#something about not wanting your kids to make the same mistakes that you did and doing everything you can to lead them down the right path
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Bruce's Bathtime - Batfamily Sitcom
Bruce's mistake was thinking he could have a peaceful night in the bath on his day off when his manor is full of kids who share one brain.
A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I LOVE YOU AND IM SORRY I DISAPPEARED BUT I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING SWEET FOR YOU TO ENJOY. THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY "BATH" BY SAM AND MICKEY ON YOUTUBE.
WORDS: 1.7K
WARNINGS: NONE. IT'S WHOLESOME AND SWEET.
MASTERLIST
——-
Crime rates were always at an all-time low in time for the Superbowl.
Which meant Batman gets a day off. Duke was the only one on patrol that night. Alfred spent half an hour convincing him not to spend the night at the cave.
“Master Bruce, the bath has been drawn and I’ve taken the liberty of using the expensive lavender bath salts so you would not like to waste it.”
“You’re right, Alfred. I’m a billionaire and I find the fifty-dollar lavender salts a waste to not use.”
“Just get in the bath, Master Wayne. Just thirty minutes of quiet shall do you good. I’ve set an alarm.”
Since when did Bruce start working for him?
He did as told anyway. Bruce closed the bathroom door and stripped off his clothes to get in the tub. There were so many callouses in his body, he barely felt just how burning the temperature was.
It was just a minute in there when the first knock woke him from drifting off.
“Bruce?”
What the hell is Dick doing out of Bludhaven? “What?”
“Is the music room haunted?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I heard something inside.”
“Instruments tend to do that.”
“I did a headcount of everyone in the manor and everyone is accounted for except Duke who you sent out for patrol so I doubt it’s anyone but a ghost,” Dick said.
“Get out.”
“But I’m not even inside the bathroom.”
“Go away.”
“What if it’s not a ghost? What if it’s a spy?”
“The manor has more advanced security systems than the Pentagon, Dick.”
“That’s not a good point of comparison.”
Bruce closed his eyes and let the steam slow his rising blood pleasure.
“Just check the room. Could have been the wind.”
“I’m too scared.”
This man was almost thirty and was still giving Bruce the same amount of aneurysms as when he was eight.
“Ask Alfred to check for you.”
“Okay.”
He heard fading footsteps and let them lull him into sleep. He set his large arms onto the sides of the tub, sinking his mouth under the water.
“Father,” a voice said from out the door followed by three soft knocks by a small hand.
“What, Damian?”
“I need you to sign this letter from the school headmaster.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
He doubted that.
“It’s for a parent-teacher conference.”
Bruce let the silence answer for him until Damian gave in.
“Someone attacked me in class.”
“Damian-“
“Okay, I threw the first punch but he taunted me first about how I was small for my age but I said that I’m of perfect size for my age and that I’m simply too smart to be crowded into elementary school children when my intellect belongs to that of a senior and then he asked what I was doing here and not in 5th grade and I said what was he doing here and not in 5th grade and he spat at me and now his nose is broken and they want you to cover the medical bills.”
Christ.
“Maybe you don’t have to pay it. You can call them yourself. You’re Bruce Wayne. You can get away with anything.”
“I can, but you’re not Bruce Wayne, so you have to deal with it.”
“Can you just sign this, Father?”
“Fine.”
Damian walked in, fanning the steam off his face and covering his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his own father naked, then handed him the letter to sign it.
“Make sure your handwriting is the same as when I forged it.”
His eyes could not have rolled further back into his skull.
The boy walked out, just two seconds before the next set of voices made him wish the gunman shot him in the head four decades ago and not just his parents.
“Bruce, could you tell Jason he’s not the only one who died and come back to life and that his robin costume doesn’t deserve to have to top display in the Batcave anymore especially since he’s here?” Tim said.
Jason’s voice was even more obnoxious. “I died first, asshole and no one else would have died if it weren’t for me so clearly, you should thank me. And my rebranding was better. You’re still technically a robin since, you know, it’s the other half of your name, so you don’t deserve to be memorialized.”
“You don’t deserve to be memorialized at all when you’re alive and not a memory. You’re not even the first robin.”
“You’re not the first anything.”
“I’m the first at a lot of things.”
“Replacement.”
“Glorified zombie.”
Bruce grabbed the cucumbers Alfred had laid out on the table next to him just so his eyes wouldn’t burst out in blood at how much he wanted to scream.
“Ask Alfred what to do,” Bruce said.
“Alfred is with Dick in the music room to look for ghosts. We need an answer now.”
“What do you even want me to do?”
“Tim threw my robin costume piled up with all their robin costumes when clearly, it should be in the display case,” Jason said. “And Tim wants to move my motorbike out of the cave.”
“You have so many motorbikes, would it hurt you to move just one?”
“No.”
“Bruce!”
Bruce counted to ten. “No.”
“No to what?”
“Everything.”
“You don’t even know what you’re saying no to.”
“I could not care any less.”
“Can we please come in?”
“No, I’m naked.”
“We’ve seen you naked.”
“Not on purpose.”
Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. Fine. We’ll get glass cases for both of you and we’ll pretend it’s a shrine as if you’re still dead. Happy?”
“Not from dying but sure,” said Tim.
“What about the motorbikes?”
“Put it outside,” said Bruce.
“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”
“Do whatever. Throw out the T-Rex in the cave for all I care.”
“Also, I need access to the batcomputers,” Jason said.
“For what?”
“Everyone else has access except me.”
“That’s for a reason, Jason.”
“Pretty please.”
“Get out.”
It took another five minutes of the two yapping at the other side of the door before it finally quieted down.
Then his phone started ringing. Duke.
That was when his blood pressure really started to spike.
“Duke? Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” he said to the phone.
“Me?” said Duke. “Oh yeah everything’s great! Not much crime when everyone’s watching the halftime show.”
“Then why’d you call?”
“Can I use the batmobile?”
Fuck a duck. “For what?”
“The streets are empty and you said I could drive it when there isn’t traffic.”
He hung up and threw the phone into the water before Duke could say anything else.
He had five minutes of quiet this time. Then Steph was at the door. “Bruce!”
An aneurysm. One of these days, he might actually have one.
“What now?”
“Can I change rooms?”
“Why?”
“Dick said there’s a ghost in the music room and my room is like five feet away and I don’t think I can sleep there anymore.”
“You slept there last night and everything is fine.”
“Ghosts can be quiet, Bruce, it doesn’t mean they’re not there. And you’ve made a lot of enemies, so I won’t be surprised if anyone’s settled in to haunt you.”
You’d think he wasn’t in a house full of vigilantes who fight the city’s most dangerous criminals.
“I haven’t killed anyone, Stephanie. I keep all my enemies alive.”
“What if it’s not your enemy? They don’t have to hate you to haunt you. Can I please just change rooms?”
“Move wherever you want. I don’t care.”
“Can I move to the bedroom at the west wing?”
“That’s mine,” Bruce said.
“You have a bedroom? I thought you never slept.”
“Fine. Take it. Just get out.”
“Really?” Steph squealed. “The master bedroom. Sweet!”
It took less than five seconds before the next reason for his headache started pounding at the door.
“Bruce! Jason is trying to hack into the batcomputer!”
“I did not!”
“He did!”
“The World’s Greatest Detective is just mad I guessed his password on the second try.”
Bruce sank into the water, drowning their yapping until it had blurred out. He held his breath for seven minutes straight. He could die. That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just when it was finally quiet, again, Bruce rose up and found Damian sitting on the toilet.
He continued to look unbothered even when he looked at Bruce straight in the eye.
“Do you mind?”
“I’d like to use this toilet.”
“There’s fifteen bathrooms in the manor, Damian.”
“I like this one.”
“I understand I have not spent as much time with you, but this is not what your tutors mean by father-son bonding.”
“Oh no, don’t worry. I don’t mean to bond with you. I just like this toilet.”
“Fine. Please. Take your time.”
He did take his time. Damian sat there for a whole five minutes and pulled out a book.
“I wasn’t being serious. Get out of here.”
“Relax, father. It’s your day off.”
Bruce eyelids fluttered closed and he refused to open them until his son left the bathroom.
The next knock made a blood vessel pop. “Bruce. It’s me Barb. So sorry to bother you but I found another group of conspiracy theorists on the TikTok who made a list of billionaires who have never been seen in the same room as Batman and you’re the front liner of that list. I know you told me to never engage with these things but it’s at fifty million views right now and they’re making edits of you as Batman.”
“Make more bot accounts and pin it on Elon.”
“On it,” said Barbara. “So sorry to have disturbed you!”
He’s going to have a talk with Alfred to block off the whole floor the next time he draws these baths.
“Bruce?” It was Cass. “I hope it’s alright if I take Steph’s room. I took the liberty of putting a speaker in the music room so Dick would tell everyone there was a ghost in the manor and Steph would move out.”
The alarm went off. His thirty minutes were up.
One of these days, Bruce might finally break his no-kill rule, and it won’t be for the Joker.
---
A/N: I MISSED ALL OF YOU ASSHOLES AND I HOPE THIS WON'T BE THE LAST
TAGLIST
@karurururu @trixie-bb @childofposeidonforlife @fantasticwizardnerd @iibonniee @queenoftodd @foenixphire @omgtheywereroommates98 @spooklies @nyja-ls @jason-todd-is-my-husband @pieanq @spookyfrances @tacticaldivine @bathroom-sand @vicomtess @willieoo @consultingkilljoywinchester @elsenthal @willowoo @massiveathletefanauthor @chemicalpapercuts @the-abyss-of-fandoms @pparkeramorr @pricetagofficial @traceymoyashi @seutarose @littleredwing89 @astrids-pandora @nomalu1 @knightfall05x @lovelyartemisa @fourteengemstones @acookiesnmilkuniverse @24-7-multifandomsimp @xemiefx @cherry-glade @ @lilith1717 @yujikuna @dwboutit17 @ouflater @satan-s-ass @indigowcrds @little-prying-pandora @butwhyduh @killersandmonkeys @kierdlt @illzarr @ramdomtails @probsjosh @angel-lover-alice @evalynanne @adazzlingsakura @offendedfishnoises @lupinslibraries @comic-cat83 @jason-todd-is-my-husband @estrela-rogers @jadesublime @tedii-bear00 @andieperrie18 @willieoo @insanebatty @queennightsetz @mkknrd22robinlover @she-sees-fire @quintessences0posts @spideypoolfeelz @batgalsblog @mello-d @https-101iamtheredhood101 @offendedfishnoises
#BATMAN#bruce wayne#batfamily#wayne family#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#duke thomas#barbara gordon#cassandra cain#stephanie brown
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i really do hope that 911 ventures further into Chris’ abandonment issues and doesn’t just ignore it for the rest of the season
#also i think they should have expanded on the buck and chris scene#buck’s on-going storyline is allll about his abandonment issues#i love that eddie was there for chris but they really missed out on a good heart-to-heart between buck and chris#something about wanting better for your kids and working to make sure they don’t have the same trauma that you do#something about seeing too much of yourself in your kid and wanting better for them#something about doing everything in your power to ensure that your kid never goes through the same things that you did#something about raising your kids in an environment that helps them become a better person than you were#something about not wanting your kids to make the same mistakes that you did and doing everything you can to lead them down the right path#something about buck reassuring chris once again that he will never leave him#that he’s loved and he’ll always have a home#christopher diaz#evan buckley#911 abc#911 on abc#911 spoilers#buckley diaz family
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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.
wc. around 1.3k
tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.
“ow, careful there, brat.”
your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.
you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.
“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.
you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.
the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.
“megumi fushiguro.”
you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.
you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.
your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”
your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.
the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.
you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”
your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”
the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”
toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”
that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.
“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.
toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.
megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”
the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.
“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.
you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.
your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”
you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.
it was inevitable at this point.
“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.
toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.
“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”
megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.
“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.
toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”
your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.
you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#jjk fluff#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#jjk x you#toji x y/n#jjk x y/n#female reader#divider by cafekitsune
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Everything I Wanted II.
LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)
Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.
Word count: 8.9k
Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read
Relationships: Lestappen x Reader
Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader
Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader
Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.
I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.
Find me on Twitter!
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.
Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.
During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.
Nobody noticed anything.
One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.
“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.
“Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.
Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.
“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”
“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”
You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.
“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”
You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.
“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”
You took his advice to your heart.
You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.
The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.
That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.
When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.
“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.
“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.
Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.
“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.
“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.
“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”
You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.
And yet-
Somehow-
You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.
“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.
You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.
As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.
He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.
“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.
He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.
Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.
“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.
Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.
That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.
It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.
But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.
You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.
“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.
“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.
“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”
You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.
“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”
“No, uh, I haven’t.”
Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.
“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.
There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.
“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.
As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.
“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”
“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.
“What are your plans for this competition?”
“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.
The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.
“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.
“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.
“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.
“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”
The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.
On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.
“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”
“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.
“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.
“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.
“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”
You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.
“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.
You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.
It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.
“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.
The rivalry never died down though.
Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.
“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.
“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”
“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”
“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”
“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.
The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.
That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.
The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.
In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.
You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.
You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.
“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.
“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.
“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.
“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.
“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”
You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.
“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.
You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.
“How does it feel?”
“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.
“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”
“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.
“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.
“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.
“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.
“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.
“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.
“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”
“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.
“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.
“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”
You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.
“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”
You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.
“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.
As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.
“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”
Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.
Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.
“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.
“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”
Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.
“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.
You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.
Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.
After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.
Thank you. Twice. - Lioness
The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.
After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.
Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.
You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.
Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.
The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.
“Y/N? What happened?”
“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.
“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.
“It’s mom”
“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.
Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.
In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.
You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.
Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.
“What happened?”
“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”
You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.
You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.
When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.
Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.
Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.
You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.
The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.
In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.
You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.
“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”
“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”
“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.
“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”
The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.
“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.
“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.
“Damn, thanks.”
“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”
You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.
“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”
As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.
“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.
You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.
You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.
Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.
Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.
“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”
“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”
You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.
The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.
You had to honor your mom in some way.
That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.
You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.
After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.
Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.
Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.
While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.
You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.
“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”
Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.
Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.
“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.
“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.
Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.
“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.
“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”
“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.
“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.
“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.
“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.
After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.
My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.
She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.
But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.
All the love, Y/N
Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.
You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.
With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.
You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.
You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.
Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.
“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.
“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.
You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.
“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.
“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.
“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”
“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”
“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“No trying. Do it.”
After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.
As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.
The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.
Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-
“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”
“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”
You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.
Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.
“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.
“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.
As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.
When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.
“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.
“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.
“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.
“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”
“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”
“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”
“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”
You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-
“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”
“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.
You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.
After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.
You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.
“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.
“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”
You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.
“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”
You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.
“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.
“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.
That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.
When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.
You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.
“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.
