (Allusions to it but really it is there), Angst, Major character death, Mentions of Murdering innocent people, Angry Wanda, Suicide by others, Not really a happy ending, tiny bit of fluff like very little.
A/n: This one was fun. I hope I did it justice. I may have changed a little bit of it but I hope you still like it.
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN
Everything hurts. You have a splitting headache and it feels like you got run over by a MACK truck. Your face scrunches up in pain, the lights too bright even with your eyes closed. Sensory overload has you curling in on yourself. Hands come up to clamp on your ears when you hear a voice, but it’s so loud and muffled that you don’t even know who is talking to you. All you want is for all of it to stop. You had been an experiment but that experience doesn’t compare to what you are feeling right now.
“Nat turn the lights off.” Wanda orders the older woman in the room. Nat flicks the light off as she watches Wanda brush some hairs back. You let out a whimper at the contact. It breaks her heart seeing you like this. When her hand brushes against your skin she can feel you. She feels your pain. Red whisps leave her fingers slowly seeping into your skin. Soon enough the pain starts to dissipate.
Wanda crawls in the bed behind you wrapping herself around your frame. You feel a body pressed against yours and you immediately know who it is. “Wanda.” You whisper. You turn around in her hold and nuzzle into her neck. “I’m here sweetheart.” Wanda combs her fingers through your hair. You're so tired and she feels like home. You fight to stay awake but her ministrations have your eyes closing. “It’s ok detka get some rest.” Wanda whispers and kisses the top of your head. You finally let yourself drift off to sleep.
A little over 5 years ago the team was fighting Thanos. Your powers let you see brief points into the future. You saw that if you died that Wanda would be safe. Thanos needed you gone to get what he wants but you also saw that in the end the Avengers would win. The event that sets that in motion was your death. So as much as it pained you you let it happen. To save Wanda, to save the world. Wanda could move on but the fate of the universe was in your hands.
“Wanda.” Nat says softly from the corner of the room. She looks at you curled into Wanda’s arms. A sight she had hoped to never see again. “Natty, she needs this.” Wanda says softly, still stroking your hair as you sleep. Nat just nods. It hurts but she knows it is something that Wanda had to do.
Your mind races. Your dreams are of your last memories. The fight with Thanos and how you let him kill you just in order to save everyone else. Your body shoots straight up as your chest heaves from the memories. You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back but you haven’t quite gained control. You mind questioning how you are here. Why are you alive? You should be dead. That was all your mind could see and you had accepted that fact but here you are. Tears stream down your face. “Why?” You're not sure what you are asking, who you are asking the question of. You feel so small. “Why what detka?” Wanda asks you with concern on her face. “Why am I here? I should be dead.” Your voice breaks and Wanda’s heart hurts seeing you like this.
Wanda starts explaining everything that had happened while you were gone. Excluding some details. They had worked tirelessly to bring back those that were snapped away. Wanda and Nat become the de facto leaders of the Avengers. It took 5 years but they finally did. Once that was done they set out to bring you back. It took some time but somehow when Bruce had snapped his fingers he was able to bring you back. But somehow you ended up in a pocket universe in a deep sleep. They were finally able to get you back safely. All the information flooding into your mind is a lot to handle but eventually you understand. Somehow the universe had different plans for you.
It’s been a few months since you came back. Most things are the same but something seems off. Wanda hasn’t been as loving towards you. Before she was always so touchy and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the sheets cuddling while watching some sitcoms. But now she barely even gives you a hug. Sleeping in the same bed has you feeling like she isn’t even there. She is a million miles away even if she is only right beside you. Your heart hurts not understanding, is she still mad at you for letting Thanos kill you. Anytime you try to talk to her she just brushes you off and says nothing is wrong. So you're left alone to your thoughts and worries.
Nat had moved into your shared home while you were away. The two women grew closer at the loss of so many others. You want to be angry and jealous that Nat gets more attention than you but you still trust Wanda hoping that she will come around eventually.
You’re walking towards the kitchen when you can hear a hushed discussion between Wanda and Nat. You stop just shy of the door frame listening in when you hear your name mentioned. “Wanda you need to tell Y/n.” Nat says her body leaning on the counter and arms crossed against her chest. “Tell her what Nat?” Wanda counters. She sits at the table with a sad look adorning her face. “You know what Wands.” Wanda lets out a sigh. “I can’t do that to her Nat.” Wanda’s voice is low. “You can’t keep lying to her. You can’t keep lying to me. I love you Wanda.” There is a pause in the conversation before Wanda speaks up. “I love you too.” Your heart drops the moment the words spill from Wanda’s mouth.
You’re quick to turn on your heels as the tears start to stream down your face. Holding in a sob as it all makes sense now. In your absence the two had fallen in love. You’ve somehow become the other woman in Wanda’s life. You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. Your powers should have felt this but they hadn’t and now you’re left heartbroken. You push into your shared room focusing on pulling yourself back together. You can’t let them know that you know until you figure out what to do.
The buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your despair for the moment. You see Fury’s name flash on the screen. You quickly wipe your tears and answer the phone. “Sir.” You say masking the waver in your voice. “Y/l/n I have a mission for you. Since you have been cleared for duty I would like you to head out tonight with Barton and Barnes. I have sent over the reports for you to go over. Good luck out there and glad to have you back.” The phone line goes dead as the man hangs up the phone. You open the report sent to your phone. You now see the flashes in your mind of how the mission will go. And that is where you see it. What you’re going to do.
That night you enter the Quinjet greeted by the two men. Hugs and joy at your return. Your powers are always a significant help to missions. You three go over the plans for the mission. You lay out what you had seen in your vision, excluding one crucial part that the men don’t need to know. You know if they did they would try and stop you. But your heart aches and you put on a fake smile so that no one would expect a thing.
Everything was set to go. A long message meant to play for Wanda after it was already too late. This would be your last mission. Wanda and Nat would have all that they could ever want. You wouldn’t be the burden that you know you are. They should have just left you dead if they were going to do this to you. So you made that decision for them. You weren’t going to come back from this mission alive.
The mission was going perfectly. Playing out exactly as you had seen it. Bucky and Clint were together and far away from you. You snuck into the building off the side. It held some hostages that had been taken by Hydra. You snuck in taking out every agent that you passed. It didn’t take long for you to make it to the hostages. You were able to release them from their binds and get them out of the building safely. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. Bucky and Clint were waiting exactly where you told them too. Having each hostage run towards them for safety while you stood with your back towards the open area.
You waited knowing what was to come soon. You could change the outcome but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be in a world where Wanda loved someone else. You waited with bated breath as the last hostage ran towards your teammates. You exhale the air in your lungs before a sharp pain in your stomach is felt. You grit your teeth turning around firing off a few rounds, but you're hit with another round to the shoulder. You can hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Clint calling out for you but you push through. Another shot to the leg sends you kneeling on the ground. You push through the pain as you stand. A few steps forward as you unload your mag into the man. Another man appears with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You watch as an arrow sores through the air and hits the man directly in the chest. His finger squeezes the trigger as he falls. You’re hit with the array of bullets. Your body sways before falling to your knees then falling to the ground. The ground below you stains red as your body goes cold.
Wanda felt a change in the universe. She cries out causing Nat to panic next to her. Wanda clutches her chest in pain. She felt this twice before. Once when Pietro died, the second when you died fighting Thanos. She had never wanted to feel that pain again but here she is feeling it. The world stops turning at that moment. Not again she thinks tears streaming down her face.
The doorbell rings but Wanda doesn’t hear it. Nat tries to console the younger woman pleading for her to tell her what is going on. It continues to ring when no one answers until Nat gets up and finds out what is going on. Wanda sits sobbing on the couch. Nat walks back in with a folded paper with your hand writing on it. Wanda scribbled on the top.
Wanda sees this snatching the paper from her hands and quickly opening it before reading the words delicately written across the page.
My dearest Wanda,
You’re reading this because I’m gone. I’m sorry to do this to you
but I can’t live life like this. I know that you no longer love me.
I see the way you look at Natasha and I know she is now
the love of your life. I want you to be happy. I saw this coming
and I could have changed it but who am I to keep you from the
one you love. Don’t mourn for me, just live your life. You don’t
have to worry about me anymore and you can be happy, that
is all I have ever wanted for you. But my love I can’t live in
a world where you love someone else. So this is goodbye.
Love,
Y/N
Tears hit the paper blurring the words in front of her. Wanda’s heart shatters into a million pieces. How could this have happened? How could she have thrown away all that you two have? She is absolutely disgusted with herself and with Nat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go but she was blinded and now her eyes are finally open but now it could be too late.
Through the tears Wanda gets up making her way out the door and immediately taking off towards the compound. Her magic lifts her into the sky as she flies as fast as she possibly can to the one place she knows you would be. Praying that maybe it was all wrong, maybe you can be saved. Nat calls out for her as she leaves her alone standing in the yard.
The ground cracks below Wanda’s feet as she lands hard on the ground. Anger and guilt pumping through her veins as she walks towards the building. Her magic slamming doors open as she makes her way to the med bay. Your body is already lying there. Bucky and Clint talking outside the room. Windows lining the wall as they keep looking back at your body. Wondering what they would tell the angry redhead but they didn’t have to wait too long. They spot Wanda fear and sorrow on their faces. “Wanda we can -” Clint is cut off. “Save it.”
Wanda makes her way into the room. The boys walked away looking like kicked puppies. Wanda’s breath picks up as she sees your still body encased in a black bag. The top half of it unzipped revealing your pale skin and blood staining your suit. You look so peaceful like you could be sleeping. Wanda cups your cheek, a light jerk of her hand when she feels how cold you are. She lets her magic slip out the ends of her fingers going into your head. Fresh tears streaming down her face. “I can’t feel you.” A sob wracking her body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry love you never deserved any of this.”
Wanda silently sobs as she sits next to you. Your hand in hers as she just stares blankly at your body. The door clicks open a while later. Wanda doesn’t turn to look. “Go away.” Her voice is hoarse from all the crying but she doesn’t care. “Wands.” Nat whispers. “I said leave.” Wanda’s voice raises as her head snaps towards the door red swirling in her eyes. Nat knows she is just upset so she doesn’t back down. “Detka.” She whispers. “Don’t you dare detka me.” Wanda stands letting your hand drop off the side of the bed. “This is all your fault. She is fucking dead because of you.” Wanda seethes. “Don’t put that blame on me Wanda. You're just as much the problem.” Wanda stalks towards Nat red surrounding her body and slamming her into the window, a crack forming behind her body. “Don’t you fucking dare blame me. It should have been you. You should have died back then. I would still have her. She is more of a woman than you will ever be. I let myself be blinded by you. Blinded by the love you gave but I didn’t love you. I don’t fucking love you.” As hard as Nat can be, Wanda's words cut deep. Tears shine in her eyes as she holds back a sob. Wanda sends Nat’s body flying through walls until she lands outside. Wanda follows as she does so. Releasing Nat’s body which is now battered and bruised. She then flies off into the night.
It’s been months since anyone has seen Wanda, held up in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains. Some have tried but they always get blasted out so they stopped trying. She has been lost to the Avengers and they aren’t sure they could ever get her back. The day they lost you they also lost her.
Wanda’s black tipped fingers comb through a book. A very dangerous book. The more she searches the darkness in her soul grows and the blacked tips grow. She has tried everything in the book to bring you back to life but none of it works. She had another attempt today, something new, something hopeful but it ends with a magical outburst throwing everything in the cabin. She continues to comb through the pages ignoring the disarray around her. She closes her eyes and lets her magic do the work. It’s not long before she finds something new. She thought she had seen all that this book had to offer. All that the Darkhold had to offer to the Scarlet Witch.
You are sitting in your living room, two small boys cuddled into each of your sides as you watch a movie. Empty bowls of ice cream sitting on the coffee table that you have your feet propped up on. You laugh as your son Tommy tries to mimic you. You other son Billy giggling along. Tommy huffs and crosses his arms. “Not funny.” He mumbles. You can’t help but ruffle his hair which makes him swat at your hand causing you to chuckle. “One day buddy you will reach it.” You kiss the top of his head. All of you falling back into the silence, the only sound is the movie playing.
Your mind flashes to a vision of Wanda but not your Wanda standing in the middle of your living room. Her face twisted into something you can’t even imagine in your wildest dreams from the woman you loved. The pain that she has caused to get to this point. As your world comes back to you you are met with a star shaped portal in the middle of your living room. What was once an image in your head now in front of you.
Wanda’s hand wraps around the young girl's throat in front of you. “What did you do?” She seethes. The two boys next to you are terrified. You quickly stand and tell them to run but Wanda’s head snaps towards you. The couch you were once on is now thrown at the stairs blocking the way. You push your boys behind you in a protective manner. Wanda’s eyes trailing the boys curiously, a small warm spot forming in her heart seeing your protective nature. She didn’t expect to find you with kids but she always wanted a family with you so it can’t hurt.
“Wanda!” You yell at her. Wanda is startled by the anger in your voice. You have never yelled at her like that. “Let the girl go.” You demand of her. Her hand slips from the girl's neck as she coughs on the ground holding her throat. Wanda starts stalking towards you but you back up with your boys behind you.
Billy tugs on your shirt a little trying to get your attention and you quickly look back at him. “Is that Mama?” His voice sounds so small. Your attention quickly turns back to the woman in front of you who has stopped. You can see tears in her eyes at Billy’s words. “That is not your Mama.” You shake your head. You can see the hurt on Wanda’s face as she gets closer to you. “I can be.” She says a crack in her voice.
You start to walk towards the woman but your boys try to stop you. You motion that you will be ok as you stand in front of Wanda. “You could never be my Wanda.” She falls to her knees, her hand on her chest as she looks up at you. “I can see your hurt and your pain but you have caused so much more and for what.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I did it for you.” She whispers. “I would never want you to do this for me. Wanda you murdered people. Good people.” Wanda stands back up and moves towards you, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You back up away from her touch. “I wanted you back.” You scoff and shake your head. “After seeing what you did I could never want you. I miss my Wanda but you are not her and could never be.”
