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ssahotchnerr · 2 years

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hi hi hi!! i have an angsty request because i love love love angst. what if aaron is on a case where there were children involved, and he comes home and the first thing he does is go to your kids and just hold them while they’re sleeping and then you ask if he’s okay and he just breaks down and you hold him while he cries <3

🍯 anon

omg hi hi hi my first emoji anon!!!🥰

comfort of home

cw- angst, description of a case involving children, allusion to death, it's sad, aaron is very sad :( but ends with fluff

wc- 1.4k :o

aaron closed the front door behind him as silently as he could manage, hoping to refrain from waking you or one of the children up. the familiarity of the apartment instantly welcomed him; the hum of the dishwasher, the piles of laundry folded on the couch waiting to be put away, scattered toys around the carpet and a light in the corner you had left on for him, knowing he would be returning home sometime during the night. the visuals had an instant effect on him, his head not feeling as heavy as it did before he walked through the door. it reminded him that the ones he loved so tremendously, were all safe within the walls of this home, momentarily away from all the dangers in the world.

the bau had just wrapped one of the worst cases he had ever witnessed. horrible, dreadful things had happened to young children; children who had so much ahead of them, so much life to live, and it was unfairly taken away from them in brutal, inhuman ways.

cases involving kids were always defined as difficult. they were hard before jack, harder after jack, and even harder after the arrival of your now two year old daughter.

while the case's length was fairly short compared to others, each day seemed like a lifetime. maybe it lasted three, four, five days? aaron couldn't quite recall- it was difficult to recall anything that had happened the past few days. the only thing worth remembering was what each child had endured. a sense of dread had hovered over the entirely of the team due to it being a race against time; knowing that another child would turn up in a matter of hours and there wasn't much they could do but wait.

a sudden, huge lead had finally caught them up to the unsub, but that wasn't a good ending either. the latest victim hadn't been spared, and the unsub himself had received a similar fate.

sure, that disgusting being wouldn't be able to hurt another soul, but he was one out of what? hundreds? thousands?

whenever aaron thought that, all he could picture was jack and your baby girl's smiling faces. and it tore his heart in half.

he didn't bother putting away his belongings properly, hastily tossing them on the ground before he ventured further into the apartment, with only one thing on his mind.

something had caused you to stir; you were deep in sleep, and suddenly you weren't. your first thought was it was either jack or your daughter, but whenever they needed you or aaron during the night, they would simply climb into your shared bed, or on, you. you listened intently, and you could hear something moving in your apartment, but the sounds were much too immense to be a child's. you quickly recognized the sounds being aaron's familiar footsteps coming down the hall. you waited, expecting your door to open to reveal him, but just as fast as you heard movement, silence returned.

you didn't hesitate to throw the covers off yourself, getting up in search of him.

he didn't need to tell you the case had been a rough one, the lack of texts throughout being an answer within itself. when you received a message, the content was short, which was very unlike aaron. he really only asked how you or the children were, or said he loved all of you, but that was it.

the apartment was almost the same as you left it before you went to bed; the hallway dark minus a faint glow from the one light down the hall. you saw aaron's go-bag by the door, along with his shoes, and his suit jacket tossed messily on a chair. again, very unlike aaron.

you checked your daughter's room first, not surprised to see that she wasn't in bed. if you didn't know your husband, you'd be worried. you already knew where she was.

jack's door was slightly ajar, only confirming your suspicions. you pushed it slightly open, and there he was. jack was fast asleep, buried into aaron's side. meanwhile, aaron had your daughter, also fast asleep, tucked on top of his chest.

"hi," you whispered softly, making your way over to your little family.

aaron let out a heavy sigh, as if it were difficult for him to speak. "hey," was all he was able to get out.

you scooted onto jack's bed as well, finding your designated spot on the other side of aaron. you placed a kiss on his cheek, which was accompanied by a quiet 'welcome home' before laying your head on his shoulder.

after that, silence followed for the second time that night. the only sound now being the soft, even breathing of your children. you peeked up at aaron, and you could easily tell he was trying to hold it together- one of his hands was brushing your daughter's back soothingly, his jaw clenched, and he was staring off into space.

you nudged him gently which caused him to finally meet your eyes, and that's when he broke.

"no no no, it's alright." you murmured, shaking your head a bit as you reached up to wipe the tears that had started to fall down his cheeks. your heart broke for him, tears of your own threatening your eyes. "it's okay."

you let him cry for a while, allowing him the opportunity to let it all out.

"it's not okay." he finally said as he exhaled a shaky breath, even more tears welling up in his eyes. "it's far from okay. i just... i don't know. i hate it."

you nodded, searching his face for more answers. "can i ask? what was it, this time?"

part of you felt bad for asking, especially due to the way his face just fell even more. but you wanted to provide him with as much comfort as you possibly could, so you needed a little more background in order to.

"i want to keep them safe." it took him a while to answer and he mumbled so quietly, you almost didn't make out what he had said.

your heart dropped as you began to understand, immediately knowing who the 'they' was. you kinda figured the case was children related, but with all the horrendous things you knew aaron saw on a daily basis, you never quite knew for sure. his words caused you to sit up slightly, wanting to get your next words across.

"they are safe." you insisted softly as his head dropped to your shoulder. you turned your body a bit so you were facing him, covering his cheeks with your hands. "they're right here and they're safe. i promise."

he met your eyes a second time, his own shiny with past and upcoming tears. despite the darkness of the room, you could see how distraught he was, how sad, and how exhausted- as if he had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

"you keep them safe." you assured him, your thumbs grazing his cheeks soothingly. "every time you go out there and get those killers, you're making the world safer. for them. and words can't even comprehend how amazing you are for doing that."

he nodded as he closed his eyes, to which you brushed away any remaining tears. once he reopened them, he glanced down at your sleeping children, oblivious to all the horrors of the world. if only it could stay that way forever.

"they love you." you broke the momentary silence, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "i love you."

"i love all of you, so much. you can't even begin to fathom how much." he whispered in response, and you believed him with every part of your being and more. the look in his eyes proved it.

"are you okay?" you questioned, biting down onto your bottom lip. you hated seeing him in pain. hated it.

he nodded as he handed you your little girl gently, to prevent her from waking, while he lifted jack into his arms. afterwards, he granted you a kiss as well. "i think so... yeah. i am now."

"we'll always be right here for you to come home to. promise."

for the first time in days, the smallest of smiles made its way onto aaron's face. yes, he'll go through it again- he'll go on a case, endure more horrible events that kept him awake at night and question if the world was good. but he had you. and jack. and your daughter. so yes, there was still good in the world. just as long as he had you three.

"can we take this sleepover to our bed now?" you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips too. "it might be little easier to get some sleep if we all aren't cramped on a twin size bed."

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#🍯anon #aaron my absolute baby :(#deserves all the comfort in the world :(((#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch

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a-bucket-of-trash · 1 year

Text

The Garden of Horrors- Kelvin x Female Reader – Part 13/?

Part 12

It was quite interesting for Kelvin to see your expression when you saw Alan's impeccable expensive yacht pull up elegantly in one of the few accessible harbors on the island. Your face had a mixture of feelings. On the one hand, a remarkable relief to see the possibility of leaving there once and for all, and on the other hand, so much anger that some cannibal might even fear you. And to him, that force charged with fury was, to some extent, sensual to his eyes.

"Fuck" Alan said, from the yacht, looking at you with surprise, some fear and revulsion "How are you supposed to still be alive?"

“Nice to see you too, you creep.” You hissed from below, next to a backpack of stuff.

"Discuss on island four, walking." Fisheye pointed his jaw at the yacht.

"EYEYEYEY No" Alan stopped him from above "The deal was with you, Fisheye, not with them... I don't even know who that other pug face is..."

"He's my friend, he's injured" Fisheye crossed his arms angrily "Let him go up"

"Alan, by God, we just want to go to island four" You sighed, tired.

“I said no” Alan leaned on the railing, smiling, with an air of self-righteousness “The International Convention for Safety of Life at Sea say it, the captain have the right to make any call necessary in order to protect the life of persons on board or to safeguard the vessel. I am the captain of the ship, I say who gets on and who doesn't. Fisheye can come"

You saw Kelvin touch your arm, confused, so you had to write the problem to him, to which he looked at Alan with still a rather angry face.

"What are you looking at, you fool?" Alan smiled, seeing his expression. "Is the ugly puppy angry?"

"Let them go up" Fisheye said, already on the yacht, pointing a gun at him "It's an order"

“I'll pretend I don't see the gun,” Alan said, quietly. “And I remind you that you're threatening someone who can legally fuck you for the rest of your life. I may be useless, but I have the money to buy more lawyers than you… Do you really want you and your family to not be able to live in peace?”

"You are despicable" He hissed, putting the gun away.

"Jeez, is there no way to convince you?" You asked him, mentally exhausted "At least let Kelvin go up and be safe, I can stay here and wait, if I disgust you so much"

"Do you want me to let him up?" Alan smiled wryly "Well, if I sleep with you and enjoy it, your friend can come up and go to island four, safely... Deal?"

You startled abruptly. That was not a thing you expected to hear in such a place or at such a time. Your mouth let out a timid and incredulous "What?" while you were looking at him.

"Two months at sea, me alone..." Alan checked his expensive watch absently “I need a bit of relaxation and, well, I'm not going to sleep with either of these two soldiers, you are… tolerable enough… I can enjoy it if I close my eyes… What do you say? You don't have to enjoy it if you don't want to” He laugh.

You looked at him, your stomach turning with anger and disgust. You'd say no, but it was because of Kelvin. You turned slightly, looking at your beloved soldier with confused brown eyes, knowing that, for him, you could do it. You saw him wonder what was going on, so you slowly wrote down Alan's proposal.

Kelvin read that, his eyes widening, looking at your downcast face, and then looking at Alan's disgustingly victorious face. He knew that you hated your ex-friend, you had told him everything, in detail, so the idea of giving in, lowering your head and letting him do that to you, just to guarantee him a space on the boat, was too much. Kelvin growled audibly, furious, hissing, looking at him as if he might bite his face off. He picked up a rock from the ground and throw it hard and fast to him, though Alan barely dodged it.

"Kelvin!" You grabbed his arm and hastily wrote a “He's not going to let you up. There is no choice”

The soldier wrote forcefully. “I'd rather stay here forever than let you sleep with him. I love you, I can't allow it"

You sighed and gently touched his cheek. You knew it, if it were the other way around, you wouldn't get on that yacht either, not if that was the cost.

"Fisheye" You looked at him. "How long can it take to get help once you're on island four?"

"I don't know" The soldier confessed "It depends on what state everything is in there... Why do you ask?"

"Kel isn't going to let him do that, he prefers to stay here... And if he stays, so do I... So take care of the rest, okay?"

"Done. If everything works well, I'm going to call you on the radio in two days, at noon, wait for me” Fisheye thought “If I don't contact you, wait another two, and so on until I can talk to you. If I see that the radio is not working at all, I will return here or to island two. These radios don't have long range, but maybe I can try something if the long-range radio on island four doesn't work…” He saw you nod, slightly down “I know you were happy to leave, and I hate to say this, but… hold on as long as it takes… I have left some useful things in the bunker… Take good care of yourself, and take care of my brother”

"Count me in" You nodded again.

"Pfff" Alan walked at the helm, with a bored air "See ya, loosers"

"I hope you get diarrhea" You muttered.

Fisheye looked at Kelvin and gave him a military salute, to which his soldier friend responded firmly, watching the yacht move, slowly moving away from the port.

Kelvin lowered his arm, looking at you, next to him. He knew that now your mood must be in the basement after what happened, but your look was more angry and firm, than decay, as if the time on the island was forcing you to create nonsense-proof layers of skin.

He saw you write something and he read “I still have Alan's diaries, he has exposed so much sensitive information for his father's company, that as soon as they rescue us, I'm going to screw up his whole life. I'm going to make him pay for your medical treatment out of his own pocket."

He chuckled softly before kissing your cheek. Maybe you two would need to be more time stuck there, but with you by his side, it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Part 14

#kelvin #sons of the forest kelvin #sotf kelvin #kelvin x reader #sons of the forest

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forasecondtherewedwon · 2 years

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44 and any Topgun ship (I couldn’t think of one but this one made me laugh!)

Anon, knowing that prompt made you laugh was a great additional direction on how to interpret it... and which ship it was absolutely made for.

44. “You’re a virgin? How?”

prompt list

Something About the End of the World

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick Pairing: Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia/Robert “Bob” Floyd Rating: E Word Count: 1643

After landing safely on the carrier, Mickey’s high on adrenaline and feeling courageous, so he tells Bob, “You were a real Sam out there,” because it’s the highest honour he can bestow.

Bob thanks him, sounding a little baffled, but he doesn’t otherwise react, and it’s such a crazy day that Mickey doesn’t even remember paying him that compliment until Bob brings it up a few days later when they’re back in San Diego.

“What did you mean when you said I was a Sam?” Bob stops him in the hallway to ask. He’s staring at Mickey intensely, the way Mickey used to stare at his abuela’s staticky TV when he was a kid, trying to absorb the plot of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episode through the wobbly picture quality and patchy audio.

“Samwise,” Mickey explains.

“Oh. I thought you were calling me a missile.”

That makes Mickey laugh.

“SAM like surface-to-air missile? No! That wouldn’t make sense!”

“Right,” Bob agrees, smiling uncertainly. “Because… you meant Samwise. Uh, obviously. Of course.”

Mickey’s nodding happily until it catches up to him that he and Bob might not quite be understanding each other, and clear communication is vital. They’re back-seaters; it’s in their job description.

“From The Lord of the Rings,” Mickey reminds him gently.

“Oh, ok.”

Mickey’s eyes narrow.

“Sam Gamgee,” he says.

Bob’s exaggerated expression of comprehension is what solidifies it for Mickey: Bob has no idea who he’s talking about. He cocks his head to the side, his smile asking Bob not to bullshit him.

“Ha,” Bob laughs, short and breathy. “Ok, yeah, I’ve never seen those movies.”

“You’re a virgin? How?” The words burst out of Mickey and appear to stun Bob. Both their faces warm as Mickey hastily corrects, “A Lord of the Rings virgin.”

“I guess I am. I don’t know. I guess I just never really got into, like, fantasy?”

“But it’s so much more than fantasy! It straddles multiple genres!” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Adventure, drama, war, coming-of-age, epic romance. If you include the scope of Tolkien’s original works, you have to add poetry and—” Mickey cuts himself off, clenching a fist in front of his mouth to contain himself.

“Are you… mad at me?” Bob checks, looking worried.

“Bobby-boy, you are one in a million,” Mickey says on a sigh. He drops the fist and breaks out in a wide smile. “I can’t believe I get to introduce you to The Lord of the Rings.”

“I know some stuff. There’s, there’s… sword fighting. And good-versus-evil. And stuff. But I’d…” Bob nods. “…Yeah, I’d like to watch it with you.”

“Clear your schedule—”

“Uh, the mission’s over. All our schedules are clear.”

“—because there are three films, plus special features.”

“You’re the kind of person who says ‘films’ instead of ‘movies’?” Bob asks with a pained look on his face.

Mickey blows past it.

“If you’re serious about this—”

“I’m only, like, vaguely curious,” Bob murmurs.

“—then you need to prepare for it to consume the next several days of your life. Factoring in breaks for sleeping and going to the bathroom.”

He fixes his eyes on Bob’s. Bob takes a deep breath in, then nods.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

Mickey can’t resist pulling him into a hug. Why should he? He’s been resisting that urge basically since they met, when Bob told them his name and inelegantly swept peanut shells off his lap. Mickey gets attached fast and he falls hard, as the wealth of Lord of the Rings memorabilia he’s collected over the years can attest.

“Spoken like a true Sam,” he says, squeezing Bob tight.

—

Mickey couldn’t decide between inviting everybody so his movie marathon with Bob won’t feel like a date and inviting no one else so it does feel like a date. Torn, he just invited Reuben.

“What are we watching?” Reuben asks, striding into Mickey’s quarters and giving Bob an upward jerk of his chin in greeting.

“The Fellowship of the Ring,” Mickey says excitedly. He’s leaning forward on the couch, having just cued it up on his laptop. Bob’s already crunching away on the heap of popcorn he just poured into a large bowl.

“Nope.”

Mickey turns as Reuben backs away.

“What?”

“I can’t watch those movies again.”

“But you love Eowyn!” Mickey reminds him. “We’re watching The Two Towers next!”

“I do love Eowyn, but I also love not losing several days of my life I can never get back,” Reuben says. “Those movies are great in small doses—”

“Peter Jackson did not put his entire lifeforce into these movies for you to say you prefer them in small doses. Reub, it’s an epic. It’s… it’s… it’s the Third Age of Middle Earth, man, come on!”

“One, I know I’ve told you before how creepy it is when you say ‘lifeforce.’ Two, you can give Peter Jackson my apologies in your next fan letter, but you’re not gonna talk me into this right now. Those movies are a time suck.”

Mickey glances at Bob who’s chewing and listening intently. He looks back to Reuben and frowns.

“Don’t scare Bob.”

“Get out now,” Reuben hisses at Bob.

“It’s alright,” Bob assures him with a smile. “I wanna see them.”

“He’s a Sam,” Mickey explains.

At that, Reuben’s mouth curves into a sly smile.

“Oh,” he says, “he’s a Sam. Try to keep Sting in your pants then, Frodo.”

Bob chokes, but Mickey has to point out, “Only a fan would remember the name of Frodo’s sword. You’re in denial.”

“Actually, I’ll be in de-next room seeing what the normal people are doing. Have fun, boys.”

Mickey flips Reuben off affectionately before he shuts the door, leaving Mickey and Bob on their own.

He glances at Bob.

“Ignore him. You’re gonna love this movie.”

“I’m excited,” Bob mumbles through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Good.”

And Mickey’s excited too. He’s excited as the One Ring’s treacherous history is revealed, as Howard Shore’s iconic score shifts from horror to Hobbits, as Frodo leaps into Gandalf’s cart and he gets to quickly explain how they tricked the camera to make Elijah Wood look so much smaller than Ian McKellen. What’s surprising him is that he’s not excited about the movie, or even Bob’s reactions to it (well, he is, but it’s not the main thing)—he’s just excited about Bob.

During Bilbo’s birthday speech, their hands brush inside the popcorn bowl. Before Frodo even holds the Ring in his hand for the first time, Mickey holds Bob’s, the popcorn forgotten as their fingers intertwine. Mickey barely has a chance to say, “That’s Sam,” before Bob sets the popcorn aside completely and Mickey reads it as an invitation to shift closer on the couch. Before Merry and Pippin collide with Frodo and Sam, Mickey collides with Bob: he takes a deep breath and tilts his head to plant a kiss on Bob’s parted lips. For a moment, Bob blinks and processes this, but he’s a Sam after all, with wells of courage that make Mickey stary-eyed; Bob grabs the back of Mickey’s neck and yanks him into a longer kiss.