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#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fic#formula 1#formula one#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#lestappen#lestappen x reader#Spotify
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Adam, Mammon, Alastor and Lucifer with a insecure S/o
💋ྀིྀིAdam, Mammon, Alastor, Stolas and Lucifer w/ Insecure S/O 💋ྀིྀི
Note: Yesss i love this request!! As somebody who is insecure about quite a few things I think this is so cute <3 🥰 Also I hope you don't mind me adding Stolas <3
Female!reader, GenderNeutral!Reader for Stolas <3
Warnings: Cussing, mentions of sex
Mammon 💸:
He does not grasp the concept of insecure. Why be insecure when your with him? He chose you, right? He is extremely picky, so what is there to worry about? Why are you insecure? To him you are adorable, so who cares?
He may notice you are feeling down lately, or that you have been avoiding him, which agitates him to no end.
So at first, he will have you bottle up your insecurity, just so that he can be your big savior, and make you feel loved by him.
When you tell him exactly what you are insecure about, he audibly laughs. Well, he doesn't mean to make you upset or anything, but like, are you being serious?
He will say things like:
"Babe, what the fack? you look hot, theres no need to beat around the goddamn bush."
"What, is it your (insert insecurity)? cmon, don't be such a sour puss. You look just fine to me."
"Cmon sweets, whats on ya mind? How about we go out to the restaurant you love, yeah?"
He will go to that restaurant, even though he hates it. He just does not like seeing his little trophy upset or visibly irked. Even if there is Paparazzi around, he will hide them from you, or bribe them to leave.
His favorite insecurity on you would have to be your thighs. He loves squeezing them, jiggling them, putting his head between them, seeing them move when you walk, etc. If you have bigger ones, he thinks that one of, if not the best physical quality about you. He will spend his time ranting to you while snug in your legs about how annoying his newest stars are, or how Ozzie did this, or Fizzarolli did that-
Overall, he will make sure you dont go on with that contentious bullshit ever again. He cant have his favorite little lady upset, can he?
Adam 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪:
He is Adam, the first man, he does not ever feel insecure. he never makes mistakes.
But in reality, he has felt insecure. Especially after his two wives left him for the. same. man.
He does not notice until a while later that you are upset. He thinks you are happy all the time because of him. But he's basically your husband, so he will notice things about you, that you don't even know about yourself (same as mammon)
When you tell him you are insecure, he coddles you, and threats you like you're an infant
He will say things like:
"Your insecure? About what? You have to be lying babe, you look perfect to me."
"Relax babe, im kidding, so its your (insert insecurity)? Oh, are you joking?"
"How about... you and me do a little something something, hm?"
(He is a sex deviant, so he will always bring that up.)
He tries to make it up to you by putting on your favorite movie, and bringing you your favorite snacks. But he ends up eating most of them himself...
But anyways, his favorite insecurity is your ass. He likes squeezing it, spanking it, etc. Even if it small, he likes it and thinks its cute. He will randomly pick you up and throw you over his shoulder and just, spank it, and put you down??
So overall, he is okay at comforting you, but dont come running to him unless you dont want things to turn somehow sexual.
Alastor 🎶:
He has never felt insecure in his twisted mind.
He will notice immediately that you are upset about something. He takes action fairly quickly, by rubbing your shoulders, etc.
When you tell him you are insecure, he is very understanding. You are his dearest, so he wants to take care of you, and make you feel like an angel.
While he may not understand insecurity himself, he understands you are disarmed, and that bothers him greatly.
He will say things like:
"My love, don't fret about these regal thoughts. What are you feeling down about now?"
"Is this about your (insert insecurity)? If so, that is silly nonsense, my dear. You know I do not mind."
"How about, we take a stroll. Maybe we could stop by Rosie, she sure knows how to cheer you up, hm?"
He tries his best to make you feel better, because your feelings reflect on him. While it may not seem so on the outside, his heart tears when he sees you like this.
His favorite insecurity has to be your hip dips. He thinks they make you look very feminine and womanlike, which he likes. He likes to run his hands over them, enjoying the way his fingers sink into them.
So overall, Alastor makes you feel very loved and cared for. You will never feel discontent as long as he is in your vicinity.
Lucifer 𓆩𓆪:
He has felt insecure a lot. From being casted down into Hell, to his wife somewhat recently leaving him, (to his height), he knows what it feels like
But since meeting you, he is very attentive over you.
So he notices very quickly that you are upset.
When the time comes to tell him that you are insecure, (because he kept asking you frantically whats wrong), He is very understanding.
He will say things like:
"Seriously? You? Insecure? Well we cant have that here, now can we?"
"Its your (insert insecurity)? Its ok honey, I love you just how you are."
"Honey, how about the two of us stay home for the day, hm?"
He will stay by your side a lot more often now that you told him that. He is a very doting and worried lover like Stolas, so he wants you to feel comfortable with yourself.
His favorite insecurity of your is also your thighs. Big or small, he loves them. His favorite is when his head and cheeks are squished against them. Or when he's eating you out, and he feels the warmth smothering his face. He loves the way they move when you walk as well like Mammon.
So overall, he knows what it is like to be insecure. He wants you to feel loved, and like you are cherished by him.
Stolas 𓅪:
Feels insecure a lot like Lucifer. WIth his (ex)wife, concerning his daughter, etc.
He also will notice your changes instantly. SO he will constantly ask if something is wrong. When it comes to you being upset, he will be very combative in telling him.
So when you tell him you are insecure, he feels for you. He will hold you close, and let you lay on top of his fluffy, feathered body.
He will say things like:
"Sweetheart, what is troubling you so much? I am always by your side, you know. So if you want to talk, we can."
"Your (insert insecurity)? But they are beautiful! You don't have to worry my owlette."
"How about we watch a movie? That always seems to cheer you up."
He is very concerned about you, and just wants to make you happy. That is his duty in his mind. If he cant make the rest of his family happy, he can surely make you happy, right?
His favorite insecurity of yours is stretch marks. He likes them, and he thinks they look like cute little tiger cub stripes. He will run his slender fingers over them, making you shiver in the process. He believes they are like pieces of art, just all over your body.
So in his mind, you are perfect. He is always going to love you, insecurity through and through. You are his lover.
#mammon x reader#mammon x you#mammon x reader hb#mammon x y/n#adam x reader#adam x y/n#adam x reader hazbin#adam x you#lucifer x you#lucifer x y/n#lucifer x reader hazbin#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x reader hazbin#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#lucifer#mammon#adam#hazbin x reader#helluva x you#stolas#stolas x reader helluva#stolas x reader#stolas x you#stolas x y/n#helluva boss x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x you
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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4
summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed.
PART 3 | PART 5
pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader
genre ;; pure angst and family feels
notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding!
Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH
It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.
At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.
Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.
The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.
Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.
Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.
He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.
Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.
It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)
Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.
So dada started making you little trinkets.
He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.
That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.
His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”
“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.
“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”
“You’re mistaken.”
Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”
Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”
“Baby.”
“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”
“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”
“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”
“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”
“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”
“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”
Well, that hurt. “Damn.”
“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”
Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.
Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.
And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.
“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”
“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”
Oh, it’s on.
Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.
“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”
Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.
Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”
Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.
You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.
One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.
“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”
Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”
The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.
You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.
Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.
Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.
But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.
How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.
Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.
“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”
You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.
“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”
Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.
Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.
Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.
You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.
A rustle from above.
“Attack him!”
He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.
Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?
But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”
“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”
Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.
Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.
“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”
“So I win?”
“Yes, you win.”
He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”
After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.
“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”
He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.
The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”
“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.
You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”
“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”
He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”
Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”
“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”
“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”
At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.
Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.
She did.
And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.
Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.
Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.
But she was wrong.
That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.
Losing. It was all about losing.
He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.
That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.
The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”
You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.
Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.
(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)
Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.
When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—
A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”
The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.
You had gone slack in his arms.
He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.
“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”
The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.
Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.
Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.
You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.
A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.
A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.
It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.
Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.
The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.
Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.
“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”
He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.
“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”
And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.
He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.
The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.
“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”
“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.
He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.
“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”
Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”
“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”
Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.
“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”
Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.
“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.
“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.
Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?
In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.
You had died in his arms.
Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”
“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”
Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”
But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.
“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”
Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.
Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.
His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.
Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?
His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.
You thought you weren’t loved.
“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”
Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.
All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.
His daughter’s blood, on his hands.
He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.
“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”
Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.
He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.
“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”
Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.
Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.
The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.
“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.
“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”
He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”
“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”
A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.
Who was Jake Sully?
“Lo’ak, come back here!”
Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.
“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.
Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.
But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.
Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.
“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”
Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”
“Neteyam—”
“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”
That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.
It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.
“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”
He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.
Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.
Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.
Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.
He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.
His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.
“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.
Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.
“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.
And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”
Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”
Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”
“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.
“You think so?”
“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”
Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.
“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”
It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.
It would never fly again.
Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”
And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.
“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”
Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.
Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.
Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.
“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”
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Weird request but how would TF141+König and Alejandro react to meeting an orphan around 15 years of age who's like extremely talented in engineering, mathematics and physics, like they could build a rocket if they had the materials ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It can be HC, whatever you want! I was thinking maybe said orphan got in trouble with the government for unknowingly building some sort of weapon, maybe it was stolen? Twist that however you wish.
Just ignore this ask if you wanna <3
A KID?
genre: action
characters: König, Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle Garrick
A/n: expect a lot more mistakes. Also thinking this needs a second part.
It’s been 6 years now since the war began. You were left stranded. All by yourself. Left on your own by everyone. Living was hard, but you pulled through. You learned how to do a lot of shit since you were there only with yourself for some time. Building stuff. That was your biggest interest.
You were constantly making things. New weapons mostly. You were always moving, never staying in one place for too long. You got brutal throughout the years you were alone. You took the uniform of a dead soldier. To blend in. You were mistaken for a recruit and pulled inside a helicopter by a military dude.
The military was a great provider of food and healthcare. So you just went along with everything they threw at you. Your knowledge of building shit helped out a lot. And even when some dude figured out you were a kid he let you stay.
The same dude put you in a task force with a man he trusted. You were cautious of everyone in there, but at least you had some people who you could trust a bit.
You picked up how things work from the years of pretending to be a soldier. Pretending to be an adult was getting easier and the task force you were assigned to found a place in your heart.
“There’s gotta be a way.” You finally snapped out of thinking about life before the war. You thought that the military would be a great cover. But now all your hope of making it out alive hit zero. You were stuck and with gas slowly filling the room that you and the others were in you knew your chances of survival were low.
You sat in the corner of the room. You had given up a few minutes ago already. The others were still trying to figure something out.
Suddently you felt something inside of you snap. You were not gonna die today. It must’ve been the panicking of the rough men infront of you that made you have that feeling. You started to search for a solution.
You found a small vent. It was too small to fit a grown man in, but you were not a grown man. You took off your gear and crawled into the vent unnoticed by your team.
You finally got to use the skills you gained. You crawled through the vent and dropped down from the ceiling right on the other side of a door that the rest of your team was trying to open. You managed to get inside some kind of an electrical system. You cut some wires and reconnected some other ones. The door opened with a space in between the doors just a centimeter big.
Grabbing a metal piece from the electrical you prayed the door open. You were met with the looks of your crew. You looked down and put your hand above your forehead to block your face. By now all of them realized that you weren't of age.
You ran into the room to grab your gear while your team gave each other a disgusted glance. “We need to get out of here ASAP,” you said as you walked away from the room. Price grabbed you by the shoulder to stop you. You turned to him with your mask on now.
“How old are you?” he was looking at you worriedly while he said that. You didn’t know what to answer and so after a few stutters you answered “Classified” This only made them feel more curious.
It has been days since that mission and nobody brought up the fact that you were a kid. You did notice that Price stopped shouting orders at you and started just saying them in a normal calm tone. Soap was making more small talk with you than usual. Ghost was staying closer to you, knowing you might not be able to fend off an enemy. Gaz was making sure to double-check your gear.
When you teamed up with Mexican special forces and met Alejandro you were given tasks that you’d be on with multiple people.
When you were stranded from the team, finding your way to a spot they could locate you at, you met another dude. Austrian and huge. Big dude. He was your enemy, but it didn’t take him long to find out that an adult dude would have a little more strength than you did. He forced your mask off and found out that you were in fact a kid.
Instead of killing you, he spared you. Helping you locate your tram instead of them having to look for you.
Would you survive the next missions? That you don’t know. But you do know that you don’t have to worry about pretending to be an adult.
#requests are open#requests open#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#cod x male reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#captain price fluff#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon ghost riley fluff#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#soap cod#soap fluff#alejandro vargas x reader#alejandro vargas fluff#konig cod#konig x you#konig x reader#konig mw2#konig call of duty#konig fluff#fluff
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How JJK men react to different insecurities part 3
Pairings: Nanami x overweight fem! reader (requested by @deegausserr)
Choso x fem!reader with big breasts (requested by anon)
Yuji/Todo x tall/curvy fem!reader (requested by @sitarawrites, @hitori979, @sophyr05 and anon, I see y'all my tall queens)
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: not 100% proofread, as usual don't read if you feel triggered by those topics, listen I literally have no boobs so I'm beyond sorry if Choso's part is shit, overweight and big breast parts contain insults (please note that this is definetely not the way I feel about it!) but also so much comfort from your favorite characters, you are beautiful just the way you are 🤍
Part 1: Nanami x reader with facial scars; Megumi x reader with small breasts; Sukuna x reader with acne (click here to read)
Part 2: Nanami x reader who doesn't want kids; Gojo x reader who gained weight; Megumi x reader with hooked nose (click here to read)
Nanami with an overweight reader
(Imaging him grabbing those ass bully girls like this okay)
You cover yourself up the minute he enters the room. He, the man who caught your eye since the beginning. He, who looks so effortlessly good in that suit. He, a well-trained man with a body like the statues in ancient Greek.
“Hey, the same as usual?”
“Thank you, (y/n).”
Just him, Kento Nanami. And you? Well, you have nothing in common with all those things. To be exact, you aren’t even sure if he ever noticed you. Why would he? You are nothing but a worker in a coffee shop, average-looking and…
You swallow. You are overweight. Not that it would bother you this much. After all, you work hard for your money each and every day, you do your best to keep your head above the water. You never really felt the urge to lose weight until reality, or rather other people, hit you.
“Oh, look who’s working again!”
“Did you already eat all those muffins? How is it possible that when you’re working, all the food is gone around this time?”
There they are again. Breathe in, breathe out. Everything is alright. Just suffering a few minutes, just letting their words hit you a little longer and they’ll be gone again. You just have to get through this. It’s not like you haven’t heard those group of actual grown-ups say those nasty things to you over a hundred times already.
But no. Today, it isn’t that easy. Because on the table in front of you sits none other than Kento Nanami who reads his paper and sips on his cup of coffee like he always does. Why do you suddenly feel the urge to defend yourself, to make them stop talking to you like that?
“Can you guys just leave me alone? I’m doing my job here, okay? Would you like to drink or eat something-“
“Fat pig”, one of the blonde girls suddenly spits at you.
This is nothing new. You should be used to it by know, all the countless insults especially that group of four girls always spits at you are too much to even count. Then why…Why do your eyes roam to his perfectly trimmed blonde undercut, why do you ball your fist in an instant?
