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collegeoflore · 8 months

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Suspension

pairing: nb!Tav x Astarion

rating: T

word count: 1,800

description: set between Moonrise Towers and Baldur’s Gate. The relationship is still new and the looming threat of the ritual is complicating things just a smidge. They both believe this is something real, but they don’t know what something real means and aren’t quite able to trust one another yet. But sometimes things can be put aside, if only for a moment.

more info: Xarrai is a tiefling bard with the charlatan background, and an escaped Banite cultist. Any pronouns are fine (though I stick with they/them here for clarity.)

The night air is warm. Xarrai is laying between Astarion’s thighs, their back against his chest. They can feel the coolness of his skin through both of their clothes, smell the rosemary and the hint of decay. It’s become a strange comfort, now, though that isn’t the strangest part of their life these days. He nuzzles into their mop of dark curls, inhales slowly, and gently presses their head to the side. They let him, of course, offering their neck to him as easy as breathing. They are boneless in his grasp, molten sugar sweetness poured down the front of his torso. If they breathe deep enough, they can smell the smoke from their cigarettes on his shirt even though he turns up his nose every time they offer him a drag.

His cool breath ghosts over the shell of their ear. His arms are wrapped around them, hands resting on their waist, fingers on their skin where their shirt rides up. This is different than before – there was a time, not long ago, when sex would have come after (or before, or during) this, when the bite would have only been one step in their dance. But now his touch is delicate and chaste, though the kisses he presses to their neck and shoulder are decidedly less so. There’s something delicious in that – in knowing he kisses them just to kiss them, just to feel the hot war-drum beat of their heart beneath their skin. His teeth graze the spot where their shoulder meets their throat and they shudder, exhale. It isn’t desire, just sensation, raw and new. “May I?” He asks, just loud enough for them to hear. It doesn’t drip with the poisoned-honey seduction it did before, the masquerade mask Xarrai pretended they couldn’t see through. It’s lighter on his tongue now, tripping across their skin like the breeze in late autumn. There’s something almost like reverence to it. Almost.

“Of course.” Xarrai murmurs. What else could they say? Astarion lingers, briefly, all lips and no teeth, trails his way up slowly to the spot where their heart beats closest to their skin. And then they feel it, his fangs like shards of a broken mirror in their throat followed by the pleasant, floating numbness. He makes a muffled noise against them and moves his hand up to support their drooping head, his other hand splaying out on their chest. Their pulse pounds beneath his palm. They know he can feel it, the ceaseless thrumming, just as they can feel the warm, wet spill of their blood into his mouth. Xarrai is suspended, weightless, buzzing numbness spreading outward. Astarion’s hand is warmer on their chest than it was a moment before. Or perhaps they’re just colder.

In the morning, things will be different again. Maybe Astarion will make another comment about that damned ritual, and maybe Xarrai will bristle, but only just. Or maybe he won’t. Maybe it will be just the same as tonight. Dancing around the thing that waits for them in Baldur’s Gate like a gilded guillotine. Either way, Xarrai will not quite trust him. Either way, they will weave the truth between lies because it is all they know how to do.

But this - Astarion holding them against his chest, their blood filling his mouth - this requires trust. They trust he will not drink too deeply. He trusts they will not turn on him for it. They trust each other because they must, because they have no choice when his lips are on their throat and the knife strapped to their thigh is pressing against his leg. There is hardly a division between them like this; Xarrai’s heart pumps their blood through both of their bodies, their hand grips his arm across their chest. They are one, the same frightened animal. Xarrai’s tadpole squirms, tries to reach his but they stop it just short of making the connection. They don’t need it.

They trust him. What else could they do?

Astarion pulls away before the numbness spreads too far. He makes a familiar little noise, that sharp half-laugh that has found a home in the folds of Xarrai’s mind, now. “Incredible.” He murmurs, somewhere between the tone he takes after they kiss him, just this side of too much, and the almost-reverence of his voice before his teeth touch their skin. If Xarrai listens hard enough, it could be something real.

Xarrai laughs a little too, eyes still closed. “No need for flattery, darling.” They drawl, head still cradled in his hand. “Though, I’m not complaining…”

“It’s not flattery.” Astarion says. Xarrai wonders what his eyes would look like if they could see them – are they ruby-sharp or sweet as blood? Their head spins. They lean it back against his shoulder. His voice drops lower, a playful facsimile of seduction, an encore of a trick that didn’t land to begin with. “But if it’s flattery you want—“

“Gods, not the bullshit pickup lines again.” Xarrai groans. “If you try to call me your ‘little treat’ one more time, I will dump you in the river.” Astarion’s hand slips away from their chest, finds its place again by the hem of their shirt, skin on skin.

“I’ve not known you to turn down shallow praise.” Astarion’s voice is low and velvet soft. Xarrai can hear the smile in it, sharp as his pointed teeth

“Just tell me I’m beautiful.” Xarrai mimics his accent, just a little more polished than their own, their lips curled into a crooked grin. Astarion laughs. His breath is very nearly warm against their skin.

“You’re beautiful.” Xarrai trusts him enough to know he means it, even if it sounds like he’s joking. They wonder if that’s a foolish thing to do, trusting him. But then again, they’re rarely more than the fool. Unless they’re the rake. Unless they’re this, whatever this is: a raw nerve, a lit fuse. Vulnerable. Astarion licks the blood from their neck, slowly, methodically. He won’t waste a single drop. They give him this gift freely, without expectation, and he knows better than to squander it. “These marks will be permanent if we keep doing this, you know.” He says, precisely casual. He removes his hand from their hair, careful to keep their head balanced against his shoulder. They don’t open their eyes.

The sky above them is the same cloud-black as the inside of their eyelids, anyway. Their companions are all asleep – Xarrai can hear Karlach snoring next to the fire a few dozen paces away. “Is that a problem?” They echo his perfect placidity. He steps forward, they step back. One of them will have to break, to tell the truth one way or another.

It’s him. Astarion pulls their shirt back up onto their shoulder, smooths it carefully into place. The curve of their horn brushes his cheek. “I suppose not.” It’s light, airy. Flippant enough to be dangerous. Close enough to be true. Xarrai hears what he doesn’t say, too. You would really give me this? His hand brushes the side of their neck again, trails down their arm until he laces his fingers with theirs. It’s almost like caretaking, the way he holds them after he drinks, though he wouldn’t admit it. It’s no different from the way he mends the lining of their coat, no different from the way Xarrai rubs oil into his leathers in the firelight. They still trust him. Or close to it, anyway.

In the morning, Xarrai will remember this gift is not enough. They will see the hunger and the fear grow in his eyes with every step they take towards Baldur’s Gate and the weight of what he asks of them will settle again on their tongue like lead. The empty promises, his clumsy attempts to appeal to the ambition they hold like a knife to their own throat, all of it will still be there in the morning’s light. The same light that will paint him with a golden brush, brilliant and dazzling; the same light that will make him dangerous and irresistible. In the morning, they will be afraid again – afraid of the Absolute, afraid of the Black Hand that threatens to close around them, afraid of Cazador’s ritual and the ruin it could bring. Afraid of playing the wrong chord and sending the whole fragile melody they’ve been writing out of key. Afraid of breaking the only mirror that shows them plain.

But now? Now, Xarrai opens their eyes. Astarion is still there, still has his arm around their waist, his fingers laced with theirs. His eyes are not rubies but the molten sweetness of blood, and for one more moment they trust him, and he trusts them. Xarrai grins, all teeth, and reaches up to swipe the trickle of blood – their blood – from the corner of his mouth with their thumb. They don’t have to say anything. He licks it clean. For a breath, they stay like that - Xarrai’s hand on Astarion’s cheek, their thumb on his lips – as if suspended in the late summer air, floating.

It’s Xarrai who breaks it. Their cigarette case sits open next to Astarion’s knee, one last cigarette tucked inside, and they lean forward to snatch it. “I’ll share.” They look up at him again, holding their cigarette invitingly, one eyebrow raised, teeth glinting in the firelight when they smile. They know what he’ll say, but it’s all part of the ritual.

“Ugh, no.” Astarion huffs, scowling. “Do you really have to do that? You’re going to get ash on my carpet.” He doesn’t move away from them, despite his protests. He doesn’t acknowledge the ash already ground into the rug. His hand stays splayed on their stomach; his other clutches theirs until they pull it away. He rests it on their thigh instead, idly picking at the strap that holds their knife in place against the fabric of their trousers.

Xarrai snaps, and their fingertips light with a tiny blue flame. A party trick. The light dances on Astarion’s face, makes him look hilariously severe from this angle. “Unless you want to go find me a drink?” Xarrai gives him an exaggerated waggle of their eyebrows, smiling a touch too wide. He huffs and makes no move to get up, instead settling back into the pillows and turning his face to the starless sky with a dramatic sigh. Xarrai just laughs, a low, quick sound, and lights the cigarette. They breathe deep, feel the smoke fill their lungs. It’s a different numbness, a warm floating feeling in their chest. They exhale and watch the cloud disappear into the air. They lean their head against Astarion’s shoulder again.

In the morning they will be afraid. But not tonight. Not tonight.

#astarion #astarion/tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #oc. xarrai #r. hold me like a knife #story journal #idk what tags people are using for this game….#anyway hi. i finally posted some actual fiction please enjoy :)#mwah mwah

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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

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pregnancy

Small headcanons of how Aizawa, Toshinori, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog would be through your pregnancy.

I don’t write about giving birth (as I’m mildly terrified of doing so) so I didn’t add anything about that. Please don’t ask for me to. And even though I’m not interested in getting pregnant, I think I’d be okay with it if Kugo or Ryo were the father.

EDIT: I love picturing all of these men with little girls. It’s just so cute!

Warnings: uh, pregnancy

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta isn’t one to jump for joy when you tell him. However, you will get to see his handsome smile when he grabs your waist, breathing out a light laugh of happiness as he tightly hugs you. His smile won’t disappear for a while. Every time he glances at you, one simply finds its way onto his face.

It may not be by a whole lot, but his behavior changes. Just a little. When you’re out and about, his hand finds its way to your back or elbow much more often, particularly in a crowd. It’s the paternal instincts kicking in. His favorite cuddling position, laying between your legs with his head on your stomach, becomes harder the farther along you are. He adjusts to laying behind you, keeping a hand on your tummy throughout the entire night.

Shouta hides his worries well. Even the people closest to him have a tough time telling what exactly is going on with him. Sometimes, it’s a good thing. He’s a stable person to lean on. But it’s difficult to deal with when you’re hormonal and emotional. He pushes himself so hard to speak more. There’s no way of him understanding everything you’re going through, but when he opens up, he can tell just how much you appreciate it during the tough times. So he does it near-daily, checking in with each other before bed.

He hates how busy his life is. Well, he’s always kind of hated it. Now it’s worse because his partner’s pregnant, and he’s stuck in a room with screaming children when he should be bringing you to your appointments. Shouta attempts to make up for the absence by heading home every night and helping around the house more. Step in. Explain how you value his help, but also need him to relax. If he gets overworked, that would only stress you more.

Shouta changes his eating habits and fitness routines. He wants you to eat well for yourself and your child. He wants you to keep exercising for yourself and your child. He simply wants your body to be healthy. Don’t grumble because he’ll throw your complaining back in your face when the Lamaze coach explains how important physical health is. But don’t worry, his cute smile makes up for the teasing.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori is starstruck. Too many thoughts flood and fight. He loves children and has always wanted a family. Being able to father one with you is indescribable. And he never thought the universe would grant any of that. On the flip side, his fear is also undefinable. People know who he is now; who knows what’s out there, waiting to expose All Might’s weakness. The rapid thoughts may bring a tear or two. Cup his face and kiss them away, reassuring him that everything’s okay.