There are breaks. Brief ones. The Prancing Pony. The unearthly shriek of the Nazgûl on Weathertop. Gimli shattering his axe when he tries to hack the Ring in half like a total newb. Instead of detailing what they’ve missed, Mickey mumbles explanations too short to really be helpful, but Bob nods heartily and guides Mickey’s mouth to his again, and they return to the desperate work of fogging up Bob’s glasses and seeing who’s going to cave first and climb into the other person’s lap.

“I thought that guy’s name was Strider?” Bob checks dazedly as Mickey’s kissing his neck and unzipping his jeans sometime later.

“He’s got a lot of names,” Mickey pants. “Way more than they cover in the movies.”

“Like us, huh, Fanboy?”

Mickey grins against Bob’s throat.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Like us.”

He ducks his head to Bob’s lap and Bob’s fingers scrape across his buzzcut as he sends a moan towards the ceiling.

By the time the movie’s drawing to a close, Mickey’s sitting on Bob’s lap with Bob’s hand down the front of his sweats. Bob’s hard again, so Mickey rubs his ass back against him in a slow grind that matches the steady pumping of Bob’s fist. Based on an agreement Mickey doesn’t recall making, they’re drawing this out, and it’s agony to be jerked off at such a relaxed pace. On the other hand, his body feels like butter melted back into Bob’s chest, legs spayed wide as he sits on Bob’s thighs. He can feel Bob’s heart beating against his back. And then the hitch that disrupts its rhythm.

Mickey twists to look at Bob.

“Are you ok?”

Bob’s eyes are shiny as he glances from the screen to Mickey’s face.

“Is Frodo really going to leave Sam?” he demands thickly.

Mickey gives him a quick kiss, cupping his cheek, then promises, “No. Look.”

He lets his head rest back against Bob’s shoulder and tears roll down both their faces as Sam wades out to Frodo, ready to drown before Frodo would think him disloyal. Frodo hauls Sam into the boat and Mickey’s never been given a handjob by someone who’s crying before (nor been crying himself as he receives it), but it somehow adds to the tenderness of the moment, in his opinion.

When it’s over and Mickey’s even more comfortably slumped on top of him, Bob’s arms wrapped around his waist, Bob asks, “You think I’m a Sam?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re Frodo. I didn’t see a lot of this movie, but I can see that.”

Mickey smiles and tips his forehead against Bob’s.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” he says to confirm it.

#my writing #Top Gun: Maverick #the Fanbob agenda #Bob x Fanboy #Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia #Robert 'Bob' Floyd #Mickey Garcia #Robert Floyd #Fanboy Garcia #Bob Floyd #Top Gun: Maverick fanfiction #Top Gun

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duskamethyst · 3 years

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stranger danger.

a/n: did i sit on top of my car to imagine this? sure did. a part of the jujutsu hub collab! thank you vee @suna-reversed for organizing this horny event for us horny people.

word count: 3.8k

genre: smut, nsfw, pwp

warnings: dubcon, literally dumbass porn, degradation + praising kink, daddy kink, gun play, mentions of alcohol consumption, dui and death, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, implied kidnapping

pairing: criminal!toji x f!reader

summary: dozing off in a parking lot seems dangerous but it seems like the right thing to do. that is, until a mysterious man taps on your window.

you shouldn’t have trusted yourself. you’ve vowed to yourself not to drink tonight, especially when you were driving to the city by yourself. maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt, you thought. but that one drink led you to another until you eventually found yourself light headed and could barely walk in a straight line let alone drive home.

so now you decide it’s best to just stop in a random parking lot and doze off for a couple of hours until you’re certain that you’re sober and ready to continue your journey back home. thankfully the lights are on and there are a few other empty cars in the lot, giving you somewhat a sense of security.

even though you aren’t completely sane at the moment, you make sure the doors are locked, turn off the engine and roll your windows down slightly to allow ventilation. if you could avoid a possible car crash, might as well avoid dying from inhaling some fatal gas. so you push back your seat and close your eyes to let sleep take you over.

but it isn’t for long until you hear a knock on the window.

startled and confused, you instantly get up thinking it would be one of the securities patrolling the area, telling you to scram but you’re only met with a rather handsome man, tall and brawny standing next to your car.

he leans down to your eye level and glares at you intimidatingly before he speaks, “get out.”

in such a panicky situation, your heavy cluttered brain doesn’t really tell you what to do nor what the hell is happening so you only stare back at him tongue tied, unable to properly gauge the situation thanks to both chemicals in your system and adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“are you deaf?” he snarls with anger distorting his face.

the sharp eyes piercing through you coupled with the discernible scar on his lips go so well into his menacing demeanor and you’re aware he’s getting impatient. unsure of what to do, your hand reaches for your keys to turn on the engine, thinking it’s best to leave but he bangs on the window as if to tell you that isn’t what he wanted.

“i only told you to get out. so, get the fuck out. now.” toji waits for you to comply, but instead you just sit there frozen and he sighs in exasperation. “look, i have a fucking gun. and if you don’t do as i say, i won’t hesitate to shoot your brains off. you don’t need it anyway, right?”

toji fishes out his gun, waving it in front of you in warning. “and you’d be fucking dumb to think it isn’t loaded.”

the threatening sight of the firearm is finally what makes you unlock your doors and he immediately swings the door open and pulls you out from your vehicle by the wrist. toji eyes you up and down, taking a special interest in the mini skirt you don with a filthy smirk across his face. he peeks inside the car briefly, delighted over the fact that you’re all alone in the middle of the night– in some deserted parking lot, no less.

“where were you from?” he suddenly asks with less gruff in his tone. the eyes raking up and down your smaller frame so flagrantly makes you feel small and vulnerable.

you lick your lips to return moisture lost to parched skin as your eyes shift from his gun to his face. “a party.”

“a party, hm?” he does a double take on your whole skimpy outfit, sending a plethora of titillating thoughts to run in his head and waking up his primal instincts. he hasn’t gotten his dick wet for a while and opportunities don’t come by so easily when he’s a man on the run. he’d have to be an idiot to let this chance slip through his fingers.

“must’ve put a lot of thought on your outfit tonight. why don’t you give me a little twirl?”

toji deliberately taps the gun on the side of his thigh, reminding you what could happen if you either scream or run. getting the hint, you decide to entertain him, knowing well that you could end up with a bullet in any part of your body if you try to escape.

but do you oppose the idea of a sickeningly attractive man trying to check you out with a weapon in his hand? not really. if anything, the alarming nature of the affair only gives a delicious thrill to your already messed up nerves.

his predatory gaze is fixed on your voluptuous curves and the little sway of your hips as you gracelessly turn around in your heels, making blood rush straight down to his cock before telling you to stop.

“get in front of the car.” he urges.

“huh? why?”

toji cocks the loaded gun in front of you, his expression turning stern and serious once more. “no talking, just do it.”

you walk towards the front with the gun behind your head, careful not to miss your step until you’re facing your car.

“hands on the hood.” he demands, dark eyes silently watching you do as you’re told like a well-trained dog.

you’re certain he can see your ass cheeks peeking underneath the hem of your skirt as cold air hits your skin. the thought of a pair of eyes staring you down hungrily forms an anticipative knot to pull tightly in your stomach as your mind wonders about the dirty things he might and could do to you.

the next thing you feel is the cool metal of the barrel under your skirt, making you shudder as it caresses your puffy folds before dragging upwards to hike up the hem of your unbearably short skirt in favor of checking your panties but oh, what a delightful surprise– not a single thread underneath it all.

“no panties?” he bites back a groan when he notices the glistening slick coated around his black gun. “don’t tell me you’re getting off to this?”

“‘m not–” you deny meekly despite the blossoming heat between your thighs growing bigger when you feel the tip of the barrel against your drenched cunt again.

“don’t lie. you’re a little slut aren’t you? went to a party without your panties on– something tells me you’re an attention whore.” he mocks, poking the gun against your entrance only to observe your little squirms.

“not a slut!” you whine giddily as you spontaneously grind against the long barrel in seek of relief for the dull ache that has formed in your core.

“no? you’re gonna tell me you’re not jerking off to my gun right now?” he chastises with a satirical smile on his lips, feeling his cock harden even more from watching the way you’re eagerly rubbing against the gun he currently holds in his hand.

“i– i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you try not to let your words slur as you play coy, even when breaths are already hitching in your throat.

“oh yeah? ‘cause that cunt is positively leaking right now.” you whimper at his words, being bad and filthy never felt so good– especially to a man you don’t even know. “bet you want me to fill that needy cunt.”

“mhm!” you mewl, gyrating your hips even more salaciously once you manage to find an angle to rub your sensitive clit, sending waves of sensations to every fiber and nerve in your body.

“now that’s an honest little slut.” he coos with amusement lacing in his voice. “why don’t you beg for it?”

you tilt your head back towards him, bottom lip jutting out into a cute pout and eyes pleading. “please..?”

toji lets out a huff, “not good enough, sweetheart.”

your eyes narrow at him, hoping he can read the desperation in them as you call him in the softest mewl that you've used to numerous guys before. “daddy.”

“hmm?” he strokes your clit by rubbing the gun back and forth and watches you quiver with a lopsided grin across his face.

“w-want– need your cock, daddy.” you pant in a shameless expression of your need for him.

“what do you need daddy to do to you, pretty girl?” he studies the barrel, now smeared with your slick.

“need daddy to fuck me– fuck my little tight cunt.”

toji draws his gun away and raises it at the back of your head. “then, get on your knees.”

you don’t need to be told twice as you instantly turn around and face him, the gun now pointing directly to your forehead and follows you even until you’re already kneeled in front him.

“you went a little too fast there, didn’t you?” he chuckles, the sound is smoky and alluring. “so eager. now, take off my pants.”

your hand reaches up to unbuckle his belt and undo his button before pulling the zipper down and tugging off his pants and briefs hastily. your mouth waters at the sight; his thick cock is already throbbing, tip flushing red and leaking precum with a prominent vein on the underside – causing you to quickly disregard the life-threatening weapon in front of your head.

seeing you blatantly gawk at him causes pride to spiral in his chest, as if you’ve never seen a dick before. but is it bad for toji to assume that you've never seen a dick as big as his?

“getting nervous now?” he teases. “fuck that. put it inside your mouth.”

toji exhales sharply once your tongue carefully licks off the salty pre on the tip, rousing him further with only kitten licks until the barrel nudges your head in warning, forcing you to stop your ministrations.

“are you asking to get a hole through your head?” he scowls, showing apparent irritation.

“no.” you answer meekly.

“then? i told you to put it inside your fucking mouth.”

“‘m sorry, daddy.” you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and give it a few pumps up and down his shaft in hopes to please him and calm him down. “promise i’ll be a good girl.”

“then stop fucking around.”

without a second to waste, you wrap your lips around his cock and hollow your cheeks, squeezing and milking his cock with your tongue and throat as your head bobs up and down. you graze your tongue on the underside and slowly drag upwards, following the curve of his vein before giving a harsh suck on his tip, drawing out a loud groan from his throat.

“look at daddy.”

and you do, fixing your gaze with his darker ones as you slobber his cock with so much drool and you relax your throat in order to force yourself down to the base, devouring him whole even as he tilts the gun next to your head.

“wish i had my phone right now. you should see how you look.” his other hand reaches the top of your head, holding you in place and causes you to choke slightly before jerking his hips forward and begins to fuck your throat.

squelching noises resonate in the silent air, mingled with his grunts. drool starts to seep from the corners of your mouth and tears begin to well up in your eyes as his heavy balls slap against your chin.

“boys must really love you, hm?” you can feel the tension in his fingers as he puts monumental effort into restraining himself and he finally draws his gun away. “just taking it like a good girl.”

you can only whimper around his cock, the praise making you feel hotter that you find your hand between your thighs to push a finger inside your wet cunt.

“fuck– yeah, keep touching yourself like that.” he growls, the sound rumbling in his chest as the vibrations from your muffled moans are slowly sending him to the brink of an orgasm.

you’re too immersed by your own finger pumping in and out to even care about the ache that has formed on your jaw but the moment you feel his cock twitching, you both know it won’t be long until he breaks down.

“you’re gonna swallow all of it. got it?” he states more than questions, feeling his balls tightening as he starts to lose the last remaining control he owns.

you hum in response and flutter your eyes close and you wait until his hips still before he spurts thick ropes of cum down your throat, invading all your senses with the bitter taste of his load.

once he has emptied, you pull away with your tongue gliding along his length, not forgetting to lick off the sensitive slit to clean off any remnants.

“open your mouth.” he demands. you part your puffy lips and stick your tongue out, showing your obedience to his prior order and a delightful smirk makes its way on his face upon seeing that you’ve downed every drop of his cum. “good girl.”

“to be honest, i didn’t think you’d cum quickly.” you blurt out bluntly.

his brows furrow and his face contorts into a scowl. “‘fuck did you say?”

you shrug nonchalantly. you don’t know where it’s coming from either– the alcohol still lingering in your veins or the fact that you feel beyond proud that you’ve made him, some guy who claimed that he wanted to rob your car cum so fast. “well, all the guys told me i give the best head but none of them ever–”

“get up. face the car.”

toji clicks his tongue as you blink at him in confusion and he grabs your arm to pull you up on your feet before spinning you around and bending you down on the hood with his body pressing against your back. you swallow nervously when you feel a nudge against your ass, his dick is still hard despite the fact that he has cummed just a minute ago.

“you’re gonna regret that. once i fucking ravage that little cunt, you’re gonna be begging for me to cum quick.” he leans down to your ear as he threatens, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“i’m sor–”

“no. i won’t give a shit if it hurts you or when you cry for me to stop.”

toji gives a harsh smack on the plump flesh, making you jolt in surprise. with your hands down on the hood, he lifts up one of your knees on top of the car, causing you to spread wide open in an instant before he impatiently pokes the tip of his cock against your pulsating hole.

“but that’s what you want, right?”

your eyes roll back, lips parting in an appreciative squeal as you feel his fat cock stretches you out accompanied with a delicious burn when he sinks in deeper.

“mmh– s-so big–!”

“yeah? never had a dick this big before?” toji pulls out almost completely, eyes fixed on the cock glistening with your slick under the street lights, not missing the white cream attached onto the skin.

“n-no– ah–!”

toji cuts you off with one hard slam of his hips, drilling his cock into your tight pussy in a brutal pace while you keen and whimper as it brushes against your walls, each stretch and drag inside you so exquisite while deep crescent shapes of his nails form on your pliant skin as he holds you firmly by the hips for leverage.

“no wonder you’re so fucking tight. stupid boys didn’t know how to fuck you right.” his words thrum in a burst of heat as he growls in your ear, breaking through your every thought.

you tilt your head towards him with heavy lidded eyes and meet his lust addled gaze. your mouth is gaping in breathless moans, tongue slightly lolled out from your lips as you try to reach closer to his scarred lips, wanting to crash your lips onto his before it stretches into a devilish smirk and you feel warm liquid lands on your palate.

“you looked like you were begging to taste my spit.” he mocks. toji watches as you eagerly swallow it down your throat and he lets out a brittle chuckle. “dirty slut.”

your pussy flutters upon hearing how he degrades you, causing you to buck your hips wildly against him in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

“you liked that, didn’t you? i can feel you clamping down on me like a fucking whore.” he derides, fucking you harder and deeper until your world is reduced into nothing but the way he makes you feel completely stuffed and filled, the cockhead kissing your cervix with each deep strokes.

“please– make me cum, daddy–” you keen as pressure pulls taut in your lower stomach, the slick noises are so loud that the both of you can hear them even through your moans.

your body flushes against his, so close together and you can only focus on the sounds of flesh against flesh, the salacious rhythm making you more delirious.

“then, cum for me. let me feel you gush all over me.” toji brings his fingers to rub against your clit, easily tipping you over the edge by pressing tight circles until you find yourself crashing down with an orgasm exploding throughout your body.

“you want more?” he taunts, helping you ride out the aftershock by continuously rutting his hips into your cunt and not giving you the slightest chance to recuperate.

“ah– ‘s too much–” you whimper as soon as the pleasure begins to numb and you clutch onto his wrist tightly to try and pry his hand away from your sensitive clit.

“too much? don’t think that i’m done with you yet.”

toji finally draws away from you, but only turns you around to face him and effortlessly puts you on top of the hood with your elbows propping your weight. with his hands, he spreads and keeps your legs apart before sheathing his cock back inside your pulsing cunt again, completely mindless of your pathetic sobs. he lifts up your top, not surprised over the lack of bra underneath and he intently watches the way your tits bounce with each merciless pound of his cock.

“s-stop– please–” you whimper feebly as you try to shut your trembling legs together but he doesn’t budge and only keeps his grip on your thighs even tighter, stretching out your pussy for him wider.

“fucking take it.”

toji ignores your plea and his head dips low to your chest, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples and starts to flick it with his tongue coupled with harsh sucks until he pulls back with a pop and watches as the nipple stands erect before assaulting the other, swiftly sending sparks of pleasure down to the bundle of nerves.

“might as well keep you around. be my personal fucktoy. would you like that?” he grins up at you to see your jaw slacking, mouth falling in a wide ‘o’ as the burn down your core begins to cease.

“yesyesyes– make me your slut–!” your toes curl, making your heels drop down to the ground while your knuckles turn white from squeezing your hands into balled fists too hard.

“yeah? you’d do anything for a good fuck, huh?” he sneers at you, although he’s fascinated with your state of arousal.

“mhm– need daddy to fill me up with his cum–” your back rests against the car, reveling in the feeling of his cock abusing your swollen cunt like you’re nothing but a sex doll.

“but daddy’s not gonna cum yet. not even when you’re tightening around him like this.” toji slams your hips down closer to him, fucking into you deeper and harder with his heavy balls smacking your ass.

“t-too deep–! daddy, i’ll–” you babble, losing the ability to form cohesive words as you feel a strange knot twisting rapidly in your guts. the feeling is too intense and unbearable– the refined drags of his vein brushing against your spongy walls is anything but agonizing.

“come on. use your big girl words.” he drags out slowly and quickly pumps back into you ruthlessly. “or are you too dumb already?”

“i’m gonna–”

toji lifts up your legs over his shoulders as he leans down closer to you and he nips on your pulse point, causing your body to tense as your hands find home in his dark locks and tight shirt.

as soon as he lets go, your pupils are blown wide as pleasure washes throughout your body and you feel yourself gushing around the cock still buried inside you along with a broken moan from your lips. the release is oddly more relieving than your prior orgasm, making your body feel lighter as your mind ascends to a state of euphoria. you find yourself panting heavily as you squirt all over him, staining his black shirt with clear fluid and with some of it dribbling down to his thick thighs.

“making such a mess on daddy.” he groans as he feels your walls convulse around him rapidly, milking his cock dry and slowly dragging him down to his own high for the second time of the night.

you can only look at him in a cockdaze with no particular thoughts running inside your head, each one formed gone like popping bubbles. your eyes glued onto every bit of his features; the brows furrowed in concentration, the lips parting in grunts, the damp matted hair against his forehead and you drink the sight of it all even when you’re not sure if you’ll remember it all the next morning.