What a dumb mistake. One of the girls follows the direction of your sight, breaking out in hysterical laughing when realizing that you were looking at Kento Nanami. No, please don’t make a stupid comment, please just grab a coffee and leave this place. Even though it hurts to get reminded of the stinging fact that you are overweight almost every single day, what hurts even most is…
“I can’t believe you! Why would a fatass like you even look in his direction? Can’t you see that he’s out of your league? God, you are so pathetic it makes my wanna cry. I mean, don’t you have a mirror at home, can’t you see that you are nothing but a fat fuck? Nobody will ever want you, (y/n). Especially not a handsome man like him.”
It’s hard for Nanami to contain his temper, hand already trembling threatful. Who do these girls think they are to talk to you in such a nasty way? You are breathtakingly stunning with eyes that radiate nothing but kindness, you work so hard each and every day. You…
You don’t deserve this.
“Leave me alone”, you mumble again.
And for the first time in forever, your throat starts to burn as well as your eyes. At this point you were so used to getting picked on that you didn’t even cry about it anymore after some time. But this…this isn’t about your weight anymore. This hits you right where it hurts.
Kento Nanami.
You don’t even dare to look his direction, eyes pierced to the ground while their venomous laughs fill the room with hatred. The urge to just get out of here, to leave this place and never return becomes almost unbearable. Maybe…maybe you should really lose some weight. Your eyes dart towards the counter in whose glass your figure is reflected.
You feel absolutely horrible and disgusting. A silent sob escapes your lips. Yes, why would someone like Kento Nanami ever want someone like you?
“Awww look at her, now she’s crying!”
You can’t take the shame anymore. Without thinking twice, you storm out of the coffee shop, ignoring your co-worker calling out your name behind. It began to rain in waterfalls, your tears now mixing with the drops from above.
There was probably never a moment in your life where you hated yourself as much as now. What where you even thinking, getting all excited every morning because of that force of a man? Were you really too dumb to realize that Kento Nanami would never fall for a girl like you?
A fat pig, a person so undisciplined that it shows, a girl that could never wear his t-shirts as a dress. You are a nobody, an ugly figure in a world full of skinny models-
“(y/n)!”
That voice makes your guts turn in an instinct, heart pounding against your chest. You pick up your pace immediately, almost running down the rainy streets of Tokyo into an alley. Of course, he followed you. After all, Kento Nanami is a gentleman out of romance books, the perfect man. But you’d rather die that let him comfort you. No, you don’t want to hear that he’s sorry about their cruel words, you don’t want him to look down at you with his pity-filled eyes.
You simply can’t take it.
“Hey, (y/n). Please look at me.”
With a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and turns you around. You feel like dying right here and now, his chocolate brown eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.
But then…
He pushes you against the wall and just kisses you. His lips collapse onto yours with so much passion that it simply takes your breath away, his eyes roaming around your body hungrily. You stare at him in sheer disbelief. Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? Countless lonely night, you imagined what it would feel like to have him this close, to feel his body against yours. And now…And now that gorgeous man pinned you against a wall.
“Don’t you dare to believe a single word they said. I promise you that they’ll never speak to you like this again. I made sure of that.”
It feels so surreal, almost too good to be true. Is he only doing this out of pity, because he doesn’t want you to feel bad? Your heart sinks painfully. Is that what this is about?
“You don’t have to do that so I’m feeling better”, you mumble against his lips.
Instinctively, you cross your arms in front of your chest, hiding you like you always do around him.
“I’m not saying this to make you feel better”, he replies in an instant, hands gently untucking your arms to place his own around your waist.
“I’m saying this because I can’t take my eyes off you since I saw you the first time I stepped into this café. You have to be the most beautiful person I have ever seen, (y/n). I adore your delicate curves, your inviting smile, your unshakable character. I love the way your hair falls and how you prepare my coffee. I adore you just the way you are. Did you really think I’m there because of the coffee? It’s not that good if you’re asking me.”
His comment makes you giggle your tears away and shaking your head at the same time.
“Yeah, the coffee isn’t that great to be honest”, you comment.
“But you are.”
He looks down at you all serious again, his intense gaze making your knees go weak in an instant.
“And I want nothing more than to take you out to a nice restaurant.”
Choso with a reader who has big breasts
You were never keen to meet new people, especially men. Not because you aren’t talkative or enjoy others company. No, it’s because you never know how they’ll react when seeing you for the first time.
Even though especially other women are jealous of you because of how big your breasts are, you truly hate them. It seems like the second you meet someone, all they have eyes for is your cleavage. No matter if you wear a baggy shirt, your uniform or one of the dresses you normally adore so much, your boobs come first. And you fucking hate it.
“Hey, why are you so nervous, (y/n)? I’m sure you and Choso will get along just fine!”, Yuji tries to cheer you up with a kind smile.
“And probably your-“
“Shut up right now, moron”, Megumi mumbles instinctively.
You sign to yourself. It’s clear that he’s just trying to be nice and funny, but to be honest you want to cry. Since puberty hit you, no one ever saw you like an individual anymore. No, you are either sexualized or body-shamed.
“Would you crush me with your melons for some money? C’mon (y/n).”
“There she is again. Look at her tits!”
“She’s just showing off. What a slut.”
“I bet those would be a good ass pillow.”
You are so damn tired of it. Tired of all the people talking about you behind your back, tired of being nothing but a sex object, tired of having no character. Even though here at Jujutsu High, people seem to finally get that you are indeed a human being all by yourself and would never talk badly about you, you can feel their looks.
“Oh, there he is! Come on, (y/n)!”
No, no, no. Is it too late to just turn around and leave this place? Maybe Maki is still free, you should go and grab a drink with her. Or even better, barricade yourself into your dorm and return when this man is gone.
“You must be (y/n). My little brother told me a lot about you”, a dark voice introduces itself.
Your eyes dart up in panic. Oh, you just know how this goes. First of all, he’ll look down at your breasts. If he’s having at least a spark of decency, his eyes will dart back to your face and roam around when he thinks you’re not paying any attention. And maybe, just maybe, he won’t mention your cleavage for quite some time.
“Nice to meet you”, you mumble annoyed already.
Huh, his eyes rest right on your face, a small smile forming itself on his lips. You tilt your head to the side, squint your eyes in confusion. Well, this is definitely new. He didn’t even look at them, not a single glimpse onto your body.
“Is it true that you have a thing for blood manipulation? Yuji told me you are interested in learning more about that technique.”
“Well, yeah…”
You have to blink a few times. He is so…different from everyone else. Not even Megumi resisted the urge to look down at you, you even heard him talking about it with Yuji someday. But this man…what was his name again? Choso? He seems to be curious about…
You. Nothing but you.
“I am quite skilled when it comes to blood manipulation. If you want, I will gladly show you a few things.”
“Y-yeah…I mean…That would be nice. Like, today?”, you stutter awkwardly, completely caught off guard by this unexpected change of scenery.
“If you have time, of course.”
“Okay, then…I’ll change now.”
“I’ll meet you at the training field.”
“Yeah…”, you mutter.
As soon as you leave the room, Yuji seems to finally regain your voice.
“And? What do you think about her?”
“I think she seems quite nice for a human being.”
“And what else?”
A big pause that makes your heart shatter for a brief moment. Maybe he isn’t as different as you thought. Maybe he’s just thinking about your cleavage like everybody else does, maybe-
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Haven’t you seen her,…y’know…Megumi?”
“He means her breasts”, Megumi clarifies.
“Why would I look at her breasts when she seems to have an interesting character?”
Your heart almost beats out of your chest, ears literally unable to comprehend what you’ve just heard. It really shouldn’t touch you like that. But oh, the second you begin to realize what that stranger just said your eyes get glossy. It might only be a little statement for him, but it surely means the world to you.
In a world that shames on you for something you can’t change, in a world in which men only took you on dates or talked to you because of your breasts and not because of your personality.
Choso seems to be the first person who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about the way you look. And oh does it feel nice.
“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought”, you mumble to yourself.
Yuji and Todo with a cury/tall girl
Just one look at him seems to sweep you off your feet. The way he walks, the way he talks, simply the way he carries himself. It wasn’t hard to fall for Yuji, but it was definitely rough to find out he isn’t interested in you.
“What kind of woman is Yuji actually into?”
Nobara looked at you up and down, visibly bamboozled about what you’ve just asked. There aren’t many things she doesn’t think about, but Yuji Itadori’s type is definitely one of them.
“I don’t know girl…But I guess he’s the type for rather short girls, don’t ya think?”
You hated the way your heart instantly began to ache in your ribcage. Of course he does. Aren’t all boys nowadays into petite girls with a bubbly personality? And to be honest, you are none of that.
Taller than all the other girls and even some boys around Jujutsu High, curvier than anyone else, probably uglier than the rest. You never put much thought into all of these things, but right. Why would Yuji be any different from all the guys you’ve met before?
“Who the hell is this woman, Itadori?”
Todo can’t help but shamelessly stare at you. This is too good to be true, a sight straight out of his dreams. You…You are even better than Takada-chan.
“Huh? Oh, that’s (y/n)”, he replies with a small grin, just one look at you making his heart stumble all over again.
He hasn’t seen you in quite some time now that he thinks of it.
“What kind of woman is your type, Itadori Yuji?”
The pink-haired boy has to blink a few times, eyes still set on your delicious curves and gorgeous long legs.
“I like tall woman with a big ass.”
“Is that your final answer?”, he huge boy next to him urges, grabbing him by his uniform so roughly that his eyes yank away from you.
“Yes!”, he replies immediately.
“Then get going, we need to talk to this beauty over there”, he announces, dragging Yuji behind him before he is even able to reply.
You tilt your head to the side. What the hell is going on over there? Who is that shirtless guy and…is that Yuji he drags behind him as if he’s taking out trash?
“You!”, he shouts into your direction, eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.
What the hell is this about? Should you run away, cry for help? He definitely looks pretty dangerous to you with the way his muscles seem to grow with every step he takes towards you.
“Hey, let me go! I can walk by myself!”, Yuji protests.
“Now talk to her”, Todo hisses, almost pushing him into you.
“Oh, hi (y/n)!”
“Well, hi Yuji…”, you answer rather confused.
You look even better from over here, your body lingering over his own by a few centimetres. Yes, you have to be the biggest woman Yuji has ever seen with a character so badass that no one can hold a candle to you. And those curves, those oh so delicious curves…
“Tell her what kind of woman is your type”, the guy next to him demands harshly.
“Stop being so damn loud, she hears you!”
“Oh, I definitely do. What is all of this bullshit about and what kind of freak are you exactly?”
“Itadori loves tall woman with a big ass.”
Well, that’s rather unexpected. Yuji turns as red as a tomato, not daring to shoot a single glimpse your way. But Nobara said that he likes petite girls and somehow, this always made sense to you. Still, his body doesn’t lie. And the fact that he doesn’t say anything against it tells you…
“You like tall woman with a big ass”, you repeat.
“Well, to be honest, I just like you, (y/n)”, he mutters along with scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
“I like you too. You have to be the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. Let me cherish you for the rest of our lives”, the guy named Todo purrs.
“Hey, I thought you were my wingman and now you’re trying to steal my girl away from me!”, Yuji protests.
“When did I ever say that, moron? We might be brothers, but this right here is my girl-“
“WE ARE NOT BROTHERS AND (Y/N) IS NOT YOUR GIRL!”
“I’ve been crazy about you for so long. I can’t believe you actually find me attractive, Yuji”, you interrupt their little chitchat.
Your heart feels light as a feather, so good that you are almost think about giggling out in sheer joy.
“Are you kidding? You are what dreams are made of, (y/n)! I was just too shy to admit…”
“I’d never be too shy to show my love. Pick me, (y/n)!”
“GET AWAY FROM HERE!”
“I’M NOT LEAVING MY GIRL BEHIND!”
"That's enough, I'm leaving. See you around guys", you announce with a sly grin.
"OUCH, DID YOU JUST SLAP ME TODO!?"
"JUST THE WAY YOU DESERVE IT, ITADORI!"
Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345
@polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk funny#jjk hurt/comfort#jjk hurt#I will never get over Todo slapping Yuji#nanami fanfic#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#kento nanami#husband nanami#kento x y/n#kento x reader#kento x you#kento nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso x you#choso jjk#kamo choso#chousou#choso my beloved#choso#jjk choso#yuji x reader
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Hiiii!I just wanted to ask you , how would the kids and Kane react to finding out that reader was once dating Katsuki?
hehehe
Note: Links to "The Contract" timeline, mentions of drinking.
"MOM!" Toshinori walked outside to where you were sitting in the sun reading a book.
You looked up to your eldest boy. You smiled. "Hey Toshi, hello Kane." The blond teenager followed after your son with his hands in his sweatpants. He gave you a gentle smile in greeting.
Your son gave you a pointed look, his hands moving to sit on his hips the same way you'd look at him whenever he did something and never told you. "You once dated uncle Kacchan?"
You furrowed your eyebrows as you slowly sat up. "Who told you that?" You asked him confused as to how he found that out.
Toshinori pointed at Kane. Kane's crimson eyes moved to his best friend before moving to look at you. "One night my dad started drunkenly blabbering off about how he made a mistake and he lost you to Uncle Deku and all that nonsense and then I told Toshinori." He pointed to your son who was still staring you down like you had offended him.
You opened your mouth to comment before looking over to Kane once more with a concerned look in your eyes. "When was this?"
"Like..." Kane tried to think back. "Last week Tuesday."
"Your father never drinks during the week, at least nothing more than a Manhattan."
"He used to not drink during the weeks." Kane corrected you.
You sat up. "Katsuki's drinking more? Kane, are you okay?" The blond boy paused at your question.
"Not the point right now!" Toshinori interrupted you, making you look to your son. "You used to date uncle Kacchan!?" He asked clearly distressed about the matter.
"Who used to date Uncle Kacchan?" Asahi asked peaking his head out to where the three of you were.
Toshinori turned around to look at his younger brother. "Mom did!" He pointed to you.
His eyes widened. "Really? Why would you ever do that?" Your eleven year old asked as he adjusted his glasses further up his nose.
"That's what I wanted to know!" Toshinori stated loudly as he motioned to himself.
You rolled your eyes at his antics. "Simple. I fell in love with Uncle Katsuki over two decades ago. He was charming, young, handsome, a hero and he really wasn't that bad." You stated truthfully with a shrug. "We were nice together once upon a time." you waved a hand off.
"Then..." You turned to look at Kane, his eyes on you. He didn't seem to hold any particular emotion but you saw his hands were balled up into fists in his sweatpants. "Then what happened?"
You didn't answer immediately. You pulled your lips into a thin line. "He cheated."
"HE DID WHAT?!" Toshinori shouted.
"With who?" Asahi asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Uncle Eijiro."
"HE CHEATED ON YOU WITH-"
Kane slapped his hand over your son's mouth as he scowled at him with an annoyed look. "TSK. Toshi, you damn chatterbox, let her finish." he stated. You couldn't help but giggle, seeing so much of Katsuki in his son. He looked over to you. "Then what happened Aunty Y/N."
"Well then I started talking to your father, Toshi and Asahi and one, two, skip a few steps, we got married, happily ever after the end." You rushed the ending with a smile.
Toshinori blinked confused. He opened his mouth but Kane raised his hand to cover it. Toshinori threw his friend a glare. "I'm not gonna scream." He stated before turning back to look at you. "So... you never got back with Uncle Kacchan."