The fears follow him throughout your pregnancy. Like all things (with you and him), there are good days and bad days. His emotions ramp-up during your emotional and physically unwell days. He tries his best to push them down to focus on you. But they eventually end up spilling over. It’ll be common for both of you to cry at the end of the day, snuggled together, talking about the future, worries, and anticipations.

In general, Toshinori isn’t that protective. He trusts you and your abilities. Just because you’re pregnant, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly disabled. You can still do things. Although, he does become a bit of a helicopter. Whenever you bend over to pick up a bag, he beats you to it. He swoops the laundry basket from your hands, claiming, ‘You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,’ despite it not even being ten pounds. He’s just very watchful of your movements.

He’s very active in dieting, doctor’s appointments, and planning. He eats well, so it’s easy for him to aid you in that respect. For doctors, he has quite a lot of contacts and knows many doctors from his time in the hospital. He asks around, only accepting the best for you. Planning, shopping, and setting up the nursery are his favorite parts. He loves choosing the sweetest colors, softest blankets, and, of course, all the adorable All Might onesies, toys, and superhero books he can find. The nursery is set up perfectly.

Toshinori doesn’t admit how incredibly your pregnant body enchants him. It isn’t always a horny, sexual need. It’s about admiring your body and what it’s creating. He just wonders at you. All the time. Sometimes the changes may make you feel insecure. He’s always there to listen and assure you how amazing your body is. If you want cuddles and kisses, he’ll give them with a smile. If you want gentle lovemaking, he guides you onto your back and gives you exactly what you want.

Yamada Hizashi

Expect a loud song of love, a bear hug, and jumping for joy when you tell him. Hizashi loves kids. He thinks they’re amazing and say some of the greatest things. And he’s beyond excited to see their quirk. Of course, it doesn’t mean he’ll love them any less if they’re born quirkless. He just loves imagining a little one with a similar quirk running around your place.

He is all about redecorating and planning. The entire apartment is getting babyfied and rearranged. The nursery will be beautifully painted. He regularly comes home with cute outfits and stuffed animals. Partly, it’s because he’s just so excited. The other part is he wants you to relax through the pregnancy. No stress, pressure, and unnecessary burden on your shoulders. He’s there to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible.

Hizashi doesn’t just spoil your unborn child; he spoils you, buying you those pregnancy pillows, your favorite ice cream, driving you everywhere, etc… He just hates how much time his jobs take. He’d rather spend his time with you. To help, he’ll ask for time off of patrols, choosing to be closer with you, physically, mentally, and emotionally, during your pregnancy.

In the later months, Hizashi is all over you. Seriously, he will not leave you alone. He’s very handsy, kneading and licking your swollen, sore breasts, and stroking your belly. Your body, and everything it’s doing, is utterly gorgeous to him. He’ll suck away, gently nursing on your nipple while dozing off to Tv, occasionally switching to the other so it isn’t left needy.

Toyomitsu Taishiro

When you tell Taishiro, you’ll only be able to get out a few words before you’re lifted off your feet and spun around. He smooches all over your face, laughing and cheering about how amazing and perfect and stunning you are. You’ll have to ask to be put down lest you get sick from all his spinning. But his compliments keep coming. They won’t dwindle for a while. There’s just too much love in his body to keep inside.

Whatever you’re craving, no matter if it’s pineapple dipped in ketchup, he gives without complaint. He may try some of your odd combinations. Who knows? You could be on to something new. At the same time, he also watches out for your health. The cravings suck. He understands that. He truly does. But if you ate something sweet/not as healthy for lunch, then he plans a healthy dinner for you. Your body’s going crazy. It needs its nutrients.

Your worries are always taken seriously. It could be the most absurd thing to be anxious over. Tai always listens. His cute smile and never-ending positivity help a ton. Your body and brain are going through a lot. He’ll do his part to validate all your feelings. He talks down the anxieties as you eat pickles on ice cream, making sure you are and feel heard.

Since he works one job compared to the others, he’s able to be with you much more, notably during the hard-to-handle days and at appointments. And he picks up extra chores so you can rest through aches and pains. Any choices you make regarding your pregnancy and birth, he supports. He may not agree with everything, but he loves you, and it’s your body. He’ll always put your comfort and wishes first.

Tai treasured your tummy before. But now, seeing you growing with his child, he’s absolutely enraptured. He places nightly and morning kisses on your belly. When he wakes you up, his kisses trail down to the bump. Every night, he rubs lotion into your tummy, kissing and cooing to his child. It doesn’t matter if you’re only one week pregnant, and it’s just a clump of cells in there. Tai still sings to them.

Gang Orca

Kugo is in disbelief when you tell him. He freezes, staring, hardly hearing your words. Give him five minutes. He’ll process what you said and snap back to the present. Watch out because you’re going to get lifted high into the air and maybe tossed like a father does a baby. He’s just practicing. It’ll only take one or two days for him to slip into paternal mode. It’s damn near instinct for him.

As per usual, he’s a gentle paragon behind closed doors. Throughout your pregnancy, he melts into a puddle of sweet honey. His overall affection skyrockets. His hands and claws are as tender as possible whenever they touch you, doing whatever you need him to: massaging your back and legs, rubbing lotion all over, or brushing your hair. He reassures you through tears. He prepares healthy meals that satisfy your cravings. And he holds you all night, keeping you safe on his chest and in his arms.

Kugo goes to every single checkup and appointment. It doesn’t matter if it’s just an ordinary visit to your primary care doctor; he calls out of work and goes with you. At any ultrasounds, expect a few tears, especially when you hear the heartbeat for the first time. He holds them in until you’re alone. The second the door closes, his forehead is nudging yours as small, loved-filled tears fall. He never thought he’d get a family. Part of him thought he didn’t deserve a family, but you’ve proven that false repeatedly.

The farther along you are, the more he watches out for you. He checks in every morning to make sure you took your medicine and vitamins. He washes you so you don’t strain yourself. If you’re waddling, he offers his arm for support and helps you stand. If your back hurts, he applies a heating patch to your lower back and puts your shoes on for you. If you need it, he can carry you to the car and into where you’re going.

As does everyone, Kugo has doubts about his quirk and abilities. People have always viewed those with mutations differently. And it can affect their health, leading to numerous doctor visits and tests. He doesn’t want his baby to deal with the staring, whispers, self-doubts, and distress he did. To support him, talk in detail about his fears and help him realize he’s never disappointed you or hurt anyone. Kugo’s exactly how he should be.

Hound Dog

Ryo doesn’t have a tail, but you’ll definitely see a little happy wiggly before he hugs you. The following week, he keeps you close as he acts differently: rubbing up against you to ensure you smell like him, touching your nose with his, lapping along your neck, sleeping incredibly close, and occasionally smelling between your legs, licking the air around there to smell better. It’s awkward, almost weird, since it isn’t average ‘human’ behavior. But if you love him, let him do it. Please. Understand his nose works differently. It reassures and comforts him to smell you, checking in to see if anything’s changed.

Ryo gets protective when you’re on your period: When you’re pregnant, it’s so, so incredibly worse. He hovers, grumbling low at those walking by. Others barely hear it. It’s intense enough for you to feel it when he’s behind you. He doesn’t like people running up to you, or startling you, or roughhousing or playing in any way. He’s lenient with children, less with teens. Women get a deep growl and scowl. God help any man that approaches you. You might have to have him wear his Hero outfit’s muzzle until you give birth. Though, that might not help because then he’d be protective of two people.

It’s only the teensiest amount better at home. He makes you rest, almost too much. After work or some time outside, he shuffles you to the couch so you can’t overwork yourself. He’s a pleasant change of pace from his typical gruff self. However, as great as he is at the physical needs, he still struggles with the emotional aspects. You can cry on his shoulder, complain, and talk about your worries all you need to. He’s just a bit clunky when it comes to reciprocating the soft emotions. But he puts all his heart into it, and it’s easy to tell.

Ryo is also one who loves pregnancy sexy. You’re swollen and sensitive, and he loves watching your breasts bounce, maybe even leak a little depending on how far along you are. And since you’re already pregnant, he releases and stays inside. After, he lays behind you, keeping himself deep in you despite being flaccid, just feeling how wet and aroused and full you are because of him. When the heated moment is finally done, he licks you clean, nearly getting drunk off your smell.

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fullfiresiren · 3 years

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beauty of the dawn

jujutsu kaisen

fushiguro toji x reader

The notion of a loving family was something foreign to Fushiguro Toji. Family, to him, was a bitter word -- full of hate and abhorrence. Abandonment and fear were a commonality in his own childhood. But in you, he finds a warmth he didn’t think he deserved – a home he craved, a love that makes him feel safe; full of gentle touches and soft kisses. But he’s scared. He's broken, and angry, and he knows the threat of his family is always lurking close, snapping at his heels, ready to devour. You bring the notion of family to his doorstep, and he spooks. He panics. He can’t let them find you, he can’t and he has to give up the only feeling of warmth he has ever known to do so.

It haunts him forever – leaving behind the only woman he ever loved, and a child he will never know.

word count: 3.8k.

notes: *inhales* ANGST— lmao but really, I live for it. Toji may be a bad person, but I suck dick, not morals, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ bro I fr don’t even know what came over me. This has been like the smallest headcannon for me and somehow it turned into this horribly sad piece, and although Toji is a dick, I also think he is an incredibly complex character that, at the end of it all, was just a desperate father trying to look out for his child. I think he deserves much more than he got, and he kinda gets shat on in this fic lmao I'm so fuCKING SORRY FOR THAT--

warnings: nsfw/18+, angst, hurt no comfort, abandonment, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader

“Take me,” he prays, panting secrets that fall from his lips onto your soft skin; promises of pleasure as he breeds you deep. “Take all of me.”

And you do – over, and over, and over again.

Hilting him to the deepest part of yourself, and holding him close, so close, his breath a hot ghost across your face as he leans his forehead against yours. You keep him there until he is finished, taking his seed like it was sacrament. He gives you everything he has to offer, and only when you have slipped into a light slumber does he pull away.

He never strays far, though, and he cannot stay away for long. You are like sweet honey and warm sunsets; the breathing embodiment of a life he was never before privy to – the promise of something better; a miracle. Far from the cold depravity and sharp pain of his own family, in you, he found only warm touches, and words of tender affection. Toji feels so overwhelmed by the amount of love he has for you, that sometimes it’s unbearable. He feels so happy he could die.

He is not an honest man, by any means. He kills for a vocation -- and enjoys it, too. It’s something he’s good at. It’s an easy way to make money, and it helps him pay for his half of the rent on the meagre apartment you share. It also lets him keep the fridge full, make sure you’re always warm, and that you’re never without. He doesn’t really care about himself or what he has to do – so long as you’re happy.

The weight of his body is always heavy between your thighs, his chest solid, thrusts slow and deep, stretching you, making a perfect fit for himself inside you. He likes drawing it out – each time he takes you. He enjoys seeing you beg for release, relishes the way your tears slide down your flushed cheeks, because he likes being the one to kiss them away, knowing he is the only one who ever makes you feel this good. His name sounds so perfect when it falls from your lips at your height of ecstasy, and the way you take him in has him swearing he can see heaven.

You see a side of him that no one else does, but he’s dark, he’s toxic. The amount of sadness in his soul is challenged only by the sheer force of his anger. He's sure that he wasn’t always like this, but... he can’t really remember a time when he wasn’t. Everyone and everything was his enemy. He’s never really told you much about his family, or his past. His childhood had been dark, you assumed, based on the way he flinched around children, and steered clear of any conversational topics that included them or parental figures.

Toji Fushiguro was untouchable to everyone, and only just tangible to you.