“fuck– it’d be a shame to not cum inside this pretty cunt, right?” his thrusts turn sporadic, dick twitching as a telltale of his pending orgasm that’s soon to crash down over him. he didn’t need to hear your answer as he ruts into you faster, hips stuttering out of control before a low, guttural sound escapes his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum, flooding into your womb and stuffing you full with his seed.

and once he lets go of your legs you can feel your whole body sore all over, but you can’t bring yourself to care nor whatever is going to happen after this when the man in front of you has given you what you truly wanted and made you feel satiated like you’ve never felt before.

toji pulls out his spent cock and runs a hand through his hair before putting his pants back on. a cocky smirk graces his lips at the sight of your fucked out body, still splayed on top of the hood with his cum dribbling out from your pussy.

he presses your cheeks together with one hand and forces you to look at him, even as your lids are getting heavy to lift.

“i was serious about you being my fucktoy– and stealing your car.” he cackles. “so, do you wanna be in the back seat or do you prefer the trunk?”

enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)

#toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji smut #jujutsuhub collab #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw; dubcon #tw; kidnapping

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spikesbimbo · 3 years

Note

HELP!!! virgin aone being so scared to touch you because he's been told he's so big, rough and tough his whole life 🥺🥺

-.._.-''-.εїз cute shy baby virgin!aone, titty grabbing, fingering

shy virgin! aone who turns red at anything more than a peck on the cheek. Taking it slow with him, insisting that he takes care of you first after you asked to give him a handy, almost saying yes to your pleading puppy dogs eyes. But with his little sheer remaining will power he said no, instilled in him since day one, ladies first.

Having to guide his hands all around your body, starting with your sides. Trailing up the sweater you had on as your hands rested on top of his, completely drawfing them. Using all your mental strength to control yourself from the feeling of his rough calloused fingertips inching further and further up your waist, remembering that you were the one taking the lead and instructing him on what to do.

His body freezing when his fingertips hit your bra, nervously turning his gaze to the floor as your body grew hotter as his adorable reaction. Hesitating for a second to let him catch his breath before grabbing the base of his palm as you lead it up to your chest, squeezing your hand around his, fully encompassing you tit.

Hearing his voice crack as he let in a breath, seeing his gaze was still beneath him, as you took it into your own hands to relax him. Your free hand coming up to his jaw, turning it easily upward as he didnt resist and stroking it lightly, knowing that, that was the way you would always put him to sleep.

A silent gaze as your eyes meet his, his intense stare was nothing as you had him completely lost in your own little world. Neither of you breaking eye contact as your thumb traced his bottom lip. His eyes fluttering, doing there best to stay open as his blush grew to his ears. Pride growing deep in your chest that you were the only one to see him this vulnerable, to see him looking like a lost puppy waiting for a treat, to have him at your complete will.

His pupils wide with unsure lust as your hand started closing around his, seeing every movement asn his face ever so slightly contort as you made him grope your tit again. His warm hand was getting hotter and hotter as he grew more confident, staying put even when you let your hand drop. Repeatedly peering down to your breasts before quickly going back up to you again.

“You can take it off.” Your voice soothed out, a hint of mischief lingering in your tone. Eyes batting up at his as you could see the gears turning in his head.

“I- , uh.”

Letting out a little laugh that you couldn't constrain while he couldn't form a sentence, seeing that he never would if you didn't help your poor baby boy out.

“...s’fine. I can do it this time, and you can next time.”

Chuckling as you let out a wink, seeing his eyes widening and quickly scrunching up. His cheeks turning redder, almost cooing at how cute he was, always making your heartbeat a little too fast.

“You gotta take your hand off sweetheart.” Your sheepish, sly grin breaking free as he almost instantly removed his hand, placing them both in his lap looking like a child getting scolded. Your fingers working their way behind your back as you leaned into his shoulder, lips touching his neck while his arms instinctively supported you, letting out a giggle into his ear.

Remembering what you said last time he got this far,“...Or I can't take it off.”

the words playing in his head ever since that day.

Letting your bra drop to the floor as seductively as you could. Seeing his eyes ogle you, you suddenly feeling shy too.

“T-, they're pretty.”

“Pretty?”

His head quickly nodded as he never wanted you to think he was joking about how much you loved you and your body.

Taking your chance to sit down on his big thighs, straddling his lap as you still gave him a full view, lips meeting his ears once again. “You know what else is pretty.”

Not even getting the chance to respond before your legs spread, shirt hiked up enough, middle and ring finger covering your clothed cunt. Turning his vision slowly down, not wanting to have a heart attack as he knew what laid before him.

But that still wasn't enough, mouth hanging slack as he saw how wet you were. White panties blending in with your skin as he could see the slick leaking through them. Did he get you like this? Fuck, he knew you could tell how hard he was, knowing you were playing dumb trying to be a good girl a listen to him.

But he couldn't even fist his cock without the thought of you running though his mind, you really had him daydreaming about you like you were the only thing to ever exist. Just wanting a taste of you but he knew he couldn't control himself just yet, scared that he'd break your body if you let him.

“Wanna touch there too?” Your voice breaking him out of his trance. A hint of anticipation echoing through your voice.

“I-, if you'd let me.”

“Of course.” Locking eyes with him as your lips pouted out, squishing your tits against his while you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You know I'd let you do whatever with me.”

Him almost knocking off his lap as he hastily adjusted himself, his arm catching you before you could even stumble. Reminding you of when you two first met, walking down the sidewalk looking down at your phone while he was walking home, sleepy eyes barely open as he ran into you. Quickly apologizing as you just stared at him, instantly falling for him, saying he could make it up by buying you some tea.

Knocking you off your feet just to save you, what a man.

“How about this is the ‘next time’, you gotta take them off now.”

Looking head first into your cunt as you stood before him. Accepting his fate as he marveled at it a few moments before deciding on how to drag your paintes down. His rough fingers playing with the hem of your waistband as he hesitated.

“Baby, I-. Fuck…. Love, I don't think I can't control myself if I even catch a glimpse of it.”

Trying your best not to laugh as his hands rested on your thighs for now, “Well, you don't gotta take them off, do you?”

“Yeah, fuck. I can do that.”

His hand moving back up to your disgustingly soaked panties, inching there was up your thigh until he felt your slick running down them. Hearing a soft little whimper escape your soft lips, that giving him enough courage to actually, finally take care of you.

Sliding his hand down your painties, feeling your body shake the moment his middle finger hit your clit, the movement coming innate to him as he circled you nub as gently as he could. Vision locked on you, wanting to ingrain the most pretty sight he's ever seen in his mind.

Your wetness almost oozing out of you at this and you knew he could tell, his finger catching it each time. Hearing your pretty little moans and whines for him to keep going made the pain in his wrist disappear, feeling gutsy enough to take it further.

Sliding his middle finger down enough until it reached your hole, curling the tip in. Your hips rocking into it as he took the hint, sliding it in slowly enough, feeling your tight walls contract around him. Barely even fitting his finger in there, deep down wondering how you were gonna even take him.

Starting a pace as you looked blissfully fuckd out, proud that he got you like this. Feeling so overwhelmed as your body collapsed onto his, laying limp in his hold as he paused for a second, worried that he took it too far.

“You alright?”

It was your turn to be the mess, nodding quickly, embarrassed that if you even tried to talk it would come out in a pathetic moan. Wondering how you got a man like him, so perfect, always doting on you like you were a piece of glass, like you were a ‘princess’ in his words.

“M-, ah!, m’gonna cum, don't stop.”

Feeling his cock grow harder at your pleas, thankful he wasn't inside you right now or he would've cum embarrassingly fast. “Shh, s’okay. Got it, i got it.” Trying to calm himself down also.

“Nobu!, cant, i-, ngh. Please.”

Fate had it that all you had to do was ask like a good girl and he'd give you wanted, immediately cumming, making a mess all over the place as you egged you on cooing in your ear, getting your wetness all over his thighs as your thighs were shaking, thankful for his grip on you.

“That feel good? He asked, staching the back of his neck, his awkwardness shining though once again.

“Yes it felt good!” Almost in awe that he would question himself after getting you so worked up. But before you rested you could tell that he was in need of some help too, hand tracing up his thigh while his head snapped up at your touch.

“So… When are you gonna let me take care of you?”

#well good thing i like my men big rough and tough #FUDBGKJS I LVOE HTIS #👹;ᴀᴏɴᴇ #👹;ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ #aone smut #haikyuu smut #virginity tw #aone x reader

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Meet the Parents

Based on the request: Imagine Peter Parker trying to ask Steve and Bucky if it’s okay to take their daughter on a date. He would be shaking in his boots.

Pairing: Stucky x Reader, Peter x Reader

Summary: You are daddies’ little girl, and Peter wants to take you out.

Words: 1.2k

Warning: incest (kinda? And only implied), daddy kink, 18+ ONLY.

A/N: It was a Peter request, trust me to turn it into Stucky

He had May choose him an outfit. Something that doesn’t scream trying too hard, but not something too lousy either. Peter was head over hells for you. Ever since you’d sat by him in Physics class, he knew he’d never be the same again. There was this instant connection, this electricity that cackled down his spine when you laughed with him.

You’d been best friends for a while, but now Peter wanted to be more. He wanted to take you out to coffee where you could share a dessert and hold hands. He wanted to take you dancing and put his coat over you when you got cold. He wanted to walk you to your door with a kiss of promise to pick you up in the morning. He wanted his phone’s wallpaper to be a picture of you both cuddling.

But there was this one obstacle that made his palms sweat. Peter knew you were very close to your dads, he’d seen them coming to the college campus to pick you up. You were well into your 20s and yet they doted over you like you were 5. Anytime Peter thought he’d ask you out, an image of Steve and Bucky towering over him made his heart beat faster.

After months of deliberation and waiting, he’d finally decided to do it. He was wearing his best outfit, he got flowers and had given himself a pep talk in front of the mirror. He’s going to drive to your home, ask your dads if he can take out their little girl and be a gentleman.

He may have stood outside the door for few minutes too much, but he finally rang the bell. The door opened so fast he wondered if the other person was listening in, waiting. Piercing blue eyes, like those that Zeus must have when he’s about to rain hell on someone, fixed on him.

“Parker” Bucky said, an eyebrow raised in amusement as Peter shuffled.

“Mr. Barnes” He greeted, offering him a hand that Bucky smirked at before taking in his own. Peter had to suppress a wince at the firm grip, and he resisted the urge to massage his fingers after he let go. Bucky beckoned him inside and Peter followed, marveling at the beautiful house. He smiled at your pictures on the wall, mostly smiling with your dads on either side of you.

“You are two minutes late.” Said a voice that broke Peter away from staring at your pictures. Steve was standing against the table, hands on his waist. When he stood like this, shoulder to shoulder with his husband who was just as big, Peter was reminded of how you said they’d been in army and right now, he felt like the enemy.

“Mr. Rogers, sir.” Peter said, shaking Steve’s hand which left his already bruised hand aching even worse.

“Dad, please. Stop.” You said, coming down from the stairs. You looked gorgeous, even though you’d dressed only casually for the movies. It was a bit ridiculous to be doing this at this age, but Peter knew to win you over, he needed to get on you fathers’ good side.

“A man who can’t be on time cannot be trusted.” Steve said and Peter looked down, cursing himself for lingering on the doorway too long. You huffed, smacking Steve on his chest with a grumbled ‘be nice’ that had Peter smiling. He shyly gave you the flowers he got and you took them, taking a huge whiff.

“I’m gonna put them in a vase and then we’ll leave.” You said, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky who were glaring a hole in Peter’s head.

“So, what are your intensions towards our girl?” Steve asked, looking very much the Captain he was.

“Entirely honorable sir.” Peter promised, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re going to movies and then dinner.”

Bucky chuckled sarcastically, walking around Peter as if examining him.

“We know what happens in a dark movie hall. You gonna leave a seat in the middle.” Bucky ordered and Peter opened his mouth in shock. He could hear your angry shouting from the kitchen from where you appeared with a scrunched nose.

“Dads, enough. Ease up.” You snap, glowering at their hazing. Steve rolled his eyes, sharing an exasperated look with Bucky as if you were the one being ridiculous. When you didn’t budge, they sighed, relaxing their arms.

“You gonna bring her back before 11. She doesn’t like her food too spicy and she hates drinking –”

“– Right enough, we’re going. I can tell my preferences for myself, thank you very much. Come, Peter.” You hastily said, cutting off Bucky. Peter nodded, barely having time to say goodbye to your dad as you ushered him towards the front door.

“Should I shake their hand?” Peter whispered when you were almost out.

“Do you want them to break your hand? Hurry!” You hiss back. You were right behind him, scurrying to his car when the clearing of a throat stopped you. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky and Steve with your jacket.

“You wanna catch a cold?” Steve asked, holding it out. Peter was sitting in his car, looking as you sheepishly smiled and stepped back inside, letting Steve slip the jacket over you. Bucky zipped it up for you, holding your chin with his thumb and finger gently.

“You call me the moment you think something is going wrong. He touches you anyway you don’t want him to, I’ll show up and beat his ass.” He assured you and you hugged him, burying your head in his chest and smelling his soothing scent.

“I know how to protect myself. You got nothing to worry about, I am your baby girl.” You mumbled and Bucky held you tighter.

“Damn right you are our baby girl” He said, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“Sweetie” Steve said, pulling you away from Bucky and into him. “You love your daddies, don’t you?”

You looked into his blue eyes, biting your lip at the authority and love there.

“Yes daddy, I love you both. This is a one time thing, I promise.” You said and felt them both relax. They really could deny you nothing, not even some other dick.

“He can never give you what we can.” Bucky said sulkily. He had a more difficult time coming around to this idea than Steve did, and you took his hand in yours, gently squeezing.

“I know daddy, I just wanna try something else. But I’ll always come home to you. You both are my life.” You told him and he squeezed your hand in return.

“We’ll keep the bed warm for you. It won’t feel the same.”

You almost wanted to cancel the date, but Peter was so sweet. And you needed a few hours away from both of them and their company. Every night you’d spent in their arms and under them in their bed, you have been in heaven. You just needed a night away where you could be a normal girl who wasn’t sleeping with her adopted fathers.

“A few hours, and I’ll be yours again.” You said softly and Steve stroked your cheek.

“You’ll always be ours” He corrected, and you turned your back to them and joined Peter in his car.

Peter glanced at you as you buckled your belt, nervously taking your hand in his after he started the car.

“They really love you” He commented, sneaking soft looks at you as he drove.

“Yes, they really do.” You agreed, watching the landscape pass you.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #peter parker x reader #peter x reader

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kuroosweakness · 3 years

Text

kiss kiss | sakusa kiyoomi <3

this is the my favorite sakusa mini fic i’ve written yet :)) and my longest work! over 2000 words!

“i don’t think i’ll ever understand the concept of kissing,” sakusa mumbles to komori as he leans down to tie his shoes. his shoes are already tied, but he needs to do something to hide his face for a couple of seconds. naturally, his curls fall to the sides of his face, just as he expected.

komori quickly whirls around with a :) and a :0 face combined. “what was that??” he teases and crouches down to see his cousin’s hidden face.

“i was just sayin’“ sakusa shrugs off. “it’s just people touching lips and sharing saliva. it’s disgusting. why people do it? i’ll never understand.” after dusting off his hands, sakusa gets up from the bench and stands up, having forgotten his tall height and head bumping right into a light.

sakusa grimaces and rubs his head, trying his best to pretend it didn’t hurt at all. “stupid light,” he grumbles as he walks away. komori watches on, trying his best not to laugh while making a mental note to watch out for the low lights.

~~~

“komori.”

“hiya!” komori looks up at his cousin while continuing to stretch out his legs.

“...have you ever kissed anyone?”

“...like, full on make-out?” komori quietly asks as he makes kissy hands to demonstrate. sakusa immediately frowns and crouches down.

“stop making those weird gestures,” sakusa quietly scolds. “it’s embarrassing...”

“what’s there to be embarrassed about?” komori softly chuckles while nervously scratching the back of his head. “why do you ask?”

sakusa’s eyes divert away. “...just curious to know.”

“well....” komori taps his chin in thought. “there’s this one friend i’ve kissed before. but it wasn’t anything too serious...”

sakusa looks at the ground below him, wondering if he should sit his whole butt down or keep crouching. he decides to keep asian-squating. “so how’d you initiate the kiss? like what did you do?”

“...i think we’re supposed to be practicing receives right now,” komori sheepishly says while pointing at their teammates all practicing. the bump sounds and shoe creaks suddenly becomes audible to sakusa.

“oh.” and with that, sakusa gets up and walks toward the pile of volleyballs.

~~~

“remember the question i asked you last week?” sakusa breathes through his mask as he and komori jogs down the streets. he’s overly dressed for a jogger, especially in spring. everyone’s surprised he can move so freely in such a heavy jacket.

“...what..... question?” komori asks, glancing at his cousin before looking back at the road in front of them.

“you know what question.”

“...i dont?” komori pants as he slows down his jogging pace.

“the question....that....made you...do weird hand....gestures”

“ohhhh the kissing question?”

sakusa nods and moves to the side to avoid the kids walking toward them.

“i’ve already told you....i’ve only kissed one person before. say, why’re you curious in my love life?” komori teasingly elbows sakusa as they come to a walking pace.

sakusa annoyingly elbows him back. “is it so bad i want to know?”

“it’s just not like you,” komori chuckles. at the sight of a bakery in front of them, his eyes immediately lightens up. “we should go there!!”

sakusa’s eyes meet where komori’s pointing, then meets komori’s face, wondering if his cousin will share answers if he agrees. “okay. but back to my question about initiating the kiss.”

“well, you’ll have to find someone you want to kiss first,” komori laughs. “and i don’t think you’ve found that person, judging from the way you always judge couples and bad breath.”

“don’t be so quick to assume things,” sakusa grumbles under his mask.

“anywaysss, you kinda have to know that the other person wants to kiss you too, ya’know?”

“i don’t know,” sakusa dryly says, stating out the obvious.

“yeah, tell me something i didn’t know,” komori replies and opens the bakery front door. waves of freshly baked bread fill their noses. komori dramatically inhales and exhales. sakusa lowers his mask. a little “ding” rings as the door opens and closes.

“it’s so warm in here!” komori happily exclaims. “you sure you’re not gonna became toast yourself with that jacket on?”

sakusa rolls his eyes.

“back to the kissing topic,” komori starts. “consent is really important! you have to make sure they want to kiss you. and to know, just before kissing, you have to ask.”

“lower your voice,” blushy-faced sakusa mumbles. “there’s people looking at us weirdly.”

“not at me weirdly,” komori remarks. “just at you!”

“i don’t know why i talk to you sometimes.”

“i’ll pretend i didn’t hear that!” komori happily bounces over to the counter and tells the pretty cashier his order. “kiyoomi, you want anything?”

“no, not really.”

“okay!” komori excitedly accepts his paper bag full of baked goods and eagerly munches into a chocolate croissant. “i was thinking that maybe we can stop and eat for a while”

komori eating = less judgmental komori. who is he kidding, sakusa knows he himself is the most judgmental person he knows. “okay”

as sakusa pulls out a seat facing away from the door, a little “ding” rings through the bakery.