"I mean, considering I don't have a mom and she's yours," Kane stated nonchalantly with a shrug. "It's the only plausible explanation."
"You have a mom." Toshinori pointed out. "She's probably just..." Toshinori thought of a good explanation, scratching his green hair. There wasn't one, other than the fact that-
"I was conceived in a test tube, Toshinori, I don't think my egg donor counts." Kane let out bluntly making Asahi snort. You glared at him, motioning for him to mind his own business and to be nice.
Toshinori hesitated before putting on a smile. "It does if she's like a super hot model."
"Toshinori!" You stated as you gave your son a pointed look.
"Hmm." Kane put a hand to his chin as he thought to himself for a moment. "It would make sense why I'm so damn handsome." You had to fight every damn instinct in your body to snort at how much that sounded like Katsuki.
Toshinori scoffed. "Hey, between the two of us, I'm the beauty and you're the brains." He stated slinging an arm over his best friend with a soft grin. "I mean, look at this Midoriya charm." He stated with a smirk. "What's not to love?"
Kane just stared at him blankly. he lifted up a finger. "The hair, the green, the freckles, the eyes, the Jordans, the inability to tie a tie properly, your humongous eyes, your face, your pretty ugly if we were honest with ourselves."
Your face dropped at how quickly he was able to list out all the things that quite literally made Toshinori his father's son.
Toshinori glared down at him letting go of him. It took him a second before a devious look went to his face. It reminded you a lot like his father and you knew that he was about to say something that would probably get him into trouble. "Well, that's not what your sister said when she was over last night."
You couldn't even react before you heard a loud explosion and suddenly your son was being chased off the porch and down into the garden by a very angry Kane.
"GET BACK HERE YOU DAMN NERD!"
"DID I LIE?!"
-Glitch1d
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After Reading the Proposal and Wedding One shot I think it's called?
Can I please request the same characters(Adam, Lucifer and Vox) react to there kid having there Powers and how GN Reader and Them deal with it in an everyday bases
oh my god my brain has so many ideas i’m doing this right the freak now
also i’m so sorry this isn’t necessarily gn!reader becuz this does talk about pregnancy 😭
Warnings: AFAB!reader, pregnancy talk, ooc Adam?(?), swear words, potential S1 spoilers, Vox being a bit of a shitty dad
Adam, Lucifer, Vox w/ kids who have their powers (+ extra)
Adam
You and Adam probably wait awhile after your wedding until having kids, he wants to have his party lifestyle a little longer, and cmon, who can blame him?
At first he isn’t so sure, I mean, a small ball of flesh that just cries wasn’t the most entertaining thing to him… But he’ll do it for you
But the moment you tell him your pregnant, something in him clicks.
He’s very invested in the kids before their even born, he’s reading all those cheesy and old baby books constantly, cause honestly, he’s not as prepared as he’d thought he’d be
Simply because I see Adam as both a boy dad and a girl dad let’s say you two have twins 😛
He’s a good dad not gonna lie, but let’s be real, he tried to make at least one of his kids say “feces” as their first word… yeah, you weren’t too happy. 😀
Growing up, he definitely spoiled his girl and roughhoused with his boy, maybe a bit too much…
He was definitely a baseball or softball dad
Considering Adam’s foul language, they definitely grew up at swearing at a young age, but it stayed in the house dw
As the kids grew into their early teens they discovered their shared their dads powers — and bitch was through the roof about it
Adam started training them on how to use their powers to their liking, but also taught them the safety of them. He was actually a pretty good teacher ngl.
Lucifer
Obviously, from his past marriage with Lilith, he already had his first kid, so he was ready — he was just waiting for you to be as well
So when you were, he was stoked !
He was very aware and attentive during your pregnancy, trying to not make the same mistakes he did the first time around
He’s also very understanding about mood swings and he WILL go out in the middle of the night to get you cravings, he doesn’t have to, but he will
But when you both bring another daughter Morningstar into the world, Charlie is thrilled to have a younger sister!
She definitely babysits a lot, and the child definitely spends a lot of time in the hotel
Luci dedicates certain times of the day when he can not and will not have meetings or projects to be working on so he can dedicate time to both of his daughters.
He loves asking your daughter how her day was, and how schools going, but he also asks how her friends are to stress that grades aren’t the only thing that matter
As your daughter grows, she starts to develop Lucifer’s powers, only a small fraction — considering how powerful he is, but he’s stoked that not one, but now both of his daughters have his powers!
He’s been through training them before with Charlie, so he’s pretty skilled on how to do it now, but he tends to stress to your daughter the usage of the powers and the rights and wrongs are far more important than the strength you have
Vox
Vox was in no rush to have kids due to the current workload for VoxTech, but if you wanted them, all you had to do was ask
Vox, like Adam, couldn’t really wrap his head (or screen ig??) around the concept of a child until they were in his arms.
Vox wasn’t really sure how to handle a newborn, older kids were different, but this..? Maybe this wasn’t right for him…
It broke his heart every time he heard his son sob as a new born, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure what to do.
It’d be late at night and Vox would get out of your shared bed to go make sure the baby would stop crying before you’d wake.
He’d try everything, singing, rocking, bottle, changing the diaper, toys, everything. And it wouldn’t stop.
It’s not until you stir in your sleep and hear everything, you go to your son’s crib and simply hold him and he stops crying immediately, you set your son down and go back to sleep. Vox is literally amazed.
As your son ages into the ages of 6 and up is when it starts to get easier for Vox, by the time Vox can even slightly have a conversation with the kid it gets easier, the communication is a lot more clear
He doesn’t have a lot of time to play with his son due to VoxTech, so usually Vox will keep his son in his lap as he works in his office, he’ll even ask his son business questions! Even when he only gets gibberish back, he’ll take it. Hey, don’t judge him, client feedback is important.
As his son ages into his teen years, Vox starts turning a bit strict, he needs his son to be the coolest fucking kid in school, so Velvette tailors him a shit ton of clothes and Vox makes sure his son always has the newest gadget. Vox also is strict about keeping grades up, he wouldn’t ever take anything away for a bad grade, but your son may get a bit of lecture..
All of this is building up to something though, Vox really wants your son to take over VoxTech in his adult years, so he wants to make sure his son is prepared and experienced in the new world he’d enter, if he doesn’t want, Vox gets it, he may be a bit pushy though, but Vox has been in that place so he won’t push too hard.
At around the age of 15, your son developed Vox’s hypnosis powers.
Vox teaches your son how to use this to his advantage, like for example, VoxTech, but he also stressed there’s a time and place, and to not use it on someone you truly care about. Strategy is everything.
Is Vox the perfect parent? No. But no one is. But he genuinely has so much love for his son, and tbh he wants more kids…
#reqs open#x reader#mio’s writing ! ☆#fanfiction#x y/n#x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#adam x reader#hazbin hotel adam#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin adam#adam#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x y/n#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#vox x reader#vox hazbin#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox#vox x you
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how seventeen would confess to you - hhu vers.
-> pairing : svt hhu × gn!reader
-> words count : 2.9k words
-> genre : svt members crushing on you, fluff
-> warnings : while make you giggle and kick your feet
-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.
-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !
-> masterlist | svt masterlist
hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - INTIMATE
cuddles, cuddles, cuddles !
once he tackled you on the couch or bed and you’re in his arms, you’re not getting up for at least an hour.
watching long shows together, and you’re forbidden from watching even one episode without him, or he’ll get so pouty.
big golden retriever energy, he’s always so smiley around you.
but also big on protecting you.
he’s the type to say “dress how you want, i can fight”, and he will definitely fight if needed.
always has an arm around you, making you feel safe in every situation
since both of you are friends since as far as you can remember, he’s like another member of your family.
i can literally picture your aunts asking you when you’re gonna marry him at every gathering lmao
with all of that, the line between friendly and romantic feelings is blurred, but cheol wished he had the courage to fully cross it.
however, everyone and their mothers knew about his big crush on you, and about yours on him.
his confession would be so domestic crying because i’m lonely.
It wasn’t uncommon for you to cross paths with Seungcheol late at night. Just like you, he often got thirsty and you always ended up staying in the kitchen until the early hours of morning, and being sleepy at the family gathering. And this time was not different. Well, it was, in fact, a bit different. You had been aboard for the past year and only got back to Korea a few weeks before, so both of you hadn’t really seen each other and you had a lot to catch up on about your lives.
“- And after that, this bitch didn’t even dare to look me in the eyes for the rest of the year ! Can you believe this ?
- I don’t like to judge people I don’t know, but she’s indeed a bitch.”
Both of you bursted out in laughter, and your heart felt warmer again. It was as if you were finally complete again. Being away from Seungcheol when he had been by your side for the majority of your life was the most difficult thing you ever had to do, and feeling him slip through your fingers as he started to respond less was horrible. He apologized so many times about how busy he was, and you knew it was not his fault, but still, you just wanted to be back home, back in his arms.
“- Yeah, she definitely is.”
You landed your head on his shoulder with a smile, and Seungcheol feared that you would hear how fast his heart was beating. He was happy for you when you announced to him that you had the opportunity to go aboard for your studies, and he was immensely proud of you. But at the same time, all he wanted to do was convince you to not go and keep you forever with him. But he was only your best friend, and he couldn’t ask you to give up on your dreams for him. But he wished he could be your boyfriend instead.
“- I have something to confess…”
You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him as you waited for his next words. Seungcheol eyes’ dived into yours, and he just knew. He knew that this was the right time, that the particular atmosphere surrounding the two of you would certainly never arise again. He had to do it now.
“- The day you left, I came to say goodbye at the airport, remember ?”
You nobbed. How could you not ? He had engulfed you in a big hug that made you want to stay, and left you with teary eyes as you got on your flight.
“- I never told you what I did after. I drove off to the park we always played at when we were kids, and I cried on the swings for maybe two hours because all I could think about was that you were not with me. And it felt so wrong.”
Your right hand found purchase on his cheek, forcing him to look down at you as he consciously avoided your eyes since he started to tell you his little story. But your soft smile was the only reassurance he needed.
“- It felt wrong being away from you too. I missed you so much Cheol…
- Me too…”
And just like that, you both leaned in at the same time, your lips meeting in between and suddenly, everything felt right again, as if it was where you were supposed to be - in each other arms.
“next time i’m squeezing myself in your luggage, i don’t want to spend another night without you in my arms.”
JEON WONWOO - SIMPLE
i don’t know how to explain it, but I’m sure you’ll get it when I say that this man is the definition of soft.
he’s so cozy, every one of his hugs feels like a warm cocoon (that’s why you always find an excuse to get a hug).
very good at giving advice, and a good listener, he’s always there when you need a shoulder to cry on.
you were friends with the other members at first, but slowly, you started to grow closer when he discovered how sweet and lovely you were.
the more he talked with you, the more he found himself hooked.
literally has heart eyes for you (everyone and their mothers know about his crush on you) and would drop everything if you need him.
of course, he’ll be more than happy if you agreed to play video games with him, it doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not
it’s even better if you never played, he’ll have an excuse to make you sit on his lap while he teaches you how to use the controller.
but in the end, he’s a simple guy, and he doesn’t see the point of hiding his crush for too long, but he also wants his confession to be meaningful.
The boys had organized a big party for your birthday this year, and surprisingly, they succeeded at keeping it a secret until tonight. And the past months spent trying to perfect every little detail was worth it when they saw the big smile on your face and your teary eyes when you recognized your friends and family as you walked through the room.
And even if Wonwoo couldn’t be more happy than seeing you wander around, laughing and smiling non-stop, he felt a weight on his heart. He wanted to steal you away from all these people, have you all for himself and finally tell you how he felt about you, finally tell you how glad he was to have you in his life. But he couldn’t, and he would never do that. He was just waiting patiently for your eyes to meet in the crowd, and for you to smile brightly at him. Every time you did that, his heart beat faster.
“- Finally ! I’m so happy that everyone came, but I’m exhausted !
- I can imagine, you’ve been running around the whole night.”
You sighed dramatically as you seated yourself on the couch next to Wonwoo, resting your head on his shoulder. Like a habit, he put his arms around you, bringing you closer to him, just because you were so comfortable around each other that everyone else thought you were already dating.
“- It’s the best surprise of my life. You guys are my favorites. Thank you for doing this for me.
- You deserved it, that and all the presents we prepared for you.”
You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him with a sparkle of curiosity in your eyes.
“- And what’s yours Wonwoo ?”
He had planned to do it later, when everyone would have left, when he’ll have a moment alone with you. But if this wasn’t a sign that he had to do it now, he didn’t know what it was.
“- It’s not something material. It’s more… Spiritual I’ll say.
- It’s intriguing, tell me what it is.
- My heart. I’m offering you my heart, because you already have it, you did for a long time now, and I wanted to let you know, just in case you were feeling the same about me.”
Wonwoo knew how emotional you could get, but he didn’t expect you to cry from his confession. Still, he wiped your tears away, waiting for you to calm down with a soft smile on his face.
“- I feel the same, I’ve been feeling the same for so long. You have my heart too.”
“I’ll take care of it, I promise. I’ll always protect you.”
KIM MINGYU - JOYFUL
100% golden retriever energy
you would often tease him along with the members (because we all know that seventeen ultimate goal is to make fun of mingyu)
partner privilege : would not get as pouty as with his members, all it takes is a smile from you and you’re forgiven.
however, when you tease him about how being so muscular but so afraid of everything is a shame, he’ll be like a child throwing a tantrum.
pouting until you compliment him (and cannot stop blushing once you do, he’s so cute someone help me).
tries to impress you all the time by flexing his muscles, showing how strong he is.
he’s so obvious please, this boy cannot hide his love for you.
follows you everywhere like a lost puppy, just in case you need him (he’s adorable).
he feels so comfortable around you because beyond all the teasing, you’re very understanding and kind.
you’re always here to remind him how amazing he is every time he doubts himself.
and because he feels so comfortable around you, his confession would slip like it was the most natural thing ever.
Mingyu always had a tendency to show off his skills whenever you were in the same room as him. Yes, he felt an incredible ego boost when you complimented him about his muscles, but what he took real pride in was how much he was able to make you laugh. He always feared that his jokes were lame, or just not your type of humor, but every time he cracked one, you bursted into giggles. And by the way you were beaming, there was no way that you were faking it.
And he always managed to make you laugh in all types of situations, chuckling and resisting the urge of kicking his feet like a teenager everytime you hitted his shoulder playfully as you tried to contain your own giggles. Mingyu was addicted to the way your eyes were glowing with joy everytime you just smiled. However, he discovered that the easiest way to get you to laugh was to tell you all the stupid things his members did. Like now, as you were crying from how funny you found the story of Seungkwan volley ball.
“- He really only discovered it when he saw that video ?
- Yeah, really ! You should’ve seen the betrayal in his eyes, it was priceless !”
And you were laughing again, your head thrown back, tears almost spilling out of your eyes. But Mingyu wasn’t laughing anymore, too lost in his contemplation, because you were literally a work of art to him. Every single detail about you was perfect, the more he discovered, the more he wanted to be yours.