He wants to be able to give you everything. He wants to lay his head on your chest in the depths of the night when he’s feeling lost, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to guide him home. He wants to come home every night, no matter what happens to him throughout the day, and be able to feel the brush of your soft lips; to taste your tongue with his – god – he wants to. But he’s afraid. He’s scared. If he gives you everything... if he shows you who he really is... what happens if you see something you don’t like? Will you pull away from him? Will you cast him out and abandon him – just like his family did? Toji isn’t feeble by any sense of the word, but he thinks that would be the one thing that would break him.

That’s why he’s only let you see glimpses... and only every now and then.

He’s just so miserable when he’s alone. He’s angry at the world, and you’re the only thing that soothes him. The only thing he has ever loved.

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror when he comes home, locked away in the too-small bathroom. You hear the keys turning in the lock; a signal of his arrival, and the door to your apartment opens, bringing with it sounds of paper bags crinkling, keys being tossed into their bowl, and huffing exhales as he struggles to kick his heavy boots off.

“Toji?”

“I’m home!” he calls, his voice a deep timbre in his chest, smooth like rich oak.

You follow it, leaving the safe space of your bathroom to find him, and when you pass the threshold into your small kitchen, he’s lifting bags of fresh groceries onto what little counter space you have. The movement carries with it droplets from an October rain that had caught him by surprise on his walk home, ones that hang from the edges of his black hair and drip down onto his damp black shirt.

“Toji,” you repeat, beaming as you bound into your small kitchen. “I have wonderful news!”

He spares you a glance between unpacking vegetables, dark eyes tracing the curve of your face, hands grasping at packets of food that need to be tossed in the fridge, and cans to be stacked in the shelves.

“Hmm?”

He offers you his face, leaning in close, pausing in his task to receive a small blessing of affection from you — a soft kiss against the scar on his lip that has his eyelashes fluttering closed, and then one more fully against yours – always greedy for any love you bestow, always chasing just one more, just once more, just another, my love, just one more...

He continues with his chore, but only when you giggle at the fluttering of kisses he peppers across your face, your jaw, suckling at your neck, your hands against his chest pushing him gently, urging him to finish his task – but not before you give him another deep kiss, all giddiness and mirth swimming in your gaze. He can’t help the deep chuckle that spills from his lips at seeing you so happy.

“Toji,” you begin, and he’s rummaging in the paper bags, brows furrowed because he could have sworn that he bought three carrots, and not two -- “I’m pregnant!”

He stills.

He can sense your beaming smile, almost feels the warmth of it on his cold skin, and it only makes him shiver.

The seconds tick by without any form of reaction, and the atmosphere grows horribly tense. Toji doesn’t look at you, but he can see from his peripheral vision that your smile slips at the same time that your shoulders round and you make yourself smaller, unconsciously closing off. You’re twisting something in your hands, suddenly nervous, and he has a nauseating feeling that settles in his gut, because he knows exactly what it is that you’re holding.

It’s proof.

“Are you... happy?” you ask, and you hate that you have to. It’s like a punch in the gut, and you’re afraid. This was not the reaction you were expecting at all.

“Are you sure?” he doesn’t know why he asks that.

He isn’t looking at you, and he isn’t moving – he’s not even blinking. You feel your hands becoming sweaty as you clutch the positive pregnancy test, mouth dry. A quickly increasing panic creeps over your skin, gripping you by the throat, and you honestly have no idea how to traverse this kind of response to your news. In the bathroom you only practiced scenarios in relation to a beaming, positive reaction.

Which room should we make into the baby’s room? Our baby can always sleep with us, though, and I know they’re definitely going to prefer you – I'm hopeless with kids... but I hope they look like you, Toji – a perfect combination of everything I love about you!

Do you want to pick names out? I hope it’s a girl... but a boy would be wonderful, too! I know the baby will adore you, no matter what! Do you have any names you like? We can name them after someone you love? If it’s a boy, I want to make his middle name yours...

Why didn’t you think he was going to show apprehension or reluctance? Why were you so idiotic to assume this is something he desired when he’s never given you any signs of wanting to start a family? He’s probably feeling entirely overwhelmed – and no wonder – you have no tact about this. Fuck, you’re stupid. You fucking idiot. Pathetic, dumb, worthless--

“Y-yes,” you reply, and your voice is a shadow of its former self. “I took three tests. I have one here--”

“How.”

You flinch a little under the curtness of his words.

“W-what—?”

“How did this happen?”

“Uhm...” your voice sounds so frail when you speak, and you can't help it. He’s making you feel like you’ve committed a horrendous sin. You’ve managed to combine the epitome of affection between the two of you into the creation of what will become a child – a perfect mix of the two of you, and yet, you’re beginning to hate yourself for doing so. You didn’t mean to... it was an accident... “We don’t... you know... use protection... and we... have sex... a lot...”

“I thought you were taking the pill.”

You feel like you want to throw up.

His entire body is unnaturally still, and he’s not looked at you once since you’ve told him. You are pretty sure that the can in his right hand is warping under the violent pressure of his grasp, and you wring your hands around the test nervously, the weight of it somehow heavy against your palms.

“I... don’t take the pill...” you remind, and then as an afterthought, you add, “I’m sorry.”

Words you never thought you would say in relation to this. You never though you would have to apologize in this kind of situation. You exhale a shaky breath, and it seems to bring him back to reality. He sets the can down on the countertop with more force than needed, and you try your best to blink back tears as you ask, “You’re... not happy... are you...?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and it hurts to say – god, it hurts. The words sting when they leave your mouth, like a hard slap against your face, but the ache is not nearly as bad as the way his silence is wounding you. You feel like you’re about to collapse from the amount of pain you have in your heart.

“I need to go somewhere,” is the most he offers you, before he’s turning on his heels and striding past you, leaving the apartment you share.

The noise of the front door slamming shut echoes in your mind long after the sound itself has gone.

He never did come back.

— — — 5 years later — — —

In the end, you were blessed with a baby girl, all chubby with round, rosy cheeks. Dark hair and eyes like her father, but soft and gentle like her mother. She was an almost perfect child. She never cried, and she never fussed, content in just being close to her mother. She listened when you spoke, and learned fast, growing just as quick, and you would die for her. She was your blessing; Akemi – the beauty of a new dawn.

You’re sure that he would have loved her more than life itself, but you try not to spare any thoughts his way anymore.

Toji gambles his life away, blowing through anything he earns as quickly as he makes it, drowning himself night after night in heavy alcohol to dampen his senses until they are nothing more than a faint hum in the back of his brain.

With any luck, those things will kill him long before the guilt does.

He fucks faceless women, drunk beyond sense, and when he finishes, he leaves before they sleep.

“Hate me, (y/n),” he sneers, turning sharply to vomit up onto the wet asphalt, breath a shaky exhale as he stumbles into the cold night, thoughts only on you – only ever on you – unaware that he’s crying. “Hate me. I fucking deserve it.”

His face is smeared with bile and tears, and he is so fucking angry -- so desperately sad, and he cries, and cries. He wants to go home. He just wants to go home. He wants to meet her – his darling daughter – he wants to hold her, and kiss her forehead, and tuck her into bed. Fuck everything that he thought – he would have been a great father, he knows it – and you knew it, too. He’s so lost without you, and he wants to lay his head on your chest in the safety of your bedroom, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to guide him home. He wants to feel the brush of your soft lips again; to taste your tongue with his, moan your name into your parted sigh, make you feel him again.

He screams, but it catches in his throat before he can, and he splits his knuckles open when he sends a furious punch against a brick wall.

He can protect you from a lot of things – but not the power of his family. Not that. He’s just one man, and they’re so many. He has a heavenly restriction, and they are all blessed with both innate and inherited techniques, passed down through eons. He knows what they’ll do if they ever found out about you – about the child, and Toji swears on everything he has, that he won’t let them touch you – or her. Even if he won’t be able to. Even if he’ll never be able to hold his daughter, to thank her for being born, to cradle her against his chest and feel her wrap her small fingers against his – he won’t let the Zen’in have her. He won’t.

But that doesn’t mean that he deprives himself from watching over her – or you. Eyes follow the two of you home from her pre-school, singing nursery rhymes to your hearts content, watching as she orders “up, up, mommy!”, squealing happily when you lift her onto your shoulders. He imagines himself in your place; lifting her to higher heights, hearing her giggle a chorus of happy songs as your hand finds his, lips on his scar as you tell him how much you love him.

But he always keeps his distance, dark baseball cap shielding his features, and leaves before you feel someone following you.

It becomes increasingly hard to keep it at that. He starts pushing the boundaries, testing how close he can get. He knows he shouldn’t -- he has no right to – but when she dropped her stuffed toy one time in the supermarket, and you were oblivious to it, he finds himself bending down to grasp the too-soft toy in his calloused hands, dropping it in your basket when your back is turned, and your brows are furrowed as you regard the price difference between her favorite flavor of juice compared to the off-brand ones.

The thrill of being so close, of doing something, anything fatherly, was like a fix – a short relief from the aching despair and loneliness constantly plaguing him, and he finds himself doing it more and more – always pushing, always testing the waters. He even smiled at her once when she caught him staring, and she sent her own toothy grin back at him. His heart soared.

His daughter’s name was Akemi, and he first heard it when it fell from your lips one warm afternoon. He wants to write her name on his heart – right beside yours.

He wants to give her something – a pretty gift, but he doesn’t know what. He was never good at buying presents, and would only ever bring you flowers, since it seemed like something that could never go wrong, and would always bring a bright smile to your face. Flowers would be strange for a child, though. He twists the dainty silver bracelet between his large fingers, thinking bitterly that this was the same way you held the pregnancy test all those years ago. He didn’t really care how much it cost him. He’s sure that the salesman added unnecessary tax and extras to the price just to give himself more commission, but Toji doesn’t care – he just wanted something pretty to give to his daughter.

When he finally sees her enter the park, small hand tugging yours happily, his mind goes empty, and he can’t stop staring. You are as beautiful as ever, and it’s no wonder his daughter is so ethereal when she has you for a mother.

She is perfect, he thinks -- too good for this life -- and even though it’s the worst thing he has ever done, he is reminded that pulling away from you was the only way to save her from his family. It looks like she escaped the curse of inheriting any of his bloodline's techniques, and what’s more so – it seems like she, too, is oblivious to curses; skipping past them as she chases leaves that skit about the dirt path of the park, her teddy in her arms. Toji dips his head down when she draws near the bench he’s sitting on, the brim of his baseball cap keeps his face hidden, and his sadness known only to himself.

“Excuse me?”

He bristles when her voice floats past his ears, so gentle and sweet.

“Hey, mister,” she pokes his knee with her slim finger, so tiny compared to the size of his body, and he jerks at the contact. “Is this yours?”

She’s holding the bracelet in her small hand, the silver glinting in the morning sun, offering it up to him with large eyes, so close to him. At this distance, he can see the true color of her eyes – exactly like his own – and the small freckles that dot her skin. The longer he stares, the more his chest constricts painfully, tightly – he’s finding it hard to breathe, and he exhales suddenly, sharply snatching it away from her.

The force of the movement causes her to stumble a little, tripping over her feet, and before she knows it, the man who was once sitting before her has entirely caught her in his large arms, scooping her up before the ground has a chance to harm her.

She blinks once... twice... swaddled in his arms, sitting against his broad chest, and Toji frantically looks for you, finding you caught up in talking to another mother, too busy to notice. He knows he would scold you for it if he was still in your life, but when his daughter laughs, he snaps his head back to look at her, forgetting what thoughts he had in his mind at the glinting sound of her happiness.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, “You’re fast! Thanks for catching me!”

He doesn’t know what to say – if he should say anything at all. His plan was to give her the bracelet, telling her that it was a late birthday gift from someone that loves her very much, and walking off before she (or you) has the chance to catch on or respond. But now that he’s inches away from her, holding her close as she peers up at him, he’s lost again. He’s lost, and he can’t breathe. He needs you to steady him, but you aren’t here, and he doesn’t know what to do, what should he do, what should he--?