“oh look!” komori munches. “it’s y/n! hi y/n!”

sakusa’s stomach drops. his hands have never felt so clammy and cold before. maybe if he stays completely still, then you won’t notice him.

“hi y/n!” komori calls again.

“we’re going home. stop- stop stop stop we’re going home. i need to go home,” sakusa hastily mutters under his breath and gets up so fast, suddenly wishing his mask can cover his whole face. since you’re standing at the doorway, he waits until you walk inside to walk out.

komori quickly gathers his stuff and says a quick apology to you. “sorry about him! well, we’ll catch ya later!”

confused, yet unfazed, you give him a little smile and waves back.

~~~

“so how was it?”

“...not good,” sakusa’s face and curls fall into his hands. he groans and falls back on the his bed. “anyways, i need to study-”

“no no no, i need to know!” komori insists. “most people’s first kiss isn’t that great so...you’re not the only one.”

“how am i even supposed to see them again,” sakusa groans again and squirms around on the bedsheets. “it was so bad. so bad. so so bad. so so sooooo bad-”

“do you have thoughts about kissing them again??”

“yes,” he mumbles and swiftly grabs the nearest pillow and hugs it to his chest, hiding his face in the process. “all the damn time.”

“then it didn’t go as bad as i thought!” komori exclaims.

~~~

“so you’re not gonna tell me how it went?”

“why’re you so nosy???” sakusa scrunches up his nose.

“you were the one who asked about my first kiss first,” komori defends, pulling back in playful offense.

“like i said, it wasn’t good.”

“how was it not good?”

“the kissing tutorial videos didn’t work.”

“....you watched kissing tutorials????!!”

“komori motoya, if you don’t be quiet i swear-”

“did they at least want to kiss you?”

“...i don’t even know if we’re...together. this is so embarrassing. i was too impatient. i shouldn’t have. i rushed things. they didn’t even tell me they like me. what if they just went along with it and didn’t actually want-”

“i think you’re overthinking too much...”

“can we just walk to school in silence?”

“after you tell me first! i can give advice!”

“i nearly missed their lips. and i froze up when we actually made contact. i was stiff. i couldn’t move. plus my mask shifted upward and completely interrupted us, which i’m kinda thankful for.”

komori stifles a laugh. “so...what’re you gonna do for your second one?”

~~~

“i saw them with his stupid, ugly guy who if you put his teeth next to a beaver’s, no one would be able to tell the difference.”

“....we all know you’re not the nicest person, but isn’t that a little mean..and a bit of an exaggeration?” komori chuckles and shifts his foot inside his volleyball shoes.

“they have poor, poor taste in men.”

“well...they did kiss you once...”

“i don’t know anymore,” sakusa sighs. “i need to just focus on volleyball.”

~~~

“i hate it here. absolutely hate. it. here.” with a grumble he tosses his clothes on his backpack and pads across the gym to get his water bottle.

komori side-eyes his cousin. whether or not to ask what he’s talking about, even though he knows exactly what–no, who–he’s talking about.

“is this volleyball related?” komori asks when sakusa walks back.

...

“you’ve never given up anything you’ve set your heart on,” komori kindly reminds him. “so why’re you giving up now?”

“because all the things i’ve done, i was in completely control of” sakusa swings his backpack over his shoulder. “i can’t control other people’s feelings....nor do i want to.”

“did something bad happen?” komori dashes to catch with his cousin, and the tea.

“guess who i saw them with again? beaver guy.”

“i heard they’re just classmates though,” komori gently reminds sakusa, hoping it’ll somewhat clear his senses. he jogs toward a mini puddle and jumps right into it. sakusa grimaces at the water splashes.

“it doesn’t matter. i don’t care about them anymore. they can have beaver guy so they want. i’m one of the best volleyball players in the country, and i’m ...somewhat good looking, and i’m tall...their loss.”

komori searches for more puddles.

“is it because of my personality?” sakusa quietly says. when he sees his cousins jumping into more puddles, he rolls his eyes. “komori, i’m being serious here”

“when are you not?” komori calls back. he jogs back to sakusa and says, “what makes you think it’s your personality?”

“well....let’s not talk about it.”

“...” komori glares at him.

“well....they’re all smiles around other people and like :/ around me. and y’know, my cleanliness. not that i would change for anyone, but i’m just sayin’”

“if they really liked you then, you wouldn’t want you to change. although, you can be nicer sometimes....just a little” komori cheekily says.

“...you’re right,” sakusa sighs.

~~~

“update: beaver guy’s no longer in their life. he tried to make a move on them and they didn’t like it so they cut him out of their life.”

“wait whaaat? it’s been days since you last talked about y/n. what-”

“can you not say their name so loud???”

“so beaver guy pulled a move on them?”

“yes. and they cut him off because he took advantage of their niceness.”

“...”

“so technically what happened to beaver guy also happened to me.”

komori shakes his head. “y/n hasn’t cut you out of their life....they still talk to you sometimes! and even asked if you wanted to walk home, which you-”

he points an accusing finger at sakusa. “which you said no to >:(”

“don’t point, it’s rude.” sakusa looks away.

“what’d you say no???”

“i didn’t want to appear desperate.”

~~~

“so...how long are you gonna stare at the ceiling? we’re supposed to be doing measurements right now.”

“oh sorry,” sakusa slightly bows down and quietly adds, “i walked them home yesterday.”

komori loudly gasps, which he apologizes for when everyone turns to look at him. “whaaat,” he whispers. “what happened?”

“i walked them home and then walked myself home, that’s what happened.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me. give the details!”

“there’s nothing too important that happened. other than my confession.”

._. “and you’re saying nothing important happened??”

“turns out they like...me...too” sakusa stutters. his ears are bright red. “i feel like i’m gonna throw up.” sakusa’s hands presses against his stomach.

“the good kinda throw up?”

“there’s no such thing as a ‘good throw up’“ sakusa barks back.

~~~

“y/n looked really happy and cheerful today and so do you...which i thought i’d never see...”

normally, sakusa would jab his cousin if he heard that, but today, he chooses to ignore it.

“so what’s going on??”

“nothing much. just some kissing,” sakusa says. his whole face is glowing.

“remember when you said kissing was gross?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” sakusa brushes off. “and you better not tell y/n i think they’re gross when i clearly don’t >:(”

~~~

“hand-holding huhhhh?”

“their hands were cold, that’s why.”

“why am i so invested in your relationship,” komori softly chuckles to himself. “y’all are cute.”

“it does feel nice to have someone to talk to about these things,” sakusa quietly says. komori pulls back in surprise.

“well, i’ll always be here for ya! but don’t you dare try rubbing your relationship in my face.”

“i’d never. i know what it’s like to be single.”

“???? that’s the most non-sympathetic thing i’ve ever heard! obviously, everyone knows what it feels like to be single” komori rolls his eyes.

~~~

“people are saying y/n’s dating me for my money.”

“ignore them >:(”

“people keep saying that y/n probably get no action and that i don’t even touch them.”

“like i said, ignore those stupid people”

“i wish it can be that easy,” sakusa sighs.

~~~

“i’ve lost track of how many times i’ve kissed them.”

komori jokingly pulls back in disgust. “no one keeps track, dummy.”