“- Your smile is so beautiful, gosh… I love you so much…”
The melody of your giggles died as soon as you registered the meaning of his words. Silence enveloped the both of you as you stared at him as if you were trying to enter his mind and find all the answers to your questions. And Mingyu was forcing himself to keep his mouth shut, and not embarrass himself further, already cursing himself in his head for being so careless.
“- Wha- What did you say ?”
Mingyu was too focused on his overthinking to notice the little grin spreading on your lips. Of course, you already knew that he had a crush on you. Of course, you had a crush on him too because who doesn’t ? And of course, it was very cute to watch him stumble over his words with red cheeks.
“- I-I said that you have a beautiful smile…
- And after that ?
- Don’t want to tell you.”
You giggled as you leaned in to peck his warm cheeks, restraining yourself from going in for his pouty lips too.
“- Well, just know that I love you so much too Gyu.”
“see, you heard it perfectly ! but i’ll tell you a hundred times if you want me to.”
CHWE HANSOL - BRIGHT
he’s so random, like one minute he could joke along with you and the other he’s asking you the most existential question possible, fully serious about it.
like we say vernon is just vernoning in the most vernon way possible.
he's very chill about pretty much everything so it's really soothing to be around him.
he's your go-to person when you want to isolate yourself from the rest of the world because you could spend evenings just watching tv and not saying a word to each other
there's also times where both of you end up talking about your lives until the early hours of the morning.
your relationship feels like it's all natural, there has never been an awkward state, only comfort.
it's like hansol had known you for years because he felt so at ease every time you were with him.
you made him feel like he was special and normal at the same time, and even if he doesn't show it often, he really appreciates it.
you two liked to stay inside so it was rare for you to go out somewhere, but it was always unexpected and when it happened.
hansol knew that you liked to be surprised, and often showed up on his days off to take you somewhere without telling you.
that's why you weren't shocked when he picked you up at 5 in the morning, on a random Sunday.
“- Can I at least choose the music ?
- Go on.”
Hansol handed you his phone which was connected to the speakers of his car, letting you put on whatever song you wanted. He owed you this with how early he forced you to get out of bed on one of your days off. But he really wanted to take you to this spot he loved. He played it off as one of his random wishes, but he planned this in his mind for a long time, not all the details, but he knew he wanted to bring you there to tell you how he felt.
He watched with a small smile on his lips as you opened the window, one of your favorite songs playing as you let the wind hit your face and make your hair fly all over your face. Hansol quickly focused on the road again, seeing that he was near your destination, he asked you to close your eyes.
“- Are we there ?
- Almost.”
The rest of the way was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. When you finally felt that Hansol had stopped the car, you heard him go out of the driver seat to get to your side and help you get out too, ordering you to keep your eyes closed. He pushed you to take some steps forward before he finally authorized you to see what was in front of you.
“- You took me to the ocean ?”
You didn’t even turn around to look at him, too entranced by the sight in front of you. And all Hansol could do was smile when he saw how parkly your eyes were.
“- I guess that I wanted you to see the sunset.”
You were rather speechless as Hansol got a blanket out of his car, leading you to the beach for you two to watch the sunrise on the horizon. He contemplated you as you ran around, touching the water to see if it was cold or not before finally sitting down beside him, your head finding his place on his shoulder, and his arms around yours.
“- Thank you for bringing me there… It’s beautiful…
- I wanted to make it special.”
Before you could even ask him what he was talking about, Hansol leaned in, his eyes fixed on your lips, and yours on his. Basking in the warm light of the sunset, he kissed you for the first time but certainly not the last, a smile spreading on his face as he rested his forehead against yours.
“i think i could get used to this.”
-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.
svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :
@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie
#kpop#seventeen#svt#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#svt reactions#seventeen reactions#seventeen fics#svt fics#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#scoups seungcheol#wonwoo#wonwoo x reader#mingyu#mingyu x reader#vernon#vernon x reader#hansol#hansol x reader#hip hop unit#seventeen hip hop unit
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Volume 1, Episode 13:
Jaune: I'm a failure.
Ruby: [cheerfully] Nope!
Jaune: Nope?
Ruby: Nope! You're a leader now, Jaune. You're not allowed to be a failure.
Jaune: But what if I'm a failure at being a leader?
Ruby: Hmm… nope!
Jaune: You know, you're not the easiest person to talk to about this stuff.
Ruby: [still cheerfully] Nope!
Ruby: [sobering] Jaune, maybe you were a failure when you were a kid. You might've even been a failure the first day we met! But you can't be one now. You know why?
Jaune: Uh. Because…?
Ruby: Because it's not just about you anymore. You've got a team now, Jaune. We both do. And if we fail, then we'll just be bringing them down with us. We have to put our teammates first, and ourselves second.
Volume 9, Episode 7:
Jaune: I couldn't save them. I was supposed to save them. And they're dead.
Yang: No, Jaune. They're gone, but they're not dead. They'll be back.
Weiss: Yeah, it's what they wanted. Right, Ruby?
Ruby: why are you asking me?
Blake: Um. We just—
Ruby: Because I'm the leader? Because I'm just supposed to have something to say? 'Cause I don't.
Ruby: [more agitated] I mean, why do I have to be the leader anyway? Why do I have to always be the one to pick people up? What about me? 'No time,' right?
(…)
Ruby: I'm sorry, is this a bad time? Are we supposed to be mourning Jaune's make believe friends?
Jaune: They're gone because of you! The walkers came for you, because Neo hates you! Oh, and let's not forget the reason we're in the Ever After in the first place is because of your plan, that that didn't work! 'What about you?' It's ALL about you!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
... which is all to say, it was fucked up the first time Ruby said all this. It was a red flag all the way back at Beacon. Ruby was wrong to tell Jaune that and frame it that way, and this has been building between them literally since day one because of it.
Ruby's never had a healthy or reasonable conception of what a leader is or what their responsibilities are and like. how could she? between being raised in her mother's shadow and her silver eyes putting her on a magic pedestal she never stood a chance. and if she confronted the fact that that might be a problem that would mean admitting she has a problem which is against the rules for leaders. it's never allowed to be about her; she can't want things or have doubts.
Ruby's optimism didn't break, she stopped choosing it. because it was always a conscious decision she was making. and now she can't anymore, understandably, because she's too tired! she doesn't have anything left to give!
which also brings up--
when Ruby snaps at Blake to shut up after Blake tries to look on the bright side, she doesn't say "You're wrong."
she says "Don't do that."
even in her meanest moment, she's not actually trying to pull Blake down.
she's trying to stop Blake from making the same mistake she did, the same error in logic she then passed on to Jaune, which was insisting relentless positivity was the only way to lead.
#rwby#rwby spoilers#ruby rose#jaune arc#blake belladonna#ruby and jaune#ruby and blake#leah watches rwby
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NYMPHOMANIA !
ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. daddy-daughter incest, femcel reader :3, reader wants to get raped so she talks about that, dub-con for like a paragraph, suicidal thoughts, awful thoughts in general, tiny bit of somno, threats, spanking, slapping
note. HAII :3 back on my femcel shit… god i rewrote this like 15 times and restarted over and over so i hate this 😭 it’s clunky so ignore any mistakes!!! feedback n rbs always so appreciated <3 was thinking of og4 leon but.. honestly idk atp !! anyway sorry again for the slow decrease in quality in this .. title has nothing to do w the fic ack ok bye :3
tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.
There are two things you want to get off your chest.
You are not, under any circumstances, ugly. Your face just takes getting used to. (This is a cope.)
You have a crush on your dad. No excuse for this one. Cupid is a conniving bastard. That’s that.
These might not seem like related issues, but they most certainly are because being ugly is hard, and having a crush on your dad is equally as hard.
You’re a sweet girl, you didn’t choose to come out ugly, it’s not your fault you turned out this way. It’s unfair, but ultimately no one meant for it to happen
(Well, you hope no one meant for it to happen unless someone had a vendetta against your mother and cursed her firstborn. She’s an irritating lady, you can see why someone would do so.)
You won’t even be the kind of below-average woman who marries a mediocre man to have mediocre sex to make mediocre kids to live in caustic mediocrity. You have one friend, she’s an online friend, and she might be a lonely old man. To be entirely honest you would prefer that. ‘Cause that would mean someone out there wants to creep on you.
If you weren’t ugly, having a crush on your dad would be socially acceptable. That’s why daddy-daughter porn spans pages and pages and pages of Pornhub. Everyone loves to watch a busty, blonde slut on her dad’s dick. If you didn’t have a crush on your dad, being ugly would be perfectly fine— No, that’s wrong.
Being ugly is never fine. Being ugly is on the same level as being a rapist. Being ugly in the presence of people who are objectively not ugly is, like, worse than being a rapist. ‘Cause all the dudes in high school were rapists in the making. Ted Bundy-style shit.
Grope an ugly bitch in the bathrooms and she wouldn’t speak up, and if she did— She just wouldn’t actually. Would be burnt at the stake Salem style. Hung. Crucifixion perhaps. Ugly girls aren’t good enough to die like martyrs did, however. Especially not ugly girls who cry wolf.
Why on God’s green earth would a hot guy go out of his way to slap a freaky-looking girl’s ass, right? Got girls lined up down the halls waiting for him to sign their perky tits, he doesn’t need to rape. It must be wishful thinking on her part, right? A wet dream she took as reality.
Why would you say that? Do you want to throw what he’s worked for down the drain? Accusations like this, they’re not jokes, y’know that? He’s got a scholarship, college wouldn’t take something like this so lightly.
Aw, you miss her. This goth chick in senior year. Your sorta friend. When it all went down and she had nowhere else to go, you invited her over because you’re a nice girl with no nefarious intentions. None at all. When she lay beside you at night, and she opened up, and she thanked you for believing her, you totally did not have your hand in your panties. And you totally did not rub yourself raw while she spoke about it in excruciating detail. You did not treat her rape case as erotica.
The dude got away with it of course. He was on TV the other day in fact. NFL. Baltimore Ravens. Still stupid hot. God, you wish it was you he picked - wouldn’t have told a single soul. Would’ve sucked the sweat from his jockstrap without complaint.
You’re too repulsive to be touched or raped, and you’ve learnt to live with that. Passing out in alleyways would result in rapists who frequent the area to avoid those very alleyways. Only your hand knows the cushiony softness of your tits, the wetness between your legs, how great your mouth feels— Only your dildo knows that, but you can imagine it’s good. You’re a total catch. A nympho. Men love nymphos when they’re pretty, which you are not. So you’re a nympho without the sex appeal. So in other words you are a pervert. A degenerate. A fucking freak.
It’s time to start sticking your fingers down your throat. ‘Cause that’s what gorgeous girls do to achieve that grave-robbed look. Heroin chic. Modelesque. It’s all the same type of beautiful. Emaciated and sickly. Dead girls are the sexiest ‘cause they can’t say yes or no and if there’s no no then it’s a yes. A nymphetic loophole of sorts. Men love dead girls that double as nymphos. Unfortunately, you are well and alive. Walking into traffic seems like fun, but you would be classed as roadkill, and it wouldn’t be tragically beautiful, just embarrassing to get scraped off the concrete like that. Even in death, you would be ugly because you are ugly to your very core. Your bone marrow is so ugly no scientist would want to make stem cells out of it, polynucleotides so deformed— You’re ugly. No need to wax poetic about it. Nothing poetic about being ugly.
Dad is the closest a human being can get to perfection. A divine image. Michelangelo is, like, dead and gone. David should've died alongside him. Dad deserves to take his place in the Accademia Gallery. With the way people gawk at him, he might as well be art. You’re surprised he doesn’t sell tickets to merely exist in his presence. He’s hot like a Calvin Klein model, and mom is hot like a regular model. Due to how you’ve turned out, you have a few qualms with your mother.
Like, what the fuck happened to you in her womb? Did someone take a mallet to one side of her belly to ensure her child came out as asymmetrical as one can be? A lack of nutrients maybe? Was she dieting during the pregnancy? Did dad fuck her too hard? Busted her womb up or some shit.
It simply might be that two rights make a wrong.
Or you were a tester before she popped your siblings out. Little ichor-filled putto. They were child models, scouted in their diapers, and you would stand behind your mother and the cameraman so hurt you couldn’t even feel jealous. Now they’re all grown up, fully-fledged erotes, and they’re working and doing all this shit you still haven’t managed to get a grasp on. Navigating the world as an ugly bitch is terribly hard.
Rape kinks are developed, dads get crushed on - awful, terrible things happen when girls are ugly and alone and unable to leave the comfort of their bedrooms.
Pretty girls have daddy issues that are dealt with in standard pretty girl fashion - finding emotionally unavailable, salt-and-pepper-haired men to fill every hole, including the one in their doll hearts. The thing is pretty girls don’t go for their dads. ‘Cause a lot of the time dads are gross. Dads do not look like your dad does. And to be fair you don’t exactly have daddy issues. Your dad is present and he doesn’t hit or shout or do anything out of the norm. Maybe this is a you issue.
It is a you issue, not even an ugly girl issue or an any type of girl issue. It’s your issue and yours alone.
It is your issue that when Leon asks what you want for dinner you almost ask for his hand around your throat or his hand in marriage. Either would be fine. Both would be preferred.
Severing your relationship would be even better. Goddamn, girls with absent fathers are lucky. You wish he was anything but your dad— It’s just that if you weren’t his daughter, dad wouldn’t ever look your way, he would pass by you like every man does.
Dad is a busy guy, and he’s a strange guy in the sense that he’s never really bothered with you. He loves your sister, and he loves your brother. But everyone loves those two. You don’t think he likes you very much, you can deal with that. Doesn’t mean you have daddy issues ‘cause no one likes you very much. So it’s a you issue and you should try harder.
Leon’s home early today. He’s collapsed on the couch, withered into himself like he always is after business trips. Mom said not to disturb him. You don’t. Then you do. This is like crack to you. Dad.
More specifically, dad without mom hovering over him. Dad’s sleeping so your brain is not stewed by his intense gaze. It only ever lingers on you for merely a second, but your stomach flips like you’ve got appendicitis and your legs spread involuntarily.
He’s a light sleeper, you’re well aware. He’s also a living, breathing Ken doll so you don’t put much thought into it when you reach out to ghost your fingers along the bridge of his nose. So pointy it could pierce your clit. Your clit. His nose. Oh, it could work so well, you want to grind yourself to mush against it.
Until dad shifts, he’s so beautiful up close you almost forget he’s real, not a wax figure. You trace the straight edge of his jaw, then thumb his petal lips, dragging your pointer finger over the fuller bottom one to push the tip into his wet mouth. Your dad is a slut. ‘Cause he sucks for a good second or two. Heat licks at your insides. You might vomit. His spit glistens like cobwebs when you take it back. That hand is shoved down your pants. That finger finds your clit, uses what spit is left to get it nice and wet. Which is totally unneeded, you’ve been soaked since god knows when, your pussy doesn’t know when to quit.