Wanda’s face twists in anger. You try to back up again but she is quicker this time. She grabs your wrist in her hands. “Wanda that hurts.” You whimper as she digs her nails in. “Too bad. I’ll make you love me just you see. Now that I have you back I will never let you go again.” There is a panic that rises in you. “We will have the perfect little family.” She looks behind you. “Won’t we boys?” They are too scared to say or do anything just holding onto each other for comfort.
Wanda keeps one hand on you as she turns around. Her wrist flicking as America is thrown back through the portal. It dissipates from the middle of the room before she turns back to you. You struggle to get free but she is stronger than you remember. She clicks her tongue and looks at you, her hand finally reaching to cup your cheek. Red whisps leave her fingers as they sink into your mind. “All mine now.” She replaces every memory and thought of your Wanda with her. Changes the fear to love. You’re hers now and no one will change that. Her magic soon flowed into the boys having the perfect little family. She would tear the world in two to keep you and the boys forever.
#syd answers#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda fanfic#wanda marvel#wanda#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff fic#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff angst#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader angst
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Smol snippet because the angst hit me all of a sudden.
CW: mentions of death, mental fucking breakdown djxkd-, grief, angst, Sunday is sad :’’’’)), 2.0-2.1 spoilers.
(Disclaimer with a 2.2 trailer/livestream spoiler: I’m aware that she isn’t actually dead, but this is made in mind with Sunday who doesn’t know that.)
No mentioned gender for reader.
Writing under the cut (SFW):
“My baby, my baby. You’re my baby say it to me.”
Cradled in your arms he cannot even cry. He feels empty and lost. Sunday… what use is the name Sunday if there is no Robin to call after him? He failed her. Her, the one who shone so brightly in his life.
He can remember every birthday, every scrape, every “good morning” and “good night”. He can remember every “I love you”. Thinking about these memories, holding that light cone with a moment in time held so dear trapped within it’s frame- It fills the emptiness with something.
Sunday tightens his grip on you, fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as a silent sob wracks his body.
Anguish.
That is the name of the emotion that colors his empty insides with dark and dreary hues of blues and blacks; his heart with the color of life as it bleeds in her absence.
You pet the back of his head, holding him back just as tightly as he finally allows himself to fall apart in only the company of solitude and you. The seraph finally allows his wings to rest. The figurehead finally takes off the perfect mask.
“Why did it have to be her?” He can’t understand how this happened. How could his lovely, perfect sister be gone?
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sunday,” is all you can say. But that much is enough. He lets his tears wet your shoulder as he hides away from the reality of her death and the world. He’s grateful you’re here at least. In the back of his mind that’s fracturing and breaking to pieces, he wonders what he’d do if he didn’t even have you to hold him together. Would he fall apart? Lose himself entirely?
A dash of gratitude and love colors his bleakness in a splash of warm pinks and oranges- Like the sunset he watched with you in the dreamscape not too long ago.
She was everything before he met you. Being the older brother, she was like his first child. He can remember looking at her tiny, chubby face when she was still too young to talk, and thinking- “This is my baby sister.” He was supposed to take care of her- protect her.
Thinking of how someone killed her in cold blood and made those starlight eyes close forever… Deep reds formed.
Anger.
He would force the criminal into the light and bring about retribution for their evil.
“Will you help me?”
He asked, eyes almost manic and wings spread; looking almost like an angry, vengeful fallen angel in that moment.
You took his hand and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the hand that accepted his.
“Thank you, my love.”
I wanted to include how every older sibling’s first child is their baby sibling, lololol. And just. I can’t imagine how much grief he had to have been going through. OTL
I might edit this or add to it later this was just a blurb I wrote in like five minutes-
#roro writes#roro talks#gn reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x gn reader#hsr x gn reader#hsr sunday x reader#sunday x reader
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Everything I Ever Wanted Part 2/4
Yay! The next chapter is out!! I am really loving all the attention this little story got. Again please read the original.
Pt 1
In this one we have the charity gala for the alpha health care that Eddie suggested in the penultimate chapter. Chrissy is a gem. And Steve and Corroded Coffin boys have a little fun.
****
Steve and Eddie were getting ready for their third annual Alpha Health gala.
Every year since Eddie had suggested it, they had thrown a gala raising money to bring awareness to alpha health issues. Last year they had even managed to get alpha health classes mandated in middle and high school through the national congress and both Eddie and Steve was on hand when the president signed it into law.
Steve pulled on his black, lacy, thigh high stockings, clipping them to the garter belt then came on the black glittering stilettos. He pulled out the dress he was going to wear for the evening.
It was in the same style as the gold dress that had started this all, with the low drape in front and backless, but instead of the slits up to the middle of his thighs, it was a mermaid tail with a glittering train.
Steve was more comfortable with his feminine side now, not shying away from cuts that hid his broad thighs and flat chest. The only reason the drape this time is that Eddie loved his tits.
He giggled as he pulled on the dress, reveling in the silky smoothness of the material against his skin.
He was finishing his makeup when Eddie stepped out of the bathroom where he had been showering.
He looked up at Eddie and smiled at his naked form. His tattoos and piercings on display.
“Like what you see, darlin’?” Eddie said with a smirk.
Steve threw back his head and laughed. “You know I do. I love looking at your tats.”
Eddie squeezed the water from his hair. “Yeah? You got a favorite, big boy?”
Steve stood up from his vanity and stalked over to his very naked fiance. He looked him up and down, the heat of his gaze lingering over his lean frame. “You could say that.”
“if you say your initials on my ass, sweetheart,” Eddie said with a snort, “you and I are going to have words.”
Steve giggled and wrapped his hands around his butt. “As much as I adore that one, it’s not my favorite.”
“Yeah, so which one is your favorite then?”
Steve brought one hand up to trace the serpent on Eddie’s neck, and the other to trace the bats on his right forearm. “All great tattoos, but my favorite...” both of his hands dusted against dragon that curled around his abs, “is this one.”
Eddie’s stomach clenched at the touch. “Yeah? Why is that one your favorite, then?”
Steve leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Because I love getting on my knees and kissing my way down it to suck your cock.”
Eddie threw back his head and groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to will his cock not to react.
Steve stepped back and turned with a wink. “Too bad we don’t have time for any fun, guests are set to start arriving any minute now.”
“Baby,” Eddie moaned. “People try and tell me that I’m the menace in this relationship, but I’m pretty sure you just proved that it’s you.”
Steve cackled. “That’s because I’m sweet little omega,” he said clutching his hands and batting his eyelashes, “I couldn’t possibly be as freaky out of the bedroom as I am in it.”
“More fools they, then.”
Eddie got dressed in his favorite designer Jimmy Pantera. The tight leather pants, the knee-high laced boots, the black billowy shirt and the vest that looked like a paisley design but it you looked close enough they were actually dicks.
Steve laughed for a good twenty minutes when he saw it. He was the one that insisted that Eddie wear it.
Then he showed it to his bandmates and they all agreed to have some kind of dick tastefully woven into their clothes tonight and they were going to make a game of it to see who can catch the most.
Steve was sure he was going to win.
Well, Eddie was too, but he wasn’t going to admit that, not when there was a bet of a hundred dollars on the line.
When Steve finished putting on his jewelry, he turned in his seat to see Eddie putting in the last of his accessories. A single black diamond stud in his left ear.
“I still think it’s cheating,” Eddie huffed, walking over and flicking Steve’s earring, “that these are your dicks.”
Steve’s earrings had two diamonds side by side at the lobe and string of three diamonds hanging down, the third one slightly larger than the other two.
He snickered. “It’s tasteful and hilarious. Be grateful I didn’t chose the pink diamonds.”
“Now that would have been hilarious, princess,” Eddie said with a grin. “You ready for this?”
He held out his hand to help Steve to his feet.
Steve took it and pulled in close to his fiance. “Ready when you are, dearest.”
****
Jeff was the last one of the band to arrive.
“All boys,” Steve said with a grin. “Here are the rules. You have until midnight to figure out where everyone’s sneaky dicks are. Eddie even has one you don’t know about. You’ll write them down on a piece of paper when you think you got it and hand it to me. And then whoever has the most correct wins the bet and the absolutely magnificent bottle of red I found as a prize.”
Once he got all their nods of understanding he sent them off to enjoy their evening.
Chrissy was on the guest list, but she had also came with Jeff as his escort for the evening.
Steve privately thought that the Corroded Coffin guitarist was crushing on the omega, but he was going to keep that to himself.
Her princess cut, sleeveless, pink dress had ruffles in the front and Steve tilted his head with an amused smirk on his face.
He excused himself from Eddie’s side and went up to the beautiful omega.
They greeted each other by kissing the other’s cheeks.
Steve held her out at arms length. “Darling, you look stunning!”
Chrissy giggled and did a little spin.
“Do you like it?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“I love it!” he giggled. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this supposed to sneaky or overt?”
Chrissy did another spin with the her dress, making it flare out dramatically. “Overt, of course!” She leaned over and giggled. “I’m bringing awareness to female alphas sexual health, too. Like male omegas, they have both a vulva and a cock and we shouldn’t forget that in the sea of all this knothead fuckery.”
“Chrissy dearest,” Steve said with his voice filled with wonder.
“Yes, Stevie darling?” she asked with a sly grin.
“I adore you!” he wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her around.
She shrieked in delight until he put her down.
Chrissy reached up and flicked his right earring. “But I’m guessing these are covert?”
Steve grinned. “Yes, but don’t you going snitching to Jeff. He has to figure it out on his own.”
She clutched her chest in mock outrage. “I’d never!”
“Good,” he said booping her nose, “see that it stays that way.”
They chatted for a few minutes more before she went back to Jeff’s side.
Steve looked around to see if he could find his smoking hot fiance when he saw two other people he wanted to say hi to, instead.
He grabbed two glasses of champagne on his way over and handed one to each Joyce and Senator Jim Hopper.
“Thank you both for coming,” he said with a sincere smile.
Jim huffed out a laugh. “Son, I’d be a fairly stupid congressman if I didn’t show up to the fundraiser to raise awareness for the law I fucking wrote and got passed last year.”
“Jim!” Joyce protested, but both her and Steve were grinning.
“Still it’s good to see you both,” Steve murmured. “How are you taking to being grandparents?”
Joyce and Jim shared a secret smile.
“We’re doing great,” Joyce said. “Nancy is really taking to parenthood. She’s so protective of Jonathan. It’s really sweet.”
Steve nodded. It was one of Nancy’s greatest fears that she wouldn’t feel anything toward her children should she have any. But to hear that that was a baseless concern was a good thing.
Just then Nancy and Jonathan arrived arm in arm.
“Speak of the devils,” Jim said with gruff pride.
Steve looked over his shoulder to see a smiling, radiant Nancy and a soft and glowing Jonathan, who looked about four months along.
“Well that’s certainly a surprise,” Steve said with a raised eyebrow.
Joyce giggled into her hand. “It was for them, too. But I’ve never seen anyone so excited that she was going to have another baby with the love of her life.”
“I’m happy for her,” he said softly.
Joyce’s expression softened. “It must be so hard for you, watching old friends having children. I remember you told me that you’re infertile.”
Steve opened his mouth to tell her the truth. But decided that he didn’t want anyone to know yet. His body sagged a bit.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I’m happy being who I am.”
She squeezed his hand and the couple wandered off.
Steve looked around again and this time spotted Eddie with that omega actress again.
His stomach swooped painfully.
A warm hand touched his elbow and Steve started. He looked over at Chrissy who had a concerned expression on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked, gently rubbing her hand up and down his arm.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What if I’m not a golden omega? What if all these hoops I’m jumping through are for nothing and he’s stuck with a needy, barren omega?”
Chrissy looked over at the actress who had her hand on Eddie’s arm as they talked.
“Look at her,” Steve whispered harshly. “She’s beautiful, talented, rich, and hasn’t had hundreds of alphas between her legs.”
Chrissy smacked his arm. “And Eddie isn’t the remotest bit interested in her.”
His head whipped around to face her so fast she was afraid of whiplash, the dork.
“She’s not interested him either,” Chrissy insisted. “Look at their body language. You’re good at that. Show off for me. Imagine it’s just two strangers what would you see?”
Steve let out a low shuddering breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly.
“She’s touching his arm,” Steve said, “something a lot people will use as a sign of attraction because gets the two them being connected.”
“But...” Chrissy said with a sly smile.
Steve waved at them. “But, she’s staying arm’s length. She’s not leaning into his space. Her smile is genuine, but it’s not flirty.”
She squeezed his arm in encouragement. “Now do him.”
He chewed on his lip. He knew what attraction looked like on Eddie having seen it first hand for years.
He was all heat. Lowered eyelids, smoldering eyes, dimples belying his smirk. He also had to touch. Hand, waist, shoulder, cheek. He would lean into the other person’s space, like he couldn’t bare to be far from them.
Eddie was touching her. But it was a loose hand hold and fond smile. They were clearly just friends.
“He’s being too casual with her,” Steve finally said. “If he was interested in her he would be closer, all heated glances and whispered promises.”
Chrissy grinned and gave his arm one more squeeze before letting go. “Now go get your man.”
Steve took a deep breath and began to walk. He walked right up to Eddie’s side and the actress greeted him by throwing her arms around his neck and talking happily about how excited she is that Eddie found his perfect partner.
Steve looked over Eddie who is blushing, but proud. So he leaned into the touch. He could allow himself this. Being her friend, too.
So he held her hand and started talking happily about the date they set and how they hoped either his heat or Eddie’s rut wouldn’t come early.
“Could you imagine,” Steve huffed, “going into heat at your bonding reception? I don’t think I’d ever come out in public ever again.”
Eddie laughed and drew him in close. “I’d be okay with that.”
The actress, who had now been properly introduced as Nikita Auclair, gasped. Her eyes wide with delighted amusement.
“You hound dog!” she shrieked, hitting his arm.
Eddie just smiled, unrepentant.
“Oh don’t worry,” Steve said, leaning in close to her, “I can make him heel.”
She threw her head back and laughed. She touched her chest as she fought to breath.
“I like you,” Nikita said, “Let’s do lunch before the bonding. I’d love to get to know you better.”
Steve kissed her cheek. “Eddie has my number, call me.”