“i’d say about 43 times”

~~~

and now sakusa kisses you like he’s a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days 😐 basically, engulfing you. long, passionate kisses that gets your heart pounding every time.

and that’s it for now :)) tell me what you think! <3

#sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #komori motoya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #hq x you #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #lia drabbles

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moonknightly · 3 years

Text

now all you see is red : santiago garcia x reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

Excerpt: “There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.”

Warnings: Smut (18+), choking, spanking, light bondage, dom/sub dynamic, light degradation/humiliation, rough sex, angry sex, dirty talk

Santiago is familiar with anger.

He knows it well, he’s used to the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, the smoke he can never fully push from his lungs, the way flames lick at his fingertips as his blood boils in his veins. He’s used to the sharp bite and unrelenting sting, he knows the exact sound his fist is going to make when it meets drywall, can hear each bone crack on impact and can feel the sensation of his knuckles splitting open, can visualize the black and blue bruises that will mark his skin for weeks to come.

They might as well be permanent, he never feels like himself without those damn bruises anymore. They’ve become an integral part of him, just like the scar on the back of his neck and the weight he carries on his shoulders day in and day out.

Just like his anger.

He needs it, he doesn’t remember how to get through without it. Anger isn’t a stranger to the ex soldier, but a lover.

It’s a dance so intimate, one he’s performed thousands and thousands of times before. It keeps him grounded, reminds him that he’s real, that he’s here. He’s alive and he’s breathing, he’s not lying at the bottom of a ditch in a foreign country with a bullet in his side, rotting. He made it out, he’s earned his temper.

He’s in control. He has the power, and nothing is going to hurt him again. He won’t let it.

Except, that’s not entirely true.

There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.

And you have, you so have. You’ve fucking wrecked him, but he refuses to let you see it, he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. In all of the years you’ve known each other, Santi’s been able to keep that little secret to himself, and he’s not about to give it up now, he doesn’t need that shit.

What he needs is the control back in the palm of his hand after losing it for the last week. He needs to feel some sense of power after spending seven days in unfamiliar territory, feeling utterly torn apart by grief and worry.

They’d lost contact with you on your last assignment, and an entire week had gone by without so much as a word until you suddenly showed up at base, seemingly fine. Santi hadn’t been able to find even a scratch on your perfect skin, and he’d checked several times just to be sure. You’re fine.

But Santi isn’t. Fuck, he is so fucking far from fine, he feels like he’s going to be sick. His initial relief is fading fast, threatening to turn into something that he has no desire to feel, something he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t need it.

He needs his control, his power. He needs familiarity.

So he latches onto the subtlest spark of anger the moment it strikes. He takes it and he fucking runs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

His voice is eerily calm, almost chilling and it doesn’t waiver for even a second. It’s collected while the rest of him isn’t, but it’s enough to get him through. It’ll do.

“What do you mean?”

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, unlacing your boots, desperate to get out of them and into something comfortable. Santi keeps his eyes glued to you, tracking your every movement with expert precision that he’s spent his entire life mastering.

“A week. You went a fucking week without report.”

You seem almost annoyed, and really, you are — you’d spent the last hour getting the same lecture from your boss, you don’t need it from your boyfriend too even though it’s inevitable, so you shrug in response, and Santiago feels another white hot flash.

It’s perfect. He’ll take it.

“It would’ve compromised the mission, he was onto me. I’m fine.”

You’re fine. He laughs bitterly at that.

“I’m glad you’re fine, princesa,” he hums, not thinking about how he enunciates his words as he stalks towards you, painstakingly slow, brown eyes never straying from his target.

He’s quick, his reflexes sharp, and he has your chin between his fingers before you even register his hand moving.

“But that’s not a fucking excuse. You know your safety comes before anything else and we had no way to help you.”

“But I was safe.”

“But how were we supposed to know that, huh?” He shakes your head in his grip, like it’s enough to get you to see his way. “You could’ve been dead for all we knew. Do you have any idea what-”

He stops himself. That unfamiliar emotion is bubbling in the pit of his stomach again, and he pushes it away, down, down, down where it can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.

He needs another spark.

But now, he’s struggling to find it, and it’s clear. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him wrestle with himself and hesitate, and he panics when your lips part because he knows you’re getting ready to ask him if he’s okay and he doesn’t fucking want you to. He doesn’t want to answer you.

So he just growls again, his hand moving to the back of your neck where he pushes your head forward until your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s all teeth and desperation and frustration and just like your annoyance, it’s perfect. Santi clings to that frustration to fuel his anger again, and he’s satisfied when it works and he feels the familiar tendrils of rage wrap themselves around his body. His free hand moves to your shirt, and he uses his grip to haul you to your feet only to shove you towards the dresser. You catch yourself, knocking a few things off in the process but you don’t care. You love it when he gets like this.

“Santi-”

“No.” He’s behind you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so your neck is perfectly exposed to him, breath hot against your skin. “Don’t you dare say a fuckin’ word, understand?”

You nod obediently — you’ve always taken orders as well as he gives him.

“Good girl.”

He nips at your neck once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth in, biting down, marking you and he smirks when he feels your knees buckle just slightly. You’re struggling to hold yourself up already and he’s hardly touched you.

His hand travels around to the front of your neck and he wraps his fingers around your throat, not applying any pressure, simply just holding them there. He feels your pulse thrum under his fingertips and he counts along for a moment, smirking at just how quick your heart is beating.

“Nervous baby?”

You hesitate, and he feels you gulp, feels the way you shift just slightly under his touch.

“No.”

He tsks, sighing in your ear almost disapprovingly. He lets his grip tighten around your throat, and he revels in the sound of you trying to pull in air before he cuts you off completely.

“Maybe you should be.”

His free hand slams between your shoulder blades and you’re suddenly flat against the dresser, the force of it knocking what little air you had left in your lungs out. He gives you a second, just a second to use your safeword or to tell him to go a little easy, but you don’t.

He knows you’ll tell him if he needs to take it down a notch.

There’s nothing slow or patient about Santiago’s touch. It’s urgent, each movement made with purpose, never lingering, he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to feel you, just wants to feel that anger and the pleasure and nothing else.

He pulls your jeans down your thighs, not bothering to get them all the way off or worry about your shirt. His eyes are immediately on your ass, and he growls when he sees that you’re wearing his favorite color — red. He loves you in red.

Not enough to save the panties for another day though. He rips them clean off your body, the stretching, tearing sound of fabric making him groan alongside your gasp.

“Open your mouth.”

You don’t hear him the first time, too absorbed in the feeling running through you. He smacks your ass, hard, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. The moan that leaves your lips might just be the most sinful sound Santi has ever heard.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

This time, you hear him, and you obey just like he knew you would, opening your mouth for him to stuff your panties into.

“Fuck I can smell you on them from here princesa.”

He loves it. He loves it so fucking much. He smacks your ass a second time, feeling it turn hot under his touch, then he does it again and again and again until he’s satisfied with the way you flinch, until you’re laying limp against the dresser with tears running down your cheeks.

“Color?”

Like he said before, your safety means more to him than anything else, and through his anger he still always checks in to make sure you’re okay to continue. He never wants it to get to a point where he actually hurts you, even though he knows what your body can take, even though he knows you’d let him, you’d even ask him to.

You can’t speak with your panties in your mouth, but one finger means green, two means yellow, and three means red. You hold up one, and he lands one final blow just to see if your answer changes. You still only hold up one.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your wrists and drags you back towards the mattress, and you immediately fall face down ass up just how you know he likes, but now he hesitates.

His knees are bothering him today, more so than usual, and he doesn’t know if he can kneel behind you long enough to fuck you how he wants to.

That only makes him angrier, feeling like he can’t perform. Feeling like he’s not good enough, like he’s failing in a field where he’s always personally felt like he’s excelled.

All he sees is red and you and it’s the exact distraction he’s been looking for, the perfect combination. His blood burns, his fingers burn, his mind is fucking screaming your name and nothing else. There’s nothing but you and the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s intoxicating, it’s everything, it’s familiar.

“No, no no,” he laughs, shaking his head as he undoes his belt, hastily pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “On your side, hands behind your back.”

He’s on you the second you're in position, tightening his belt around your wrists so you can’t move them, can’t touch him. He chuckles darkly when your fingers wiggle around in search of something to hold onto.

“Poor baby,” he hums, voice completely condescending and he loves the way your eyes roll at the tone of his voice. He loves that you get off on this just as much as he does, he loves that you dance with his temper, that you know it almost as well.

He’s so fucking hard. He can’t wait any longer.

He doesn’t check with his fingers to make sure you’re wet enough to take him, he knows you are. He can smell you, he can see your juices glisten when he hoists your leg up to reveal your pussy to him. You’re always so wet, always so ready for him.

And he’s more than ready for you, stroking himself in the palm of his hand while he looks you over with hungry, dark eyes. His hand is nothing compared to the warmth and pleasure he knows you’ll bring him, there’s not a damn thing in this world that can make him come as hard as you.

He lays behind you, continuing to pump his length as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit and smearing his precome all around. He can feel you clench, can feel you try to pull him in as you start rocking your hips against him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fuckin’ whore for my cock babygirl. You need it, huh? You need me?”

You immediately start trying to beg through your makeshift gag and normally, that would only earn you more teasing but just like you, he can’t take it. He needs you just as much, if not more.

His nails dig into your left hip as he pushes himself against your entrance, leaving little crescent shaped indents in your skin, his grip so tight you both know it’ll bruise but it’s more than fine, it’s so good. He stops, wanting to drag it out for just a moment longer and your begging only continues, growing louder and louder until Santiago finally gives in.

All it takes is one sharp thrust and he’s so deep inside of you, spreading you open on his cock, tearing your walls apart to make room for his length, your bodies flush against each other. His free arm is wrapped underneath your body, his hand finding your neck again as he quickly sets his pace, not giving you more than a single second to even attempt to adjust to him.

It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s dirty and your cunt is squelching around him so deliciously, the sound only pushing him further — he doesn’t know if he wants to slow down so he can listen to it properly or if he wants to go faster.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your ear, his voice gravely and rough and he thrills in the way it makes you shiver. “Fuck you’re so tight, you’re squeezing my fucking dick baby. How’re you this tight?”

You only let out a moan that’s somewhere between a sob and a scream, and that sound alone is so entirely hot in itself, it’s enough to make his toes curl. He wants to pull that noise from you again and again and again, he wants you shaking and gasping and writhing. He starts using your hips for more leverage, knowing that he can get you to cry and whine for him this way.

You squirm and jolt each time he brings you back onto his cock, every time he hits that spot you didn’t believe existed until he fucked you for the first time and he wants to explode as he watches you struggle to take it.

He knows you’ll hold up your fingers if you need him to stop, but he still pulls your panties out of your mouth just so he can hear it, just so can listen for your words. You never say them, you only scream and cry and moan about how good it feels, how he’s pounding your pussy better than anyone ever has and how you never want him to stop.

“Yeah baby?” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe, tugging on it as he thrusts harder and harder. “This my pussy princesa? Tell me.”

“It’s yours,” you sob, clenching around him over and over. “God Santi, it’s yours, I’m yours.”

“That’s fuckin’ right baby, that’s it.”

He tightens his grip around your neck, his left hand moving from your hip to your clit, fingers matching the pace of his thrusts. He’s rubbing you so hard, he’s almost surprised when you angle yourself closer, but that’s his girl. That’s his fucking girl.

Santi can tell you’re close when your sounds grow higher in pitch and when he no longer needs to drag you back into his thrusts — you’re doing all the work for him, moving on your own accord, searching for that last little push you need to get over the edge and he lets you.

He lets you control the pace, lets you take what you need and that’s when that unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling enters his stomach again. He tries to ignore it, tries to push it away, tries to tap back into the anger but once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Now he’s just frustrated, but he doesn’t let himself get distracted, not when you’re on his cock, bringing yourself closer and closer to an orgasm he doesn’t want to miss a second of.

He rolls onto his back suddenly, catching you off guard but he steadies you on top of him and uses your bound wrists to continue rocking you on his length while you get adjusted again. He brings his free hand back to your clit, just like before and it’s not long before you’re right on the brink of coming again. Santi’s right there with you, watching you roll your hips and bounce on his cock, impaling yourself on him again and again. You’re so full of him, he only wants to fill you more.

He thinks he might actually let go first, but then you’re falling apart on top of him in a matter of seconds, sobbing his name so loudly while your thighs quiver and your body trembles. That’s what finally does it for him, and he comes inside of you with a deep groan that echoes in his chest, his back arching completely off the bed in an attempt to get even closer to you. He quickly grabs your hips again so he can continue to piston himself up into you, watching your combined release leak out of your pussy and coat his cock in glistening white. He only moans, quieter this time, and fucks it back into you, his pace slowing as his cock twitches over and over and quickly becomes oversensitive.

He doesn’t forget to undo your hands before he pulls you back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face into your neck. He’s working hard to catch his breath, and he hopes that that’s all you think he’s doing when really, he’s having to put twice as much effort into not falling apart.

His chest is heaving with emotion, his eyes are filling with tears that he refuses to let spill over. His anger is completely gone and only this remains. He doesn’t know how to control it, doesn’t know what to do with it and he hates it. He hates it so much.

And you notice, of course you fucking notice. He’s slow to launch into aftercare and it’s obvious that he’s distracted through it, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Santi, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t fucking call.”

His voice waivers and cracks and his cheeks immediately turn red, though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or this feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“What if something happened to you? You didn’t call.”

“Santi,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, and he’s frustrated all over again. Usually he’s so good at reading you, he knows you like the back of his hand, but again he’s unsure about the emotion. He doesn’t know if you’re exasperated or if you’re concerned. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“You have any idea what was going through my head,” he bites, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t see the expression on your face, doesn’t see how his words hit you right in the chest and shatter your heart. He misses the way you swallow the lump in your throat and he doesn’t see your hands start to shake, but he feels them when they cup his cheeks. His shoulders slump at the contact, and then Santi just breaks.

“You didn’t fucking call, why didn’t you fucking call?”

He chokes on a sob, coughing to try and rid himself of it but it doesn’t work. He hides his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he softly cries and he’s just happy that he’s able to keep himself quiet.

“Oh sweet boy, come here.”

Santi let’s you pull him into your arms, he lets you comfort him in a way he didn’t know he needed, in a way he never even imagined wanting.

And he lets himself feel all of that unwanted emotion, because he needs to get it the fuck out. He doesn’t want to hold onto it like he does with his anger, he doesn’t want it dancing in his veins. He never, ever wants to feel this way again.

Santiago is familiar with anger.

But he’s completely unfamiliar with the fear of losing you. He’s not used to the nausea or the way his hands shake with panic, the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He’s not used to any of it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

But at some point in the middle of the night, he looks up and he sees you, still holding him, still comforting him, and it suddenly hits. Suddenly, he understands.

It’s you.

This is how you’ve ruined him.

You’ve made him feel things he’s been pushing away for so long, things he’s tried so desperately to keep under lock and key where it can never hurt him.

You’ve stripped him of his control, his power. You’ve taken away his anger and you’ve replaced the throbbing bruises on his knuckles, the smoke in his lungs and the blood that paints his vision.

He doesn’t see red, he only sees you.

Santiago is familiar with you.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

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lovinghaikyuu · 3 years

Note

Sweet! So do ya think ya can do a Sakuatsu poly where gender neutral or male reader is overworking? To the point of just plain exhaustion where they fall asleep literally standing? Thank you!! <3

-🏵

Sakuatsu x gn!reader

Warnings: brief mentions of not eating enough

It’s Friday, a day that usually brings you comfort and relief with the nearing weekend, but today all you feel is on edge. Has the week gone by that fast? Every day feels the same. With work, exams, and your personal life, it seems like you haven’t had even a moment to spare. Your sleep schedule is nowhere to be found, and you can forget about proper meals. Who has time for that when there’s so much to be done?

How long this has been going on you have no idea, it’s been a normal thing for a while. Go to classes with barely three hours of sleep? It’s become easy for you. Work yourself to exhaustion with no breaks? You’re used to it by now. You thought it wasn’t a big deal, or that no one would notice, but you’ve been proven wrong on multiple occasions.

You and your boyfriends are exceptionally close, nothing goes unnoticed between you three.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Sakusa always asks you.

“You should really take a break,” Atsumu tells you every day without fail.

Their little reminders bring you out of your unhealthy routine and remind you to take care of yourself; you’d be a mess without them. You’re especially thankful for them on days like this. The days that are particularly tiring, but you continue your habits as always.

You had just got home and went straight to your room, not wanting to waste a moment and getting right to work. Have my professors always assigned this much? you think. After all, four essays and multiple exams to study for does seem a bit excessive. But you don’t complain, and instead focus on getting the work done.

However, after a short while your concentration is disrupted by a knock at your door. You reluctantly get up from your desk to answer it, not wanting to stop working just yet. But when you open the door and are met with your two favorite people, you’re glad you did.

“Y/n!” Atsumu’s booming voice greets you, Sakusa doing the same with a warm smile.

“We’re going to the park downtown, wanna come with us? It’ll be fun,” Atsumu asks.

“To play volleyball?”

“Yeah maybe, whatever ya want to do, really,” He says with a smile, Sakusa nods in agreement.

“I don’t know, I have stuff to do-”

“No, you’re coming with,” Sakusa interrupts you. “You need to get out of the house, get some exercise.”

“Not to mention some fresh air.”

You look at them and can’t help but smile, they know what you’re going through. You three are very good at understanding each other, to the point where sometimes you don’t have to say anything at all.

“Yeah, okay.” You figure you can take the rest of the day off for them, and you gladly do.

And so, you make your way over to the park, holding hands and chatting about your days. You really love times like these.

“Hey look,” Atsumu points to a nearing food stand, “Wanna go get somethin’ from there?”You all agree and hurry over, eager to fill your hungry stomachs. But when you get there, there’s a relatively long line.

“Should we just come back later?” Sakusa questions.

“Nah don’t worry, the line will move fast,” Atsumu reassures him, “Plus I’m starving, I think I’ll die if I wait to eat any longer.”

You and Sakusa look at each other, rolling your eyes before laughing at Atsumu’s dramatic behavior. The time spent waiting in line seems like forever, and your lack of sleep starts to catch up to you. This is the first time in days since you’ve had an actual break, and you begin to drift off, leaning on Sakusa’a shoulder as a pillow.

“Hey, you okay?” He nudges you, momentarily pulling you out of your sleepy daze.

“Yeah, just a little tired.” He nods and wraps his arm around you, making sure you won’t fall if you begin to drift asleep again. And you do, this time not waking up until Atsumu returns with your food.

“Y/n, are ya good?” He asks, gently shaking you awake. “You fell asleep, how much sleep did you get last night?” You look up at him, truly not knowing the answer to his question. “We should go back,” he says, “you need to rest.” Sakusa hastily agrees, and you three begin the walk back to your place.

When you finally arrive home, they immediately take you to your room.

“Are ya comfy?” Atsumu questions while tucking you in.

“Yeah, thank you,” you mumble, letting the the warmth of the blankets overtake you.

“Do you need anything? Water? Medicine?” Sakusa asks.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, giving him a smile. He leaves the room anyway, and heads to the kitchen to get you a cold glass of water.

“Why didn’t you tell us it was this bad?” Atsumu asks you, concern present in his voice. “If we had known you were this stressed, we would’ve helped you.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you guys to worry. It’s fine, really”

“No it’s not,” he pauses, seemingly deep in thought. “Next time, do ya promise you’ll tell us? We want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I Promise.”

Sakusa returns with your water, making sure you drink some before kissing your forehead. After making sure you’re alright, they make their way out of your room to let you sleep.

“I love you guys, thank you,” You tell them as they leave.

“Love you,” They say in unison, turning the lights off and wishing you a goodnight.

I hope this lived up to your expectations! This was my first time writing for both Sakusa and a polyamorous relationship, so I really hope I did them both justice <3

#haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #sakusa x reader #atsumu x reader #sakuatsu x reader #you’ve got mail

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onceupon · 3 years

Text

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!!

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library.

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table.

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.”

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table.

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes.

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept.

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice.

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing.

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant.

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses.

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff.

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky.

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip.

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons.

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide.

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears.

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies

Olivia: :(

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind.

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp.

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears.

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body.

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up.

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile.

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning.

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee.

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat.

“So what are you chasing tonight?”

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead.

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously.

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on.

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return.

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement.

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow.

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted.

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed.

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows.

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence.

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking.