“Where did you get that scar from?” she asks innocently, her large eyes suddenly trained on the mark beside his lips.

“F-from an accident,” he mumbles, “a long time ago.”

“Oh,” she hums, hands splayed against his broad chest, looking around her, swaying her legs absentmindedly. “Wow, you’re really tall! I can see everything from up here!” she exclaims happily, “My mommy’s not as tall as this, so when I sit on her shoulders, I can’t see nearly as much as I can now!”

“Oh,” he mutters, not really knowing what to say, “is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “Mommy’s not as big as you are either.”

At this, he gives a genuine laugh – a sound he hasn’t heard fall from his lips in a long, long time, looking at her with quiet adoration.

“She’s not as fast as you either,” she continues, “you were super-fast!”

“She’s strong in her own ways, though,” he mutters, offering her a soft smile.

“Do you know my mommy?”

He bristles, actively avoiding her gaze. His heart is racing from this much interaction with his daughter, and he’s sure she can feel it under her small palm. It beats for her – if only she knew, and Toji contemplates, for the briefest of seconds, just telling her. The thought leaves his mind as soon as it enters. He doesn’t have that choice, and he doesn’t deserve it.

“Not really,” he mutters, dipping down slowly to set her footing on solid ground once more.

“She’s really pretty,” the little girl continues, playing with the soft fabric of his t-shirt in a small moment of fondness and familiarity, “and nice – and she makes great food!”

Toji realises only after the fact that his hand had settled on top of her head, and he’s stroking her hair softly, thumb caressing her cheek when he moves to cup her face. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, and Toji is overwhelmed with a plethora of emotions. Pride in you for doing all this by yourself and raising such a wonderful child, shame for abandoning you and his daughter, mirth, anger, warmth, sadness, love--

“Akemi!” you call, seeing her lift her head at the sound of your voice. “This way, honey!”

“Oh, I have to go now! My mommy is calling me!” she perks up, gripping her teddy a little tighter and offering the man a smile. “Bye-bye!”

“W-wait!” he calls, thrusting the gift into her small hands. “This is for you, uh... f-from me...”

She looks down at it, before her whole face lights up, and Toji is suddenly breathless – she looks so much like you when she’s surprised, happiness blossoming over her face the same way it would on yours.

Toji feels a deep-rooted emptiness inside his body when he watches his daughter retreat away from him; a living embodiment of all his failures to you, and yet, as he sees her long, black hair whip out behind her, he realizes something else — she was your promise delivered; a combination of everything good between the two of you, in itself a miracle. He might not be in her life, but he was also partly responsible for creating something so beautiful, so ethereal.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but if he was ever fortunate enough to be granted a second, it would be a miracle; a holy gift.

A blessing that would accompany the beauty of dawn.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x you #angst #pregnant!reader #abandonment #dilf toji

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extravaguk · 4 years

Text

sweets&ink

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / pjm / kth

pairing: tattooartist&tattoed!jungkook x baker!reader

summary: jungkook was everything you feared but exactly what you needed to heal your broken heart.

wordcount: 5k

genre: fluff - angst - smut (s2l!au)

rated: m (?

warnings: some cursing, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationships/trauma that might be triggering, a lil of making love at the end. it’s overall just suuper fluffy, trust me. jungkook is a s i m p. we love that for him! slow burrrnnnn.

Jungkook knows it was love at first sight, but doesn's know how to really explain it.

He knew from the moment he entered the small shop, pastel green walls welcoming him replete of sugary treats, a sweet and heavenly scent engulfing him as soon as he stepped a foot inside. With a new found sense of calmness and serenity within he hadn't experienced in a long time, he searched for deserts of his liking, mouth watering while assessing the many options of baked goods available and bright colored frostings stealing his attention.

"Hi. How may I help you?"

Then he looked up and found you. It wasn't easy to appreciate your whole appearence with the counter hiding the lower half of your body, but it was enough for Jungkook to think to himself that he had never seen a prettier girl in hiis entire life. And that's when he knew it. Any type of movement in his surroundings coming to a halt, his heart skipping a beat, his favourite song playing inside his head. And that particular sensation. The same one that had made him feel so at ease since he found your bakery. For a moment he thought his doe eyes might have actually turned into heart eyes until you raised your eyebrows, a concerned expression replacing your previous warm smile.

Blinking his eyes and clearing his throat, coming down from cloud nine into the real world, he stuttered his order as best as he coud manage, heart pounding inside his chest and later feeling mortified for not being able to pronounce "gingernap cookies" correctly.

At first he kind of hated Seokjin for blackmailing him into going to his favourite bakery to buy his favourite cookies (Jungkook really should've known better than accidentally spill ink all over Jin's new script), but when he comes back home with a goofy smile on his face and dreams of your face, he makes sure to text him he'll go get his cookies anytime he wants.

But Jungkook is a masochist apparently.

Because a week after your first encounter he realizes that not being able to get his mind off a girl he's literally only seen once in his entire life is not exactly normal. Not for anyone, but especially not for him. Realizes that the way he embarrassed himself in front of you and probably looked like a bluberring mess (or a creepy weirdo who had never interacted with any woman before) is not reason enough to not keep wanting to try again. And the way you just giggled at him and simply shook your head as you wrapped the ginger cookies he had asked for in a pretty packaging has kept him aching for more.

So he comes once a week now. Still as nervous as the first day, but content to see that your face seems to light up at the sight of him stepping through the door the same way his does. He likes to see you in your cute pastel dresses, and if he didn't know better he'd think you were just trying to keep up with the bakery's aesthetic. But the more he frequents your shop, the more he realizes you're exactly like the treats you bake. He likes how your vividly honeyed persona contrasts with his darker and reserved one. Likes how you're all colors of the rainbow and he's just a scale of greys.

They are small interactions. Just courtesy and cordial exchange of words everytime he visits. He doesn't even know your name and you don't even know his, but sometimes he asks how was your weekend and sometimes you ask how many people had he inked that week. Sometimes he tells you how pretty you look, and sometimes you blush in response. Sometimes you add an extra macaron in his order and sometimes he debates on whether or not he should write down his number on a napkin and slide in right on the countertop before he waves goodbye.

And although Jungkook has never been one to shy away from women, he feels a certain way he can't exactly pinpoint. A way that makes his confidence falter and leaves him feeling like a little kid who's afraid to confess to the girl he likes. Because as cliché as it sounds, you're not like any other girls he's ever met. You don't feel like any other girl he's ever met. Not the older than him, tattoed and pierced type of girl he's accustomed to; not the type of girl that's addicted to trouble and believe him (maybe even hoped) to be something he's not. So it takes a while for him to summon up enough bravery and determination. It takes weeks of pining and overthinking, and a single push from Yoongi ('stop being a fucking pussy and just do it') to ask you to have coffee with him.

"I... I'm sorry. I can't."

And it only takes those words leaving your mouth to shatter his heart into pieces.

It's fine though, he told you and himself. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who believed the 'friendzone' was an actual thing and tried his best to not make you feel uncomfortable, really tried his best to erase the guilt across your face as you rejected him. So he scratched the back of his head and mustered up a big smile before leaving the shop with a bag full of cupcakes and an unsettled stomach.

Letting out a deep breath you didn't even know you were containing, you observe as the handsome stranger exits the shop. Running a hand through your hair before gripping the counter with your hands, you try to steady the heavy throbbing insde your chest.

The boy in question had been unknowingly tormenting you and flooding your mind with thoughts of him for almost two months now. That day you first had spotted him eyeing the desserts in display in amazement and then you in the very same way. It was sudden and precipitated, but it had almost made your head spin, something you hadn't felt in a long time unexplainable tugging at your insides.

You had kept your cool as best as you could, as best as you had taught yourself in the past. Wrapped those cookies he had asked and then waved goodbye, hoping under your breath he wouldn't come back but silently wishind he would. But then he did. He came back once. And then again. And again, and before you realized he had become a frequent costumer. Trying whatever treats you'd recommended him, creating small talk, sending friendly smiles here and then.

You had learned to expect him at the very same time, the very same day of the week; had learned to manage the fluttering in your tummy and the reddish warmth spreading through your cheeks whenever the eye contact was prolongued. Everything was innocent, it was brief and, most importanly, it never went beyond, even if sometimes you hoped it did.

However, after all these years, there was still something you hadn't learned to control yet. And as he spoke, clearly nervous, hesitant and clearly out of his comfort zone, wondering out loud if he could ever treat you to a coffee sometime, your body shut down. The fondness and excitement you had been harboring over the last few weeks quickly replaced by that which made you want to recoil, made you want to back to your well to let its darkness and loneliness envelop you.

That horrible and ugly wave of crippling fear and axiety all mixed together; a little monster that you had successfully concealed, now displaying its ears in warning and the same smile that had been haunting you for years, now advising you, reminding you and most of all, threatening you, to go back to your own comfort zone. And so, powerless, there was nothing else you could really to but to comply, muttering an apology and a rejection that probably pained you more than it pained the boy in front of you.

You knew you did the right thing, but it definitely didn't feel like it.

Especially a week later, as you expected his arrival- as always, ready with a tray full of fresh baked scones you had particularly made just for him, but were left severely disappointed when time passed and he was nowhere to be seen. Or two weeks later, after spending an extra hour making cake pops that you had specifically designed with him in mind (covered in dark chocolate and white sprinkles), only to realize it was closing time and that he never even showed up.

To say you were bummed was an understatement. You knew you always looked forward to him coming in every week to grace your day with a smile and a polite talk, but you didn't come to terms with how much you would miss it until now. So three weeks later, you still bake with him in mind, trying not to lose hope but still chastising yourself for not being brave enough and accepting his offer. It was just a coffee date, for God's sake, not a marriage proposal! Trying to busy your mind with work and customers coming in and out, even if your eyes dart in anticipation everytime you hear the door swinging.

When hours pass and the sun hides to make room for the moon and stars into the sky, you look at the clock and, with a defeated sigh, finish cleaning and tidying around the shop. But before you can gather your things, the door swings open and there stands the stranger you had been praying to see again.

"Am I too late?" he asks, and you don't exactly know but can tell his words hold a double meaning. You smile, a genuine smile, because he looks bashful with a hand scratching the back of his head like he had done the last time you saw him, and because there's a warm sensation spreading through your chest, like your heart is smiling for you.

"I was about to close, but I can make an exception." you accomplish to say and surprisingly don't sound as nervous as you feel. He mirrors your smile as he walks closer to the counter. "So, what would you like?"

That takes him by surprise because he really had nothing in mind when he decided to come here and now he feels like an idiot.

"Uh, um... I would like... maybe cupcakes?" he sounds like an idiot too. But you nod and smile at him and start gathering his cupcakes into a polka dot cardboard box.

"You missed the cake pops I made last week." you say, trying to keep your voice in check as he hands you his credit car. "I think you would've liked them."

"Ah, sorry... Work has been really hectic." and even if it's true, it's also true the fact that he chickened out and was frightened to face you again. He likes how even when you're alluding to his absence, there's not a malicious tone behind your words. He likes how you're still smiling at him even after he's been acting like a pussy for two weeks. But that's why he's here. "I also would like to apologize for... you know. I didn't-...If I made you feel uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

With your eyebrows raised, your smile dissipates. "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong, really. It's not- It's not that. I just...can't." you stumble through words, trying to explain how much you actually wanted to go to that coffee date, to get to know his name and more of himself, but unavailable to. You can feel it again. The same anguish that always seem to creep up on you and numbs you altogheter. But him, worriedly sensing your distress, waves his hands in front of him.

"No, no. It's fine, you don't have to explain anything! It's alright!" his smile seems to soothe you and you return his smile in gratitude. "Anyways, I'll... I'll get going. See you next week?"