She squeezed his hand and walked away.
“You are a menace,” Steve growled playfully.
Eddie kissed him deeply. “And you gave as good as you got, darlin’. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
At the end of the night, it was Steve that walked away with the bet and the prize. With only Brian guessing Steve’s dick earrings.
Steve knew that when Eddie and him got home that night they would be making quick work of that wine and spending the rest of the night naked and moaning.
As they walked off, Chrissy just shook her head at the rest of the band and their partners.
“We really should have known better than to bet against the greatest escort of his generation.”
The others could only agree.
****
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Every little thing you do - Part 6
Tommy Shelby x reader
Series master list
🥰So another part to this series, thank you so much for all your support and encouragement! It means the world ♥️ and as I take your feedback seriously, I can assure you Tommy will be looking for a housekeeper substitute 🤭
Word count: 3,138
Y/N prayed silently her dress would close, Ada suggested getting it slightly loose at certain places just in case, because overnight, her belly was showing and most of her clothes wouldn’t fit anymore. It was funny because it only looked as if she was bloated but it was enough for a zipper to break.
“You ready?” Polly asked just as she knocked on the door, stepping in right away. As usual, she looked so elegant in her attire.
“Her dress is beautiful Mrs. Gray.” Y/N’s grandma pointed out making Y/N blush, she then turned to Polly. “And you look stunning.”
Polly nodded acknowledging her compliment.
“I can’t believe I’m wearing this gown.” Y/N stated staring at her reflection in the mirror, she looked like a completely different person with her hair up in a simple but elegant hairstyle, make up in just the right places, accenting her features, and the dress fit like a glove. She had never had a dress like this.
“You need something else though.” Her grandma suggested, she looked beautiful in her attire too, the Shelby family were too kind to extend an invitation for her.
Opening her bag, Y/N frowned confused by what she meant, she had everything already.
“Your grandfather gave me these when we got married.” From a velvet pouch, she produced a pair of gorgeous diamond studs.
“I think these will look beautiful.” Polly encouraged, feeling a swept of love by the exchange.
Y/N on the other hand felt lost for words, to some it might be a small detail, but to her, the sentimental value it’s what weighted the most.
“These are meant to be wear on occasions like this, right?” She asked holding one of the earrings for her granddaughter while she hooked the other one.
“Looks like you’re all set then… let’s welcome the guests.” Polly added taking grandma’s purse to help her. “Everything’s going accordingly so far.”
The music filled the big room, people were dancing happily, champagne flowing, staff filling empty cups with booze and plates with appetizers. Y/N felt particularly mesmerized by the chandeliers catching the light beautifully and reflecting all around as if it was dancing as well.
Tommy insisted the party should take place in Arrow House, said it would be a good excuse to do a grand opening, so she immediately got busy to have everything ready. The place oozed luxury everywhere she looked, the most important names in the country RSVP’ed faster than she thought. Never in her wildest dreams she imagined how it would turn out, she spent so much time choosing flowers for the center pieces, napkins colors to go with the tablecloths, tableware as well as the menu, days of hard work paying off finally on this night and for a brief instant, she allowed herself to feel proud because she took care meticulously of everything.
“I’ll be back in a minute, need an ashtray.” Polly announced and took grandma by the arm to chat for a while.
Y/N was taking everything in, still not fully believing it was a reality.
“Johnny, get everyone in the kitchen.” He instructed. “Five minu-“ words got caught up in his throat as he took a double look to his left and found Y/N standing by herself next to the staircase.
Her hair was pinned up, framing her face so it was fully on display instead of hiding, the dress made her look gorgeous but the cherry on top was the glowing emanating from within her heart, pregnancy was suiting her well. He then noticed she opened and closed the handbag nervously.
She wasn’t the same girl that used to run with him a race at an open fiel until they reached the river. He let her win so many times… yet that girl was somehow still in her.
He had never seen her like that before. She was more beautiful than he imagined.
But as soon as the thought entered his mind, Tommy kicked himself mentally. He shouldn’t think of her that way.
“Are you planning to give someone a heart attack?” He joked and took a few long strides to be at her side.
“I’m nervous,” she chuckled, “I’m the one having a heart attack.”
Turning around to face him, she felt her mouth going dry, the blue suit was a fabulous choice. It wasn’t traditional, but when she saw it at the tailor’s shop she knew Tommy had to wear it to the event and since she got a blank cheque, she added it to the account. He was so bloody handsome, but she thought that he looked even more that night. There, with a cocked smile and proud shining in his crystal eyes…
They stood there holding each other’s gazes, the people in the background fading away…
Until Johnny Dogs interrupted them.
“The boys are on their way Tom.” He nodded at Y/N. “Are we going, yeah?”
Tommy gave Y/N another look and she encouraged him with a smile to go.
He started to walk away, but then stopped abruptly and turning around he spoke; “Y/N you did an amazing job, thank you.”
Reaching his expectations was all Y/N wanted to achieve, to make him proud of her work. It was the way she knew in retribution to thank him for every little thing he did.
“And Johnny? Y/N told me she counted the paintings ey?” Tommy turned to give her wink. “So you better tell your kin they can’t steal anything or they’ll have to deal with a very pissed Y/N.”
Y/N gasped, of course she didn’t count the paintings. An evident blush covered her face and neck and she started shaking her head in embarrassment.
“Hey! That’s not true.” She tried to keep her manners, but her mind went back to when they were teenagers and her grandma discovered the two of them sneaking into the kitchen to get a slice of the pie she had baked and Tommy blamed it all on Y/N, the worst part is that her grandma believed him and scolded her granddaughter when it had been Tommy’s idea in the first place.
“Where are they, ey?” Tommy asked impatiently a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“I’m telling you now, we got lost,” announced Arthur. “You really need to do a map, Thomas.”
“Right, boys you’re all here.” Tommy started in a warning tone.
The blinders gathered around him in a circle.
“Tonight it’s a fucking very important day, we’re celebrating the Arrow House grand opening.”
“Yeah, and you said there’d be no bloody uniforms.” Interrupted John.
Tommy shot him a death stare. “Nevertheless… nevertheless, John… despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it on my carpet.”
They were part of the guest list.
He made a pause and looked around to his men. “Now, for Y/N’s sake, nothing will go wrong. She has worked so fucking hard for everything you see tonight and the Shelby Institute. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything…”
“Tom?” Once more, John interrupted his brother.
“What?”
“What about snow?” Asked Isiah.
John replied something that Tommy couldn’t understand, but he felt his blood start boiling by their silly attitude.
“No, no, no.” He stood in front of the young blinder. “No cocaine.” Then pointing at his face, he repeated; “no cocaine. No sports.” He then moved to point at John. “No telling fortunes. No racing.” Walking back towards Finn, he continued. “No fucking sucking petrol of their fucking cars.”
He hated to admit it out loud, but he was nervous to. He wanted to fit in, he needed to blend in among the richest and more powerful people, to be one of them. To prove everybody that he had been able to claim a stair that was only reserved for those who were born in a crib made of gold.
Meanwhile, upstairs Y/N attended several guests, listening to the stories they were sharing about how much it would mean to them to donate and give back to the community. Some of them, Y/N learned were important politicians who wanted to show a good image to help them gain voters, others members of the aristocracy just wanted to show their wealthy off. Whatever reason they had, Y/N was excited to see some of the cheques they were writing right there for the institution, additional to a monthly donation they promised.
Finding Tommy among the guests, Y/N approached him to ask him if she could save the cheques in his office.
“Can we see this later?” He relief not even sending a glance in her direction, his eyes were fixed like daggers in someone.
As he moved around like a gazelle, about to chase his pry, Y/N noticed a group of women eating him with their eyes, looking him up and down, seizing his frame, biting their lips, probably wondering how would it feel to be with him….
Y/N felt like she was out of place, she shook her head and decided to ask Ada instead where she should keep the documents. She then excused herself for a moment, feeling like the happy bubble had been popped given Tommy’s cold attitude. He was never like this, he had never left her talking alone before, but he had been a bit off the last couple of days.
For some unknown reason.
Perhaps she had been creating a fantasy in her mind, yes he was a good man, but he also had an explosive temper when he wanted to, he snapped at people at the slightest provocation. Why would he treat her differently? Just because a she was pregnant?
A knock on the door disturbed the peace she just found, and without waiting to be asked to come inside, Tommy called her name.
“Y/N you’re needed downstairs.” Tommy informed her, but he knew her too damn well. When Ada told him that Y/N was taking a minute on her own, he knew she wasn’t comfortable about something.
“What happened?” He asked patiently. She shook her head, not wanting to make a scene. “Hey, hey.. come here.”
It was everything, her pregnancy, her nerves, the bloody hormones, mood swings, worry to make everything perfect… him.
“I hope you don’t take personally what happened earlier, I was looking for someone that wasn’t invited.” Tommy explained.
Y/N looked at him tentatively. She walked into the en-suite bathroom to wet a cloth and press it into the back of her neck, careful enough to not get a stain in the dress, he followed her steps and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. The familiarity and comfort between them was too personal.
“Is this why you’ve been acting distant the last couple of days?”
With a sigh, he nodded. “Yes, I act like this when I’m scared.”
Y/N turned around pondering into his words, giving him time and space to speak on his own terms.
“I need to make sure you’re away from this business. I don’t want you to get involved at all. Do you understand?”
“Tommy what’s happening?” It all made sense to her now, the secret phone calls, the late night drives, his mood.
“The less you know, the better.” He cleared his throat. “Promise me you won’t make something stupid.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, he was the one always making the bad decisions she wanted to say instead.
“You won’t get involved.” He was firm about his statement.
“Only if you promise to be safe.” Y/N retorted.
“I’ll try my best.” A soft smile played on his lips.
She mirrored the smile and followed him outside, to join their guest one more time.
“Mr. Shelby! This is a wonderful party.” Mrs. Lewis praised, she was the wife of a former major, a bit extravagant, she loved to show off. “And a beautiful house.”
“I appreciate your words. But all the credit goes to Y/N.”
“So the old wives tale is real huh? That babies come with a bunch of blessings.” She squinted her eyes happily at Y/N’s baby bump, then looked back at Tommy. “Congratulations! I wish this baby nothing but the best.”
Y/N opened her mouth to correct her, and clarify that Tommy wasn’t the father. But Tommy cut her out.
“Thanks, hopefully you’ll be able to help us with the fundraising.”
“I’ll tell family and friends, you can count on that Mr. Shelby.”
As the woman disappeared, Y/N turned her face around to look at him.
“Let people talk, they’re going to do it anyways.” He stated, then as a waiter passed by, he took a glass of whiskey from the tray. “Rule number two; never reveal the truth when they can barely deal with a half truth.”
“What’s number one?”
“Oh, I’d tell you… but then I’d have to kill you and I’d be kind of sad you know?” He winked at her and elegantly strode towards where the music band was playing to grab the microphone.
“Good evening everyone, thank you for joining us tonight. As some of you may know, the Shelby Foundation Institute will open doors in a couple of weeks, we’re sure with this project we’ll be able to help many many children in need, grant them the education their parents can’t afford and a safe environment to learn and develop the abilities that’ll will help them in a near future.” A round of applauses filled the room and Tommy thanked the guest with a small nod. “Your contribution is highly appreciated, it will allow us to complement and provide everything that’s needed. I can assure you, your money will be well spent and we’re more than open to welcome you any time at the Institution.” His eyes started moving across the room. “Last but not least, I’d like to thank to the responsible of this project, the one who since day one showed a genuine interest and despite the doors that were closed in her face, she never backed down until this was a reality. Y/N thank you for everything you’ve done.” Raising his glass in her direction, he recognized her effort and compromise.
Blushing from getting all the attention towards her momentarily, she started biting her lip.
When Tommy started walking, people over to the side, making something similar to a human wall and leaving a space free for him to walk until he reached Y/N.
“Dance with me?”
The gesture took her by surprise, but soon Tommy’s arm wrapped around her waist and he started swaying to the beat of the music.
“Everything is perfect, thank you for taking care of every little thing.” He admitted with a very rare smile.
Carefully to not make Y/N dizzy, Tommy spun her around, following the music beats.
“Thank you for taking us in.” Y/N replied as a wide smile spread on her lips.
Feeling like nothing she could say or do was enough to thank Tommy. She’d be in debt with him for the rest of her life.
“You’ve nothing to-” he started to say but she cut him off.
“I do, every single time I blink, I feel so grateful to have you in my life.”
Tommy gave her hand a squeeze. “If things were different… wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Yes.” She admitted in a heartbeat.
“Then this better be the last time you thank me.” He raised an eyebrow as a warning, but his eyes remained giving her a gentle look. “I know you’d do the same thing for me.”
One more careful spin and the piece was done. A round of applause filled the room and the background noises brought them back to reality.
“I’ve to go, stay here, stay safe.” Tommy stated. “You know what to do in case something bad happens.”
He had already showed her where to hide in case anyone broke into Arrow House. It wasn’t his favorite outcome, but he had assured her it was for the best of she was prepared. Luckily he hadn’t show her how to use a weapon, but she knew the day might be closer than she thought.
“Tommy…” her heart started hammering her ribcage, she could feel it in her ears too. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”
The look of worry he found in her eyes made him fight the lump in his throat. If something happened to him, what would she do? Who would protect her? Who’d look after her and the baby?
“Will do. This is the last ilegal business, you know I want to make it right.”
Clearing his throat, he looked around finding Arthur giving him a nod, they were ready to go.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” He assured her once more.
As a different music started to play, Y/N went on to search for her grandmother.
Meanwhile, downstairs Lizzie was crying and smocking in such a bad shape after having a word with Michael about Angel, she started shouting when she heard what they did to his restaurant, she was fuming.
“Miss Stark can I help you?” Mary asked, smoothing her apron.
“Do you’ve a gun? So I can shoot someone?” Lizzie wiped her nose.
“No ma’am.” Mary took a step closer. “May I ask what happened?”
“The Shelbys blew my boyfriend’s restaurant so he couldn’t come to the party.” She tried to smooth the black mascara under her eyes.
And she started to whine and bent into the maid all she knew about the stupid rivalry between the Shelby’s and the Changretta’s.