Feels good knowing that a part of dad is in you, his spit pushed into your hole. You’ll give him something back, it’s only fair, you smear your slick on the spot you traced. His tongue pokes out, likely to combat dry mouth, it swipes along his bottom lip— He tastes you. Heat engulfs you, chars your body from the inside out, the scent of rotting meat is in your nostrils.
Dad tasted you.
Holy fuck. You sit there with a trembling smile, staring down at him and he does not rouse. Shit, you’re creepy and you know it, but you’re not stupid. What other chance do you have? You unzip his old shearling jacket, underneath is that compression shirt that fits him too well. You map out the ridges of his abs, the slight dip between his pecs, every hard line that makes up his body. He smells so sexy, lavender and leather, must be some sorta pheromone ‘cause all you want to do is drop your face into his tits to bathe in that scent, to have it stick to your skin. Shit. Holy fucking shit. You’ve got a sex doll instead of a dad. That explains the distantness. He’s made of silicone.
The door clicks the moment you find it in yourself to click open his belt.
“What're you doing?” Mom ruins everything. She’s had it out for you the moment you formed in her womb. “He’s sleeping, don’t disturb him.” She says tersely, placing her Coach Tabby on the coffee table.
“He was cold.” That’s why his nipples are peaking, piercing the fabric of that shirt. Should be illegal to wear that in public. He’s asking for it.
“Yeah?” She asks, unconvinced, bending down to unclasp her heels.
“Yeah.” You stand up, dad’s indirect kiss on your cunt, shoot her a nasty sneer before you scuttle away to your bedroom for the rest of the day.
There are stairs that creak and stairs that don’t. You hang around down here at midnight often so you know the right path to take as to not alert your parents of your presence. They’re speaking about you.
“—be careful around her.” Truly, you hate your mother.
“What is there to be careful about?” Right? You tell her dad.
“Just, just be careful. She doesn’t y’know.”
“She doesn’t what?”
“She doesn’t get off her ass, she doesn’t talk to anyone but, well, I don’t know actually, she doesn’t talk to anyone at all.” You could pretend and say it hurts, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing insulting about the truth.
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“You’re a guy, she doesn't talk to guys.”
“We don’t talk much either.” Dad is too stiff to make conversation, and you collapse anytime he breathes in your general direction.
“Yeah, but, Leon.” Mom sounds exasperated, but she’s not getting her point across well. She should know better, dad’s skull is thicker than cement. “I’m worried.”
“What, for me or her?”
“Her, obviously, I don’t want her to… I want her to get out, like, I want her to do stuff,” mom sniffles, she is so putting this on to make dad feel guilty. “It’s so hard to watch your adult daughter just sit in a room and do nothing all day, Leon, she’s like a big fucking baby, why is she like that?”
“Babe,” he coos, and your knees buckle.
“Go talk to her.”
“What?”
“Go talk to her about it,” Mom repeats, voice shaking. “She doesn’t listen to me.”
They go back and forth for a few minutes, and then dad sighs and says fine. You make haste back to your hovel that doubles as a bedroom, crawl into bed and try to look natural.
Leon clears his throat before he knocks, when you don’t answer he pokes his head in. He says your name and you stir, sheets taut to your body as you peek up at him.
“You should open a window in here.”
When you don’t respond, he sits at the foot of your bed, looks around and nods. His gaze is scathing. Not purposefully. You just take it that way.
“Dinner’s ready,” he lies, then he leaves. His perfume lingers, and you touch the space he was sitting in, his warmth remains.
The day after that, you’re in the living room, tuckered out after mom forced you to help her with the groceries. You’re not cut out for this sort of life. The living sort of life. You were made to rot.
“Door wasn’t locked,” Leon says when he steps in, he puts his keys down, shucks his jacket off, tracks mud halfway down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Your shoes, Leon,” Mom groans, “she came in last.”
“Oh, sorry,” you say absentmindedly. If it doesn’t include tits or dicks or pussy it is none of your business. You have enough energy to keep up with one thing and that is your porn addiction. Groceries really took it out of you.
“You should be careful, rapists might come in, murderers or some shit.” Leon is speaking to your mother. Not you because he has seen your face and he knows very well that an ugly girl like you would survive out of sheer ugliness.
Mom snorts, “I think you’re the scariest thing that could walk through that door, honey.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”
You’d like to know what that means too. Well, you get the gist, ‘cause you’ve heard all those stories. Dad and his wandering hands.
“You know what that means.” The sound of lips smacking is enough to have you feeling sick, dizzy as you cling to the walls and make your escape. “Did she leave— Quit it, Leon— Hands off, can you go talk to her, please? Properly this time.”
He forgets to knock this time, or he can’t bother to knock. Dad sits in that same spot, he opens his mouth and closes it about five times.
“Mom’s worried about you,” Leon says robotically. “You good?”
“I’m great.” Your tone is unconvincing, but he clearly doesn’t care enough because you're his dirty little secret. Not in a sex way. You would do anything for it to be in the sex way. Dirty little secret as in the ugly kid he chooses to ignore purely because you’re ugly. Dad doesn’t like ugly girls, you know that. He doesn’t think they’re worth a second glance, even a first glance is too much. Dad is superficial and his love is plastic.
These are all things you’re making up in your head based on assumptions. This is how all attractive men think. Ugly girls aren’t worth rape, dirtying your dick in ugly pussy sounds like a hassle. If you were pretty, you wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy. Even as a self-proclaimed ugly girl, you still wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy ‘cause they’re gross, and it’s not like they want you. Ugly guys shoot high and aim for pretty girls. Duh.
So you get it. Honestly. Whatever. Dad doesn’t like you. That’s okay, you don’t like him as a dad anyway. You love him like an obsessive lover. A hallway crush that stars in your late-night rape fantasies. And you’re fine like this. You’re so fine.
“Can I… Can I actually have a hug, dad?” You muster up what is left in your hollow heart to ask him that. It’s a big deal.
Leon blinks at you, levels you with his blank stare. He’s so handsome you want to blow your brains out, it’s an easy feat because you’re always looking for reasons to blow your brains out. Every straw is your last and yet you’re still here.
“Sure, sweetheart.” Dad opens his arms, and you crawl towards him, head on his shoulder as his arms loop around your waist. Oh, god, you will your heart into giving out. Dying right here in dad’s arms is ideal.
He holds you so gently it’s brutal. He crushes you with the weight of his loveless love. Dad’s so good at pretending you almost think he cares.
“Can you… I want to stay like this.”
“Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Leon calls everyone sweetheart. Sweetheart is his default. Sweetheart ranges from Auntie Ashley to babysitters to lifeguards and retail workers who aren’t getting paid enough to deal with some old man making eyes at them. Not that anyone minds dad’s attention. It’s fucking unfair. Mom is babe, and your sister is baby, and your brother is buddy or sport or tiger or whatever shit he pulls out of his ass. And you’re sweetheart because you’re not important to him. His firstborn daughter is not important to him ‘cause she’s ugly. More of a specimen than a human.
You would do anything to keep him here.
“Dad?” You whisper into his neck.
“…Yeah?”
“I want you to…” Your lack of life flashes in front of your eyes. Bedroom. Bedroom. Porn. Bedroom. Porn. Porn. Dad. Not much. What have you got to lose? “I want to— I want to fuck you.”
Dad is silent. Then: “Oh.” He never makes the move to pull away, so you sit snugly in his grip for a few seconds longer.
“I— Dad, I touch myself thinkin’ about you.” Your stomach ties itself into a Gordian knot.
“Yeah, okay, why don’t we— Yeah, fuck, I see what she meant, okay. Wow, that’s a lot. Sweetheart, why… Listen.” Dad says a whole lot of nothing as he takes your hands off him.
“Please… I love you, dad. I really like you— I know it’s weird, dad, I do, seriously, I know, but please I just… I just like you.” There is no explanation for it. “Dad… Daddy.”
He full-on winces. It’s like you’re being flayed. Something inside of you just— Just shatters. Not your heart ‘cause it’s pumping more blood than it ever has. Fragments of your sanity splinter into even smaller segments until there is nothing left but nauseating levels of mental disturbance.
“If you don’t…”
“You seriously trying that right now?” Leon scoffs, and he’s so cocky you get hot under the collar.
(Between your thighs too, but that’s a different story.)
“Yeah, I’m serious— If you don’t… If you don’t do it- do it with me, I’ll tell mom you… I’ll tell her you raped me.” In actuality, you would never tell mom if daddy raped you. You would treasure it, keep it in a heart-shaped locket and think about it when you get off twelve times a day. Getting your pussy reamed by dad’s cock would fix you right up.
“Don’t— Are you okay?” Leon smacks your hand away, his tone is even.
“You do it too— I know you’ve done it, I know how you and mom met.”
His face drains, pallor yellowish. “That don’t… That’s different.”
“How is that any different?” Different ‘cause he’s hot and mom is hot. Leon passed it off as a drunken mistake and they end up getting together. It’s not rape if the perpetrator is a hottie. You agree, but still— It’s not fucking fair.
“‘Cause I didn’t do this.” Leon gestures abstractly.
You kiss him, hands braced on each of his tits, digging your fingers into the meat to feel him tense and harden like he’s wearing a chest plate. “You’re so hot dad,” you whine into his mouth, and Leon is quick to push you off, your wrists in his hands. Makeshift handcuffs.
“Listen, sweetheart,” Dad is using his dad voice. It’s like porn to you, only makes you wetter. “I don’t like hitting girls, but you’re givin’ me a damn good reason.”
“You can hit me, daddy.” You offer your face to him, stretching your neck forward, closing your eyes as you wait for the impact. It lands firm on your cheek, his fingertips catching the tip of your nose. Fuck that felt good. Shit. You think you’ve creamed your panties. “Again, dad, hit me again—“ He does. Harder than the last time. Your head knocks backwards, and your brain must have a dent in it.
Dad puts you over his lap and you’re so sure you’ve entered the pearly gates. Or the innermost circle of hell. Probably that ‘cause Jesus Christ are you steaming.
“I hate stupid little sluts that try it out on me,” Leon drags your sweats over the swell of your ass, “Do you have a dick?”
“What, dad— No!” You tell him, more mortified at his question than you are by your bare ass under his palm. Fuck— You’re so wet it’s disgusting, dripping down your thighs and surely staining his lap. Thick like treacle.
“No? Were you gonna rape dad with this stupid cunt?” Oh, you hope he spanks your pussy. Porn makes it look delicious. “You look like you might have a dick with that face of yours.” He traces the seam of your cunt through your panties. “Or is your pussy just fat?”
Good fucking lord.
“Dad…” You arch into him, only to have a hand come down on your left ass cheek. One. Two. Three. They all hurt bad as each other. Four. “Ouch!” That one hurt real bad. Five. You feel like a naughty child. This is not as hot as you thought it would be. More dull and embarrassing. Not even the good kind of embarrassing.
Leon puts you on your knees, the hand wrapped around your jaw forces your lips into a pout, and you think he is going to kiss you— God, you close your eyes and wait for it, lean into him, shit you’d pop your leg if you were standing up. He spits in your face and it trickles down the bridge of your nose.
“Got me dirty with that filthy pussy.” Dad speaks offhandedly, he speaks to you like you’re dog shit. Not dog shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Just dog shit on the side of the road. Like the sort that bothers you enough to complain about it, but it doesn’t ignite any real anger.
His hand remains tight on your jaw, then he drops it to fish his fat cock from his pants to slap the drippy head on your cheek. The sound ricochets off the walls. Hits you like a bullet. Holy fuck. Dad really just did that. You giggle, batting your lashes up at him as pretty as an ugly girl can, and he grimaces so it can’t be pretty.
“Christ, you nasty fuck,” Leon snickers at the look on your face, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Daddy,” you whimper, nosing the tip of his dick, he smells so good you want him in your mouth, “I jus’ love you lots.”
“God, I hate ugly little freaks like you.” He said that already, no need to rub it in. Another slap of his cock on your face. Your heart beats for him and him alone. “You know what I think?” Dad guides his cock into your warm mouth. “Shit, that’s good— I think your mom is a liar.”
His dick is all you’ve ever wanted. It’s heavy on your tongue, though the longer you suckle on the tip, the weightier it gets, and he’s wet. Dripping all over the place. You must get that gene from your dad.
“‘Cause I don’t think,” he grunts, palm resting on your forehead to push you off his shaft, “I don’t think I could make a kid this ugly.”
“No,” you say breathlessly, “No, you’re my dad, my daddy.” Crouched down below him, you lave over his balls, putting more effort into this than you have done with anything else in your life. Gargling dad’s balls is your best work. Nothing else you have to be proud of.
Your pussy is pulsing, shit has its own heartbeat, you drop your hand down to soothe your poor cunt, rubbing figure eights into the bulge of your clit over your panties. It’s not enough, you push them to the side, your fingers slip a couple times, not enough, only dad’s fingers are enough, only his cock will plug up your leaking hole.
“Get off me,” dad instructs, and you might be glued to him, but you detach yourself immediately. “C’mon, stand up.” You use his thighs as leverage, standing on shaky legs that threaten to give out at any second. He takes your shirt off. “Cute tits gone to waste,” dad sighs like it’s heartbreaking. “We could've done something about it, y’know? Could fix your face right up, just had to ask daddy.”
“Really, dad? I want to be pretty, daddy, I want to be pretty for you, you never call me pretty— Daddy, I want to be pretty, please.” You clasp his shirt, and he brings you into his lap once more, raising your legs to slide your panties down so you’re free bleeding on his lap. Free bleeding without the blood. Just good old pussy.
“Messin’ with you, sweetheart, can’t fix that dog face,” dad coos to you tenderly, and the plain-as-day insult flies right over you. Dad could get you to sell both your kidneys if he keeps talking to you like that. “Just gotta live with it.”
You have. You have lived with it. That’s what you do. Live with your ugly face. You could die, that’s an option, but you choose to wait it out. ‘Cause dying is pretty scary no matter how much you want it. And Leon’s dick is hard beneath your pussy so there are things to live for. The world isn’t all cruel.
“Up,” he taps your lower back, you raise your hips and he presses his cock to your stretched hole. Toy after toy after toy. All to ready yourself for dad. When you sink down on him, your body convulses. It’s the sweet release of death. Or an orgasm. Fuck. Dying on dad’s cock is— You haven’t died on his dick, he fucks you through your high, feet planted firmly on the ground as he thrusts upwards, dick angled just right.
Heroin is meant to be good. You’ve seen Trainspotting. Better than any cock— You don’t believe that for a minute. Unless he’s leaking smack straight into your pussy, numbing your walls. Could be that ‘cause god— You’re not really thinking, not that you think much, when you decide to shove your fingers into his mouth.
“Daddy, can you taste me?” You ask him, giving a languid grind of your hips down onto his cock, you regret it immediately ‘cause it’s so good your cunt squelches loudly. “Do you taste me, dad? Dad—“
“Yeah,” Dad says, muffled, “Shoving your fingers down my fuckin’ throat, you little psycho, ‘course I taste it.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Daddy looks so pretty with his lips wrapped around your fingers, you fuck them in and out of his pink mouth, his tongue runs along the length of your fingers like he’s sucking a nice cock. Treating your fingers better than you did his dick.