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued.

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now.

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober.

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you.

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night.

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things.

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before.

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days.

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did.

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own.

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off.

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops.

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall.

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside.

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you.

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone.

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again.

---

🏷: @hopebaker @pogueslandia @mardema

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello Salut

Goodbye La revedere

Thank you Mulțumesc

You’re welcome Cu plăcere

Good morning Bună dimineata

Good afternoon Bună ziua

Good evening Bună seara

Good night Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you? Ce mai faci

I love you Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

everything happens for a reason part 5 - zuko x fem!reader

I can go anywhere I want, I can go anywhere just not home

part 4 | masterlist | part 6

a/n: this was hard to get going but once i got to the end the words just flowed. ive come to the conclusion that writing dialogue with katara is my favorite thing to do

warning(s): nightmare at the beginning, survivor's guilt from y/n, some internalized homophobia :-( but aside from that its mostly fluff

wc: 3.6k

chapter title comes from my tears ricochet by taylor swift!

She was trapped.

It was a prison of never ending hallways in some kind of infinite void, complete with the rank stench of death and an innate feeling of hopelessness.

Y/N knew this place. It had been the subject of her nightmares on countless occasions, because it was where she was supposed to be. She had no choice but to start down the pathway of cracked stone — she knew what awaited her, but it was the only way out. She had developed some sick sense of awareness in this nightmare and it didn’t do her any favors.

She began to walk hastily down the path, the itch of paranoia already plaguing the back of her mind. Countless times she had been here, and yet it never got better.

Before Y/N knew it, she had reached her unwanted destination. The first tangible thing in what felt like miles was a prison cell, and she pushed forward despite knowing what awaited her. It was the only way.

“It wasn’t the only way.”

She froze, inhaling sharply as the dreamscape seemed to pull her thoughts out of her mind, and she forced herself to take another step closer, the inhabitant of the cell now visible.

“You did this to me.”

It was her mother, but… not quite her. Her voice strained and stiff, a gaunt appearance with cruel eyes, hunched over in a prison cell. Any sign of the woman Y/N knew her as was gone, and it was her fault. She was the reason Kura was gone — a mother’s ultimate sacrifice because her daughter was too stuck in her head.

“How could you do this to me?” she asked. “How could you be so selfish?”

Y/N tried to respond, but she couldn’t. It was no use anyway — her words would’ve come out in broken, pleading rambles to someone who couldn’t hear a thing. She knew it was fake, she knew this was a nightmare, but it still hurt all the same.

She had imagined her mother saying those words to her so many times they had found their way into her nightmares despite knowing that Kura would never utter a single syllable true to her fears. She had all but killed her mother, and instead of remembering her for what she had done for Y/N, she appeared in her nightmares.

She was a horrible daughter.

She heard footsteps and whirled around, instinctively taking a step back and wincing as her back slammed into the bars. A tall, dark figure creeped towards her and her breath caught in her throat — as it came into the light, she recognized him as the Fire Lord.

He chuckled coldly as he neared ever closer, the path he walked turning to flames behind him. Her eyes darted around for an escape only to find that everything was on fire. It was suffocating, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and when she turned to look for her mother she was gone. Everything was gone, her dark void now a prison of flames.

She turned around once more and Ozai was right in front of her, the fire in his hands glowing red hot and a cruel smile on his lips.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

She shot up in her bed, a scream on the edge of her lips but just barely managing to hold it back. Ragged breaths were ripped from her chest, her eyes shooting around wildly as she attempted to find anything at all to ground her. It took a few minutes, but with repeated mantras of it was just a dream and you are safe, she was able to calm down.

She pulled her knees to her chest and exhaled long and deep before pulling herself out of bed. It seemed that her day was going to be starting much earlier than planned.

Four years had passed since her arrival at the Northern Water Tribe, but the nightmares never ceased. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had done the right thing, that it was what her mother wanted, that if she stayed she would’ve died — she was constantly haunted by her past actions and memories of the Fire Nation.

She hasn’t taken off the necklace since her mother gave it to her, no matter what she does. It’s almost become a part of her now — a memory of Kura and her selflessness that knew no bounds, as well as a grim reminder of what it cost to get her here.

The Northern Water Tribe itself held countless memories of her mother — after all, it was where she had spent the first eighteen years of her life. Her name was well known throughout the tribe with nobles and elders alike, and it amazed Y/N to no end the impact that her mother left everywhere she went. She loved hearing stories about her mother and what she was like as a child, but it was always bittersweet.

She always carried an inherent sense of guilt with her because of who she lived with — her mother hadn’t been lying when she said that the necklace would get them to help her. Kura’s parents still lived in the tribe, and they had taken Y/N in after she revealed who she was. They loved her unconditionally and never made her feel like a burden, but Y/N would be lying to herself if she didn’t think they blamed her for the fate that befell her mother.

After all, she did.

She had never told anyone the full story of why she ran though. It was one thing to leave her mother behind for certain death because of the Fire Lord’s rage, it was another thing to admit that it was wholly her fault because she had fallen for a prince.

Zuko.

Not a day went by where she didn’t think of him. She still held the hope that she would see him again someday, but in lieu of travel she turned to letters.

Y/N had a shelf full of unmailed letters addressed to both Zuko and her mother — it was a way to get out her emotions whenever she was feeling particularly homesick or hopeless, and it did help at first, but after four years it had become something born out of habit rather than necessity.

She still wrote them though — Y/N had learned to hold onto any form of hope she could muster up, no matter how small, and in this moment she needed some.

She opened her shelf and rifled through piles upon piles of letters, some finished, some hardly started, and some crumpled from fits of rage, and her breath caught in her throat when her fingers brushed something different. Y/N pulled the material out and nearly started crying right then and there.

It was an unbelievably simple patch of fabric, but it meant the world to her — something that she had bought during her last night with Zuko, and one of the only pieces of material to have survived her journey to the Northern Water Tribe. She was forced to sell the rest of the fabric she had brought with her in order to make some easy money while on the run, but she had kept this as a memento. She could almost be brought back to the final sunset they shared if she looked at it for long enough.

Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stop the tears and shoved it back into the drawer before closing it and leaving her room in a haste. Sometimes she wasn’t strong enough to handle the memories.

She made her way to the living room and let out a sigh of relief when she noticed the silence. Y/N had never told her grandparents about the nightmares, and right now she just needed some time to herself. Never before was she so thankful for her grandmother’s gossiping nature and her grandfather’s work than she was in the mornings where she just wanted to be alone.

She sat down on the floor, not even bothering to get a cushion, and stared at her hands. Once smooth and untouched by the world, they were now rough and calloused with wrapped bandages resting just below her wrist. Permanent memories of what it took to get here. The ever present reminder that nothing came without a cost.

This morning seemed to be one full of yearning for the past. Y/N tried to shake her feelings off and got up once more, contemplating some steamed sea prunes before deeming it fruitless. Her appetite was lacking after her trip down memory lane.

She walked back to her room and got dressed hastily then ran out the door, but not before plucking a gift from her shelf. Today marked the birthday of a certain princess, and Y/N had to go fast if she was going to get it to her before class.

She was immediately hit by the frigid air of the North, pulling her anorak tighter around her frame as she began to run to the canals — one could always find Princess Yue there in the mornings — doing her best to avoid anyone else walking.

Y/N saw Yue just about to board one of the boats and sped up, waving one of her arms as a signal. “Yue, wait!”

She turned and her face immediately brightened up at the sight of Y/N, raising her open palm so the boatman would hold up. “Y/N! Would you like to join me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

Yue’s nod prompted a shrug as she dropped down carefully into the gondola, taking extra care not to drop her gift, and took a seat next to her friend.

“This is a nice surprise,” Yue smiled as the boatman began to waterbend, effectively moving their gondola through the canal. “But if I might ask, what brought you here so early?”

Y/N laughed, thinking her reason for coming here obvious. “It’s your birthday, princess! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to wish you well in person?”

Her smile grew even brighter, the corners of her eyes creasing up in the way that made some kind of warmth blossom in Y/N’s chest. “Thank you! That’s so sweet — I’m especially honored that you woke up early just for me.”

“Of course.” Y/N brandished the gift she had been doing her best to hide, unable to do the same for her own smile. “And here’s your gift! I sewed it all myself.”

Yue gasped as she took the creation, giving it a slight squeeze and a thorough investigation before absolutely beaming. “You made me an otter penguin— oh, you know how much I love these!”

She wrapped Y/N in a tight hug before pulling away, but it was just long enough for the heat to rush to her cheeks. “Thank you so much, really. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Y/N beamed at the praise and nodded, shifting a little in her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m glad you like it so much.”

The two girls grinned at each other then turned their gaze to the horizon, content to spend the rest of the ride together in comfortable silence.

Her friendship with the princess of the Northern Water Tribe was something that Y/N cherished with all her heart. She could confidently say that Princess Yue was her best friend, and she hoped it was a notion that Yue shared. As beautiful as she was kind, the princess always had a way of making her feel better on the hardest days — Yue was the only one who knew the whole truth of what happened in the Fire Nation, and she offered nothing but sympathy.

Y/N honestly didn’t know what she would do without Yue. She had been her rock during the whole process of getting situated in the tribe, always lending a helping hand when she stumbled in class or was completely oblivious to something in their culture, and she never made her feel stupid, or unwanted, or less-than for what she had come from.

The only thing that confused her about Yue was the feeling she got whenever Y/N was around her. The rushes of heat to her cheeks, the warmth blossoming in her chest, and the unusual happiness she felt anytime Yue smiled at her. The most peculiar of it all was the strange tug of jealousy any time a noble boy tried to flirt with the princess, and nothing but disinterest whenever they tried an angle on her instead.

She didn’t know what any of it meant, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it was wrong. So Y/N did the only thing she could and suppressed it.

Soon enough, though much to their chagrin, Y/N had to leave. After some exchanged hugs and one last wish of happy birthday, Y/N took off for her morning healing class. But as she hurried down the icy paths, she caught sight of the most peculiar thing.

A giant flying bison was being led through the canals with a team of waterbenders, three kids that couldn’t be any older than her on its back. One had an arrow on his head and sported orange and yellow robes, while the other two looked to be of Water Tribe descent.

Her interest was irrefutably piqued, but she didn’t have any more time to waste with gawking. So she began to run once again, apologies spilling from her lips as she maneuvered through the groups of people all just as awestruck by the strange arrival as she was. Y/N made a mental note to ask Yue about it later, but for now she was running very late to her healing class.

Sure enough, a few hours later, Y/N was able to get the answers she had been craving. She met up with Yue outside of the palace, and during a short walk, she learned that the boy was the Avatar. He had come to the Northern Water Tribe to master waterbending, and the two kids with him were his companions from the Southern Tribe — much to her excitement, the girl was a waterbender.

Needless to say, Y/N was even more enthusiastic than before, and Yue made her day by confirming that they would be coming to her birthday celebration that night as honored guests. She had already talked to her father about allowing Y/N to sit with her and he had said yes, which meant that she would get to meet him and his friends in person — it just served as a reminder that Y/N had no idea what she would do without Yue.

After what felt like hours of passing the time with lost games of Pai Sho against her grandfather and failed attempts at finishing her homework, it was finally time for the banquet. Once she arrived at the front of the palace she bid goodbye to her grandparents and went to find the seat that Yue had secured for her.

She settled down in the empty spot next to what she assumed was Yue’s — it was her birthday after all, so a dramatic entrance wasn’t out of the question — and nervously glanced at the three visitors, trying to figure out how to introduce herself.

Thankfully, she was saved when the girl met her eyes and waved, offering a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Katara; this is my brother Sokka, and that’s Aang.” She gestured in their direction with her head when she said their names and they both smiled and gave her polite nods.

She returned the sentiment gratefully. “I’m Y/N— I’m one of Princess Yue’s friends. Welcome to the Northern Water Tribe!”

“Thanks!” Aang said. “We’re here to find a master so Katara and I can master waterbending.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Master Pakku is one of the best there is, and even though he’s a total jerk, he’ll be able to teach you everything you need to know. And Katara, we have some amazing healing teachers— I can bring you along to my class tomorrow if you’re interested!”

Katara’s eyes lit up. “You’re a waterbender too?” When Y/N nodded, her smile grew even bigger, though slightly wistful.

“I’d really appreciate that,” she admitted, though her brows knit together. “But I’d like to learn from Master Pakku as well.”

Y/N frowned, about to correct her, when the distinct sound of drums began to echo throughout the hall. Her displeasure immediately disappeared as she grinned at them all excitedly, gesturing with her head towards the action.

Chief Arnook stood up from his spot and their table, his low voice booming. “Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe. And they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now… the Avatar!”

Y/N’s own applause joined a symphony of others clapping and cheering as Aang waved bashfully, and once it died down, Arnook continued. “We also celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!”

She grinned as Yue walked out alongside her attendants — she would never get used to her beauty. Y/N noticed the way that Sokka’s eyes widened as he stared at her, and her stomach twisted at the act for some unknown reason.

“Thank you, Father,” she said. “May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times!”

Arnook smiled at his daughter and directed his attention back to his people. “Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform!”

She could tell that Katara and Aang were enraptured by the bending, while Sokka’s attention was already on Yue as she walked over to sit between Sokka and Y/N.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Yue exclaimed, greeting her friend with a short embrace.

Y/N gave her a sideways smile. “If you think that I would miss your birthday and a banquet, then I’m afraid you’re out of practice on Y/N trivia.”

The princess laughed and nodded amiably then turned her attention to Sokka, ever the diplomat.

“Hi there,” he grinned. “Sokka, Southern Water Tribe.”

Yue returned the sentiment and gave him a slight bow. “Very nice to meet you.”

As their conversation went on, Y/N found herself tuning out a bit. For whatever reason, she had to actively stop herself from rolling her eyes at Sokka’s flirting, that same feeling in her stomach coming back. She made a mental note to see a healer about her issues.

“Hey, Y/N!” She snapped out of her self-imposed trance at the sound of Katara calling her name as she gestured for her to come over. It looked like Aang had gotten up to converse with Master Pakku and Chief Arnook, so she took the invitation and switched seats.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be here,” Katara said once Y/N had settled next to her. “Back home, I’m the only waterbender. Here… it’s like paradise. It almost feels too good to be true. I mean, even seeing you is crazy — I’ve never met a waterbender my age.”

Y/N smiled, though not without a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for you to be able to experience this. How are you the only bender left down there?”

Katara was silent for a moment, a flurry of emotions warring on her face, before she answered. “The Southern Tribe hasn’t fared half as well as the Northern Tribe during the war. We don’t have one big, huge capital like this, we’re all split up into small villages. The Fire Nation has just been relentless with their raids, and without support from the North and a lack of communication between our sister tribes in the South, they were able to wipe us all out. Except for me.”

“Spirits, Katara…” Y/N set an amiable hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that her softened expression could say what her words couldn’t. “My village was invaded when I was young, too. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

She nodded pensively but managed to meet her eyes with an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your village as well.” Her gaze drifted off, once again taking in the view around them, and when Katara met her eyes again she seemed better. “But we’re here now, and I’m planning to take advantage of everything I can, starting with all this food. Which one of these is your favorite?”

Y/N grinned as Katara pointed at the platter of various dishes in front of them. “Oh, you’ve got to try this. See that giant crab up there? That’s what this is, and you have not lived until you have tried Northern crab.”

Conversation flowed just as easily through the rest of the night between the two girls, occasionally switching to include Sokka and Yue and eventually Aang once he returned. Between the swells of pride whenever they laughed at her jokes, getting to learn about all three of them, and the almost palpable euphoria in the air, Y/N was sure of one thing:

This was the happiest she had felt in a long time. She could only hope it would last.

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895

atla: @marianne1806

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko fic #zuko x reader fic #zuko #avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #avatar fic #reader insert #avatar x reader #sadie writes #ehfar #y/n is having bi panic when she doesn't even know wtf the fuck bi is #she can't help it that her friend is the prettiest girl in the world

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goodegrrrl · 3 years

Text

Memories

Pairing: Ally Mayfair - Richards x Reader

Words: 2,202

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, cults, panic attacks

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It was late October. The trees had put on their orange colored dresses, dancing slowly together in the wind. Somedays, rain fell from the sky and thunder was roaring. Somedays, the sun would shine so bright, breaking its way through the clouds, illuminating the world in a soft glow. People were bundled up in cozy sweaters and big scarves, their heads covered by beanies, wool hats and headbands. Children were playing in the beds of leaves the trees had shed. Pumpkin season had officially begun, so they were everywhere – every form, color and size one could imagine. Girls were walking together down the street, their lattes in one hand, their other one gesturing wildly to prove a point to their companions. Most of them were laughing, chatting with each other excitedly, not a care in the world.

You were sitting in your favorite coffee house, finishing up some work on your laptop. As a personal assistant to the senator you were never really off – always catching up on emails, coordinating meetings or working on the upcoming campaign. You smiled to yourself while you sipped on your coffee, watching a group of people seeking shelter from the rain. Today, the weather was unpredictable. In the morning the sun had been shining brighter than all week, now the clouds had driven out even the most persistent sunbeams, casting an unpleasant cold over the streets.

When your phone started ringing, you tore away your gaze from the doings on the street. You quickly picked it up before even checking who was calling you. “Yeah, go.”, you hastily said. Usually it was Ally’s office, needing confirmation on a certain meeting or your opinion on different designs for the election posters. “It’s Maddie.”, the raspy voice of Ally’s photographer forced itself into your ears. Maddie and Ally had been at a meeting with the school council, trying to figure out a way to make school lunches healthier while staying in budget. “I think you should get here. Ally is not doing well.” And with that you forced your laptop shut, carelessly pushing it into your back and throwing a twenty dollar bill on the counter. The school was only across the street and since you had some work to finish, you decided to sit this one out. Now you were panicked, not registering anything around you, your only focus being Ally and getting to her as fast as you could.

You had known Ally for a few years, five, maybe even six. After having been elected as Senator she had been searching for an assistant for quite sometime. Most of the ones she had hired barely lasted a week. They complained about the hours, the salary and the constant traveling. When you had turned up for your interview, Ally had sighed. Worried, that you would not last either, she barely took the time to show you the ropes. You had quickly picked up on what she needed you to do though, always eager to make her life just a little easier. You did not mind working around the clock, being called at all hours or figuring out scheduling conflicts. You loved working for Ally. And after a while, you just loved Ally.

Contrary to the other women you had dated, Ally was neither particularly warm, nor did she show any interest in you. She was hardworking, focused on making the world a better place and trying her best to be a good mom to her son, Ozzie. She usually just gave you quick little orders, reminded you to keep her schedule organized or informed you about upcoming travels so you could book her a flight and a nice hotel. She completely kept you out of her private life until her babysitter canceled on her last minute when she had an important meeting to attend. Your phone had rung around 7pm that night. You were having dinner with a close friend of yours, but you always picked up her calls. “I know, I am a terrible person and I know I promised you a night completely off.. Ozzie’s sitter canceled on me last minute because apparently she has food poisoning. I am about to head out to dinner with the mere. Anyway, I know it’s last minute and I really tried to find another way, but…” before Ally could ramble on, muttering apology after apology, you stopped her and told her you’d be at her house in ten minutes. Your friend had been mad, but Ally was your priority. Always, without failure.

She had looked relieved when you stood in front of her. Thanking you while rushing out the door. You truly didn’t mind hanging out with Ozzie. Often times you briefly talked to him when she brought him along to meetings with the school council, having appointed him as her little advisor, giving him a voice when for so long he believed he wasn’t enough. Ozzie and you had spent the night watching his favorite shows, baking chocolate chip cookies and when it was getting close to 11pm you took him to bed, reading a bedtime story together.

Ally came home shortly after midnight, looking drained and exhausted. You had squeezed her shoulder before you left, giving her a gentle smile. The next day she told you how much Ozzie had enjoyed having you around, how he felt safe with you, like you listened to him, cared about what he had to say and how you made him feel important. She had asked you then if you’d cut back on your hours working for her as an assistant, instead spending time with Ozzie whenever she was away. And of course you had agreed. Seeing her face lighting up was all you needed.

Your relationship slowly shifted after that particular conversation. When she would come home after a long day, she’d offer you a glass of wine, vent to you about her day and how she sometimes felt everything was becoming too much, how she felt her day didn’t have enough hours, how she was afraid she was failing as a mother. You had assured her she was doing fine, that things would get easier once she had settled into her new position. And you were right.