Mary ignored Lizzie’s past, she only knew she was her master’s secretary, so she felt naturally bad for the green-eyed woman.
“I don’t get it, Thomas gets to have the little happy family with Y/N and also dictate who am I able to be involved with.”
“But they aren’t a family, the baby isn’t Mr. Shelby’s.” Mary dropped an unexpected bomb.
Lizzie stared at her in disbelief, her jaw dropping.
“Are you sure?”
“The motives of why he keeps her under his protection are unknown to me, but he isn’t the father of that baby.” The housekeeper assured her.
Lizzie nodded automatically, processing the news and thinking how this piece of information changed a lot of things.
“So Y/N is a little slut after all.” She mumbled to herself, planning in her mind a couple of ideas that would tear down that facade of integrity and good morals Y/N carried around like a crown. A woman’s reputation meant much more than anything.
And of course, it didn’t match the wealthy people standards.
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Okay I got some sleep- here’s pt. 2 of my nightmare:
——
They spoke to each other as they moved, the surroundings that had egregiously attacked the group of heroes earlier easily parted way for his sister.
‘How has everything been, habibi?’
They talked to each other in a language known only to them. The rest of the Justice League team, the members of this mission: Batman, Flash, Superman, and Zatanna did not understand the signs, a feat worthy of his sister.
‘Alright. They are not bad. I like it here.’ He told her, eyes not quite wary but fear of disappointing her running through his small frame apparent all the same. ‘I would… like to stay.’
She ruffled his hair once more, wistfulness growing in her heart. How her little brother had grown. It seemed like yesterday she held him as a babe, swaddled in even more opulent green and gold silks than her own clothing. Now, he stood in front of her, daring to express his own thoughts with a domino over his face and strength of free will in his eyes. ‘That is good. I am glad you are happy.’
Batman lurched forward to stop her from touching Damian, only to freeze as his son accepted the touch without a hint of resistance. Even Dick couldn’t get that reaction, not without some grumbling and scowling. Who was this…?
The rest of team agreed to wait and watch. Part of it was strategy. Most of it was the wonder of a such Bat-like Robin being so open with someone.
‘Have you been here before?’ Damian, relaxed as she all but gave him her blessing to stay with father, peered at the local fauna as it bowed away from her sister. She shrugged, his katana sheathed on her back. She was at ease with it as he was with her blade, the training they did to get there unwavering despite the time they spent apart.
‘Sometimes. The tower we’re headed to, I often go there to relieve stress by training with the monsters there. They like to… attack everything that moves.’
Something told Damian it was more of a one sided massacre on his sister’s part.
‘Why would the magician hide there?’
‘It would serve adequately as a natural barrier, should he have a safe space put there ahead of time.’ His sister tilted her head, masked face still in the way he knew meant that she was thinking. Her hands moved. ‘Perhaps it was Grorgiantue that attacked you. He often goes there to experiment with alchemy and demonic remains. He often wears a maroon headband.’
“That’s him.” Damian confirmed.
“Are you going to clue us into what you’re saying, you two?” The Flash zoomed around the pair, skidding to a stop in front of them. Damian’s sister simply stepped around him, slicing apart a thorn bush that attacked when it got startled by the Flash’s speed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Robin scowled at him and the unknown ally spared him one quick, neutral glance of displeasure.
“No. Do not ask again, you eavesdropper.” Damian curtly replied, surly Robin mask back up.
“Robin.” Father reprimanded. Damian acknowledged it, but did not offer an apology. His sister remained silent and watching.
She’s relying on him to navigate these allies, Damian realized. His shoulders went back at the show of trust. He does not acquiesce to Father’s silent command. Had it been Richard… perhaps.
“Ouch, but still, if your… friend knows what’s up ahead, it’s be good to let us know.”
“We do need to take care of this as fast as possible, Robin. And we’re not the best team against magic.” Superman hovered. He would have gone and scouted ahead, but magical planes always had nasty surprises that he found extremely hard to escape.
“Speak for yourself,” Zatanna joked. Regardless, she looked askance at Damian’s sister.
Damian scowled and opened his mouth. His sister placed a hand on his shoulder and Damian sighed, readying himself to act as a translator. He knew she could sign in practically every standard sign language there was, damn it. She’s lucky he loved her enough to be a translator when she’s unwilling to socialize.
——
“Your sword,” Damian tried to hand her sword back. Her little brother, for a genius, was an idiot. She huffed, pushing the sword back.
‘Keep it. How will you cut through a magical tower without a magical sword?’ She signed to him, emphasizing her amusement.
“What about you?”
‘I must report back. I am... a bit late. I’ll see you later, habibi.’ She tapped her hand four times. A reminder that she cared about him. Before she disappeared through a swirling portal of mist grey and acrid blue, she saw him repeat the sign.
Behind her mask, she smiled.
——
“Who was that, Robin?”
Robin stared up at Batman. Damian Wayne stared up at his father.
“She... protected me.”
Not quite an answer. But it was an olive branch, to tell him who she was to Damian himself, but not who she truly was in relations to Damian.
“That’s it?”
“That is all you’re getting.” He replied, hands tightening around the hilt of his sister’s sword. Her magic hummed beneath his fingertips, the feeling of indescribable violence softening to a sense of protectiveness the moment the sword felt his presence. Damian respected Father. He might even love him. But Damian loved his sister first, and he would not betray her trust.
A new file is added to the database. Nightwing gets an update. When a familiar masked face pops up, Dick Grayson sped out of Bludhaven to interrogate his littlest brother.
And so the wheels turned.
——
“Tell me, granddaughter, what it is you truly think of me.”
Despite the conversational tone, she knew it was an order. The scars on her back burned, a reminder of another rebellion and the cost of failure.
There were many, many ways she could answer. All of them unpleasant. Yet, she must be pleasant. He must hear how she’d been broken, or else he’d keep trying to break her.
She tilted her head down, so he would not glimpse the hatred brewing in her eyes.
“I respect you, grandfather.” Because she did respect his ability to bend her at his will, for all that she hated him. It took a special kind of scum to be so cruel to one own blood. “I wish to obey your every order.” Because if she didn’t, pain would follow. But that wish was a temporary one, only in effect until she managed to kill him and come out on top.
Ra’s laughed, a warm and rich sound. Hollow, because he loved none but himself and so only reserved warmth for his own flattery. It sounded like the sharpening of a blade and it felt like balancing on a precipice. On one side, an eternity of torture. On the other, the pain of those she loved. Damian... and maybe, just a little, Talia herself.
"Do you love me, granddaughter?" He crooned, mocking and cruel, in a way one might ask a jilted lover. The reincarnation held her breath and answered. She will not lie. She can not lie, not to him. He had gouged the order into her tongue with magic and brutality. And so, she will not lie.
"No, grandfather. But I do not dislike you." The reincarnation said, soft as velvet. It was true, because what she felt for Ra's al Ghul was the cold, pervasive hatred. "I respect you."
"I see I've managed to beat some of that foolish sentimentality out of you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. Oh, how she wished she could slip poison in his cup. How she wished to make him choke on his own words, his own blood. But she could not. Not. Yet. "Alas, I can not undo the magic. I suspect you'll be serving at my feet for... quite a long time more."
She snapped her mouth closed, phantom rage hovering between her teeth. The world swirled around her, greens and purples, and the revolting touch of his hands on her.
No, she will bide her time.
She knelt, the motion familiar, on plush carpet that she could not appreciate. Luxurious cloth rustled in front of her.
And when her time comes, she will revel in Ra's al Ghul's agonizing death.
——
"Damian, you have to tell me who that is!"
Damian could be stubborn at times, he knew that. He worked with him on it. Damian was as much, if not more, Dick's Robin as he was Bruce's Robin. So why...?
"And for what reason do you wish to know her identity, Richard?"
Dick paused. He couldn't. He couldn't tell him. No one knew, except for that masked person. It happened so long ago- not long enough- and Dick could not wash the taint, could not wash the trauma from his brain, his heart. Whispers that sounded like Catalina surrounded him when he thought of that rainy night, telling him how disgusted his family would be, if they knew. Those things went away, now that he's pulled up the file on the batcomputer. The whispers fade a bit as he looked upon the masked face of the person who saved him. Just in time.
"For your safety!"
Damian crossed his arms, a look that spoke of an unbending unwillingness present in his eyes. Dick knew then that Damian would not tell him. "I will never be in danger if it's her on the other side of the blade."
"Come on, Damian, I won't tell B. Promise. Don't you trust me?"
Damian's face softened, and for a second, Dick had thought that he'd managed it. "I do... trust you." Damian struggled to say. "That is hardly ever in question, you imbecile. But to tell you would mean betrayal. And I will not betray her trust. Especially not for your personal satisfaction."
Dick wondered what this masked woman did for Damian to be unhesitatingly confident in her. He wondered if his own desperation meant something he had yet been able to put into words.
"For what it's worth, Dick, I think we should trust Damian and not pry."
Dick and Damian turned to Tim in surprise. Damian, because it was an unexpected vote of confidence.
"Woah, I do not want to hear that from you, Mr. Tiny Tot Stalker McGee."
"It's called preparation!" Tim said hotly back. Then, he subsided. "She, uh, saved me once. Back then, before I was... associated with Bruce."
"What?" Dick and Damian demanded.
——
Innocuous. The worst and best things always happened on innocuous days.
The beginning of her slavery began on a regular, if painful, sunny day.
The beginning of her freedom began on a regular, if painful, cloudy one.
She'd have to thank the little photographer later, she decided. His work all but forced her grandfather to rely on a handful of backup Lazarus pools only he, mother, and herself knew about. She stared at the green pools as her grandfather stripped to his waist to step in.
"Guard me," he commanded her as he stepped towards the pool. The sting of the command settled familiarly around her neck. “Once I am done, you will depart to force Damian or the detective back to Nanda Parbat. By any means necessary.”
It was his first time ordering her to hurt her brothers, past physical pain disguised as training.
His first mistake today.
That's the thing with her grandfather, she mused as she silently unsheathed Damian's sword. He was so complacent, that he could fathom her betrayal.
His second mistake. His last mistake.
Then again, it was her who lulled him into it, with the shows of loyalty and seemingly willing obedience outside of her magical collar's commands.
After all, he had commanded her to guard him. From outside threats, surely, but he hadn't commanded her to guard him from herself.
"You-!" He coughed as her- Damian's- blade slid in between his ribs and straight towards the other side. It missed his heart by a hair's breadth, Ra's having moved the moment he felt the blade. Truly, it was hard to beat a near-immortal's experience.
"Kill yourself!" He barked at her, clutching at his chest, trying to stumble towards the pool.
To kill herself, she had to remove the blade lodged in his chest. The magic urged her to follow his commands immediately with searing pain. But she's had over two decades to endure and adjust to it, to grit her teeth and learn how to move with the torture of being alive. So she follows it just to dislodge the blade. The reincarnation then, with the magic trying to break her, cripples Ra’s with two blows.
He collapsed, screaming bloody murder and slurs at her. Before he could say another command, she stabbed down and to the side, cutting deep enough to cut his voice box and spill his life-blood, his unceasingly irritating throat, over the craggy rocks surrounding the pool.
Then, she slit her throat with a cut that was a touch too shallow to kill her right away.
"I do not dislike you," she said, the pain easing as she spoke to him. The red she's taken from others now spilled on the front of her shirt. She stared at his enraged glare, vicious glee at making him choke on his own actions. "No, I hate you."
She bent down, twisting and breaking his arms with little effort. She patted his cheeks and raked a trail of pain down his face with her metal tipped gloves. Her blood dripped onto him, blinding his eyes.
Fitting, she'd thought. "No one will come for you, grandfather. But... I do have to ask," She looked down, voice tilting in the cruel way that he'd unintentionally taught her. "Don't you love me, grandfather?"
She walked backwards until she reached the edge of the pool. She knelt once more, a mockery of every time she's knelt for him.
The reincarnation watched his blood spill, the light leave his eyes, and the way his body stilled and the way his rage was stifled like he'd smothered her voice so long ago. She memorized it, because hate was an active emotion. But she was tired, and she wanted to rest. So she watched him die and felt nothing but peace.
Then, as she felt the magic take hold and tear her soul from her body, she tipped backwards and plunged her corpse in the glowing pits that awaited her.
——
It felt like drowning.
(did y’all know cats lay on your chest?? bro i straight up couldn’t breath bc of that)
Breathless. Corrosive. Freeing.
The Pit felt like freedom.
And she’d long forgotten what that felt like.
It tasted like shit water though, and suddenly she felt bad for everyone whoever swallowed some of the water here. She’s going to need her stomach pumped out after this-
Her thoughts were washed away in a haze of green tinted fury.
——
“Habibi.”
Nightwing slid in front of Robin with a well practiced flip. Batman emerged from the shadows, followed Spoiler and Red Robin.
“Talia. What do you want?” Batman growled. Talia ignored him, an uncharacteristic action that had the vigilantes putting their guards up.
“I… you know I would not ask this of you- I would not ask you to return,” Talia said softly.
“Then don’t.” Red Robin cut in sharply, bo staff at the ready. Talia ignored him too.
“But she needs you, habibi. I can not… I can not help her.”
“Who?” Spoiler asked, curious but ready to rumble.
“What happened?” Robin stepped around Nightwing, who made an aborted movement to try to pull Robin back behind him.
“Something terrible.” Talia al Ghul closed her eyes, a sliver of vulnerability and regret showing on her face. Robin straightened, fear thudding through his heart. What happened to ukhti, he wanted to ask. But he could not, not without betraying the promise of silence he’d made to her. “I… I have failed her greatly. And she was paying the price for it, this entire time.”
“Wait, is this about the masked woman?” Nightwing asked.
“Alright,” Robin- no, Damian- stepped forward once more. His decision was made. Had been made, the moment his mother allowed the rare instance of vulnerability to come across her face. “I’ll be going back, once…”
“Of course. She would not let me keep you, habibi. She knows you are happier here.”
“Then, let’s go.”
“Robin!” His family tried to stop him but Damian slipped between and out of their reach. “Do not!”
“I’ll be back,” he declared, like he was daring his mother to say otherwise. “Try not to raze Gotham into the ground with your incompetence.”