Daddy’s splitting you in two. He fucks you without a care in the world. ‘Cause he doesn’t care about you. One-time-use pussy. You’re disposable like the gloves you get with box dye. Like a plastic spork. His cock is so deep he might as well tear open your middle and fuck your guts. Leon grabs your hips, forces you up and drops you down. The air in your lungs has no time to build up— You grasp at his shirt, bouncing in his lap like you’re a fleshlight, and you would be so happy with that title. Dad’s personal fleshlight. It makes you giddy.
Leon’s cock twitches inside of you, when he lifts you off of him, your pussy clings to the tip, holding on for dear life, insistent on milking daddy’s dick, taking every drop of his cum.
“Daddy…” Your head drops to his shoulder. “Please, daddy, am I pretty? Can you call me pretty?”
His hips stutter, and you don’t have to see his face to know he hesitates. It’s a struggle to call a girl like you pretty. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” Then he dumps his load so deep— So deep, you warm to the thought of having your daddy’s baby. You already fucked so why not go the extra mile?
Dad doesn’t kiss you, but he lays you down and tucks you in like he never has before. “Your mom’s worried.” He goes back to the topic at hand and you groan, covering your face with a pillow. “Hey, we can, uh…” Leon scratches his head. “We can y’know…” He shrugs, glances down at you. “Can do that if you try pulling your weight a little.”
The promise of your dad’s cock is enough to have you applying for every job in a thirty-mile radius. Dad’s cock is a fix for an ugly girl like you. You’ve got a pussy only your daddy could love, and you think you’re more than okay with that.
#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy smut#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#resident evil smut#resident evil x reader#resident evil x you
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hiii!! i love ur writing it’s absolutely adorable 🥹🫶 i was wondering if you could write something about riki & reader and maybe the reader is just a little older than him like a few months to a year? and they are very adamant on giving him his space especially since he has dealt with… so much from older fans. but riki rlly likes the reader and he’s frustrated because he doesn’t want her to think of him like a kid maybe 🤔 but reader likes him back she is just scared bc she feels like what if she makes him uncomfortable? but then it has a happy ending because they talk it out & jungwon helps them 😭🫶 totally understand if u don’t want to take this request! even if u don’t, it’s alright i love ur writing sm
kiss her you fool
pairing: idol!riki nishimura x idol!fem!reader, childhood bsf!yang jungwon x reader
synopsis: riki likes you. you like him. if the maths is right, you should be together. but riki left one variable unaccounted for. or in which riki must get to the bottom of why you are withholding your feelings for him if it's the last thing he does
warnings: reader is a year older, ANGST, mention of c-19, DISGUSTING OLD CREEPY FANS, mentions of sexual harassment, insecurity, problems of young debuting and discrimination, and crying, jealousy, swearing, appearance of riize's anton, riki being an absolute menace but a communication king 😤, romantic confessions, cringe but fluffy, proof-read before dinner soooo ☺️
word count: 2k+ library: enhypen bookshelf
author’s note: it's my first request 😭 i got youuuuuuu. i didn't mean for this to get so um well sappy and sad, got a bit carried away with the 'older fans' thing, but thank you so much for requesting! i hope this is up to par ♡︎ // song rec is titular but not really incorporated
You had made a mistake.
A very big mistake.
Liking Riki Nishimura.
How exactly that happened... well almost four years ago now, in 2020.
The practical shut down of all things physical in the industry. No concerts, no fan meetings, no live performances, restricted filming... the entire world had gone quiet.
Yet, as humans had done since the dawn of time, there was adaptation. Online concerts that were pre-recorded and emphasised stage performances, masked filming with very few staff, well.. masked everything...
And in the midst of all of this, was I-LAND. The survival show that would form a new boy group. The same show that your childhood best friend, Yang Jungwon, was participating in. As his friend, former label mate, and a representative of BigHit, you were very enthusiastic, promoting the show when you could on your lives and consistently voting for him, producing the theme song, even coming on the last episode with your seniors.
Jungwon did it. He got first place. With almost 1.5 million votes. To withhold all your tears that day was a heavy task. You didn't want anyone to think that the votes had been manipulated due to your influence so you had kept a bit quiet about your relation to Jungwon. But you were just so proud.
People eventually found out soon though. Months before ENHYPEN was to debut with the claims that it just made sense that you two were childhood friends.
Along with him came six other people that you would soon make lifelong friends with, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki. You debuted quite early and despite being the youngest leader ever to debut and the maknae, friends were hard to come by (surprise surprise). So you welcomed these with open arms. Any friend of Jungwon was going to be a friend of yours.
You cherished all the members in their own ways but you couldn't lie and say Riki wasn't special to you. He reminded you of yourself. So young yet so passionate. Furthermore, he was Japanese. Living in a foreign country by yourself at such at such as young age... it had to be tough.
So in a way, you took him in. By that you meant your mother had basically accepted him as her son and you took care of him as if you were his older sister. You helped him with his Korean, your mother invested into learning Japanese cuisine so he didn't feel too homesick, always sending you with tiffins of food to the company or to the dorm, you stayed by him during the tough times... you made sure that he never felt alone, even for a second. You promised him.
The thing about debuting so young was that it often attracted the wrong type of people. You had gone through it and were still going through it despite turning twenty soon. Older fans... they seemed to love you. Especially, older men. From shouting your name loudly and asking for cute poses at fan signs to genuinely asking to marry you and specifically positioning their cameras at a certain angle to capture under your skirt... It was beyond you.
And Riki was going through the same thing, primarily with older women. Asking to marry him, seeing him shirtless, inappropriate fan fiction... the list of crazy was endless.
But your group and especially ENHYPEN wasn't having any of it. You all tried to the best of your ability to protect Riki but it just never seemed to stop. There were just so many weird people out there. It was infuriating.
You stuck to your promise. You made sure Riki felt safe and you could tell it was working. He was always honest with you, at his most vulnerable. He could share anything with you and he'd feel comfortable. You were the one person closest to him, there was no doubt about it.
But then you had to fuck it up. You got feelings.
You didn't realise it at first. But by the end of last year, you were sure. The long hugs, the stares that lasted a second more than they should've, Riki's abrupt clinginess... all of the mundane things were suddenly making you flustered and open the opportunity to having arrhythmia with all your fluctuating heartbeats.
You weren't sure what to do. It terrified you. How were you any different from the older fans? Well, of course there was a difference. But that year difference between the both of you... it was imposing.
So you did the only thing that made any sense to you. You gave him space.
You thought the space you were giving wasn't too obvious. You just wanted Riki to feel lighter and free.
But he noticed.
Immediately.
Riki noticed your wide smiles were now brief, the fewer texts you shared, the pathetic excuses you made to not hang out as much, the way you never sat with him to eat your mom's food... that the space you gave him was also physical given that you no longer sat right next to him but opted to sit diagonal to him (that way you weren't invading him too much).
Riki wasn't the type to beat around the bush. He directly confronted you. A trait that came naturally to him but was only furthered by the ever so direct Jungwon.
When you told him that you just wanted to give him a bit of space, given that he was older now and the whole plight of dealing with his 'fans'... Riki was in turmoil.
On one hand, an ever small part of him was touched that you cared so much. Not that was a surprise. You had the biggest heart he had ever seen.
But for the most part, he was frustrated. See, the thing was... he liked you too. A lot. Maybe too much for a normal human. It wasn't that you took care of him like a sister (if anything that combination would've made him throw up), but it was just you.
You entirely made him like you. Before he debuted, Riki was a big fan of you. He admired your work and passion, especially for as someone as young as you. Not to mention, he's pretty sure that you're the prettiest person in the entire universe. Never did he think he'd actually meet you. But then you visited I-LAND, twice. Once for the theme song and second for the last episode. And Riki was in awe of you. He couldn't believe it!
But that was nothing in comparison to finding out that he was debuting with ENHYPEN, a group that so happened to have Jungwon, your childhood best friend, and would often meet you to have their songs produced and composed.
And then you took him in.
He remembered it like it was yesterday. Heck, he could never forget it even if he tried.
You found Riki head down, crying alone in the dance practice room and you were immediately by his side. He was having an internal crisis.
It had been a few months since he had debuted and everything was going so well. ENHYPEN was popular. But his Korean was barely up to par, he couldn't keep up with everything that was going on, it was fuzzy in his head, people were commenting on his ethnicity and his looks in ways that discriminated him, he missed authentic Japanese food, he missed his annoying sisters, he missed his dad, his mom... he missed home. God, in that moment, he just wanted to go home.
You sat next to him, listening to all his worries quietly. By the time he was finished, he looked up at you with puffy red eyes that made your heart ache and apologised for burdening you with his problems.
He actually apologised.
For a moment, you were speechless.
So being an experienced person (well a year by age and a few more by career), you did what anyone else would do. Well, you hoped.
You wiped the remaining tears off of his face with your thumb and held his hands with yours. You looked him directly in the eye and told him, "You having nothing to be sorry about, Riki-ah. This... this is all normal to feel. To some extent, I know how you feel. I promise you that you'll get through this. I'll be by your side the entire time, hmm? I'm won't leave you alone. I promise."
With that, you brought him into a hug that he reciprocated. And this was the very moment Riki began to have feelings for you. After all of that and with everything you had done for him, how could he not like you?
Riki's frustration was beginning to peak. Ever since you told him you were giving him space, he had decided to the complete opposite. He was going to be up in your business 24 fucking 7 (if he could).
If you were going to sit away him, Riki would make his hyungs move so he could sit right next to you.
You were too far from him? He'd drag your chair close to him.
Your poor text response rate? Unannounced, Riki would walk into the room, rest his head on your lap, and scroll through TikTok, showing you all the videos he found funny.
But he needed to up his game. They say that flirting is a mastery of sort. It takes time, skill, finesse, if you will. Riki, however, is a fast learner.
"Cute hoodie, noona. But you'd look better in mine."
Backstage, you found him waiting outside your dressing room, on his phone. You sighed, shaking your head. "You're a living nightmare, Riki. You know that?"
Riki looked up from his phone, a smirk tugging away at his lips. His eyes grinned at you with their hanging lids. "So you do dream about me? That's nice to know."
When you gave him your most miffed expression, a soft laugh fell from his lips. "You look so cute when you're mad, noona."
The other time you were at HYBE cafeteria. You had finally given into your stomach's needs after slugging away for hours at a song. You spotted a nice yellow iced cupcake... it was calling your name. Just as you went to pick it up, Riki's hand intervened. His fingers brushed against yours, making you immediately retract your fingers. "R-Riki... yah, I was going to get that."
"I know," Riki said, amused by your flustered expression. "I'm going to get it for you."
Then came RIIZE's Anton. An idol who happened to be the same age, also produced music, also spoke English, had the most softest voice known to mankind, devilishly handsome, tall without stupid vitamins... and happened to be shipped heavily with you by everyone and their mother.
Also known as: Riki's worst enemy.
You were both coming out of the studio when Riki had caught the both of you on the way. From how he saw things, he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the eye-smile Anton had when he looked at you nor did he like the smile you had at the poor joke he had cracked.
Hands shoved in his pockets, Riki stopped in front of you, interrupting your conversation. "Oh, hey, noona."
"Hmm? Oh, hey, Riki. Anton, this is–"
Completely ignoring the Boston-born but moved to New Jersey whatever-the-fuck guy, Riki just smiled at you. "Noona, you look so pretty today. What's the occasion? Me?"
You went home and screamed in your pillow that day (and apologised profusely to Anton (he said it was okay because anyone with a single brain cell could tell you and Riki were close)).
You had had enough.
The next day you had stomped into the dance practice room with Riki and Jungwon following after you because you had met them just as you were entering. Closing the door, you turned to your childhood friend who was placing his bag down.
With one hand pointing to Riki, "Tell him to stop it."
Jungwon raised a brow, looking at you incredulously. "Stop... what exactly?"
"I– stop... stop this," You stressed when Riki shuffled closer to you.
Jungwon looked at you helplessly. He knew how you felt. But he also know how Riki felt. In fact, he was the one who suggested him to be more obvious with his feelings... resulting in this. Clearly, Riki had misunderstood being obvious with being a bit more invasive. Probably, Jungwon's fault... What you two needed to do was communication.
Just as Jungwon opened his mouth again, he watched you push Riki so he stood a metre away from you. "Stay over there."
So much for communication.
Riki pursed his lips, pretending to ponder your suggestion. He took a step closer to you. "But I want to be next to you."
Your eye twitched in frustration. "Riki!" You cried out, balling your fists around the invisible air with annoyance. "Can't you just stop? I told you... you need space. With everything that's being going on for three years... I'm worried about you."
All the humour that was sported by Riki had disappeared in the matter of seconds. He chewed down on his lip, eyes darting around the room, registering what you had just said. He sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm not a kid, noona. Not anymore. I'm older. I have thoughts. and... I have feelings too."
You blinked, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I know but... I just... I just wanted you to gave some space. Some time to think for yourself as a person. It's important for you."
Riki's tongue poked the inside of his cheek. His eyes fell to you, meeting your tired gaze directly. "You said you'd never leave me alone."
Your eyes suddenly softened at his words while your heart ached. "Riki-ah, I'm not–"
"You promised, noona," Riki whispered, a flash of hurt crossing him. He took a step closer while you took another back. "You're afraid of something."
You furrowed your brows. "W-What? I'm not afraid–" You started to defend yourself but Riki cut you off again, not heeding to the warnings Jungwon was calling out.
"No, you are. What are you so afraid of, noona? Tell me... we can fix together. This time I'll help you," Riki persuaded, still inching towards you.
"Riki," You breathed out. God, you were a mess. All you emotions were everywhere. You didn't know what to think... what to say. "Why are you making this so difficult?"
Riki's hands stretched out, encasing yours with his. "I'm not making anything difficult. I think you're just in denial. In denial that I really like you. In denial that you like me just as much."
Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confrontation. The guard you had built for the past few weeks had come flying down after taking every hit from Riki. "I... I don't wont you to feel uncomfortable," You confessed, "I don't won't you to feel pressured because I'm older than you... because of everything we've done together."
"Noona, I–" Riki's shoulders fell at your admission. God, the fact you were even thinking of that was entirely disheartening. "I don't feel pressured at all. You could never make me feel uncomfortable. I– you're the only person in the universe who actually makes me feel comfortable. No offence, hyung."
Jungwon raised his hands, gesturing his acceptance and dismissal at the same time.
Riki kept his eyes on you, hands tightening around yours. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me but that's not the only reason I like you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You might not know it but you welcome everyone with open arms, the most beautiful woman I know, but don't tell my mom that, you're so smart, hardworking, caring... you make me want to be a better person. You make me happy, noona."
You blinked rapidly. Were you dreaming right now? Was this a prank of some sort? You removed your hands from Riki's, using the tips of your fingers to pinch your skin of your wrist. A small yelp slipped past your mouth.
Riki jumped slightly, startled. His hands immediately returned to yours, gently rubbing the affected area. "Noona," He chuckled, "This is real. All of it's real. My feelings for you are real."