You nod, anticipation already making its way into you. "See you next week." and then he takes the box filled with cupcakes and says goodbye. Before he can open the door though, a tingle of impulsivity and fearlesness makes you say:

"I'm _____, by the way."

He pauses, clearly taken aback.

"Jungkook."

Jungkook hasn't stopped repeating your name in his head ever since you gave it to him, grinning like a fool and thinking about how good it sounds next to his. He hasn't stopped frequenting your bakery either and has lost count on how much money he's spent on muffins and whatever else you sell. He doesn't care though. All he cares about is how much likes seeing you even if it's only for fifteen minutes in your floral dresses, and as long as you keep looking like you're glad to see him every time, then he's fine.

He's more than fine. He feels amazing. Sings tunes while he works on customers, feels his creativity flowing more than ever and he feels whole. It still baffles him how a minimun interaction with you once a week can make him feel on top of the world.

He's got a bouquet of white and pink lillies next time he visits, so sappy and romantic he doesn't even recognize himself. He doesn't tell you he googled their meaning and his mind instantly associated them with you. Purity is exactly what he thinks of you and admiration is exactly how he feels about you. Hands it to you and the surprised look on your face and the spreading of pink all over your cheeks makes his heart burst. You thank him and he tells you he didn't know what your favourite flower is. You answer it's carnations. He writes it down somewhere in his mind, for next time. And then you're the one surprising him.

"Would you like to have coffee sometime?"

There's uncertainty in your voice that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and for a moment he thinks he's dreaming. He's cool with what he's got right now with you, but you repeating his words back to him makes him feel euphoric, like he can't believe it. He knows he looks dumb, the way he's looking at you.

Completely dumbfounded. He stutters like the first same he met you, but he says yes (omits the part where he tells you he could almost die). You exchange number in each other's phones with shaky hands, set the day and hour, and then wave each other goodbye.

You instantly regret it as you watch him leave. Keep regretting it the following days. That voice in your head telling you 'it'll happen again', telling you fairytales didn't exist and this most likely wasn't one, even if it felt like it was, suffocating you like it had done many times before. Screwing with your head until you consider canceling.

But you power through it, like you had taught yourself to do. This time it's harder though. Because this time there's a new romantic interest at hand, one that's making you feel things you buried a long time ago and made you swear to yourself you'd be smarter and stronger than any man could.

It's Hoseok's encouraging words that help ease the panic. It was also Hoseok's words who encouraged you to ask Jungkook out. Said you deserved something good for once and that you couldn't close yourself to love your entire life.

Thought it was time for you to write a new chapter after a rather sad one.

So on Saturday, Jungkook insists on picking you up and it already feels like too much for you. Especially when he shows up with a bouquet of carnations in his hand and a smile that takes your breath away and definitely doesn't help to ease your nerves.

Takes him by surprised how pretty you look. maybe because it's the first time he's seen you out of your shop and even though you're still loyal to your clothing style, he still fumbles with his words like an idiot to try to express how beautiful you look. Seeing he's as much of a mess as you settles you a little bit. Then he takes you to a cute café that almost makes you laugh, because seeing him, inked arms and piercings and a closet that consisted mainly of black oversized t-shirts and pants in such a bright environment reminds you of the first time he entered your shop.

You're surprised to see how well the conversation rolls, how easy it is to talk to him beyond the usual brief interactions you two have. You like how he makes you laugh and how he seems to love hearing it. You like how his attention is solely focused on you, even if his gaze on yours sometimes feels too intense and his overall character intimidates you. You like how soft spoken he is, how careful he is with words and the sound of his voice. Sounds like a lullaby without melody.

And when the date is over, he drives you home, walks you to your door and respectfully wishes you a good night. You kiss him on the cheek spontaniously before hiding the embarrassment on your face and stepping inside your home. You miss the way he stays at your doorstep for a whole minute before getting in his car and driving himself home. You also miss how peacefully he sleeps that night, dreaming of cupcakes and you. You don't miss the heart emoji he sends you before going to bed, making yours quiver.

You're glad you didn't cancel, and now you're sure you don't regret it at all

It goes on. The dates, getting to know each other more and more, Jungkook's visits to your shop and spending way too much money on sweets and carnations, the butterflies in your stomach everytime he's near and the birth of something inside of you that's starting to make you feel alive after feeling dead for so long.

It's still new, still wholesome, moves in slow motion. You're glad Jungkook doesn't push, doesn't ask for anything, never demands more than a kiss on the cheek everytime he drops you off. He is nothing like he looks like, you realized that right away.

But with every brand new beginning that requires feelings like this, especially as unique and exceptional as the ones Jungkook is causing within you, comes the evil monster trying to scare you off, to make you back off and remind you that not everything that shines is gold. The voice inside your head that keeps bewitching you back into a dark room, reminder in your head everytime that one day Jungkook will want more. He'll want more and you might not be ready to give it to him.

A voice that keeps resonating and has kept you unmoving for the past few years and now is making you feel more frightened than ever.

You've been more quite than usual and Jungkook can tell something is not quite right. It's a friday night, and after having dinner that he insisted on paying, he decided this time to drive you away, to a secluded space somewhere where you both can appreciate the city lights on the hood of his car. He can tell, so he asks you, but you give a vague answer. He wants to ask again, but he's afraid of overstepping your boundaries. He wants to get to know you in every level, want's to scratch the surface until he can see everything. He wants to learn you inch by inch. Wants to love every part you bare to him, because he's sure he will.

"My ex partner was abusive."

You finally say with a voice that's not entirely yours, and it doesn't feel real. Doesn't feel real to say out loud and letting the words sink in. It's taken all this time of excusing behaviors that were not excusable, trying to make light of a situation that wasn't and blaming yourself for things that you were not to blame for. Jungkook stays silent, but his attention immediately focused on you as soon as you spoke. Eyes slightly wide and mouth starting to open as if to speak himself. But you go on.

"Not physically." you swallow a lump in your throat. "Sometimes he would throw things at me, but they didn't always land. Or... one time he pushed me while we were arguing. Never raised his hand at me though. It was mostly psychological and emotional. He was extremely jealous and possesive. Didn't like me hanging with my friends, would never bring me to hang out with him and his friends. Though I' was cheating on him with anyone. The cashier at the supermarket, a randome dude on the street that simply looked at me. Anyone." tears prickle your eyes, but you'd learned to hold them back.

"He would always get mad at me. Would already wake up angry and take it out on me. Without reason. Would always blame me for everything. He would get mad, insult me, call me any terrible name you can imagine, tell me I wasn't worth shit. That I wasn’t worth living.Then he would punch the wall, or break whatever was in sight. Everytime, I told him I was terrified of him. Would cry in a corner and beg him to stop. Sometimes he would just laugh at me for it." you sniff, still looking straight at the city lights, and trying to keep a composed tone throughout. You had grown up a lot since then, and you knew Jungkook deserved to know you. He deserved to understand.

"Then he would calm down, apologize while he cried and promised he loved me and would change. He never did. It took me a long time to finally walk away, but the demons still haunt me to this day. You," you choke, because comparing your ex to the guy currently sitting next to you was like day and night, like heaven and hell. "You make me feel things I've never felt before. I always felt like asking for respect was asking for too much. And then here you come, like a knight on shining armour ready to sweep me off my feet. It felt like a dream. Still does..."

Jungkook's hands are balled into tight fists, his whole body rigid as he listened to you. His own heart breaking, like he could feel himself inside you and experiencing your own heartbreak. His blood's boiling, jaw so tight and eyes blinking. Pushing down his anger, because this is about you not him, he lets his body relax before sliding your hand in yours.

"I like you so much,_____, it literally kills me at night how much. Not as much as hearing all of this, though. From the moment I saw you, I was whipped. I wanted and still want to give everything I can to see that smile of yours. It's me the one who can't believe you're paying me any attention at all." you're still not looking at him, but he still sighs in relief when your lips quirk up. "Just having you here next to me and letting me take you out on dates is more than enough for me. Whatever you give me, whatever your terms are, I'm content with that. You're healing, and while you do, I'll be right here."

You look at him now, not bothering to hide the tears streaming down your face anymore.

"What if I never heal completely?" there's fear in your voice as your eyes meet his, but just the dark brown in his gaze help you feel secure, less worried about the future and more serene about the now.

"I'll still be here."

It doesn't take long for you to call it love.

Not when Jungkook keeps proving himself to be so different and so special. Not when his gestures never cease to make you feel so special, so worthy of recieving and sharing love. Because Jungkook makes you feel invincible, makes you feel one in a million.

"What to you even see in me? We're like, polar opposites." you ask him one day. And it's true, you are. So different from each other, yet the same. He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, still holding your hand in your doorstep about to kiss your cheek goodnight.

"I see everything." he simply says, eyes boring into yours in adoration. "I see the sun, and the moon, the stars, the entire galaxy when I'm with you." your heart clenches as he interlaces his fingers with yours. "Before I met you, I felt like I was blind. Like I was lost and was looking for an exit that I couldn't find. But then I saw you, in your little bakery, with your cute dresses and those eyes, and it was like my eyes opened for the first time. Everything made sense. Everything has been filled with so many colors ever sinc-"

You shut him with your lips on top of his, emotions pulling at your heartstrings the same way you pull him down by the neck. He takes a few seconds to respond, but then this hands are dropping to your waist, their warmth immediately spreading through your skin against the chilly night.

"Would you like to come in?" you whisper, breath fanning over his lips. He nods, hurriedly, and he knows he looks like a damn idiot for the hundredth time, but he doesn't care. Because coming in doesn't only mean stepping in your home. Coming in means you're letting him in. Means you trust him, means you want him there, means you're allowing him inside your heart.

Again, Jungkook doesn't expect nor demands much. Your presence is everything he needs. You kissing him is like winning the lottery to him. Like completing a marathon, like climbing the Everest, like getting his first tattoo. Kissing you is sweet, fills him with something strong that makes him feel on drugs, like nothing matters but you and him. Like nothing has ever mattered to neither of you.

So it's you who leads him to your room, it's you who straddles his thighs and pushes his hair back as his hands carress your sides. It's nothing fiery. It's slow, tentative, and full of care. Of lingering touches, low sighs against each other's mouths.

It's you who reaches inside his shirt, hand sneaking past the hem of the fabric and trembling cold fingers coming in contact with firm skin. It's also you who asks for more with a small roll of your hips. It's you who asks him to take his shirt off. It's him who complies. Still tells you you don't have to, you tell him you want to.

It's you who asks him to touch you. He's scared like he's never been, because you're you, and you're so perfect and everything he's ever wanted and suddenly he's afraid of you're too good for him. Jungkook only wants to make you happy, never wants to see you cry, just wants to treat you the way you deserve.

It's you who begs.

It's you who tells him you need him. Need him take care of you, need him to show you much you're worth, need him to help you write a new chapter, probably even a new book where you're both the main characters and nobody else has ever existed. You say it with tears in your eyes, and he's quick to kiss them away, tongue entangling with yours. He's quick to undress you as well, with hands that still ask for permission even after you've granted it already. Hands and lips that are also quick and eager to learn your body, to find every mole in your skin as he lays you back to look at you in admiration. He keeps kissing you. From head to toe, muttering praise, making sure every 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous' and 'perfect' that leave his lips stay fire engraved in your being forever.

He first makes you cum with careful fingers and skilled tongue, thighs wrapped aro around his head, eyes still looking for yours as his hands keep your body still and yours crumple the sheets beneath. Tells you how good you taste, how long he's been dying to have you like this. Tells you this you his favourite sight as he kisses his way up.

You beg him again, asking him to please, please, fill you up. He groans against your mouth and he tells you again, you don't have to. He says he's happy like this. Repeats he's in no rush and just wants to please you and make you feel good. That it's about you, and will always be about you. You beg him again, and again and again, enticing him with a trail of wet kisses down his neck, up to his eralobe. You whisper there, tell him you need him to fill you with his cock so bad. His whole body goes rigid as your legs wrap around him, legs pulling him closer to where you want him, his erection grazing your entrance and his teeth nibble your lower lip.