“I’ll kill Ra’s if something happens to him.” Red Robin pointed the bo staff at Talia as she and Damian turned to leave. He stopped an alarmed Batman when he tried to lunge for Robin.
“No need,” she threw back. Damian whipped his head up at that. “He’s already dead.”
And they disappeared into a whirling purple cloud of magic.
——
Snippets of reality return to her bit, by bit. Her mother had cautiously entered the pit with her guards- worried, no doubt, by their absence- and stilled upon seeing her father’s dead body.
She laughed, and dug her hands into the bodies of the assassins she’d trained until her nails dripped with blood and pieces of organs. She felled them, one by one, until only mother was left.
She’d attacked, like a rabid dog, until the green slipped and her mother came into focus.
“I killed him,” she’d croaked out. And that was what broke her; the smooth way air wrapped her around her throat where only ripping pain had existed. Her voice came out unhindered and recklessly so, without the tinge of agony carefully picking her sentences.
“I killed him,” she repeated, and set Ra’s al Ghul’s body on fire. “I killed him.”
Her mother stared at her, hands dropping carefully to her side. “Why?”
She smiled, teeth bared and bloody- oh, she must have ripped into an assassin with her teeth, how messy- and endlessly joyful. “Because he dared to chain me- because he threatened Damian.”
She broke, and she told her mother everything. No, not everything. Just, enough. At the end, when her back is bowed with pain and heart empty, her mother knelt before her and quietly, tremblingly, apologized.
“I am sorry, habibi. I…”
The reincarnation’s made a small, wounded noise and lost herself to the green.
——
Damian trembled with rage. With grief.
With regret.
He followed mother into the caverns, mind turning and whirling with everything he’d learned in the hour that had passed since he’d left Gotham. His sister’s inclination towards magic was incredibly helpful, but Damian wished that she had never had the cause to go delving into magic like she did.
He thought it was passion.
His mother had informed him of what Grandfather had done to his ukht all these years. She told him of what his sister had sacrificed so that he remained free.
“Every time she spoke to us, to tell us that she loves us… father had made sure she paid for every word with unceasing agony.” His mother had muttered, eyes more lost than he’d ever seen it. “The magic at her neck ensured that she obeyed unquestioningly or she paid the price.”
“She is paying the price right now,” he’d snapped at her.
“Yes.”
Damian had thought ukhti’s collection of magical tomes were a sign of her interests. He thought it was passion for a subject. He had even envied how she did not have to hide her hobby like he had to with his art.
Now, he knew it wasn’t passion. No, it was desperation; a scrambling for freedom, a wish for dignity, and the fear of the same restrictions being placed on his ukht’s loved ones- him and mother.
When he entered the cave, lit up by swirling, sickly green, he saw his ukht, drenched in blood and sclera, tearing apart another group of assassins. There were ashes and the smell of burnt flesh around them.
Her eyes- green, glazed, furious- turned towards them.
His mother tensed. His ukht lunged, pitted sword aimed at his eyeball.
But if there was anything Damian knew, it was that ukhti would never hurt him.
So he stayed still.
And she stopped. Blade a centimeter from his eyes, his sister stopped.
“Damian?”
How his heart broke when she spoke, confusion in her voice that sounded as if she had been screaming for decades and nobody had heard.
As Damian’s hand wrapped around her wrist and she dropped the sword, he morbidly thought that she might have been doing that. It’s not like they heard her, after all, not until she’d freed herself with broken fingers and steel spine.
——
Bruce paced around in the cave. With the disappearance of their youngest, the entire family gathered in the cave, the night after. Except for Barbara, who had been scouring the cameras and had prior engagements, and Cass, who was on a plane back from Hong Kong, the family watched as Bruce slowly lost his mind.
“Relax, B. Look, even Dickface and Timbers aren’t worried, and you know how they get.” Jason said, kicking his feet up on the table.
“Ahem.”
Jason quickly put his feet down.
“We know nothing about this woman! She could be a danger- she could-!”
“B, if it really is about the masked woman, I think we should give Damian some trust.” Dick spoke up.
“And what if they keep Damian captive?”
“Then we go get him, Bruce. Simple.” Duke said, yawning.
Whatever Bruce would have said next was cut off by the opening of the cave’s underground entrance, with an approving beep of a recognized and authorized entrance.
Damian stalked in, hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword like he was going to cut through the next fool who tested him. His face was in a frown.
“Damian. Are you alright?” Bruce rushed towards his youngest, only to be dodged.
“I need to break something. Then, we shall talk.”
Damian headed towards the training dummies at let out his fury. He let out his heart break. Splinters of wood and cloth and ripped padding laid testament to his grief.
Then, the younger brother of the true heir to the Demon’s Head turned around to speak to his chosen family.
——
Clarity.
Her brother, her fool, dumb brother who had just stood there as she tried to gouge his eyes out, had been exactly what she needed.
She avoided his concerned eyes as she muttered calculations under her breath.
“Ukhti, what are you doing?”
“Freedom, habibi. I am… creating my freedom.”
At his confused look, she made the signs for Pit Rage. He nodded and guarded her back.
Damian was so adorable. And now, now that there’s not collar around her neck, she could say that without awaiting internal agony!
Her mouth spoke the words she’d found all those years ago, magic flaring bright white and blue as the circle she laid down on crumbling rocks shuddered.
The magic soothed her frayed mind and seeped the poison from her mind.
——
“I have a sister.” He’d told them. He turned to his father, who had a blank look on his face. “An older sister. She is yours.”
“You fucked Talia, twice?!”
A scowl. “Keep your trap shut, Todd.”
Bruce felt his world shudder to a stop.
——
Her fingers, her left hand as her right was busy scratching absently at Damian’s head, found purchase on her back and neck. The skin wasn’t so soft anymore, time and scars making for a rougher feel.
There were worse things than death. Bitter, painful things.
Loosing her freedom. Loosing her voice.
But… there were better things than life. Sweet, gentle things.
Regaining her freedom. Getting revenge. Securing her family’s safety and freedom from the grotesque thing that wore the skin of a grandfather.
Her brother, tucked safely against her side, and a mother that finally understood.
“Come to Gotham with me,” Damian had suggested. She hummed, delighting in the way the sound came out with out the ringing pain.
But one does not erase two plus decades worth of trauma in one night.
Her hands came up.
‘Not yet. Mother will think-”
“It is a good idea.”
Her gaze darted up. Her mother’s eyes… softened. Odd. No… her gaze was heavy with guilt.
“It would… do you good to be away from here, my daughter.”
Well.
It’s not like she was opposed to that, at all, but still…
‘Two weeks. I’ll tie up loose ends… and I’ll go to Gotham in two weeks, if that’s alright with you, Damian?’
“Of course.” He leaned against her, hand clutching at her shirt in a motion that she wasn’t sure was meant to comfort himself or her. “May I tell father about you?”
Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. The pit really scattered her mind. She nodded.
——
“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”
“She asked me not to.”
“And since when did you do things people ask of you, demon brat?”
Damian scowled. It did not make his next sentence any less genuine.
“Since it was ukhti that asked.”
Tim spun around on his wheel chair. “Holy shit. So the masked person was your sister. No wonder you were so….”
Protective, they all finished the rest of the sentence silently. They all sat back to contemplate that Bruce had one more kid… and that Tim had met her before Damian was even born.
“So, why were you so upset, baby bird?” Dick asked, an odd feeling of both gratefulness and mild jealousy towards Damian’s sister- his savior, because holy shit- gathering underneath his heart.
“Apparently, grandfather put her under an enslavement spell all these years.”
“Damian… say that again. I- I must have heard you wrong.”
Damian closed his eyes, hating how unsteady and fearful his father sounded. He obliged, because he knew what it felt like.
“Grandfather put her under an enslavement spell and used her to further the League’s reach.”
Damian had wondered why he had encountered his sister so often while passing by grandfather’s chambers and why she always looked tired when she goes past those ornate doors.
Now he knew.
“Does that- does that mean what I think it means?”
“Yes. She,” Damian’s hands gripped harshly on his forearms. He breathed in and out slowly. “She was… assaulted. Most likely regularly. To broker more favorable agreements. She could not refuse. The magic demanded complete obedience or risk the punishment of unbearable pain.”
Dick looked away. They had a lot in common. She saved him… but on her end, she was not saved. His hands itched to punch Ra’s al Ghul in the face.
“Fuck.” Stephanie cursed. Her eyes met Duke’s and Jason’s.
Tim’s hands stopped moving, eyes staring blankly at Damian. He should have tried harder to kill Ra’s al Ghul.
Bruce got up, trembling, and stalked over to the training dummy. They sat in silence.
“What else?” Bruce rasped. He hung his head.
“She was ordered not to speak a word.”
“But she… spoke to me.” Tim said. Damian felt an irrational flare of jealousy.
“Then it most likely caused her unimaginable pain as punishment.” Damian snapped.
“What do we have to do to free her?” Stephanie demanded.
“Nothing, Brown. She freed herself.”
“How?” Duke leaned in, expression serious. “Did Ra’s al Ghul free her before he died or something?”
“I… am not too sure of the details, but it involved killing him… and jumping into the pit.”
Jason stood up with a clatter. “She was in the pit?!
“Yes. I think… she might have died. I’m not… sure.”
Bruce closed his eyes, working on his breathing like Dinah had showed him.
“Is that why Talia came? Because you could stop her pit madness?”
“Yes. I- there-” Damian struggled to get the words out, the ball of upset sitting on his chest made it hard to breathe. “Ukhti would never hurt me. Unless it’s training, but even then, I am sure she fought against her orders to wound me.”
Dick nodded. Yeah. He would have too, if he were in her shoes.
“I… can ukhti come here to recover?”
“Of course. When?” It was at times like this when he appreciated his family’s sentimentality and ridiculously large hearts. Unhesitatingly kind, even when they should have been furious at him for keeping ukhti’s secrets.
“Two weeks.”
“Then we shall make adequate- no, better than adequate preparations. Master Damian, what were her preferences for food?”
——
She should probably prepare a gift. Multiple.
“Ukht.”
She tilted her head to show Damian she was listening.
“I am sorry.”
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’
“But-”
She squeezed his shoulder and forced the words to come out. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have noticed.”
‘I did not want you to notice. If I hid things from you, do you think you could find them so easily?’
“No, I suppose not.”
She smiled at him and tapped her hand four times. He tapped his own four times in response.
——
The dream ended there, well, no, there was actually some more nonsense about a corgi, a room full of strings and slenderman or whatever but I didn’t include that part. There’ll probably be a part three bc I kinda wanna know what happens when she comes to Gotham to recover from trauma.
The oc, relatively well adjusted: *dies*
The oc, reincarnated and got fucked over (figuratively and non consensually literally): “yes, I should go to Gotham (aka trauma central) to recover from my trauma. Sounds legit.”
#Dick Grayson#dick grayson and his gatekeeper gaslight girl boss self#oc in dc#batman#damian wayne’s older sister#damian wayne#Tim Drake#Jason Todd#talia al ghul#ra’s al ghul#ra’s al ghul and the consequences of his actions#tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon
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t- shirt, l. hamilton
pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x malika (black fem oc)
content: in which wearing his shirt brings her comfort.
warnings: 18+ steam + sexual situations and descriptions
song reference: t-shirt by destiny's child
wc: 1.5k
In-season was her least favorite season. Sure, she enjoyed seeing her partner in his element--world champion and multi-title holder leaving his heart on the track. But, the innermost parts of her, the selfish parts of her, hated when he was gone. It had been over 14 days since she’d seen him and she was losing patience as the days went on.
She could travel financially, but leaving her students behind was not a sacrifice she could make frequently. The life of a professor, she noted. So, while he was in another country with timezone hours ahead, she sat on his side of the bed, propped against a pillow that smelled like his hair products, twiddling the rings around her left finger and staring at reruns of old reality television shows.
The quart of ice cream was long forgotten and she almost regretted finishing her chips so early on in the day. She hummed softly and tapped her fingertips against the remote, the tips of her nails singing an unclear tune.
Her phone buzzed rhythmically along the side table. Her eyes darted toward the screen. Lover flashed across the screen in bright white letters. Her heart leaped as she swiped her phone from the table and answered in one breath.
“Hi,” she greeted cheerfully. She was laser-focused on his face as it came into view. He was looking toward the right and she caught the most beautiful view of his side profile. The sun of the country he was in seemed to do him well as his complexion was deeper but just as stunning as it always had been. His earrings glistened beneath the lights of the bedside lamp. Her eyes traced the tattoo across his neck and wondered how long it’d be until she’d trace it with her lips.
“Hi, pretty girl.” The hat he wore covered his eyes, but she caught a glimpse of them as he adjusted the camera angle. They were so big and brown, just sparkling and full of contentment. Her body warmed.
She smiled bashfully and her cheeks warmed at the nickname. It would never get old and she loved it just as much as she did years ago. She propped her phone against the empty ice cream pint and shuffled toward the headboard. “How was today?”
“It was good, I can’t complain. How was yours?” He then mirrored her actions and propped his phone on a nearby surface. He looked comfy, she noted. Dressed in the sweatpants she purchased for Christmas and an oversized shirt.
“I miss you,” she said shortly. Her husband turned his head and cooed softly, reassuring her that he’d be back with her in due time. His adventures were soon ending, and within a day, he would be right where he was before he left--with her. She wasn’t amused, however. “I know, I know.”
“Cheer up, love,” he tapped the screen with his index finger. “Flight leaves soon; give me a few more hours and I’m all yours. Promise.”
She raised an eyebrow to confirm his promise. He raised his pink to the sky and brought it toward the phone. She did the same. “Promise. Get some rest, I’ll see you soon, alright? I love you.”
She exchanged the same sentiments, blew a kiss, and hung up the phone. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
-
Her favorite article of clothing gripped her frame in a way that reminded her of his hands. He wore a simple short-sleeved, navy blue tee shirt often, but she swiped whenever she had the opportunity. It cuffed at the sleeves and his scent was etched within the threads. Normally, the sweater fit loosely on him, but with the fullness of her hips and the plushness of her belly, it clenched her sides comfortably in a way that both he and herself enjoyed.