The first time you learned about her phobias had been about two years after you had started working for her. You had accompanied her to a fun fair in the city, her having to give a speech about free time activities for children. When she was standing on the podium halfway through with her talk, you noticed her freezing, eyes opened wide, struggling to fill her lungs with air. Your eyes had followed her line of sight when you noticed a man dressed as a clown standing right in the middle of the crowd, wearing a mask so horrible, it gave you goosebumps all over your body. You hadn’t really thought about your actions then, simply running on instinct, wanting to protect Ally. Protect her from her memories, her fear, her pain. You had joined her on the podium, gently putting your hand on the small of her back after excusing her because something had come up. You had kept your grip on her tightly, guiding her away from curious looks into the safety of your van. She had taken your hand, her eyes firmly shut. “Breath with me, Ally, In.. and out.”, you whispered as you encouraged her to breath with you. Tears were making their way down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. “You’re doing so good, Ally, I am so proud of you. You’re doing good. Just keep breathing, in and out.”, you softly caressed her knuckles with your thumb, continuing to breath with her. When slowly her lungs had filled with air again, life returning to her haunted eyes, she had laid her head on your shoulder, simply breathing, relishing in the feeling of being present again, leaving the dark place in her mind. You had gently wrapped your arms around her, keeping her close. When she looked up at you, her eyes finding yours, questioning, longingly, you pressed her lips gently to hers. You felt home. Like you were a sailor returning from sea, finally holding your long lost lover close, dancing together while the world around you disappeared. You kissed her, like she was made of glass, made of paper. Your lips moved in unison, achingly gentle and soft. When you had to breathe again, you knew that she was it. Ally was the one you were going to spend the rest of your life with and when your eyes found hers again, looking at you filled with love and the promise of forever, you knew she felt the same way.

After that day, you had never spent a day apart from her again.

When you were now running through the school, yelling at Maddie to tell you where Ally was, you felt like you were about to combust. You felt like your heart was bleeding because she needed you and you weren’t there. You had left her alone when you had given her the promise of protection. You reached the principals office and when your eyes fell on Ally your heart shattered in a million pieces. The council had vacated the office to give Ally some privacy and Maddie was standing at the big oak desk looking lost and overstrained with the situation. “Just go Maddie, find me a glass of water.”, you snapped at her, being more furious with yourself than with her.

Ally was perched in the corner, eyes firmly shut, her hands covering her ears. Like you were approaching a wild animal, you slowly moved towards her, kneeling about a feet away from her. “Ally, it’s me.”, you gently tried, but she wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge your presence. You knew she was being held hostage, held hostage by her memories, fear, demons pulling at her, trying to take her to the abyss with them. “Ally.”, you tried again, a little louder. She swayed back and forth, mumbling to herself. “He’s gone, it’s not real, it can’t be. No. He’s gone.”, over and over again. “ALLY.”, you almost shouted, tears gathering in your eyes, feeling her pain so very deep in your soul. She finally opened her eyes. Haunted. Scared. Panicked. She looked at you but could not keep her focus, her pupils darting around the empty office. “He was here. I swear I saw him. He was walking right by the window.”, she whispered, panicked, tears making their way down her cheeks, creating a trail of terror on her beautiful face. “He was walking right by the window, I saw his blue hair, I swear, I am not crazy, I am not.”, now she was struggling to breathe, getting herself worked up, trapped in her memories of the darkest time of her life. Memories of her wife and a cult driving her crazy. Of it’s leader trying to rob her of her most priced possession – her son. You were not sure if she really knew you were there. If she even knew who you were right in this moment. “Ally, it’s me. Breathe, please, breathe. I believe you. You are not crazy. Ally.”, you tried, scooting closer to her. She took your hand, digging her nails into your palm when her whole body was shaking with painful sobs escaping from deep within the depths of her soul. You knew then you could hold her, so you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your lap. She sobbed, wailed in your arms, clinging to your blouse like it was her lifeline. You whispered in her ear, repeating over and over again that Kai was not alive anymore, that she had gotten rid of him, how brave she had been. You softly rocked her, your lips finding her forehead, giving her featherlight kisses. “You’re not crazy, Ally. Just come back to me. It’s not real. I promise you.”, you tried to soother her, “It was probably some punk kid. You know.. they all have fun colored hair these days.” She nodded against your neck. Again and again as to convince herself. “You’re so brave, my love.”

And after a while, Ally came back to you. Her eyes found yours while she moved off of your lap, getting back on her feet and holding out her hand for you. When you both stood, she wrapped her arms around you, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you. For being there. For not yelling at me. For holding me. For not making fun of me.” She gave you a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I love you, Ally. I would never leave you. I will always be there.”, you whispered while wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks. “You look terrible, you know that?”, you joked, eliciting a soft laugh from her. “How about we get cleaned up and head home? I could cook you some pasta, we could watch a movie, spend the rest of the day in bed?”, you suggested, taking her hand in yours and giving her knuckles a gentle kiss. “I’d like that.”, she whispered.

#ally mayfair richards #ally Mayfair Richards x reader #ahs cult #american horror story #ahs fandom #ahs fanfiction #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #hurt/comfort #angst #panic attacks #ptsd #phobias #mental illness

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sondepoch · 3 years

Text

Breaking (4/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

MASTERLIST

Childe is broken.

That’s the only way to explain it, really.

Something in him seemed to change after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya. The lazy smiles, playful grins, and rugged charms that Childe used to project as naturally as light off the sun have evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a shell of a man you once thought to be so powerful.

“Ajax,” you whisper, calling his name to wake him up. All he really needs to do is open his eyes. You know that he’s already awake, long used to how rhythmic the rise and fall of his chest is from months of sleeping by his side, but the redhead ignores you, pressing his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Ajax,” you repeat, frustration beginning to drip into your tone. “Ajax, you have to wake up.”

Except that he doesn’t actually have to.

The man received an onslaught of calls the day after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, all of which he answered with varying degrees of frustration, but ever since then, his phone has been radio silent. Where Childe used to be out of bed every day by eleven and in his office by twelve to attend to his meetings, he’s now done nothing but stay in bed all day—and the worst part is that no one seems to care, his phone completely silent save for the daily calls he’s been avoiding from Scaramouche.

Where a few days ago, you were annoyed with the fact that he forced you to do nothing with him for hours on end, not even fucking you at night the way he always used to, now, you’ve begun to grow concerned.

“Ajax, get up.”

You try to pull his head off your shoulder in hopes that you can force him to at least look you in the eye, but the way he instantly stiffens and burrows deeper into your shoulder is proof enough that he’s not going anywhere.

You sigh.

This marks the third day where he’s refused to even brush his teeth in the morning, the fourth where he’s refused to speak. If your life were anything normal, you’d have forced him up long ago—but you’re hardly in a position to pretend you have any authority over him. It’s clear that he knows that, too.

“Ajax, I really need you to get up...”

—which is a true statement, surprisingly.

The plan you’d developed to initiate your escape, perfected over the car ride back from Childe’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, was simple: snag a knife from the kitchen in Childe’s apartment, sneak into his office, use said knife to tear open the briefcase you know must have your documents inside of it, and then start running to the hotel Diluc and Kaeya said they’d be in.

You spent hours perfecting this: figuring out where Childe would be most likely to store the kitchen knives, what time of day will be best for sneaking out, and even what clothing you’ll wear when running away, since you can’t exactly run through the streets of Snezhnaya in your usual birthday suit, and for once, it seemed like the stars had actually aligned for you.

Unfortunately, when you developed your plan, you hadn’t accounted for Childe’s sudden change in behavior.

“Ajax, please…”

But the man barely even shifts in response.

Hours later, after you’ve long given up on waking him and have instead decided to join him in his slumber, you both wake up together to a voice much louder than either of yours.

“What the fuck,” Childe groans, throat hoarse from not speaking for days on end, “is that sound.”

In your opinion, it’s pretty clear what that sound is: Scaramouche’s aggressively loud shouts of “Open the fuck up!” and “Stop dodging my calls!” and “Get out of bed, asshat!” accompanied by a nonstop banging that makes you grateful no one else lives on this floor doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Instead, all you say is a quiet ”I think that’s Scaramouche.”

Childe withdraws his head from your neck with a mocking glare as the intensity of Scaramouche’s banging increases.

“I’m coming in, dickweed!” the man shouts from many rooms over, and that’s the only warning you and Childe get before you hear what has to be the sound of a door being kicked in.

“Did he just…”

Childe stares at you in shock.

A small smile flits onto your face, grateful that someone has finally come to snap Childe back to his senses.

Scaramouche doesn’t bother quieting his footsteps as he stomps towards the master bedroom. He throws the door open with such force that you almost fear it'll rebound straight back into his face, but Scaramouche is across the room with his hands around Childe’s neck so fast that you’ve barely blinked before your owner’s head is being bashed against the bedframe.

“What the fuck,” Scaramouche snarls. “Made you think it was a good idea to tell anyone that you were the one who lost Lumine.”

“I didn’t—”

Your owner’s voice is cut off when Scaramouche grips Childe’s neck and wordlessly threatens to hurt him again.

“Do you know how many problems this will cause? No one wants to work with you anymore, Tartaglia.”

“I know, and—”

Scaramouche pushes Childe’s head back into the bed frame, albeit with a little less force this time.

“No one wants to work with me anymore for having worked with you. Same for Signora and Dottore.”

“There’s nothing I can—”

“And all your big clients somehow got wind of it, too. They’re trying to switch over, and they’re all going to traffickers who aren’t associated with the Fatui because you—”

“Do you think I fucking wanted people to find out?”

It’s the first proper sentence you’ve heard from Childe since he left that meeting room with Diluc and Kaeya.

“Do you think I fucking want the literal shittiest people in the world thinking that they can look down on me?” Childe shoves Scaramouche off him, blue eyes narrowing into a glare. “I’ve already lost everything, asshole, so I don’t need you here if all you’re going to do is remind me of that.”

Scaramouche’s face settles into a frown, though you do see a hint of apology in his eyes. The pain in Childe’s voice didn’t go lost on anyone in this room.

“You smell like shit,” Scaramouche says abruptly, looking away. “Take a shower. We’ll figure out how to fix this after that.”

Childe doesn’t say anything at that, merely stepping out of bed in his sweatpants and walking to the bathroom.

“Go with him,” Scaramouche tells you. “You smell even worse.”

You’re partially insulted, partially grateful when Scaramouche says that. Insulted because, well, it can hardly be considered your fault that your owner clung to you in his bed for days on end without letting you shower. Grateful because after watching Childe do nothing for so long, you’re not sure he’ll even be able to take a proper shower on his own.

“Ajax?” you whisper softly, following him into the bathroom. “Ajax, should I—”

“Be quiet,” he whispers. Childe steps inside the shower, eyes downcast. “Please,” he adds in a softer voice.

The man doesn’t start the shower until you’ve stepped in beside him, and you’re jarred when you realize how familiar this position is. It reminds you of how, months ago, when Childe first declared you his favorite and began inviting you to spend the night with him in his apartment, he brought you with him to the shower because he couldn’t trust you to be alone for so long. It was probably his first step in his attempts to win you over, since even back then, he was always so touchy with you, always asking what your preferred shampoo scents were and insisting that you let him wash your hair.

Back then, you were the sullen one, timid to speak and hesitant to look your owner in the eye. When he washed your hair for you, it was all you could do to shut your eyes and wait for his touch to go away, but now...

“Let me,” you tell him when he reaches for a bottle of shampoo.

It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated anything like this. You hold your breath, wondering if Childe will refuse you.

Wordlessly, the man bows his head to you.

You don’t entirely know what compels you to massage shampoo into his hair with such tenderness. A part of you says that it’s because you feel guilty, since it’s obvious by now that your slip-up to Kaeya that Lumine and Childe were connected is what’s resulted in his current plight, but another part of you does it simply because it feels natural. Standing next to him, his body blocking out most of the water as you let the soapy suds rinse from his hair, feels homey. Peaceful. Pleasant, almost as if the relationship between you isn’t owner and slave, as if the two of you are actually equals and you’re simply caring for him out of the goodness of your heart.

Childe seems to sense it, too, because right after you’ve washed conditioner from his hair and have finally begun using a loofah to clean his body, he stops your arms. He holds them loosely, just enough strength in his fingertips so that you know he wants you to stop but still sufficiently little that you’d be able to keep moving if you want to, and the two of you stand there like that for much too long, naked and vulnerable, staring into each other’s eyes as warm water beats down at you.

“I…”

It’s the first time Childe is actually speaking to you in such a long time, and his eyes soften the way they always do when he looks at you and makes you feel like you’re the only thing to exist in this world.

“I think I—”

“Hurry up in there!” The sound of Scaramouche kicking the door ruins the moment, and Childe abruptly drops your wrists from his hold. He steps back quickly, almost as if realizing how close his lips had moved towards yours, and a familiar pink stains his cheeks as he glances away from you and hurriedly scrubs the rest of his body clean.

“Sorry,” he blurts, so quick and uncomfortable that it almost reminds you of how he normally is. You’d believe it, too, if not for the slight twinge of distance in his eyes that tells you he’s still thinking about Lumine or whatever it is that has him so out of it. “Uh, thanks. I’m, uh, gonna go. Gotta talk to him, y’know? You can, uh, finish up in here.”

You almost want to laugh at how awkward Childe is as he steps out of the shower and towels off to brush his teeth, blue eyes flickering to your form only to glance away in embarrassment when he realizes that he’s being watched.

“I’ll put new clothes on the bed for you, so…”

Childe nods stiffly at you and closes the door, and it’s all you can do to blink after him.

Ten minutes later, once you’re fully clean for the first time in much too long and you’ve worn the clothes lain out for you on the bed, you make your exit from the master bedroom and follow the sound of voices into the living room.

“Listen, I—”

“Wait.” Childe puts up a hand, gesturing for you to come over. Wordless, you do, though it surprises you when your owner lets you sit at his side instead of on his lap. “Alright, continue.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes the slightest before going on:

“All I was saying was that your career might be salvageable if you relocate. Let’s say you drop the name Tartaglia and instead fill the role of Capitano. You’ll have to move to Sumeru, but you might be able to continue your work there. Everyone now knows that Tartaglia was responsible for losing Lumine, but as long as you don’t tell people in Sumeru that you were Tartaglia, no one should question you there.”

“I hate everything about that plan,” Childe says, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what language they speak there. I’ll be the foreigner. Everyone will think that I came to Sumeru as a last resort because I couldn't sell my merch anywhere else. Do you know how much I made fun of those two Mondstadt pricks for trying to do business here? They didn’t even have accents either, so imagine what people will say when I—”

“You don’t exactly have the luxury of caring about what people will say behind your back.” Scaramouche glances away, sensing that it’s a low blow. “I mean, listen. No one wants to work with you anymore, and this is the only way ‘you’ can become someone else.”

But Childe remains silent.

“You can keep all your merchandise,” Scaramouche continues. “In fact, the people in Sumeru will probably like that, since it means that the girls won’t know the language and they won’t be able to escape or ask for help. Hell, you can even bring her—”

“Is that even a question?” Childe asks defensively, a hand wrapping protectively around your knee. “Listen, Scaramouche, I appreciate you trying to help me, but Sumeru isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t ideal? You letting it slip that you’re the imbecile who lost Lumine wasn’t ideal, but look where it—”

“I didn’t say shit!” Childe hisses in response. “Do you seriously think I’m that dumb? That I’d let those two Mondstadt pricks, of all people, know something that could destroy my career? That has now destroyed my career?”

“If not you, then who, Tartaglia? The only people who know are a part of the Fatui, and it’s not like—”

Scaramouche gestures to you wildly, evidently about to say that it’s not like you could have known, except that he now remembers that he did let mention Lumine in front of you to Childe once, and you can see the moment where he connects the dots.

“You fucking bitch,” Scaramouche whispers, eyes wide with fury and shock.

“No,” Childe says, standing up abruptly. “She didn’t say it intentionally. She still doesn’t know who Lumine is.”

“But she told someone, Tartaglia. You’re literally going to be kicked out of Snezhnaya because of her, and you still want to protect her?”

Childe’s mouth forms a thin line.

Scaramouche laughs mirthlessly.

“Fucking hell. Do you think this is a joke? Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia. Everyone in the Fatui is suffering, and if you keep letting yourself get seduced by your fucking toys, you should just quit being a human trafficker before one of us shoots you.”

Tartaglia says nothing.

“You’re a disappointment. At this point, you’ve caused more trouble for us than you have good. Everything you do seems to be another international incident, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

More silence.

“It’s people like you that make me terrified to retire. The more I talk to you, the more I think that you would have been better off as a slave rather than the owner. I never should have let you move up. You were built for taking dick, not for trying to control it.”

Your eyes widen as Childe remains silent.

“And you know who takes the blame every time you fuck up? Me. It’s me. Everyone in the goddamn Fatui thinks I made a bad call now when I set you free and, I’m going to be honest, I’m beginning to think they’re ri—

Childe stiffens next to you, standing.

“That’s enough,” he says, the look in his eyes dark. “What’s done is done,” he says. “Or do you need to vent some more?”

Scaramouche crosses his hands, a look of...regret? embarrassment? pity? Flickering across his eyes. He stands up with an unreadable look on his face.

“I’m...being serious. Consider whether or not you still want to work in the Fatui. This is the best shot you’ll have at leaving.” Scaramouche’s eyes flit over to you, where Childe’s hand is now wrapped protectively around your waist. “Though if I’m honest, I don’t think you even want to be a human trafficker anymore.”

Childe says nothing to that, merely waving casually as Scaramouche exits the apartment through the hole he made in the door. You wince when you see the damage, wanting to ask your owner how he plans on repairing it, but another question is more pressing on your mind:

“Ajax?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Lumine?”

Your owner looks at you, brushing his thumb by your cheek as his eyes take on a nostalgic tint.

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

Childe goes back to his bad sleeping habits as soon as Scaramouche leaves. Within seconds, your owner is shirtless and has flopped onto the bed, shooting you a pleading look to curl up next to him. Thankfully, this spell seems to last a little shorter than the previous one because although the man refuses to get out of bed, he at least entertains you with a conversation.

“What else?” you ask, a playful smile on your face as Childe continues telling you stories about Xiangling.

“Well, there was this one time where some kid was making fun of Xiangling for being bad at art, so she and I decided that we’d bring in sandwiches for the entire class and make his extra spicy. I actually helped her with the cooking process and all, so I watched how much chili she put into the sauce she was going to use for this kid’s sandwich and it was ridiculous, like I thought she was trying to murder him or something, but anyway, we get to school and start handing out the sandwiches, and…”

You’re completely enthralled as Childe tells you the story of how he had to go to the nurse’s office because he, unfortunately, was the poor soul to eat the overly-spicy sandwich through a Xiangling-esque mix-up—and you don’t care that he’s probably making it up just to see you laugh, all that matters is that the man is smiling and talking and not staring miserably at the ceiling the way he has been for the past few days.

“You should try that the next time you’re in a business meeting with someone you don’t like,” you say, giggling. “It would be such a flex if they thought that you could eat something so spicy while they’d struggle.”

“Maybe,” Childe chuckles. “I really wanted to do something like that to those two Mondstadt pricks—and it might work, too, since they’re at least still doing business with me—but they already left the country.”

“What?” you ask in alarm, fear presenting itself as excitement through the speed with which you respond.

“Yeah,” Childe hums. “They had to go early or something. I guess it’s fine since we already agreed on the mode of transportation, but—”

“Wait, really? B-but hasn’t it been less than two weeks since your last meeting with them?”

Alarm bells begin to ring inside your mind. You remember—you swear you remember the two of them telling you that you’d have at least two weeks to get the documents before they’d leave. But could it be that they’ve forgotten about you? What if they decided you were trouble? What if they know that you’ve begun to grow close to Childe as of recent? What if they—fuck—you’ve actually begun to like the redhead, haven’t you? The fact that he’s not bringing to meetings anymore, handing your body off to be fucked like a toy before he takes you back, has made you forget that the man in front of you is a monster, hasn’t it? Could they somehow know?

A pool of dread rises in your stomach.

What you did today in the shower, willingly touching him and showing him affection he’s done nothing to deserve, was disgraceful. How can you expect Diluc and Kaeya to free you if you’re not even doing your best to be freed? What if they know about what happened today? What if they think you’re a lost cause? What if they abandoned you here because of your own naivety, and you’re cursed to a life of human trafficking for the rest of your days because of your own idiocy?

“Angel?” Childe asks, cupping your cheek. You violently flinch away from his touch, a defensive anger creeping into your eyes. “Angel, I—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I…”

You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of your position. He may not be using you right now, but Childe is a human trafficker. You’re nothing more than his favorite toy. Getting close to him like this will do nothing but hinder your escape.

“It’s nothing,” you say, averting your eyes. Still, you make no effort to return to Childe’s warm embrace. “Just, um, tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Childe must know that what you’re saying is utter bullshit, primarily because these past few days have been nothing but sleep and rest and more sleep, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn away from him before he can get close.

There’s a strange sound Childe makes, then. It’s something between a sigh and whimper, dejected and hurt all at once, but you don’t turn around to check on him. He’s a monster, you tell yourself, forcing the image of Childe looking like a kicked puppy out of your mind. A fucking monster.

And the only two people in the world who are willing to get you away from this monster may have just abandoned you, so you really need to get your shit together.

Pretending to be asleep comes naturally to you after nine months of learning that sleep, even if feigned, was the only escape you could ever have from this life. Hours pass until Childe really has fallen into slumber, something you test by calling his name out quietly, and then you know that it’s time to go—or to at least go do what you can.

You’re abruptly grateful that you and Childe went to bed right after Scaramouche left because it means that you’re fully clothed, which is an unnatural state for someone like you. When you quietly climb out of bed and out of Childe’s apartment through the hole Scaramouche made in his front door, it almost makes you feel normal because even though you’re still dressed in a cutesy skirt and blouse, you’re not being accompanied by the one man who has never let you go outside alone.

When you finally take the elevator down the ground floor of Childe’s building, no one pays you a second glance as you walk out the front door.

Then, your mind is abuzz.

Don’t look at anyone, you tell yourself because you know that if you have a panic attack here, no one will be able to save you. Don’t look at anyone, just go to the hotel.

Hours of pretending to be asleep helped you sort out your thoughts: it makes sense that Childe would believe Diluc and Kaeya to be gone. After all, they don’t want your owner getting any ideas that they were the ones to free you; however, you need to make sure that they’re actually here.

And besides, you reason to yourself as you cross the street and step towards the hotel you’ve seen so many times across Childe’s apartment. It’s best to make sure I know where they are so that I don’t get confused when I actually escape. It’s important to do this.

With your eyes locked on the ground the whole time, you enter the hotel and take the elevator to the second floor where rooms 213 and 214 will be, just as Diluc and Kaeya instructed. No one pays you any attention, as if reminding you of your insignificance, but you’re grateful for how invisible you seem to be as you exit an empty elevator and wander down a carpeted hall.

This hotel is a considerable downgrade from the extravagant location Diluc and Kaeya were renting out as a front for their supposed trafficking, but it sets you at ease. When you finally stand in front of room 213, it looks almost...normal.

Hesitant, you raise a hand and rap your knuckles against the wood.

“E-excuse me?” you ask, tension beginning to seep in. “Is anyone—are—Diluc? Kaeya?”

Their names sound foreign off your tongue but you repeat them anyway, the intensity of your knocking increasing until you’re practically banging on the door the way Scaramouche was this morning.