Jungkook doesn't move for a while, eyes closed shut, jaw clenched and head buried in your neck. He doesn't move because his mind is somewhere else keeping him stagnant, pussy wrapping around him so good and wet and tight he's about to bust. Takes a while for him to move, but when he does he makes sure to grip your thighs around him, keeping you close, never wanting to let go as he tells you you were made just for him. Just for him. Tells you how good you feel. He tells you he loves you. Kisses your lips as you sob, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He tells you he loves you. Tells you he'll love you forever and will always keep you safe and happy.

You're crying now, cheeks wet and he stops for a moment to look at you, concern written all over his face as his hands craddle yours, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "We can stop, baby." You shake your head no. Pull him back into another kiss, urging him to go on. You tell him you love this, love him so much. That it's a good thing. That they are happy tears. That you've never been happier. And then his hips start moving again, your words egging him own, soft whimpers and sobs leaving each other's throats until you cum at the same time.

He then removes himself from you, rolling onto your side but he's quick to pull your body close, arms wrapping around you and lips kissing away the wet stains on your cheeks.

It doesn't take long for you to know Jungkook would be the healthy forever and after you had always dreamed of.

#THE FEEELS BRUH #aaaaaa #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #jungkook fic

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

#bnha 317 #all might #midoriya izuku #and endeavor and hawks and mt. lady and all the rest of them I guess #literally forgot all about them by the end lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this wound up so long lmao I'm so sorry

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astheroid · 3 years

Text

“Are you still mad at me?”

Bokuto

⚠️ Angst to fluff, insecurities and implied depression

Bokuto stared feverishly at the small bright screen in his hands. His fingers, clenched so tightly they hurt, ghosted over his phone.

It had been exactly three days, twelve hours, fifty-two minutes, and four seconds since you had last responded to him.

He gulped, anxieties swirling in his stomach.

‘Do they hate me now?’

‘Did I really drive them away?’

‘No, no. They love me. Don’t they?’

‘Fuck, Koutarou. You screwed up again.’

‘Don’t let this be like last time.’

‘Please… they can’t have left for good.’

‘I don’t want to be alone.’

He brushed his hair out of his eyes with clammy hands. You had snapped at him for being too pushy with his affection earlier, and the memory was the only thing plaguing his mind.

“Kou, you can’t expect me to drop everything for you.” You said, eyebrows furrowed. “I have work to do.”

“I know that, I just wanted you to come to this one practice. It’s really important.” He said, playing with his hands.

“Why do you need me there?”

“Well… Tsumu, Shoyo, and I figured out a new attack and I wanted you to see.”

You shook your head. “Maybe next time. I’m so close to getting that promotion, and taking time off from work wouldn’t look good for me.”

“It’s just one day, baby. Can’t you work it out with your boss?” He questioned. His arms attempted to pull you into a hug, but you shrugged him off.

“It’s not ‘just one day’. It’s the day before the biggest meeting of the year.” You looked up at him. “Stop being so pushy with this.”

He gulped, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Look, I’m sorry I can’t make it and I love you, but you need to leave. I won’t be able to get anything done with you here.”

He tried his best to smile. “Okay! Hug me before I go?” You nodded and opened your arms. He scooped you up and swung you around before he heard a loud ‘thunk’.

He wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and knocked your coffee onto your laptop. His eyes widened and he immediately set you down.

“Shit, honey! I’m so so so sorry.” He exclaimed, frantically trying to sop up the liquid with his shirt. His panicked movements only pushed the coffee around, thoroughly soaking your workspace.

You stood there speechless, fists clenched by your sides. Had your work been autosaved before the spill? Would your laptop turn on? Were the notes on your desk still legible?

“Kou, what the fuck.” You muttered, the frustration from your stressful week starting to slip out.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I totally wasn’t looking where I was going and I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He stammered, looking everywhere but you.

“That laptop you just fried was almost a thousand dollars.” Your voice was trembling.

“I know, I'll buy you a new one just please-”

“That document that may or may not have been saved took me a week to get halfway through.” You stood up straight, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Please calm down, sweetie. It was an accident and I’ll make it up to you any way you want.” He pleaded, white t-shirt soaked brown.

“You can’t fucking make that up to me. Just leave.” You said, trying your best to regulate your breathing.

“It-it’s gonna be okay.” He tried to touch your arm with a watery smile.

“FUCKING LEAVE! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE!” You snapped, tears now rolling down your face. “I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to talk to me. I want to be alone so I can sort out this problem YOU caused.” You gestured to your ruined desk.

He was shaking, only capable of staring at you with horrified eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought a hug might make you feel better.”

“Knocking over my shit and destroying my property isn’t making me feel better,” You ranted. “In fact, it’s making me feel terrible. I can’t stand you being so touchy and annoying all the time, it just messes everything up.”

This hit him right in the insecurities. “Okay. I’ll leave. Um. Have a good day, honey.”

“Don’t call me that.” You muttered, wiping your desk down.

He nodded and left, softly closing the door behind him.

That night he had a complete breakdown. Tears soaked his pillow as he shook his bed with loud hics, his throat was sore from crying. He took the next few days off because he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.

The three day thirteen hour mark soon passed. It was well past bedtime, but Bokuto couldn’t sleep. The dark circles under his eyes were proof enough.

As his fatigued body slumped down his headboard, his phone let out three soft ‘ding’s.

His fingers quickly typed a response.

His cheeks were burning from his wide smile.

Before he could celebrate, you texted him again.

He hesitated with his response. What would you say if you knew he had been skipping practice? Would you be mad at him for being lazy? He hadn’t eaten since the fight, what if his stomach grumbled at the wrong time?

He shook his head and typed an answer.

It was maybe thirty minutes before you arrived at his door.

He opened the door and smiled, reaching out to pull you into a hug before flinching. Right. You didn’t want him to touch you.

You looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry, Kou. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t look where I was going and I was being annoying.”

You grabbed his arm, eyes wide. “That’s not true. It’s not your fault and I regret everything I said, baby. I’m sorry for saying that to you.”

He closed his eyes, his laugh sounding more like a sob. “Thanks, but I get it. You were stressed and I was being too pushy. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged tightly. As soon as he felt your comforting touch, the dam broke and he was crying like a baby all over again. “I real-really want to make it up to you.” He sniffled, pawing at his eyes.

You gently took his hand and led him to his bedroom, sitting him down on the bed.

“It’s my fault. Don’t blame yourself, alright? I love how affectionate and passionate you are. You’re never annoying.” You assured, kissing him between words. His cheeks were damp and he didn’t smell all that great, but in the moment you couldn’t care less.

“I love you.” He mumbled, pulling you closer. You stroked his back as he cried in your arms.

“I love you too. I’ve never stopped loving you and I never will. You’re perfect and amazing.” You whispered. He hiccuped and buried his face further into your chest.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound being his quiet sniffles. He eventually pulled his head up and kissed you on the cheek. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked, thumbing the tear streaks on your face.

“Of course not! I’m not that mean.” You teased, voice shaky. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” He nodded and allowed you to take off his shirt, replacing it with a fresh one.

You tucked him into bed, curling around him and combing through his hair with your fingers. “I love you.” You said, face pressed into his back.

“Love you too.” He murmured. He slipped into sleep as you whispered reassurances, petting his hair.

Returning to ‘normal’ was a slow but necessary process that took effort from both parties. Arguments aren’t something easily resolved by a bit of sweet-talking, but rather a process that both strains and strengthens your relationship. Through this experience, you both learned a lot about each other and your specific needs.

You realize that love isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but understanding and meaningful conversation will repair most wounds.

Love with Bokuto was most certainly something you wanted to keep.

As a Bokuto kinnie that relates to the feelings of being too annoying or clingy, this hurt to write :,)

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deerestapologies · 3 years

Text

5 times you called him by a pet name + one time he called you by a pet name

(Diluc + Zhongli x GN!Reader)

Diluc

1. "Oh, hey hon." You greet mildly.

The candles have begun burning a bit low, the long shadows making his pout even more obvious.

"I apologize, I was held up for longer than anticipated."

He produces a small bouquet from his coat, a cluster of wildflowers, and approaches like he's about to give an offering instead of a gift. He kneels by your chair, face stoic as usual, but you can see the worry and shame in his eyes.

You twirl the stems to absorb their delicate scent, and then carefully drop them in your water glass. You cup his face in your hands, and press a kiss to his brow.

"It's okay." You kiss his brow again, "I am not mad." You kiss his nose. "I am hungry though."

You laugh lightly at his rush to sit across from you. An evening eating cold roast was worth being able to spend it with him.

2. "I understand your frustration, but perhaps we had best move on." You place a hand on his crossed arms.

"Their behavior was unacceptable, especially for those who would call themselves knights."

The stubborn clench of his jaw tells you just how angry he is. The idiots were lucky to have only gotten the verbal bludgeoning earlier instead of the literal one he wanted to dish out.

"Yes, but you've already made them apologize, and they do seem repentant," the fool knights in training nod frantically, "so why not leave this mess for Kaeya, darling?"

He sighs, but loosens his posture to wrap a protective arm around you. The hell the Knights were going to catch for this was still to come, but at least no one lost any limbs. Yet.

3. Tucked into your pile of pillows, book in hand, you waited as you do most nights. Diluc had a late meeting scheduled after dinner, but he promised it was truly to do with the winery and not of the vigilante variety.

So you bide your time, until you hear his heavy boots come up the stairs.

"I'm home." He calls softly.

"Welcome back." You say just as softly.

He goes through the motions of undressing, refreshing himself, and redressing without missing a beat, but his posture seems wilted. You mark your page, and turn over the blanket for him.

"How did it go?"

He heaves a deep sigh, and crawls over to you. Pulling you close, he lays his head on your chest but doesn't say another word.

"Oh, sweetness." You embrace him, one hand holding his face and the other in his hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

4. You lengthen your steps, but the increased pace doesn't seem to deter the boy following you. He isn't dangerous per se, but his persistence is damned annoying.

"But, if you'll just listen," he jogs back up to your side, "I just need your help for a little while!"

"I am neither a Knight nor an Adventurer," you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand, "And you have nothing I want. Now leave me be."

He sputters, "M-master Diluc said-"

As if he's had his tongue plucked out, he suddenly stops talking.

You turn around only to find Diluc himself, a stifling hand on the kid's shoulder. His face is a stoic mask as always, but his energy is thunderous.

"I agreed to help you out of deference to your mother, but you," You see the boy wince as the hand tightens, "failed to listen to a word I said. Harassing my staff and my partner has only earned you banishment from all of my properties. Now go, before I report you to the Knights as well."

You both stand stock still as the boy sprints from the winery back to Mondstadt proper.

"Your going to report him anyways, right?" You mumble, after he is just a speck on the horizon.

"Of course," He finally relaxes his stance to look at you, "Though I doubt Jean will be happy about it."

Your chuckle, already imagining her face when the letter reaches her desk. Heaving a sigh, just grateful for the problem to have moved on, you grab Diluc's hand.

"Thank you," You pull him into a tight hug, "for protecting me as always, angel."

5. You gently rap on the door frame to his office. He looks up from his work just long enough to give you a soft smile.

"I was wondering," You lean against the frame, avoiding actually entering lest you get sucked in as well, "If my dear husband was going to come to bed tonight?"

The bright lamp on his desk means you see his blush even from across the room. He huffs an embarrassed laugh, but starts shuffling paperwork into orderly piles.

"I hadn't realized the time, my apologies."

You hum, "It is understandable. But I cannot rest if you are not in bed with me."

You watch as he tucks away his tools, pulls his gloves off, and undoes the tie in his hair, all with a much to pleased smirk on his face.