She was wrapped in her favorite gray blanket. It was a recent gift he bought for her at random. She remembered him telling her he was eyeing it when he was out and about and knew she’d love it, and love it she did.
She fisted the blanket underneath her chin and leaned further into her pillow, her eyes trained on the television ahead of her that was playing an episode of Graceland. The show kept her company while her husband handled business.
She hoped he would be home at a decent hour, but it was going on at midnight and she had yet to hear his car entering the garage. She sighed deeply, at least he’d have something for dinner when he came home. She had the intention of sharing a good dinner with him and cuddling the night away, but those plans were diminishing as the minutes ticked by.
Temporarily, she tore her eyes away from the television screen and swiped her hand along the bed in search of her phone. She sent him a quick text.
Malika
I miss you, baby
It took only a few moments for her phone to alert her of a message from him. A smile graced her lips.
Hubby
I miss you too. Packing up the car; I’ll be home soon. Another 30 minutes, baby.
Malika
K, be safe. I love you
Hubby
Love you more.
She then tossed her phone to the side and resumed watching her show until her husband arrived. She didn’t realize sleep almost had its grasp on her until she heard the robotic voice of the alarm system and a key rattling within the door lock. She flicked the blanket off her body and sat up slowly, stretching her tired limbs. She swung her feet over the bed and slowly padded out of the bedroom and down the dark steps.
She followed where the light led and saw her husband leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes staring at the timer on the microwave.
“Hi,” she squealed out softly, making Lewis turn his head. His braids, tied in a ponytail under his cap, swung slowly. He smiled at her, dropped his arms, and beckoned her near. “My gorgeous girl…” he said lowly, running his fingers across her sprawled hair. His hand traveled down her face and his thumb traced her lips. He leaned down and kissed her gently.
“Mhm,” she hummed. She pulled away just slightly and eyed his physique with no shame. Her husband was a good-looking man and she enjoyed basking in his beauty. He tilted his head to the side, noticing her lowering eyes and swaying body. “Sleepy?” Malika nodded. While her day wasn’t as long as his, she was tired. Being a professor wasn’t for the weak and she couldn’t be convinced otherwise.
“Get in bed, love,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands along her arms. She shook her head. “I will when you come upstairs.” She missed him so much and just wanted to be near him.
The microwave beeped behind them.
“I’ll stay down here,” Malika insisted, pulling away from him to sit at the dining room table. “tell me about your day. You raced well.”
His smile was charming as he swirled his food around with his fork and recapped the days he spent away. Of course, there was sightseeing, food tasting, drinking, and fellowship, but it was still work. So, none of the frustrations about the car, the managers, and other stressors were bypassed during their discussion. He even let it slip that a group of enchanted fans had a minuscule concept of personal space, especially about a married man. Malika shrugged. It came with the territory and as long as her husband knew how to handle it, that was her primary concern.
“Well, baby, some people are bolder than others. They can look but never can they touch.” Malika giggled, leaning forward on her elbows. He took a bite and nodded with pursed lips. He’d be damned.
Lewis leaned back in the seat and dropped his hands to his lap. He smiled for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. He said, “I feel like I’m talking about me too much and not enough of you. How was your day?”
Malika shook him off, enjoying hearing his voice after only getting a good morning, have a good day, and I love you before they both had to rush out of the door for their jobs. “I like hearing about your day.”
“Nothing arguing with managers and being in a hot suit for hours is amusing, baby,” he chuckled. “how’d that test go with the students?”
Malika’s students had a test over legal precedents and the historical events that prompted their passing and implementation into law. Most of them passed, which fueled her pride but also made her realize that she needed to change her methods in one way or another to ensure the other three students who struggled got the help they needed. The course was difficult and it should have been, but she was willing to make changes once she received feedback from the students.
“They did so well,” Malika gushed. “except three, so I need to talk to them, but I’m glad everything went smoothly. I was nervous, this was the first test I’ve given.” Being a new professor at the collegiate level, (after having dropped out of her doctoral program and then returning), she was nervous about how good she’d be as an educational instructor, but the growth of her students proved that she was great at her job.
Lewis caught how her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke about and smiled softly. He was more proud of her progress over the last years, seeing that her hard work had been paid off. He took her hand into his as his lips brushed over her knuckles. “Proud of you, my love.” Malika gushed and thanked him. They spent a few minutes going into more miscellaneous details of their days before standing to take refuge in their bedroom.
His eyes followed her frame as he closed the door behind him. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, closing the door behind him. Malika turned over her shoulder with a small smile. She nodded and pulled back the comforters.
“It is,” she replied. “as much as I like it on you, I think it looks better on me.” She turned towards him. “Might look even better on the floor though.” His eyebrows lifted in interest. The look on her face was teasing. Her eyes sparkled with familiar mischief, the corner of her lips was raised, and her eyebrow quipped slightly. Her fingers danced along the hem of his shirt, curling along the edge to lift it, but, his quick strides and strong hands stopped her.
He stood in front of her at the side of the bed. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but the confidence he possessed and his muscular frame gave the allusion that he towered over her. The warmth in his eyes grew hot and flames threatened to burn her insides. She could feel her loins stir with desire the longer their eyes stayed on one another.
“You sure?” he asked, replacing her hands with his own. His palms were warm as they slid up her thighs, slid over her bottom, and gripped firmly. Her eyes fluttered closed and a whisper, yes, came from her. He hummed and hooked his finger around the thin panties that covered absolutely nothing. He pulled. She yelped. “On the bed.”
Malika moved faster than lightning. She brought her hands to her hair and prepared to pull her locs into a ponytail, but her husband’s headshake of disapproval made her arms fall. She’d forgotten how much he loved them. She laid on her back, hair sprawled against the pillows, chest heaving in anticipation, and thighs shaking from the sight of him alone.
He was now above her, pulling the black headband off his head. He tossed it across the room. His shirt followed. Malika couldn’t resist reaching out to caress his skin. Her fingertips traced the large compass in the middle of his chest. They trickled downward toward the waistband of his pants, which they tugged on roughly. “Careful, darling.” His tone was teasing but she wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Just love on me, please.” Always prepared to please, he took her hands in his, brushed his lips over the knuckles, then pulled his shirt over her body, dropping it on the floor. Even though they’d been together for years and love-making was not uncommon, he was in awe every time he looked at her. As a result, she felt shy under his gaze, still in awe about the fact that he loved her, all of her.
“I love you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear as he gave her everything she wanted. The intensity, the passion, the desire. It had her writhing and shaking beneath him, all a beautiful sight to see. Her mouth was open and her lips damp from her tongue darting out to moisturize them. Her neck stretched as she struggled to stay still, her skin decorated with small marks that would bruise by the morning. And her eyes, her big brown eyes were glossy as her end was near. “My pretty girl. You love me, baby?”
Words were caught in her throat and all she could manage was a nod. Lewis tsked. “I asked you a question, love.” He slowed his movements, which pulled a sorrowful sigh from her. His eyebrow quipped.
“Yes, yes! I love you, baby! Always…”
Her confessions brought him to an end he wasn’t expecting to reach so quickly. Malika whimpered quietly as her husband worked her down from the high she rode. Slowly, her eyes opened and he smiled dopily, caressing her lover’s face with trembling hands.
The gaze they held was filled with so much love and adoration. They looked like the lovesick teenagers they were when they met years ago, so enamored and full of one another. After some time, she said hoarsely, “I’m glad you’re home.”
He pressed his lips against her cheek. “Me too, baby.”
Surrounded by the remnants of their love-making, they found solace in each other's embrace. With whispered words of affection and tender caresses, they whispered sweet nothings to one another before fatigue covered them like a blanket. They held to each other tightly, refusing to loosen their grip. Their love would always be their sanctuary, the stronghold that kept them bound together, always.
#saturnville#black!reader#black reader#black oc#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton fic#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x black reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#lh44#team lh44#lh44 x reader#sir lewis hamilton#Spotify
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okay hear me out - so i just learned on tiktok that apparently women get super easily attached to men (or women lol) who make them orgasm and i immediately thought of poly!paulxreaderxembry where paul is OBSESSED with making reader cum all the time and makes a random (unrelated) joke about her being super attached to him and embry is just rolling his eyes and telling him duh ofc she is - you're fucking with her hormones all the time by making her cum so often and paul is just DUMBFOUNDED at the fact that the main reason reader is so attached to him is because he literally just makes her cum multiple times a day.
embry is definitely one of the smarter ones of the group😭
...
"princess," paul started with a soft laugh, "you can come over here y'know," he teased when he saw your figure in the door frame of your shared apartment's living room.
your cheeks were immediately heating up to a bright red at his comment but you were nonetheless over the moon that he'd proactively offered to let you sit with him so you were quickly stepping over to sit down in his lap.
your other imprinter also let out a breathy laugh at the two of your's interaction. paul helped you sit situated so you were curled up in his lap but your legs could be outstretched enough for your feet to land in embry's lap, "so needy sometimes," paul teased, both boys laughing when you immediately buried your face in the crook of his neck in a weak attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal.
"obviously she's needy," embry rolled his eyes despite the fact that you couldn't see it, a small smile on his face gave away he was just teasing you and paul, "have you seen how often you make her cum? you're fucking with her hormones doing that all the time," he added with a laugh.
you lifted your head from paul's shoulder at that, both you and paul wearing equally confused expressions as you looked at each other and then over to embry for some kind of additional explanation.
"every time you make her cum you release an insane amount of oxytocin and dopamine in her brain," embry explained, looking a little disturbed that neither you nor paul had any clue what the hell he was talking about. when embry saw that you two were still silently trying to process what he was explaining, he added, "those two make her feel attached to you which is why she wants to be around you all the time."
paul blinked twice, opening his mouth to respond to embry but nothing seemed to come out so he turned his attention over to you, "so what i'm hearing is embry needs to make you cum more often," he started, all three of you letting out loud laughs at paul's comment.
although paul definitely was a bit more obsessed with making you cum multiple times a day than his counterpart, embry was definitely not lacking in the releasing-your-feel-good-hormones department.
"i can't believe you didn't know that," embry said with a laugh, rolling his eyes as he gently rubbed your foot with one hand while reaching for the remote with his other so the three of you could get something on to watch before bed.
paul seemed content with his newfound realization, just settled for pressing his lips to the crown of your head, squeezing your hip playfully which had you giggling again as you got cuddled up with the two boys for a movie night.
#poly!paulxreaderxembry#poly!embryxreaderxpaul#embry call#paul lahote#embry call x reader#paul lahote x reader#embry call imagine#paul lahote imagine#embry call fluff#embry call smut#paul lahote fluff#paul lahote smut#paul lahote blurb#embry call blurb#twilight#the twilight saga#twilight imagine#imagine#blurb#fluff#smut
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Okay, I want to play too. Building off of @dustorange's post and @silverwhittlingknife's post
I think, how I would play this: the circus still happens obviously.
And then Dick dies when he's 16 in circumstances similar to Batman #408, where Dick is shot by the Joker and it causes him to fall to his death. (Dick has to die by falling. To me.) Bruce isn't able to catch him.
Bruce is obviously devastated. Going off of Silver, we'll say no Robin!Jason in this AU. Jason can get away with stealing the tires off of the Batmobile of an extremely grieving Batman. As a treat.
Tim is also devastated. I usually have Tim being 3 at the circus, so I guess he's 11-12 when this happens.
I think the fact that Dick was the only Robin in this scenario means that Tim is more reluctant to push himself as a replacement Robin. That and the fact that his HERO Dick Grayson died means I think that he's slower to act.
Eventually though, things get bad enough in Gotham that he does just because someone has to and he ends up as Robin. We'll handwave the details for now.
I think that Dick should get to come back to life during the Knightfall Saga. As a treat.
He comes back to Gotham just in time to see that there's a new Robin and watch Bruce get his back broken.
Tim's been Robin longer before Knightfall in this AU, so he's got a little more experience, but he's also 14, and while Bruce is lying in the Batcave and they don't know whether he's going to wake up or not, and he's fetching the medicine in that one comic, he runs into this unknown, edgy looking vigilante who blames him for Bruce getting his back broken and it's just everything he's been thinking to himself.
Dick sticks around in Gotham long enough to see that there's a new Batman and of course Bruce has someone else he can get to do that. Of course he doesn't need Dick. He runs off to go do like, black-ops vigilante work somewhere.
I think he and Tim do run into eachother once more before Dick leaves town though and Tim's like 'I know I'll never be as good as the first Robin, but that just means I need to learn everything I can' and tries to bother Dick into teaching him stuff because he can tell that this mysterious vigilante is way more skilled than him.
Dick mostly avoids Gotham, but I think they keep running into each other, coincidentally. Tim ends up teaming up with him during Contagion instead of Catwoman and they're both in Paris at the same time etc etc.
And eventually on one of these team-ups, Dick does a quadruple somersault and Tim sees it and everything clicks together and he imminently runs away because that's Dick Grayson and Tim has been talking up the first Robin all this time and it's a lot okay?
I think this is about when No Man's Land happens so Tim goes to go hide in Gotham and help out Batman and become a National News story and all that jazz instead of thinking about it.
But afterwards, Tim is ON THE CASE. I think he doesn't tell Bruce about this because if Dick hasn't told Bruce then he probably has his reasons? And what he was actually wrong? (Even though he knows he isn't)
And then, um, let's put the Dick and Bruce finally confronting each other during Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive because Dick comes back to Gotham when he hears that Bruce murdered someone because he doesn't want to believe it, but I think he also can't have that same bone deep belief in his innocence that he does in canon because of all the estrangement.
So he attacks Batman and demands to know the truth (without revealing who he is) and Bruce won't answer. Bruce also doesn't know how this mysterious vigilante knows he's Bruce Wayne/got accused of murder, so he low key suspects DICK of framing him, which normally he'd be too busy being Batman full time to care, but here he also recognizes some of Dick's fighting style so he starts investigating him to uncover the mystery.