"Just making sure," You laughed softly before sighing. A wave of heat washed over you and your mouth felt dry. What were you to say now? How do you respond to something so silly yet so valid?
"You can just say you like me, noona," Riki said, eyes beaming down at you in amusement.
Of course you had said that out loud.
You sucked in a sharp breath, slowly exhaling. "I... I like you, Riki," You mumbled.
Riki narrowed his eyes. "I can't hear you," He teased, grinning from ear to ear.
"Nope, nope." You retracted your hands. "I take it back. I'm taking it back... right now."
Riki laughed, reaching out for your hand, only to pull you into a hug. He lifted you gently, spinning you around with pure happiness rushing into his brain.
"Riki," You cried out, "I'm going to feel sick," You said, even though a full blown smile was on your face.
"It's okay," He retorted back, slowly coming to a stop and putting you back on the floor. "If you do..." His hand darted out to push back your hair behind your ear. "I'll take care of you. I promise."
After a brief minute, Riki turned to the empty area where Jungwon once stood. "Where did hyung go?"
"I think he left after you said I was beautiful," You cooed.
A flush of red tinted Riki's ears and cheeks. He folded his arms, getting defensive. "I... Well... it's true!"
© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!
#maeumi-jng#maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#niki x reader#riki nishimura x reader#nishimura riki#enhypen riki#riki x reader#riki fluff
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hello, can I request Jing Yuan, Caelus and Welt with an injury prone reader who constantly hides and dismisses their injuries? (Getting hit by falling objects, being the unfortunate victim of harsh attacks, Getting shoved down a flight of stairs by accident or tripping over objects)
Despite the fast reflexes developed to avoid a good chunk of injuries, they still get hurt to the point of needing medical aid (bloody head, heavy bleeding ext.) and are unable to tell immediately due to their high pain tolerance. Even then, reader avoid being healed like the the plague and running off to tend to their injuries on their own. If they wake up in a hospital, they will sneak out of said hospital and dismiss concerns of their Injuries when found.
Reader will say "oh its just a scratch" as if their arm hadn't been nearly mauled by a bear.
Thanks,
Characters: Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, and Welt yang x Gender-neutral Reader
Synopsis: reader who get injured easily, but dismisses it
Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, mentions of blood, stitches, wounds/injuries
Notes: sorry I don't write for Cealus so I replaced him with Dan Heng if you don't mind
𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃
You’ve been avoiding him for a while; anytime you see him around the corner, you run the opposite way. You were injured from a pretty nasty fight with monsters, but knowing Jing Yuan, you would have to wait a good 5 hours to heal up properly so he wouldn’t notice the injury and force you into the hospital, and you would rather deal with it yourself. One thing is that he doesn’t take your word on you dismissing your injuries. Don’t believe he doesn’t notice since you always do the same thing when this happens.
You also go to the guest bathroom to stitch and clean yourself up properly, especially making sure that the servants won’t tell Jing Yuan, yet some little stitching does. You might as well go through the guest window instead of the door (which you did go through a handful of times).
You have to clean the evidence, like scrubbing down everything to make sure not even a drop of blood is left behind, and burn the cloth that had all your blood on it along with stings and needles used for your stitches (anything you used to clean your wounds).
All that’s left is to face him, which is another annoying problem.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
+(Bonus blurb)
You lay back against the headboard of your shared bed. stretching your shoulder and sighing, feeling the little sting from the stitches that you did yourself for a couple of hours. “Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Jing Yuan asks while reading his book.
He didn’t even glance up from the text in front of him. You looked down at your shoulder, the very tint of where the stitches are. “Oh no, I’m fine, just stiff is all." “Are you sure?" "yeah,” you nodded, sweating a little.
"I didn’t see you today,” he commented, saying it in an unusual tone that made you look over at him. It was an expression you never thought he would wear—blank, almost mad, or not wanting to say anything.
“Ah, I stayed home,” you replied, looking away. “The servants informed me that you went out and then came back home bloody.” Oh, you gotta be kidding about those damn snitches!
you thought, but instead just smiled nervously at Jing Yuan. He finally closed his book and looked up at you, his gold eyes freaking at you.
“well?”
"I tripped!"
“You can’t fool me," he stated flatly, crossing his arms around his chest and face and switching to his smirk, making a whole change in the atmosphere, and you couldn’t help but shiver.
"Fine," you huffed, rolling your eyes. "I got a little hurt and fixed myself with stitches. “I’m perfectly fine, though!" You added trying to play off your injury.
“What shall I do with you? Maybe tie you up?”
“Tie me up?! Over this!”
“Sounds fitting for you.”
𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔
You avoid everyone like plague and stay in your room, locking your door and not letting anyone in. It takes you such a long time to stitch up and clean up your wounds. If March knows, and even if you asked her to keep it away from Dan Heng, she just can’t keep her mouth shut.
Whenever you do get hurt in front of him, you immediately tell him you're fine and avoid any help from him, even if you look like you got jumped by 15 different people.
There have been times you forgot to lock your door, which happens when you run into your room cleaning up your very messed-up wounds without more of your blood ruining your floor.
But also the part about having a big mouth and your door being unlocked—yeah, him seeing your trashy, shaky hand trying to stitch yourself up freaks him out that he has to help you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
+(Bonus blurb)
You groan in annoyance, sitting at your little two-seat table, medkit on your table, trying your best to pull string in the skin of your arm without causing more damage than necessary. needle going through your skin with the rest of the string in your mouth. Your lips tug on the thread, and you feel the tug in your teeth.
“What are you doing?” You hear Dan Heng say something, making you stop in your tracks as you attempt to pull the string out of your mouth. You sigh, turning around to face Dan Heng. "Uh, Dan Heng, what are you doing here?" you sweat. “March said you weren’t feeling well and I should check on you; it looks like she’s right." stupid march! “You don’t need to bother,” yet he doesn’t listen to you.
He goes over to your chair beside the one you were in, pulling it up so that he is sitting next to you, taking your arm with trashy stitches on it, removing it, and cutting it off for a fresh new start.
"You shouldn’t have the string in your mouth; germs could transfer to the wound and give you an infection.”
He scolded gently, cleaning up the wound, taking the string, and gently taking your arm, slowly taking the needle and gently pulling it through your skin, being careful not to tear the flesh.
“Dr. Dan Heng, you really do know everything." You laugh slightly while watching him work his magic on your arm.
“Dr. Dan Heng? It’s good to know about this stuff when it comes to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly. He completely fixes your arm, and you look at your cleaned arm with an impressed look.
“Thank you, Dan Heng.”
𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔
You worry a lot about him; you can’t even hide it or play it off with him; he can just see the slight change in your body, your stunning white walking, or how you clutch at your shoulder and go to change bandages, and even more blood starts to soak out.
While you are sleeping together, he wakes up to a weird feeling, turning the lamp to see a little pool of blood by the shoulder and the shoulder of your clothes, also stained in crimson red, while you look so uncomfortable by the wet feeling.
He wakes you up, and you fix up while you're still half asleep, not knowing what’s even happening as he cleans the sheets, wounds, and clothes to make sure your blood doesn’t leak out again.
if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!
#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail#hsr x you#hsr x reader#hsr x y/n#honkai star rail x reader#welt yang x reader#yang welt x reader#welt x reader#welt yang x you#dan heng#dan heng x you#dan heng x reader#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#hsr jing yuan
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Pregnancy Dramas
—Things you faced when you were carrying their child
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Fyodor, Kunikida X Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Mainly Humor
Format: Drabble
Warnings: Pregnancy, Pregnancy problems, Cravings, etc
Word Count: 1.4k
↳Osamu Dazai
If anyone had told Dazai that he would eventually settle down with someone, he would have merely laughed at them; but there he was, standing next to the infirmary bed while looking at you, his beloved wife, who was carrying his baby.
You were now three months pregnant, your belly shaped into a cute bump. You both agreed to not know about the gender of your baby till it finally arrives, therefor, whenever you went to a sonography you only asked the doctor if the baby was ok and refused to gain any more information. You were feeling sick a while ago so Dazai hurried to the hospital to show you to a doctor, and now you were waiting for the result.
The doctor smiled at Dazai's worried face and put the sonography results on the desk. "You're very attentive toward your wife's health condition, but these kind of problems are common during pregnancy. I'll give you some medicine to kill the pain, though I assure you, all four of them are fine"
"Thank you so much, doc—"
You suddenly froze. Looking at your husband and catching a glimpse of his shocked face, you turned your face toward the doctor. "How... How many?"
"Ah, you're carrying triplets, right?"
Shit.
"T-there has to be some kind of mistake, sir" You were now stuttering over your words and Dazai was still silently staring at the doctor with the same expression. "I mean we didn't want to know anything about our baby until it's born but— TRIPLETS? MY FUCKING VAGINA IS GOING TO EXPLODE!"
"I'll... give you a minute..."
As the doctor left the room, you covered your mouth with your hand. "Aren't you going to say something...?"
"I... guess we'll have to ask Kunikida to be the godfather..."
"So that we raise the kids with his money?"
"Yeah"
"Well, sounds like a plan"
↳Chuuya Nakahara
"Sob* this cake is sob* delicious..."
Chuuya had always had a hard time understanding people around him since they were all a bunch of weirdos, and ever since you showed him the result of your pregnancy test, he couldn't really get you either.
"Yeah... I would have believed you if you weren't crying while eating it" He shook his head with disappointment as he reached for the cake tray, but you snatched it away and shot him a threatening look. "DON'T YOU DARE EAT MY CAKES. THEY'RE ALL MINE!"
"Ok ok, geez..."
"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"
"Nothing! Eat your cakes!"
"Don't tell me what to do! I eat my cakes whenever I want to!"
"Do whatever you want y/n"
You shoved the rest of the cakes in your mouth, and your sobs got even louder. "I'm sob* gonna get nom nom* fat... Waaaa this is so tasty... sob*"
Chuuya thought of leaving the room, but that could make you even angrier.
"It's all your fault that I'm fat since you're the one who got me pregnant in the first place!"
"I'm not complaining baby doll, you look even prettier like this..."
"SO NOW YOU WANT ME TO BE FAT?"
"My god that's not what I fucking meant!"
During these few months, you had become overly sensitive and moody. He really was the one to blame— Chuuya did knew that; but sometimes he lost control and snapped out, like now. Though the second he saw your teary eyes, he sighed and leaned to plant a kiss on your cheek. "I'm sorry honey... What can I do to make you feel better?"
"...More cakes please?"
↳Fyodor Dostoevsky
You were lying on the couch and Fyodor was sitting on the floor with his head on your belly, wearing a soft smile that made your heart flutter. He had become extra sweet with you since the day you got pregnant, so despite all the pain and trouble you were going through, you didn't want these days to be over.
"Are you sure she's going to kick?" he held your hand gently and lightly kissed your palm.
"Positive. I mean, I kinda have the feeling... You know, motherly instinct and stuff..."
"Then I shall wait a little longer" He closed his eyes and started stroking your hand with his thumb. You couldn't help but to reach out for his cheek with your free hand to caress it, and you almost died when he leaned to your touch.
"Fedya..." "I love you too, my darling"
Then it happened.
A light kick indirectly hitting his head, announcing her presence to her daddy.
Fyodor smiled, a dazzling one that was rare and charming to the eye, and looked at your belly. "My... Our baby is a wild one. That was one aggressive kick"
"I'm sure she's just impatient" Giggling softly, you patted your belly. "She's not aggressive, she only wants to arrive soon. Our baby will be an angel"
"She will be; she takes after her mother, after all"
You closed your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressed against your forehead, thankful for your lovely family. You went through a lot to get to this moment, but you could never regret it even one bit. Not when you have Fyodor, and your soon-to-be-born baby.
↳Ryuunosuke Akutagawa
Safe and sound sleeps had always been a stranger to Akutagawa. Growing up in the slums, he had to sleep with his eyes open so that he would be ready when a threat came along; and even though he was not living in the slums anymore, he still couldn't get much of a sleep.
You wouldn't let him.
"Ryuu" You shook him lightly, watching as his nose scrunched up with annoyance. He seemed put out and he didn't even open his eyes, talking to you with a low, husky voice. "What?"
"I want fried chicken"
You observed him as his eyes shot open and stared at your serious face with disbelief. He looked kind of shocked, and you wondered if he was familiar with the term "Craving".
"Y/n it's 4am" He sounded unsure. "All of the stores have closed by now"
"I'm pregnant with a seven months old baby Ryuunosuke, I don't care if it's 4am"
"Well I'm not going out right now either" He closed his eyes again, trying to go back to sleep; but your sudden remark suddenly sobered him up.
"Fine then, I guess I'll just have to eat you instead of the chicken"
Your tone was not humorous, nor it was threatening. It was more like you were announcing your next steps if you don't get your way.
"I don't think I'm enough to satisfy you. I'm all bones, barely any flesh"
"Then I'll eat your sister. She's not as skinny as you. She's living next door, isn't she?"
Looking at you again, Akutagawa searched for a hint of humor in your eyes to confirm that you were joking; but all he saw was a dangerous gaze, shooting out of a hungry, pregnant woman's vicious eyes.
"...I'll go get my coat"
↳Doppo Kunikida
"Y/n? Where are you?"
Hearing your husbands voice, you get up and exit the bedroom to greet him at the front door of your apartment. You announced your pregnancy to him last night, making him thrilled to bits. After celebrating with you, he had started planning out the ideal schedule for the nine months ahead. He had left you hours ago to go shopping for necessary items, and now he was finally back.
"Welcome home, Anata" You pecked him on the cheek. "So? What did you buy? Lemme see them"
The blonde smiled and took your hand, dragging you inside the living room to sit on the couch. He then started taking his purchases out of the shopping bags, explaining about them with slight excitement.
"This is a medicine to help you stop vomiting, this device is baby sleep that would inform us when the baby wakes up in it's room, and these are some clothes that I bought for the baby. I tried to buy neutral clothes since we still don't know the gender of our baby"
"Oh Doppo, I think it's still too soon to buy some of these" You chuckled and took the small shirt to have a better look of it. Its small size made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You were having a baby that probably looked like your husband. You finally had a family of your own. Nothing could stop you from being happy. Nothing...
"And these are for when your body gets bigger"
You looked at the pregnancy pants in his hands. "When my body gets bigger?"
"Yes"
NOTHING CAN STOP YOU FROM BEING HAPPY.
"Your ankles are gonna swell, your breast are gonna get bigger, even your face might get a bit out of shape in the last month. Your cheeks might bloat as well too. There will also be stretch marks on your belly, and your vagina might dilate if you choose not to have a caesarean... ARE THOSE TEARS IN YOUR EYES??"
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#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd imagines#bungou stray dogs#bsd scenarios#bsd fluff#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#dazai x you#chuuya x you#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x reader#fyodor x reader#fyodor x y/n#fyodor x you#akutagawa x you#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa x y/n#kunikida x reader#kunikida x y/n#kunikida x you#dazai fluff#chuuya fluf#fyodor fluff#akutagawa fluff#kunikida fluff#dazai imagines#fyodor imagines#chuuya imagines#akutagawa imagines
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