He pulls you into a delicate, lingering kiss with a hand on your neck. The warmth of his skin makes you shiver. You lean into him, letting him wrap you in his arms.

He chuckles, "Well, I would hate to neglect my husbandly duties."

1. The lingering warmth from your bath and the softness of the sheets has you dozing in minutes. You toss a hand onto Diluc's side of the bed, wanting to be present when he comes to bed as well but the ache of a long day is catching up to you.

After several moments you feel a calloused hand grasp your own. You are too tired to properly see, but feel the dip as he climbs into bed.

Still holding your hand in a delicate grip, he presses a kiss to your palm, and then your cheek.

"Sleep, my love, I am here."

Zhongli

1. Zhongli re-enters the house not even ten minutes after leaving. He is patting down his jacket and looking about the entryway in wonder, and you can't help but chuckle.

"Forget something?"

"Yes," he plants his hands on his hips, "I can't seem to find my wallet. I could have sworn I remembered it this time."

You get up from where you were leisurely awaiting his return, and snag the 'disappearing' wallet from where he left it on the table.

"Not quite, old man." You wave it, teasing.

"Ah, of course."

Tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, you tug him closer to plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.

"My apologies, it seems I was a bit distracted this morning."

He tucks a piece of hair away from your face, gaze so blatantly loving you can't help but crash your lips against his. Damn whatever appointment he may have, he shouldn't be so handsome in your direction.

2. It is not every day you wake up before him, so you try to make the most of it. You prepare his clothes for the day, just so you can pick out your favorite of his shirts. You start a light breakfast, and brew an energizing blend of tea for both of your sake.

You spend some time simply waiting at the table, content to sip your tea and watch the morning birds.

When the soft shuffle of feet brings Zhongli into the kitchen, you stand up. He is mostly dressed, minus his tie and shoes, jacket loose around his shoulders.

You steer him to the table, and press a kiss to his cheek when seated.

He hums contentedly, still a bit sleepy, "Good morning."

You pour him a cup of tea as well, and his smile grows a bit wider. He tilts his head up, "Thank you."

You meet him half way, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth, "Of course dearest. Do you have anything pressing today?"

A hand comes to rest on your hip, preventing you from moving back to your seat.

"No, nothing more important than this."

3. Squished between the mattress and the press of his body, you couldn't imagine being more content. The warmth, the scent, the feel of his breath ghosting across your skin.

You run a reverent hand through his hair, spread loose over his back. It seems impossible for you to be this happy, like you would only read about in unrealistic fantasies.

Amber eyes are already watching you, when you open yours. His gaze is soft, unbearably so, so you look at the ceiling.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He answers it so easily, as if it is among the many universal truths that exist in his head.

"You must understand," You wet your nervous mouth, "I mean it. Truly, I love you."

You feel his head tilt in confusion, but power on, emotions spilling.

"You are my starlight. My life would be unimaginably dark without you. I am scared constantly by the sway you have over me, but I cannot stand the idea of living without you. I want be here with you, forever, no matter the cost."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the flood of tears that threaten to spill, waiting for his polite retreat. His body lifts off yours and you pull a shuddering breath in, unused to laying yourself bare in this way. He could end you now, destroy you by just walking away.

But you feel tremoring hands grasp your face, almost too tightly. He doesn't say a word, can't, but presses his forehead to yours.

4. "Zhongli?" You call into the empty hum of the parlor, hoping it will carry to his office. It's not far, but he gets absorbed in his work easily.

You lean out the door a bit, and try to project your voice more, "Hey, honey?"

The door to his office clicks open, and his head pokes out. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, please," you adjust the pile of books in your arms, "Would you mind grabbing this other pile? A client requested reference material from just about every era, and I don't think I have the wing span to carry all of it."

He presses a quick kiss to your head, and scoops up the remaining books with no problem.

"Of course, would you like me to relieve you of those as well?"

"Not a chance, show off, you're gonna have to deal with the doors."

As if to prove your point, he balances the stack in one hand to hold the front door open for you, smile only slightly smug.

5. Given how busy your lives were, and his propensity for letting time fly, you figured he would forget again. It would not be the first anniversary he forgot, and you imagine it wouldn't be the last.

It's not like you could hold it against him, especially not when he was so earnest and loving all year round.

So your surprise was genuine when he led you, dressed in his best, to a private booth at Liuli Pavilion.

The food was made by the head chef, as a show of gratitude for Zhongli's long patronage (you send a quiet thank you to Childe), and the service superb. The evening is relatively quiet, you converse as normal but with the additional soppiness that comes from acknowledging romance.

You are especially glad for the privacy when you cannot help but practically ravish the man over the table, his face being too handsome to bear just looking at.

Shortly after, he looks at you with burning eyes, and finally says, "I am quite full. Perhaps we should head home."

"That sounds perfect."

You continue to stare, sappy and sated, as he blindly pats at his pockets, equally unwilling to look away.

After several moments, it dawns on you, and then immediately on him.

You can't help it. You laugh. Hysterically, because no matter what Zhongli is Zhongli.

He's standing now, flustered like you've never seen, pacing the room as if his wallet would be anywhere but the table at home.

"This was not my intent." He huffs, "I had planned the evening meticulously."

"And it was lovely," You choke back another laugh, "But, sugar, you are not living this down for the rest of our lives!"

You are laughing as you pull out your own wallet, giggling uncontrollably as you hand over all the money on your person, and can barely walk you're so light headed when he leads you out the door.

He doesn't once let you go, from the pavilion's steps to your front door. Indulgent to the end, your man.

1. It is always a pleasant surprise when your errands overlap. Working nearly in conjunction makes it happen quite often, but still, it makes your day brighter.

You have just finishing bartering your lunch into existence when you spot Zhongli headed your way. Quickly, you slip the chef a few more mora to add another dish.

He is at your side in an instant, bringing your hand to his lips in that coquettish way he has.

"There you are," he lowers your hand but does not drop it, "I've been looking for you, treasure."

You twine your fingers together, relishing the warmth. You snug up to his side, taking the liberty of placing his hand on your hip just to see him blush.

"Have you now?"

"Always."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin diluc #genshin zhongli #(the chef after zhongli +1: excuse me this is a wendys)#an informal apology

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

S.O.S. - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry works for your father so you come up with a plan.

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, barista!Henry AU, slightly sub!Henry, light choking

Word count: 1k<

A/N: I imagined a younger Henry for this one, around 20, kind like college-age. It’s short but hopefully it’s sweet! This is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. Hope you guys like it!

Henry’s P.O.V.

My cheeks burned as soon as I saw her coming into the store, her group of friends chatting excitedly around her. I was torn between averting my gaze and focusing on the coffee I should be pouring or actually taking her in, admire all of her features. I loved the little dresses she chose for class, they hugged her body in the most complimentary way.

Still, I decided to ignore the sweet temptation of her figure and pretend I didn’t notice, pretend she wasn’t there. It made my job a little easier, forcing myself to look at the person whose order I was supposed to take instead of someone who hadn’t even gotten in line yet.

Of course, she didn’t have to.

“There you go, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, daddy.” Being the owner’s daughter granted her anything she wanted, anytime she wanted. I knew that better than anyone by now. Memories of the night she helped me close the coffee shop before asking me, “Do you want to fuck me?” haunted me to this day, so many months later, no matter how many times I’d had her ever since.

That first time was special. Not only was it the fulfillment of a fantasy I never thought I’d be able to live, but it also taught me everything I needed to know about the girl I’d fallen in love with - she was caring and kind, but she always got whatever it was that she wanted. It was just my luck that what she wanted was me.

“What are you doing back here?” I asked once I heard the door to the pantry close behind me, turning around to see her with nothing but mischief written in her eyes. She just shrugged, and I already knew I was in danger.

“You know what I want, what I always come to you for.” And I did. So I just let her do her thing, unzip my pants and push me to sit on one of the tables we had back here before climbing over me.

It felt so good to have her again. I hated having to hide my feelings, force my eyes away from her because of her dad. But whenever I had her close, I couldn’t really be afraid he’d find out, suddenly open the door and see her here, riding me, hips tightly pressed against mine while she laid kisses on my throat.

All that mattered was that I was inside of her again, where she wanted me to be. “Shhh…” She whispered against my lips, fingers lightly pressing on the sides of my neck. “You have to be quiet, baby.” I blushed every time the pet name left her beautiful lips. It was inebriating to be desired like this, by a woman who could have anyone and anything.

“Gosh, I love your cock.” And she sure showed it, her constant need to be filled by it, her incessant movements taking advantage of how hard she made my member, up and down, up and down until I gave her what she wanted.

“And you love my pussy too, don’t you?” I could only stare back at her in shock. What kind of a question was that? As if the fact that I could barely contain myself once I was inside her channel didn’t mean anything?

“Tell me, honey. I like to hear you say it.” The confession had a garbled sound escaping my chest, my fingers burying tighter in the supple skin of her hips. I struggled to remember how to speak, but I wanted her to be reassured of my desire for her.

“I-I love it.” It was the best I could do. “I love it so much.” But it seemed to be enough for her. Her face buried in the crook of my neck, she quickened the pace of her movements, and I could feel my control escaping me.

“I know you do,” she spoke against my skin. “I know you do. And you’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you? You’re gonna give me your cum, gonna fuck a baby into me.”

Just hearing her say it had me twitching inside of her, my hands instinctively holding her by the ass so she’d still and none of my cum would spill out of her. Feeling me shooting ropes inside of her pussy seemed to be her undoing because I felt her clench around me, only adding to my sensitiveness.

“Thank you, baby.” I loved the way she kissed me to express her gratitude, pulling me closer by my hair until we had to part for air. “I’ll see you outside.”

I can’t say that I completely agreed with her plan to get pregnant before telling her father our relationship so he couldn’t be against it, but to deny that it was a pleasurable one would be a lie.

#my fics #my 2k challenge #henry cavill smut #smut #henry cavill #henry cavill reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader inserts #henry cavill reader insert #RPF #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years

Note

hi lovely, I wanted to make a request about a sensitive topic, so it's ok if you decide not to.

But if you decide to do it, Zemo x Reader where she has been sexually abused and he comforts her, because I just need him to tell me that it was not my fault.

I sometimes remember the moment it happened and it makes me really sad and guilty. I'm really sorry if this request triggers you. Thank you in advance🖤

Honey omg, can I start off by saying whatever happened was absolutely not your fault. I woke up at 5am and saw this request and I just couldn’t get back to sleep until I had started writing it. I was in a similar situation a few years ago so this is really based off my experience and how I found I dealt with it. While it still upsets me sometimes I’ve found I don’t think about it as often as I used to so it does get better, I promise. I actually found this quite cathartic to write since it’s something I don’t talk about much. If you ever want a little chat, please don’t be scared to shoot me a message! Hope you’re doing okay 💗

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x GN! Reader

(Again, the fact this is gender neutral was a happy accident but I wanted it to be applicable to anyone that might find some comfort in it)

Word count: 1.5 k

Summary: You have a bad night and Zemo comforts you (list of international resources at the end.)

Warnings: TW: Sexual Assault mention, please don’t read this if those themes will upset you. There are no graphic descriptions, this is more just the reader dealing with the aftermath. Hurt/ comfort, quite dark, angst, Zemo does his best but everyone heals differently, fluff.