Meanwhile, Tim noticed that Dick is back in town, so he's trying to recruit Dick to help him get to the bottom of this. He knows Dick's identity now, but he doesn't tell Dick that, he just drops various hints that he knows and hooks Dick up with a line to Oracle (who he has also not shared his conclusions with other than a vague 'there's something about him')
And hmm somehow this all resolves with like, Dick's identity getting out and him and Bruce talking face to face. Bruce is just so desperately amazed that Dick is there, meanwhile Dick still has various issues that are not resolved and it probably ends with Dick running away again and Bruce holding himself back from chasing after him like he desperately wants to. Because if Dick doesn't want anything to do with him then that's just his right because Bruce WAS the one who got him killed.
He does stalk Dick from afar though. Just without initiating contact. Tim and Barbara are more pushy about trying to hang out/talk with Dick in the aftermath.
To skip ahead, I think Bruce leaves Dick the Batmantle after he 'dies' as this last ditch attempt to share how much he loves and respects Dick.
And this getting long so I think I'll call it here.
#batman#dc#bats + birds + affiliated#my au ideas#tim drake#dick grayson#bruce wayne#last of the flying graysons#tim tag#utrh dick au#havendance writes#carthago delenda est
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Glasses
A teeny, tiny drabble so that I could participate and do something for @nestaarcheronweek despite my crazy, hectic life. I've always imagined that Nesta wears glasses for work or reading or something, and that it drives Cassian absolutely nuts. I wish I had more time to make this more, maybe some day, but for now, I give you Cassian appreciating Nesta in glasses. 💕
Am I still good to swing by to bring your key back?
Yep! Working from home and have no more meetings today. Come by whenever you want, no need to knock.
Cassian smiled at the words flashing across his screen as he reached the windowed door that revealed the doors to the two apartments in Nesta's converted townhouse. Nesta had already told him twice that he could come by any time after noon today, but he let his nerves get the better of him and he had to check just one last time. Even if he was already on her street.
"How are you already here?" the silky sharp voice of his girlfriend asked, carrying easily down the stairs as he opened the door to her apartment.
Cassian chuckled, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Couldn't get to you fast enough, sweetheart," he called up as he began to climb. It was a steep staircase. And dark. He hated it. Nesta could really hurt herself on it, and that was something he wouldn't be able to handle. Cassian dreaded the day he got a call telling him she'd fallen down these damn stairs.
Reaching the main floor, he set the keys down on the tall table in front of him just as a large, cream furball let out a loud hiss.
"Even after feeding you for a week, you still hate me?" he muttered, bending down to see if Ataraxia would sniff at his fingers. The furry little beast lifted his nose up and sauntered away from Cassian like a little prince. "Your cat is a spoiled brat," he said, walking down the small hall toward where he knew Nesta would be working in her large living room.
"As he should be," she replied.
Cassian walked into the room and suddenly the world felt lighter as he laid his eyes on his girlfriend for the first time in a week. Staring intently at the computer screens in front of her, all he could really see was her delicate frame and the golden brown hair tied back in her typical coronet style.
He took a step toward her, going to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then paused in his tracks as Nesta turned in her chair to look at him.
There, resting on top of her perfect nose, was a pair of rounded-square glasses in a dark frame. They weren't exactly hipster glasses - too small for that - but they were a similar shape that sat perfectly in Nesta's face.
Nesta was always the most beautiful woman in the room, always sharp and stunning and obviously intelligent. So Casssian wasn't sure exactly what it was about these glasses, but they took his breath away. Perhaps he was more attracted to librarians than he realized. Or maybe it was just Nesta, looking absolutely stunning in everything, and adding new fantasies about glasses Cassian never thought he'd desire.
"Wh…what are those?" he asked like an idiot, pointing to her face.
Nesta let out a small laugh. "My glasses? I wear them for work. They're just blue-light lenses, they keep me from getting a headache when staring at a screen for a long time."
"They're-"
"A necessary nuisance."
"-phenomenal." Nesta blushed at Cassian's last word, turning back to the computer screen.
Cassian wanted to riot, just as he always did when Nesta looked away from him. It should be illegal, for him not to be able to look upon her face. But especially now. Who knew wen he'd get to see her in glasses again? He needed to find a way to save himself from this withdrawal, and he knew just the thing. "Don't you get a lunch hour?" he asked softly, stepping closer to Nesta and leaning his chin on her shoulder.
"Yes…" she answered slowly, turning her face to look at him.
He grinned. "Great. So why don't you log off but keep those glasses on and join me in the bedroom?"
Before Nesta could answer, Cassian left a kiss on her neck and sauntered to the back of the apartment, smirking as her heard soft footsteps following him.
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Breaking Down Moments From The Trailer
oh man, it’s been a while huh? the hb trailer came out a while ago but I figured it’s still relevant enough to talk about so that’s what I’m doing. I’ll simply be speculating on things that got my attention in the trailer!
starting with
these two scenes clearly take place in the same episode and in the same location. I’m not 100% sure that big shadow is Andrealphus but I think it’s safe to assume it’s him based off of what we know. I believe this is also the same area we saw the Octavia leak take place so I think there’s a good chance we see her side with Stella’s family in a fake out “turn to the evil side” scenario
on a similar note these two scenes of Blitzo and Millie fighting don’t seem to take place in the same episode. now I’m not saying this based off the location but off of the outfits. unless the characters do a quick change between fighting I think it’s safe to say we’re going to see a plot line of Millie and Blitzo having disagreements/fights through out AT LEAST two episodes of this season
this is pure speculation but I’m like ninety nine percent sure that this is Tilla. It’s very exciting that we might get to see her after so long but she’ll also probably get the Barbie Wire treatment if not worse so…
I’ve seen a lot of theories over who this fiery guy could be but I think the correct guess is the wrath sin, Satan. why he’s saying “you’re a disgrace” I have no clue. at first I assumed he was in the same room as Mammon and was scolding Stolas but Stolas isn’t in that scene (as stated very clearly)
i DO think that these two scenes are related and probably take place in the same time as the Mammon one. the railings with the snake and apple pattern appear in both. they also use the same template of blobby background characters if that will help prove my point at all
Octavia, you poor sweet summer child. she deserves so much better than what they’re gonna give her. on a more positive note though, I do really like that they’re keeping the star motif she’s had throughout the show
this is so dumb I can’t even talk about it. Verosika get outta there girl, you actually have a well explained reason to say Blitzo sucks, not this overdressed owl
no clue what this guy is about. he has the same marking on his chest that Blitzo has on his bell. we know that bell came from Tilla but that’s about it. if anyone has any theories I’m open to hearing them
the too many villains thing is really showing in this trailer. now not all these characters are necessarily villains but all of them will cause at least some struggle for our main characters. that’s seven in total (eight if you’re counting Stella and her brother separately and six of you group the cherubs and dorks together). all of this is supposed to span across only five episodes. that isn’t mentioning any internal conflict or joke time. the writing team is gonna have to work overtime to fit everything in
that’s all I’ve got to say. I could break down the trailer frame by frame but I don’t have the energy for that. I can’t wait to see everyone else’s thoughts as we progressively get closer to the release date of Full Moon. thanks for reading and I’ll see ya next time!
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irvinis replied to your post “Thinking about the photo from tonight, i almost…”
@ingravinoveritas this may be fanon (canon created by fans), but it fits so well into the daddy/boy dynamic. Michael comes to David's performances with his doors wide open, wearing his best sweater (or baring his arms) and giving a standing ovation: THIS IS MY BOY! And David makes his way to Michael’s performances, wrapped in a scarf up to his eyebrows and sighs quietly in delight from an inconspicuous place in the corner.
@irvinis Ohh...this is tickling a very specific part of my brain. Oh, I love this. In the past I didn't usually go for the daddy/boy dynamic with Michael and David (because I've always seen their relationship as one of equals/switches), but this absolutely fits them like a freaking glove.
We have the picture Georgia posted of David all wrapped up exactly like that, so right away that gives us a visual:
And what you've described goes perfectly with what we saw when Michael went to see Macbeth in December--that white-bright moment of Michael gazing up at David from the audience, and David looking right back at him, captured forever on film and in our hearts. That, in contrast with last night, with David quietly going to the show and doing everything to keep the focus on Michael. David waiting until the lights have dimmed and all eyes are on the stage to let out that little sigh, feeling a shiver of unrestrained happiness work its way through his body as he watches, enraptured, as Michael does the thing he does best.
It's also interesting how this potentially ties into Michael not doing the matinee today. I know we could say it's because he's still recovering from being sick (and that would certainly make sense), but I love the thought that Michael sat out so many performances earlier in the week to make sure he had his strength specifically for last night's performance, because he knew David was coming and wanted to do a good job for him.
I could also see David going to Michael's dressing room after (with thanks to @greeneyed-thestral for planting the seed of that lovely idea) and seeing Michael all enthralled with a post-show high from performing, yet still anxious about how things went--worrying if he was on key for the musical number, if he missed any cues. I can see David slowly backing Michael into the mirror without a word, until the lights frame Michael like a halo. He takes off his ball cap and unravels his scarf in an elegant heap on the dresser, revealing himself, both of them now bare and vulnerable. David grasps either side of Michael's face in his hands, thumb tracing over the crow's feet at the side of Michael's eyes, and smiles softly. He kisses Michael, mouths opening just slightly as the kiss deepens and their tongues meet. Kisses him long enough to quiet Michael's mind, to get the overthinking voice inside to stop.
He is quiet, this David. Always making himself smaller to fit in rooms within rooms, hiding away, keeping the peace. Until Michael. Michael, who somehow had the key to every door. Something in David expands, becomes louder, growing to more than his slender frame could seem to handle, and he pours it into that kiss. A mark of this moment, of Michael bathed in light, of the two of them together and David silently saying, we are here. We are together and I am going to take care of you now.
Oh, yes...I could certainly see that happening. Thank you so much for this delicious prompt on a Saturday morning...
#irvinis#reply post#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#david tennant#soft scottish hipster gigolo#why does this seem so plausible though#Michael's breath catching in his throat at the kiss#sliding an arm around David's waist to steady himself#both knowing exactly what the other one needs#they are perfect together your honor#fanfic ideas a-brewin'#fanfic#good omens rpf#yes to all of the above#ineffable lovers#discourse
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The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 7: Trust
knight!simon riley x queen!reader
cw: dark themes, *pls read at your own discretion*
word count: 3.8k (everything in italics is a flashback)
[<<<< chapter 6]
You still feel the faintest tremble in your fingers, your cheeks ruddy from the cold night air that breezes over your skin and through your hair. The world seems so bright, even in the darkness- like you could see every wonderful, beautiful thing in a way you simply couldn’t before. Like you were lighter than the winds, and higher than the sky. You feel like you could be flying.
And if you had known just how good being dead feels, you certainly wouldn’t have waited so long-
+++
“What?!”
Simon places a finger over his lips, silently shushing you; and you know better, immediately regretting the outburst, no matter the shock that lingers in your system, discretion was still paramount—
Your clandestine meetings had been growing more frequent; waiting for the moment he would be relieved for the night and your handmaids had flitted away to their own rooms, their own lives- so that you could slip behind the heavy wool tapestry that now hangs over the entrance to the tunnels.
You always meet in the same spot, making your way to the small adjoined alcove where you would find him waiting- either toying with his daggers or simply staring ahead, lost in thoughts you so desperately wished to hear until he heard your muffled footsteps, the sound of fabric rustling, that alerted him to your presence.
He would usually still be in his armor, his helmet sat carefully to the side- but this night, well, you couldn’t help but to admire the way he looks for a bit longer than you’re proud of.
Instead of black steel, he was covered in warm linens and rich leathers, still dark in nature, with a riding cloak over his shoulders and most of his face concealed under a heavy cowl. But when he saw you, you could see how his whole demeanor shifted. You watched his shoulders relax and the tension bleed away from his expression- watched his eyes flicker and glow in the candle light as he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms just as he did nearly every night now-
But, you weren’t in his arms anymore, no, you were pacing fervently- one hand propped on your hip and the other tangled in your hair,
“Simon, are you sure? I mean- this- this is ludicrous-”, your voice is quiet again, but each word feels labored and breathless, your lungs unable to fill themselves properly, “What you’re suggesting-”
Tentatively, he steps forward, capturing your arm easily, your name spoken so softly, in a way that conveys patience and gentility while still demanding your attention, “Breathe, My Queen.. C’mere-”
He wraps you into a tight hug, letting you bury your face in his tunic, and gods- the way his scent fills your senses, his overwhelming heat, the mass of his arms caging you in, protecting you from yourself. And when he speaks again, you lean in even more just to feel the baritone reverberate through is chest and right into yours,
“There is no other way.” Simon starts, “None that would assure that they’ll never come searchin’ for you.”
The moment he feels your breathing settle to an acceptable rate, he steps back, but only far enough to frame your face in his hands- those damned eyes prying you open; not in a destructive way, no, but in a way that reassures you, that tells you he can see your trepidation, your apprehension. A look that tells you he only wishes to open you up so that he might take them all away, let your burdens rest on his shoulders-
“Do you trust me?”
Your answer comes without pause, because it’s not one you have to give a second thought to as you turn to kiss the inside of his palm, your lips brushing against the rough skin, “Of course.”
And there must be something about the conviction in your voice, or the sincerity beaming in your eyes, because Simon sweeps you into a burning kiss so suddenly, your mind has to catch up to your body as you pull yourself closer to him- enjoying how exposed the feel of his torso is to you in these thinner layers. You swear you can feel the delicious bulk of his muscle flexing against you, your hands venturing over the breadth of his chest, reveling in how it heaves with each breath.
“I want you..” You whine into his mouth, your back now pressed into the frigid stone wall, one of his hands still tenderly cupping your jaw as the other holds your waist.
Most every meeting you have with him of late devolves into this; into feverish kisses and eager touches, you know he craves you just as much you hunger for him- more than that, you yearned for him. But, no matter what you do, or how far it goes, his self-control and willpower seem to far surpass your own, and it always ends with him holding you still- pressing sweet kisses against your forehead and your hair, his voice so kind and soft that it could bring tears to your eyes,
“I know, sweet girl..” He whispers, still kissing you, though you feel his hands tensing- ready to put a halt to it if he feels even the slightest slip in his control, “You already have me- m’yours. Only yours. But not like this-”
This time when you whimper out his name, fighting vainly to push his hand lower, your aching core so desperate for his touch, he groans; it’s a low, gravelly noise, his lips pulling up into something resembling a snarl just before you watch his head roll back.