No response.

Panic begins to surface, and you quickly switch over to room 214, not bothering to start knocking quietly as you bang on the door desperately.

“Is anyone there?” you call, trying to keep your voice sufficiently low so as to not disturb other patrons of the hotel, but it’s really hard when your fears that Diluc and Kaeya really have abandoned you grow truer and truer with each passing second. “Please!” you sob, practically kicking the door in your attempts to will it into opening. “Diluc! Kaeya! You—you promised you’d—”

The door opens right as you’re about to bang your fists against it once more, and an incredibly annoyed and shirtless Diluc stands to catch both your fists right before you can hit his chest with them.

“I’m here,” he says in that familiar, deep voice of his. “Calm down. I’m here.”

“Oh,” you say, relief suddenly washing through you as you practically go boneless in front of him. You know it’s inappropriate, that the two of you share no real relationship other than the fact that he’s trying to help you escape, but you can’t help the way you instinctively throw yourself forward to embrace him. “Thank you,” you practically sob into his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

“I—” Diluc is quick to pull you back, and he levels his stare with you just as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Did you escape? Do you have the documents?”

The redhead glances around the hall once to confirm that no one is watching before he pulls you inside his room. You’re surprised to see a gagged and naked Venti on his bed, the boy’s eyes round in...fear? concern? You’re not sure. The gag surprises you until you remember Kaeya’s previous declaration that Venti was a masochist. He must be into BDSM, too.

“No,” you tell the man, shaking your head. “I just—Ajax told me that you and Kaeya left. S-so I wanted to check to see if you’d actually…”

It sounds stupid when you say it out loud. From the face Diluc is making, he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” he says, effectively inviting you in as he walks back inside the room. He approaches the dresser to slip on the black and red gloves you saw from him last time, wearing them before moving to sit on the bed next to Venti, big hands cupping the boy’s slender thighs. “Okay, we’re here. And we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Okay,” you respond, trying your hardest not to look at Venti. It’s clear that you walked in on an intimate moment. “Um…”

“We were having sex.”

Your cheeks burn. “Right,” you say, nodding your head. “That’s—um—all I—just wanted to check—going to—”

“Don’t leave unless you’re sure that there’s nothing you need,” Diluc says. “We can help you, you know. Give you a lockpick or a hammer or even a gun if that’s what it’ll take to get you access to those documents.”

“No, I’m…”

A soft smile floats onto your face. Awkward as he may be, you’re sure that this is just Diluc’s stoic way of being nice.

“I’m good. I already have a plan for the documents.” You’re about to smile and make your leave when you remember something that’s been at the forefront of your mind for ages. “But…”

Diluc lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

“Um...you don’t need to answer this, i-it’s actually not relevant, so I should—”

“What is it.”

Somehow, when Diluc says that with such a sharp gaze, it feels like less of a question and more of a demand.

You shudder, familiar with the sensation. Nine months of training makes your response automatic:

“Do you know what happened to Lumine?”

Diluc’s face changes.

“I mean—you don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. Ajax keeps talking about her and Scaramouche kept mentioning her and I don’t understand why she’s so important, so I haven’t—”

“Lumine was the name of a human trafficking slave who escaped,” Diluc says, folding his arms. Next to him, Venti leans into him and pulls his knees in, hiding his manhood. “I don’t know any exact dates, since there was probably a gap between when she escaped and when people began finding out, but it happened sometime within the past two years.”

“O...kay?” You cock your head to the side. That...honestly doesn’t sound like a big deal at all, honestly. Slaves escape all the time: heck, Scaramouche said that Xiao disappeared just a few weeks ago, so why isn’t Zhongli facing the same loss in business that Childe’s going through?

Diluc seems to see the confusion on your face.

“The thing was, when Lumine escaped, she took important documents with her.” Oh, you think, beginning to understand why that would be a problem. “At the time, no one knew who had lost her, since that person maintained anonymity during the whole affair, but those documents were said to have definitive evidence that could be used to prosecute basically every human trafficker who had business dealings with Lumine's handler. And since that person was anonymous, it meant that every human trafficker in the world was at risk.”

“I...see.” Now you understand why people wouldn’t want to work with Childe at the revelation that he was the man who lost Lumine. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I guess.” Diluc shrugs and crosses his arms. “The incident was resolved pretty quickly, and everyone soon found out that Lumine had been killed before she could hand the documents over to anyone of importance. Still, though, for someone as prolific as Tartaglia to be the imbecile to have lost his merchandise…”

You hate how your heart immediately beats in defiance when Diluc calls Childe an imbecile. He is an imbecile, you try to tell yourself, despite the fact that you feel nothing but sorrow and pity for him now that you understand what situation you’ve put him in. An imbecile. An asshole. A monster.

But somehow, your heart doesn’t seem to agree with your mind on those words.

“And it’s my fault everyone knows…” you mumble, more to yourself than Diluc or Venti.

Scaramouche’s words from this morning echo through your mind—Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia: everyone in the Fatui is suffering—and instantly, guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Yes, these are human traffickers, but if you remember the utterly dejected look in Childe’s eye this morning, it feels infinitely worse to know that you’re the cause of his misery.

“Are you feeling bad for him?” Diluc asks in a whisper, but the look in his eye is dangerous. Even Venti, who had been pressed beside him up until now, begins to look fearful. “Are you seriously sympathizing with Tartaglia?”

“No, I—I’m not—”

“I hope not,” Diluc says, stony. “Because there are hundreds of other girls who want to be freed and haven’t begun to feel bad for their handlers, and Kaeya and I would much rather focus on them.”

“I’m not—”

“I hope so.”

Diluc stands abruptly, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“Th-thank you for taking the time to—”

“Yeah.”

Diluc practically pushes you out the door frame, then, his broad chest obstructing your view of the inside of the room, but your eyes fly to Venti, who kneels on the bed to make eye contact with you over the redhead's shoulder.

As Diluc begins reiterating the instructions for your return, you focus on the boy in the background.

Venti doesn’t seem to care that he’s nude. Hell, there’s not an ounce of shame on his face despite being gagged and covered in hickeys, and it would alarm you if you weren’t focused on the way he lifts his bruised arms up in an X-formation and begins shaking his head frantically. His lips appear to be forming the words to something, but you can’t understand what he’s saying through the gag.

You’re about to ask what Venti is saying when Diluc turns to see what you’re looking at.

For a second, the room seems to drop ten degrees. Venti freezes, staring at Diluc with round eyes, almost scared, and you swear you hear the redhead growl for a second.

A muffled whimper spills from Venti’s lips.

Diluc turns to you, a gentle smile that unsettles you on his face. “I think you should go,” he says. “Venti must really want my attention now if he’s trying to play games to get it.”

“O-oh, but what was he—”

“I suggest you leave now,” Diluc says, the kind-not-kind smile beginning to slip from his lips. “Because you’ve been here a while, and the last thing you should want is for Tartaglia to find you missing.”

“What about Kaeya—”

“Kaeya’s at the gym,” Diluc practically spits. “So unless you want Tartaglia tracking you there, too, I’d go straight back to your little apartment with him and pray that he didn’t notice you left.”

Despair builds in your chest at that. You were certain Childe was asleep when you left, but what if he reaches out for you while he’s sleeping? What if that wakes him up and he sees that you’re gone? What if—

“Go,” Diluc orders.

The redhead doesn’t wait for you to respond, then, simply slamming the door in your face. Immediately, you’re back in action. You dart for the elevator, knowing that you need to get home as quickly as you can if you want to minimize the chance of Childe waking up to find you gone.

Panic begins to rise. The familiar vines of anxiety begin to climb higher and higher through your stomach as the elevator begins to close with painstaking slowness. Your fingers fumble with the urge to make things move faster, and you doubt yourself for a moment, thinking that you should have taken the stairs, but it’s too late for that, now, with the doors just about to close, and—

You hear the beginnings of a scream. A high-pitched wail, something agonized and miserable and ruined.

Then, the sound cuts off with the closing of the elevator doors.

Too panicked to think, you don’t bother pondering the source of the sound as the elevator reaches the first floor and you stumble your way back to Childe’s apartment.

This time, you’re in so much of a rush that you do attract attention as you exit. Somehow, though, the thought of Childe waking up and finding you gone manages to overpower your fear at being seen, and you stumble forward through the hotel and towards Childe’s apartment building as fast as you can. When you’re safe inside, you have to take the elevator once more: because while Kaeya and Diluc were on the second floor of their hotel, Childe has the penthouse of his apartment, a distance much too large for the stairs to be a viable option, but your nerves begin to calm as you feel the elevator shift higher and higher.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get home safe and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

The elevator opens directly in front of Childe’s front door, where the hole Scaramouche busted open this morning still remains. Ever careful, you step one foot inside, shift your weight forward, and duck inside.

As soon as you’re completely within the apartment, the pressure and fear of having escaped dissipate. You think that you’ve made it back safely, that you snuck out and will be able to sneak back in with no consequences.

Then, you see him.

“Y-y-y-you’re—”

Childe is shaking like a leaf, looking pale and sickly. His hair is disheveled, messy in a way that lets you know that he’s been running his hands through it for as long as you've been gone, and his mouth is caught open in a mix of shock, confusion, and relief.

“You’re back,” he mumbles in disbelief, and the way his eyes glisten in the darkness of his apartment, catching what little moonlight shines in and reflecting it off, tells you that he’s on the verge of tears.

Then, he blinks, and the tears begin to fall.

“I…”

Words fail you. You don’t know what to say to justify your leave. You don’t know if Childe even wants justification. The man stumbles towards you, and while logic tells you that you should guard yourself, should protect yourself, should prepare to be hit or whipped or assaulted the way a human trafficker would normally behave when his merchandise acts out, the vulnerable look in Childe’s eye makes you think that he won't hurt you.

“I-I—I thought you left,” he blurts, reaching forward to catch your palm in his, squeezing it as if he can’t believe you’re real. “Why—why didn’t you—why are you—”

Back.

He reaches forward to clasp your other hand in his, and when he stands so close to you, holding your hands to his chest like your touch is his lifeline, everything else seems to disappear. For the first time today, the conscious thoughts that this man is a monster and he’s a human trafficker who destroyed your life and you should hate him all disappear—leaving nothing but pain for how miserable he looks at having been left, how shook he is that you decided to come back, how overwhelmed he is that, likely for the first time, someone has chosen to come back to him.

It shakes you to the core.

Never have you seen Childe so rattled. Displays of weakness like this are ones he rarely indulges in, and never at your side. This is the first time you're seeing him openly cry, the man practically clinging to your hand like it's the only thing grounding him, and you realize that he's hurting, too. That Lumine and Diluc and Kaeya and everything else in this godforsaken world of human trafficking have fucked him up just like it's fucked you over, and what you're seeing now is the culmination of all of that.

"Relax," you whisper, letting go of all your resentment for a single moment to pull him close into a warm, loving embrace. "Ajax, relax. I’m here. I’ve got you."

They're the same words Childe used to comfort you when you had a panic attack in the middle of Xiangling's restaurant, the same words that pulled you to safety at a time when even your mind had turned traitor against your heart.

You can't explain why you're comforting him when he's done nothing but ruin your life.

Yet, as Childe clutches your figure and chokes back a harrowing sob, thick, wet tears falling onto your shoulder as he chokes out the words “thank you” over and over again, you can’t help how your embrace instantly tightens.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 6.6k

Notes: OKAY so you know how this was supposed to be four chapters? yeah unfortunately that would make the final super duper rushed or super duper long so there's going to be a fifth chapter! and after the fifth chapter there'll be a short epilogue-y chapter!! the fifth chapter (finale!) and epilogue will be posted together at the same time - i can promise this bc i already have the epilogue written - soo yeah :D my apologies as usual for being late, hope you enjoyed the developments in this chapter! comment thoughts and predictions <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 7/18/21 (hopefully)

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

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lovelyminnieee · 3 years

Text

Without you- J.J.H

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Car accident mentions, mentions of death, father!Jaehyun, Coma, mentions of losing a loved one

Summary: Jaehyun doesn't want to deal with life anymore. Without you there to hug him, or tell him it was okay to cry, he didn't want to even come home, unless it was for his daughter. He missed you, so much he could go crazy. Maybe you will never come back, he hasn't lost hope yet. Will you be able to comeback to him and your daughter's lives again?

A/n: this is my first fic on my account, feedbacks would be deeply appreciated. Uh, I am a little nervous to post it, but please do give me feedbacks. And the paragraphs written in italics are memories

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It's been 3 years. Three years without you. There wasn't one day where he didn't think of you. Your daughter and the way she reminds him of you. He's tired of it, tired of life. Without you there to comfort him, tell him it's okay to cry, he's tired.

"Eun ha, we have to get to school!" Jaehyun shouts from one end of the apartment, packing her lunch. "Coming daddy!" His daughter waddles over to him, struggling to put her shoes on. "Let me do it," Jaehyun said as he picked her up and put her on the table. He smiles as he puts her shoes on quickly, placing her down after. "Let's go, okay baby?" Jaehyun holds her little hand, her bag in his other hand.

Jaehyun opened the door to the apartment and sighed. An empty home was not really welcoming. You weren't there to hug him, tell him that you love him. His habits haven't changed, he sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone.

"I miss you so fucking much..."

He texted your number. He missed you so much, he was going crazy. He closed his eyes, trying to hold tears bay. He sent you a picture of Eun ha in her dress up outfit. Like a princess.

"Look at Eun ha, she looks so pretty. Just like you baby"

His fingers type, the memories flooding in. He took you for granted while you were there, and that is the thing he regrets the most in life.

"I understand, but you can't just ignore me like that, Jae," you said, angry. He was ignoring you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. He said it was because of work, but he wasn't there at work during work hours. "No Jae, you're not working, you're somewhere else during work hours," you said, your eyes staring at him. Jaehyun paused for a minute, speechless. He was preparing something special for you, and that was the reason. "I- I was-" Jaehyun sighed. You were getting on his nerves. "Y/n, just leave me alone. You don't understand," he said and walked away, frustrated at your behaviour. You didn't know why you got angry so quickly, you were usually so calm and collected during arguments. "So now you want me to leave you alone?" You scoffed. Jaehyun turned around and stared at you. "Isn't that what I just said?" He stares back at you. "So it's completely okay for you to go out during work hours? And ignore me when you come home? What the fuck, Jae?" You raised your voice a little. "Can you not right now? I'm frustrated, Y/n." Jaehyun tried to keep his cool. "Jae, I've been dealing with so many things, do you think you're the only one who deals with stress?" You ask him, tears swelling in your eyes. Jaehyun closed his eyes, trying to stay collected. Maybe you had a reason to be mad this quick. "You might as well be cheating on me, or lying to me. And what not-"

"WHY ARE YOU BEING LIKE THIS Y/N?-"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO TELL YOU I WAS PREGNANT, JAE!"

Jaehyun went silent. His heart pounded in his chest at the news. Well, that certainly wasn't a good way to release the news. She was pregnant? He thought.

"You're what?"

"You know what, nevermind," you walked away, wiping your tears. Jaehyun ran up to you and hugged you from behind. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jaehyun whispered, kissing your neck softly. "I'm hurt, Jae." You whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm so sorry," he said, his hands softly resting over your tummy. Jaehyun's face ceased into a smile, continuing to press his lips against your neck. "I'm going to be a father," Jaehyun's eyes teared up as he twirled you around and kissed you softly. Everything felt unreal at that moment. He was going to be a dad. His heart swelled in happiness, pulling your waist closer to him.

"I'm so sorry about everything. I love you so much"

He pressed the send button, his eyes tearing up.

"Please come back to me, to Eun ha"

Tears ran down his cheeks and his world darkened again. Three years of torture. Three years without you. He doesn't know how he's going to manage. He shifted on the couch, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. "I miss you so much, Y/N." He whispered, holding his tears in. He had to visit you at the hospital soon, so he put his emotions aside for a moment and got up. He walked to his room and changed in a few minutes, grabbing his bag and walking out the door.

"Hi baby, I'm here," he whispers softly, walking closer to your bed. Your parents had been taking care of you for the past two days because he was busy, but now that he's here, he wants to tell you everything. He knows you're listening, unable to talk. "How are you, love? Is everything okay? Does it hurt?" He asks, gently caressing your hands. He misses your whiny self. Whatever he said, the room was so silent when it was supposed to be filled with your sweet voice. He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to hold in his emotions. "I miss you so much," his voice comes out as a broken whisper. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do this without you, please come back, I'm sorry," he cries, holding your hand close to him. Jaehyun remembers the day the accident happened.

"I'll meet you at home, babe. I love you," he said, cutting the call with a smile on his face. "You make me feel so single," Johnny whispers from his work desk, sighing. "Come on, John. You can bag girls if you try," Jaehyun chuckled as he put on his jacket. "Lucky, you get to go home early while I'm stuck with hyuck, great." Johnny rolls his eyes. Jaehyun just chuckles, walking out of his shared office space.

"So, how was work today?" Jaehyun asked, his eyes focused on the road. "Bad, all that man had to say was I did a bad job and screamed at me. The audacity," you scoffed on the other side of the phone. "Which man? The manager or the CEO?"

"Of course it has to be the manager. He's so annoying I swear," you sighed.

"Oh well, I'll ask him to shut the fuck up next time so he won't annoy you, okay?"

"Ew that was so cheesy, Jae," you cringed behind the phone. Before Jaehyun could even process your reply, loud crashes and screams were heard. He called for you repeatedly, only to realise that you weren't replying.

"I'm so sorry, if I hadn't distracted you, you would still be here for me." Jaehyun cries hard. He looks up at you to see tears running down the side of your face. "Sssh, don't cry," he said, wiping your tears and letting his hand rest on your face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his heart hurting at the sight of you. You laid in the bed, limp and pale. "Hey, you know..." He sniffled. "I met your manager on my way here today," he smiled, trying to get the mood better.

"And then, she was trying to write C, but Eun ha wrote it like it was mirrored," Jaehyun giggles softly, his hand still caressing yours. Your hands felt warm to him, and it was the best thing in the world to him. Just as he was about to let the unknown tears in his eyes fall, he felt something. He felt your hand move. His gaze snapped to your hands, which once moved. "Baby, can you do that again for me?" He says hastily, trying not to cry. And he sees a movement, yet again. "Wait for me, I'll go get the doctors, okay?" He says and hurries out of the room, holding himself together. He will come apart any second, but now was not the time.

Doctors rush in and out of the room as Jaehyun watches from the side, tears falling. He had called his mother and asked her to pick Eun ha up from school, just so that he can stay with you longer. "Mr. Jeong?" The doctor called. Jaehyun's cloudy gaze snapped to the doctor, hurrying over to the man. His first clenches in the anticipation of the news as the doctor smiles. "This is the first time I've seen something like this. Her senses are responding to the tests, after a full three years." The doctor tells him. "Is that good?" Jaehyun askes, sniffling. "Yes. Mrs. Jeong's health seems to be progressing so much more than the last three years, she has a higher chance of recovering from the coma for a week or so," Dr. Cho assures him, patting him on the shoulder before he leaves. Jaehyun stares at you for a moment before he comes closer to you. "Hey baby, you're gonna come back to me and Eun ha, aren't you?" Jaehyun asks softly, tears welling in his eyes yet again. "You will, I know it." He kissed your forehead again.

The hopeful week was crucial. Jaehyun visits you everyday of the week with Eun ha, trying his best to make you happy. He'd give his life up for you because what he and his daughter needed the most during this time was you. He had to go to work nevertheless, but you would never be left without a visitor. Mostly being his or your parents and your kid, or him and Eun ha. He was hopeful until the last day of the week rolled over, and he got a call from the doctor.

"Mr. Jeong, I need to talk to you as fast as possible."

"Is there a problem, Dr. Cho?"

He hears a sigh from the other side that sends fear through him.

"We need to talk as fast as possible. Can you make it to the hospital now?"

"Of course, give me 30 minutes, doc,"

Jaehyun cut the call, panic settling within him.

"Johnny, please take care of this document for me. I just got a call from Dr. Cho. I need to go, okay?"

"Yes sir, don't worry about it,"

Johnny said, gesturing to him to hurry on his way. Jaehyun rushed out of the building, getting into his car in no time. In fifteen minutes, he was there at the hospital. He found the same office he's been visiting for the last three years in a couple of minutes, panting as he barged in through the door.

"I was expecting you, Mr. Jeong," Dr. Cho said, sitting upright. He had a bad feeling about what he was going to hear. "I need you to sit down and take a deep breath," the doctor said, sympathy marked in his eyes. Jaehyun sat down hesitatingly, staring at the doctor.

"Would you like something to drink or...?"

"Cut the crap, Dr. Cho,"

Jaehyun snapped. The man just sighed, looking him in the eye. "Your wife, Mrs. Jeong, was pronounced brain dead over 20 minute ago. She had a stroke which caused the brain to stop working," Jaehyun's broken world came crashing down in a few seconds as soon as he heard the news.

"What?"

"Sir, you need to calm-"

"No no no, she hasn't died yet. She can't die yet. You said she was making steady progress, YOU SAID SHE MIGHT WAKE UP, WHY CHANGE YOUR WORDS NOW?!" Jaehyun asked, tears running down his cheeks.

"Jaehyun, listen. It was a stroke that prompted brain death. We can keep her on a machine which pumps oxygen onto her organs which will keep her warm, but it won't do anything,"

"Can you step out for a minute?" Jaehyun asked him, his voice soft. "Of course," the doctor said, moving on his way out.

Jaehyun takes in the news, tears pouring out of his eyes. All he asked for was you and God denied. Great, he hopes that he at least gets to see you one last time. He stepped out of the doctor's office with red eyes and nose. "Can I see her for the last time?" Jaehyun requests, to which the doctor agrees. Tears kept flowing on his way to the room, wiping then with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Go on in," the doctor says, gesturing at the door. Jaehyun holds onto the handle and hesitates before sliding the door open. He keeps his eyes locked on to the floor and when he does lift his eyes, surprise strikes him. You were up, alive and well. Jaehyun blinks before wiping his eyes and looking again. "Jae..." His name rolls off your tongue, bringing him back to earth. He didn't say anything, but he rushed to you and engulfed you in a big hug. He held you close to him, not letting go. It's not like you wanted to let go either. "Jae..." You said, letting your head rest on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him tightly. "I missed you so much," he whispered, breaking into tears again. "God, you're so warm. I missed this so much," you say softly. He missed your voice so much. Jaehyun pulls back gently and stares at your famished face, wiping your tears. "I love you so much, so much," he said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your tears ran down again, you missed him so much.

"So what was that?" Jaehyun questions the doctor, glaring at him. "Well uh, your wife had a special request," the doctor smiles, looking away after. "Cho Si-hyeon, I will smack you," he glares, shooting lasers through his eyes. "Hey! Yell at her, not me!" Si-hyeon, his fellow classmate who was a year older than him exclaimed, pointing at you. "No," Jaehyun said, kissing you all over your face as you giggled softly. "She needs to get physiotherapy for her legs and you can go home after," Si-hyeon says, watching them both enjoy each other's presence. "Mhm, 'kay. What else?" Jaehyun said, his gaze fixed on you. "This is disgusting. Bye, I can't stand it," Si-hyeon scrunched his face, leaving the room. "Tsk, he's just jealous that I have such a pretty wife," Jaehyun says and places a small kiss on your lips. "Oh well," you whispered, pulling him into a soft and we'll needed kiss, for both.

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Taglist: @sparklysung @trying-to-love-myself

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