He pulls in a deep, drawn out breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling just the same- once, and twice. And you realize now, just how close he had let himself get to breaking his own self-enforced oath if he was having to fight it this hard.
Taking one more deep breath, he finally meets your eyes again, moving slowly and cautiously to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your ear. You let him fawn over you for a moment, your head tilted back to rest against the wall and your own gaze nearly as dark as his,
“No. You deserve more than this, love..”, he traces your bottom lip, eyes focused on the plump, pink skin there before flitting up, “When I have you, I don’t want it to be in some dark, musty tunnel.”, he pauses again, tilting his head to the side, “And I won’t have our first time be tainted by the memory of another man’s bed-”
Your breath shudders when Simon leans in again, nuzzling gently against your cheek- the tip of his nose grazing over the flush peak before he plants a kiss in the same spot, speaking again as he repeats the motion,
“No, little queen.. I want to take my time with you. I want to taste every part of you, starting here-”, a sharp gasp fills the void around you at the sensation of his tongue just above your pulse point, still hot and wet when he kisses it with a smirk on his lips, “and here..”
He gently pushes your hair out of the way, exposing your shoulder so that he could mirror the action there as well, drawing yet another breathy little whine from you,
“Stop it, you insufferable brute..” You speak the words through clenched teeth, and yet, your hands pushing down on his shoulders give an entirely different story- but he does stop, standing again to tower over you, completely unfazed by the daggers in your eyes.
And the cocky grin on his lips turns into something much warmer, his eyes not so ravenous anymore, “Believe me,” he savors your name, letting it sit in the air between you before continuing, “when I say I intend to replace every memory of him, or anyone else, I mean it. I want to show you what it’s supposed to feel like, in every way.”
+++
You pull back on the reins to come to a stop at Simon’s side. The horses’ breaths are hard and fast, much like your own, a cloudy mist of hot air dissipating as fast as it comes with each heavy snort. The castle is far below you now, just a speck in the distance, the valley it’s settled in perfectly illuminated under the dazzling full moon,
“Still think we have ‘til mornin’?” Johnny’s voice breaks the silence, his red stallion giving a tired chuff as it hooves at the cold dirt below.
Simon turns back to answer with a shrug- though his eyes land on you first, searching for your nod of approval before glancing to where the Scot waits, “Should. But, we won’t stop yet, the horses can go for a bit longer-”
You dig your heel in just enough to prompt your mare forward. The dark beast is familiar to you- chosen because she’s one of the fastest the king owns, owned, and it shows as you quickly catch up to Simon, taking your place just on his right flank, with Johnny bringing up the rear.
The plan was to ride as far as the horses could go, hopefully putting you outside of the borders of the kingdom before the alarm is raised, before whatever poor soul unwittingly discovers your treacherous crimes-
No.. don’t think like that. It had to be done.
Against the wind, you focus on Simon’s hulking form before turning your head long enough to catch Johnny’s eye. And you hate how sad he still looks, hate the grim set of his lips, and the consistent knit in his brow- there’s been no bright smiles this time, no boisterous banter, or snarky quips. He was still angry with you, and yet, he couldn’t stop watching you like you might vanish if he blinked too long.
But, you don’t blame him. How could you-
+++
Tap-tap … Tap-tap-tap
The world comes into focus again at the sound of your guard’s beckoning- you’re back in the Grand Hall, sitting on the throne, the weight of your crown perched on your head pulls uncomfortably at your scalp as the man in front of you rambles on and on. Something about the year’s bountiful harvest, and you can’t be sure what else, but gods, his voice feels like it grating against your eardrums.
You just can’t be bothered to focus on such trivial things, not when your mind wanders to the promise Simon had made to you- to take you away, to save you. Though, you suppose he’s already saved you in so many ways, more than you could ever make up to him, but you swear to yourself that’ll spend the rest of your life trying-
Hiding the exasperation in your tone, you raise your hand, “Very well, Lord Barclay. Thank you, for your time, and your very thorough survey.”
Simon’s arm is placed under your hand before you’ve even attempted to stand, it’s not an unusual or uncomely gesture, he had done it many times before, but holding onto to him like this now feels too intimate. Because you know how warm his skin is beneath yours, how firm the muscle is under the cold steel and unforgiving leather of his gauntlet-
“Thank you, Ser.” You say evenly, only sparing the most fleeting glance upward to find his eyes already on you.
It sends a shock through your system, and yet, there’s an odd sense of pride that trickles through you as well. Knowing your deception, knowing you can hold him as such, and he can look at you like that, with those around you none the wiser of your indecencies, your unbecoming thoughts-
And it’s only a matter of seconds, from the moment your fingers are settled over his forearm to the time you’re standing, but it’s enough to reignite the ever present burn you feel for him,
“‘Course, My Queen.” Simon bows his head as customary, but just like the first time you met, he doesn’t avert his eyes, and his coy expression does nothing but stoke the flame within you. But, you have a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that he quite enjoys playing with fire.
—--
By the time you get back to your rooms, the sun had nearly set, the once brightly lit hallways now glowed warmly with candlelight and the remnants of dusk as you stop outside your door.
Simon opens it for you, ushering you inside before relieving the other guard. He would be there all night tonight, which meant you wouldn’t see him until morning- and while the thought of him still being close, guarding your rooms, is comforting as it always has been; you already find yourself missing his touch, his warmth, and it had only been a week’s time since you got your first taste-
Gods, you’re hopeless. And never have you felt more like a spoiled brat than you do in this moment, giving Simon one last pitiful look before the heavy door clicks shut.
The candles in your entryway were already lit, but you find it odd when you round the corner to see your bedchamber still dark, save for the milky light filtering through the windows. Which is the only reason you see the odd shadow hunched over on your dressing bench, and a strangled sort of gasp lodges itself in your throat when it moves- slowly, at first, lifting its head to face the dim light.
“Johnny?”
You turn to grab the nearest candle stick, not registering how the hot wax splashes onto your hand as you set it down again. But, now that you have it, you’re not sure the light helps or only makes it worse, because now you can see just how disheveled he is- his hair is a mess, from the wind or from him running his hand through it, you don’t know. And his eyes.. he’s looking back at you with a wild gleam, his lips parting as if he might say something before they clamp shut again. The ties on his tunic are loose, the fabric hanging open, exposing the tan skin underneath and small chain hanging around his neck-
“Johnny- I.. What are you doing here?” You step closer, seeing the familiar paper in his hand, his fingers creating wrinkles and indentations from how hard he grips it, like he’s afraid to let go of it, but it almost seems to pain him at the same time.
And you know exactly what it is. It’s your letter, the one you wrote to confess your intentions, your plan to die. A morbid living will-
“Oh, Johnny.. I’m- I sent a raven-”
“Shut up.” He growls, and it stuns you, hearing the anger in his voice directed at you. He moves to stand then, not to get any closer- but to just look at you. Eyes lingering on your crown, and over your face, searching for something you can’t see or understand as he takes a small step forward, his mouth twisted into a thin line and his throat bobbing.
Seeing him like this is unlike anything you’ve felt, you think. Seeing your immutable Johnny on the verge of tears, his usually bright eyes, dark and stormy- your chest feels like it’s cracking open the longer the silence fills the space, until your own tears spill over, staining the rug in perfect little droplets. But what can you say?
‘Oh, I’m sorry you thought I was dead- but surprise! I’m not.’?
What could you possibly say to make it better-
“How dare you..” When he finally speaks, you hear the syrupy rasp in his voice, one tear rolling down his cheek- and then another, tangling in his unkempt facial hair, “You selfish, stupid girl! Why would ye write this? Huh?”
He doesn’t shout, but you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to- the restraint shows in the red flush of his skin and the rigid set in his shoulders, the rage in his eyes as he looks down at you before shoving the letter into your hands. Your own tears haven’t stopped, and you feel frozen in place, wracked with guilt and anguish and frustration,
“I’m sorr-”
Johnny huffs out a sarcastic laugh cutting you off, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots,
“I thought you were dead.. DEAD, Sunny. And you’re sorry? That’s all you got?”
It’s the way he waves his hand at you that causes you to flinch, and that terrible frustration blooms into full blown anger when he turns his back on you. You crumple the paper in your hand, forming it into a deformed sort of ball so that you could chuck it as hard as you can, aiming right for the back of his head,
“Selfish? I’m selfish?” You hiss, watching with satisfaction as the paper ball hits its target, bouncing off his head and rolling somewhere you can’t see, “My whole life has been serving others- and I’m the one who’s selfish? How rich coming from you, MacTavish.”
He turns on his heel, a look of heated confusion on his face, “What’s tha’ s’pose to mean? Like I haven’t served? Who do y’think is out there fightin’ your wars, your highness?”
With a short scoff, you turn away from- wiping the moisture from your face and yanking the crown from your head so you can toss it on the bed, “Oh, enough of that! What happened to ‘not a lord or a queen’? Are we not just us, anymore? Is that all you see?”, you gesture back to the crown, “Because that’s not me- that isn’t all I am-”
Just as quickly as it had come, your anger fizzles out, the flashfire smothered with a sadness so deep, so profound, you’re not sure what do with it,
“I was tired, Johnny. Weary, down to my marrow-”, a broken sob tumbles out as you wrap your arms around yourself in a lame attempt to find comfort, “I never meant for it to be selfish, I only thought I was doing a favor. For myself, for you. I can’t explain it..”
You watch his own flame die out with your words, watch the furious glint in his eyes settle- and when he steps forward, you don’t try to stop him, you don’t stop him when he pulls you into his arms, or when he presses a long kiss to the top of your head,
“I know, I know- I’m so sorry.. I dinnae mean a word of it, I know you’re not selfish. Hells, you’re probably the most selfless person I’ve ever known. But, Sunny..”, he pulls your face up, wiping the tears and mucus away, looking down at you with a softness you weren’t expecting, his big hands cupping your cheeks and jaw, “When I- When I thought you were..”
He bites his lip, breathing through the word on his tongue- not wanting to say it out loud anymore than he already had, “I thought I lost you..”
It comes out in a whisper, his eyes, still brimmed with tears, so steady on yours it makes your breath shorten- because he had never looked at you like that, and you had never seen him the way you see him now, had never given a thought to the idea of wanting him to hold you like he is now, wanting him to look at you-
No, no- he’s Johnny. Just Johnny.. Your best friend, you had grown up together, seen every stage of each other- from kids to scrawny pre-teens, awkward teenagers at best, you had both seen the other at their worst. So, why are you so surprised to look at him now, and see how handsome he’s become, how tall he’s gotten, and how well he fills out his clothes-
Stop, just stop- you admonish your own thoughts, he’s still just Johnny.. He’s not Simon.
“I know..”, you say, blinking away the tears and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “But, never again. I promise, Johnny.”
That seems to break his hypnosis, focusing on your words, on the feel of your skin on his- he shakes his head, releasing you gently and clearing his throat, the tension that had been there only moments ago gone dormant, “What changed?”
You glance over your shoulder, looking towards the entryway, wishing you could see Simon for just a second, “Well.. we’re hoping you can help with something.”
“We?”
+++
Simon’s path takes you deep through the forests, and as soon as you reach the river, you follow its meandering trail for the better part of the night- guided by the moon and stars, your trio traverses land that you had never seen, much less touched. And you only wish for a chance to see it in the sun, hear the birds singing, and the breeze rustling through the boughs; watch the water babble and flow, glittering in the sunlight.
But, there is something otherworldly about experiencing it at night. You hadn’t been outside the castle walls after dark, ever, now that you think about it- never mind on horseback.
And never mind the fact that you’re doing it to run away from your life, your identity left behind.. everything you’ve ever known..
So, why aren’t you afraid? Why have you never felt more content, more safe, than you do right now? Through the soreness and discomfort, the adrenaline still teeming in your mind and body, all it takes to settle your thoughts is meeting Simon’s gaze- still so steadfast and assured.
Or feeling Johnny’s calming presence next to you, warm enough to cut through the chill. Even if things aren’t as natural between you as they used to be, you know you could still lean on each other, that he would be there for you, and you for him.
But there’s something about the odd tension that still lingers when he looks at you, like invisible tendrils that bind you, pulling and stretching. But you don’t understand it, you only feel the strain, like a warning or an omen, something threatening to snap. But it won’t just yet.. not now-
Simon comes to a slow stop, you and Johnny following his lead up the high ridge. And faintly, you hear the crashing of waves, the wind picking up wildly as you break the treeline.
The cliffs, ones you had only seen as a child, glow brilliantly in the sunrise. It’s enough to steal your breath, and make your head spin. They had brought you home.
You’re so entranced by the glorious sight in front of you, by the sting of your hair whipping across your chapped cheeks, that the feel of Simon’s hand on your leg almost startles you,
“We’ll stop here for the day.. eat and rest.”
He lifts you from the saddle, keeping his hands stretched over your waist until he’s sure you're steady on your feet, “Are you all right, my queen?”
Johnny watches from your peripheral, meeting your eye for a split second before you answer, a tired smile on your lips,
“I’m not your queen anymore, Simon..”
[chapter 8>>>>]
taglist: @spxctorsslxt @ssc7514
#knight!ghost#call of duty#medieval au#simon riley#simon x reader#lord mactavish#I neeeed them#fic: the queens guard#cod#but make it medieval#simon ghost riley#johnny mactavish#also on ao3
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you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya
pairing atsumu miya x reader
word count 1.4k
synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held.
content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw
The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.
No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.
Devastated.
Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose.
He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry.
Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.
The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell.
Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself.
The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.
The ball lands.
On his side of the net.
He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.
Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview.
And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early.
Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—
“Atsumu?”
He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.
Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.)
No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.
Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.
“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving.
Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him?
He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door.
“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.
His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water.
“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner.
You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him.
You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with.
“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself.
“Look at me.”
His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him.
He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.
“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you.
Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,
“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#angst#one shot#fluff#drabble#imagine#alright if this doesn't make it to the tags im never posting again
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