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened but it had become one of those nights where reality had become a little too heavy to handle. You had went to bed feeling fine but woke in the early hours, head swimming with the recollection of everything that had happened. All of a sudden, sleep was the last thing on your mind, your body jarred awake by the painful memories and the sickly feeling that always accompanied them. Rather than spend the night tossing and turning in bed beside your boyfriend, you got up, hauling your sleep deprived frame from the warmth of your bed, heading to the little snug at the end of the hall. Grounding yourself wasn’t easy when you felt like this, but you had to take the time to notice the little things or risk losing yourself in the past altogether. You let yourself notice the little breeze that came in through the window down your hall, the smooth feeling of the wooden bannister under your fingertips and the cold that travelled up your bare legs as your feet padded softly across the wooden floor. Your pyjama shorts tickled the tops of your thighs as you walked the short distance before you gently pushed the heavy wooden door, admiring how it manoeuvred silently under your touch, despite it’s weight. None of these things were particularly special, often lost in the monotony of day to day life but during these early mornings where the past felt all too real, they were little blessings, reminders of the present.

Closing the door behind you quietly, you made your way over to the little cushioned window ledge. It had been extended so it was easily large enough to sit on, giving you a vantage point to look out the topmost window of the house, completely unobstructed. You settled into the familiar spot, legs crossed in front of you. From here you could see everything that went on in the grounds of Helmut’s massive estate. You could see the little stream running down beside your house, often your favourite point of focus as it was ever changing and therefore, distracting. Huge birds swooped and dived at the lake, hoping to procure some breakfast for themselves and their young, some flying off triumphantly with a tasty fish while others left with nothing, frustrated by the difficulties of hunting. Apart from the running water and their squawks, there were no other sounds to disturb the early morning air.

The birds were an adequate distraction for around an hour before you began to lose interest, feeling your mind wander once more in a direction you didn’t want it to take. That pang of guilt hit you deep in the chest as you began to feel like your body was tainted in some way. Horrible memories flooded your head, memories of roaming hands and that feeling of being painfully helpless, your chest feeling like it might collapse under the weight of those memories. You had no more tears left to cry when you thought about what had happened, while it still hurt as intensely as it did, the memories weren’t often accompanied by tears anymore, rather a guilty ache in your chest that threatened to consume you and you honestly weren’t sure which was worse. A good cry used to get it all out, give you the opportunity to start fresh and you often felt all the better for it when you were done but the ache was harder to manage. You hated how this was now something you had to live with, knowing that someone else’s actions had such a huge reign over your life.

You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Helmut slipping in behind you until you heard the faint click of the heavy wooden door.

“Bad night my love?” He asked softly, his voice barely disturbing the calm, his accent noticeably thicker after he had just woken up. He was still in a little thin pair of cotton pyjamas, hair messy and tousled from sleep. You could only nod in response, noticing how his lips pressed together so he didn’t voice his anger about the person that had done this to you. He didn’t want the focus of this to be on them and their selfish actions, that wasn’t helpful but it didn’t stop his blood boiling in his veins. Dealing with this was often as hard for him as it was for you, seeing the only person he loved so dearly feel the way you did, knowing you were hurting and he wasn’t able to take the pain away sometimes brought him to a very dark place.

“May I touch you?” He whispered quietly, knowing that sometimes having that contact could be worse for you.

“Please.” You nodded simply, feeling his body slot in behind yours. His legs bracketed yours, arms wrapped around your waist and his head buried in the crook of your neck as you both went back to watching the birds silently. His heart beating in his chest was comforting against you, the rise and fall of his breathing giving you something else to focus on.

“This is not your cross to bear alone, my dove.” He whispered, thumbs rubbing at the exposed skin of your waist where your pyjama top had ridden up slightly.

“I know I just… Didn’t want to wake you.” You replied, equally softly.

“How many times must I tell you sweetheart, I want you to wake me. Let me be there for you.” He pleaded, pressing little kisses to your shoulders, hoping to rid your arms of the goosebumps that had begun to form. He was not mad, not at you anyway, understanding that sometimes you just needed the time alone to come to terms with things but if you needed him, he wanted to be there. There was a heavy pause that hung in the air after that, both of you slightly weighed down by the gravity of the emotions this can inflict on you as a couple.

“Can I talk about it?” You asked softly. It wasn’t something you did very often, preferring not to burden Helmut too much with the details. He had heard it all before so nothing would surprise him but you were still conscious that it hurt him to hear what had happened.

“Of course.” He answered, gentle chaste kisses to your shoulders reminding you that this was entirely on your terms. He did not press you to talk further when you had said enough, he also didn’t let his own pain at the situation take away from yours, knowing if you needed to talk about it, he had to be there to listen. You took a deep breath, taking one of his hands in yours, clasping them together.

“I just feel… Tainted? I feel guilty. Feel like I could’ve done more to stop it.” You knew you couldn’t have done more but there was always a nagging sense of ‘what if’. Helmut nodded from behind you, giving your hand a little squeeze, waiting to see if you wanted to continue. “Feel like it’s my fault. And now I have to deal with it. But you don’t have to.” You explained quietly, ache in your chest growing to sharp pain.

“You are not tainted my love. Nor was it your fault. You could not have done more to prevent it and even if you could, that is not the point. You shouldn’t have had to do more. One ‘no’ should have been enough.” It killed him to know you thought like this about yourself. He didn’t see you like that at all. Your body wasn’t tainted from what had happened, it didn’t make him want you less. It made him admire your strength and courage, seeing how you got up every morning and took care of the body you blamed. “Your blame is misplaced my love. The blame is not yours to carry. You have done no wrong.” His words made warmth flourish in your chest, hearing him listen to you and truly understand meant more to you than he would ever know.

“Thank you Helmut.” You whispered, tears brimming in your eyes, spilling over your cheeks but not from sadness, more from the unconditional love Helmut afforded you, the time he took to make you be gentler to your body again making you feel more loved than you could’ve imagined possible.

“Not at all, my sweet.” He whispered, gripping you just a little tighter. He loved you, every single part of you. To him, you were perfect and nothing would change that. He just wanted to help you through your pain and absolve you of it, hoping some day you could see yourself how he saw you.

A/N: I’m going to drop this link here just in case it’s needed, this was the most comprehensive resource I could find. If you need it, please do use it. 💗

https://osapr.harvard.edu/international-resources-0

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Childe NSFW Headcanons

May not make sense 100% due to mind still clouded by sickness lmaooo

Count: 699 words

Sex is a drug to Childe that has the same ecstasy as that of a good fight, a less threatening and less deadly alternative. It makes his heart pump in excitement, his muscles strain the same way as reflex, stamina challenged to the max against an opponent.

And honestly, in his eyes, the bed too is a battlefield. There are a lot of things taken into consideration when in the bed with this man:

He likes to wrestle for dominance and his stamina is that of a lion in heat. While he lives in the sensation, he also revels in the pleasure of his partner. It's a two-way battle, and every moment in bed will not be dull when you deal with him.

Clothes are off his back everytime, no skips. Doesn't matter if you're not taking yours off, even if it's much appreciated if it wasn't on you, but he's keeping his back out on the open— yes, back.

He prides himself victorious whenever you dig your nails into his back, the sensation tingling him and the pain edging him with thrill.

With that in mind, Childe pays CLOSE attention to your fingernails before every session. If they're long and sharp, that's cool, spicy. If they're trimmed down and filed tho, hoho, it's gonna be a loooong night.

He will make it his mission, an added challenge, for you to scratch his back DEEP with those dull fingernails and he will pound you into oblivion until you manage that. If not— well oopsie, the sun is shining now.

You may despise the scars on his back but he loves the heck out of it. Able to pleasure you like that, he'll definitely go around the house shirtless just to flex for a bit over the good night you had.

Speaking of being shirtless, he keeps his gloves on for a short period of time during your woohoo. Uh, why? Because the graze of the material when he runs it over your supple skin gives you the slightest yet most delectable shiver he savours watching.

The way you writhe under his grasp just like that, intensified too with how dim the lights are and how unexpected his fleeting touches would be—

Then he'll toss it away because he wants to finally grasp your flesh fully under his touch. Good shit.

Aftercare for child is,,, dependent. This decision lies mostly on you, criterias such as: a) whether you're conscious after sex, and b) whether you're conscious that you're clean after sex.

If you're too lazy or tired for cleaning up, he's uhm he's actually staying in you. Knotting. You're sleeping with a piece of him in you, so too uh totally prevent your juices from spilling hehe.

If you wake up aroused because of your circumstance, he'll happily indulge you. But he's honestly satisfied as is, so you don't have to worry about working so early in the morning.

Frustrated sex/hate sex barely happens, or doesn't happen at all. Tartaglia excels in strength in more ways that exceed your own, a huge chance he can punt you to the ground easily. And this knowledge, although thrilling, scares the man a lot.

Frustration, stress and anger is dealt off by finding someone to fight. He will not risk hurting you beyond what is pleasurable in bed.

Because to him moments together with you should be done out of love and nothing more.

He wants you to sleep in the bed remembering good memories, to dream in a blanket of positive thoughts and no remains of such horrible fragments.

It's always either top, bottom or switch right. So I present to you: all of the above. Childe likes to be on top, and if you try to dominate, he'll gladly be bottom— power bottom. Sorry honey, it's a battlefield, man's not backing down.

And finally, hands. He likes to either have your hands joined together during sex or your hands ALWAYS on him. Your squeezes and grips can ground him and he uses it to look out for his strength a lot: he uses your grip and noises to measure whether he's going too strong or too slow and will adjust accordingly.

Scaramouche NSFW Headcanons

Didn't see this one coming, did you? owo

Count: 684 words

Scaramouche is into show and tell a lot, and even before the game itself, he's making things slow and sensual in the rare moments that he has all the time in the world tonight.

He'll slowly take off his pieces of clothing one by one while maintaining solid eye contact, making sure you watch. And after his, it is his obligation to the same to you, hand gliding over the buttons and undoing them with slow yet precise movements.

He acts like a predator seducing his prey before pouncing. Urging. Manipulating. Soon enough while your senses are overwhelmed with the tingles of his hands brushing against your skin ever so slightly, you'd already found yourself on your back on the bed, fully undressed.

No, Scaramouche does not wear his fuckin hat in bed, don't ruin the mood-

Sex is like therapy to him especially with you. He uses it to get away from the world's heavy burdens and cruel machinations by drowning himself in pleasure enough to pull him away. And with this he brings you the gentleness he only ever uses when he muses or ploys under the enemy's nose.

He will divulge himself in all the details, run his hand over your ecstatic flesh: how your blood flows through your body, the bumps appearing as he passes by it, how your pulse quickens during such moments. If you look at his eyes, he looks distracted and far away, but he'll notice you staring and you'd know he's still there.

As one of his moments of relaxation, just like Childe he doesn't get violent or abusive during it. But it's not entirely impossible either, for he has moments where the frustration comes with him and he just needs a better, more brash distraction. Hot, steamy woohoo comes around when his idiot workmates do him under like the usual fuck-ups they are, lol.

Scaramouche... finds the most pleasure in overstimulation, from both sides. Short darling does not like to choose sides but he is very easy to flip over and top especially when he's still coming down from a high—

So while you top him and pound him while he's still sensitive, he's a writhing, begging mess. He's sputtering because of overstimulation, and you can do this over and over again until you know he's satisfied. How do you know he's done?

Ah, well, he flips you over and topping you for one last time with such a violent pace and a dangerous glint in his eyes. You dare make him putty, he'll do it ten times worse to you.

Scara likes bite marks on the first phase, the foreplay, or the slow and sensual phase. He doesn't like going to your neck, biting while on the peak of the sex, because it's both distracting and hard to crane so damn low like that.

The way he bites is like this: he'll first softly nuzzle his lips to your neck (his go-to spot for chomping), plant a lingering kiss, give a tentative lick then bite down. He will suck on it depending on how long he wants that hickey to stay, but there will always be ONE that stays for days. Sorry, citizen, standard procedure.

Another thing, Scaramouche is awfully quiet during sex. He doesn't hold back his noises but he ends up paying attention to yours more, aaaand he barely talks, whether it be sweet nothings or bitey remarks.

When you ask him about this the first time, the Harbinger would be pleasantly surprised because he himself didn't notice. But he could only offer a shrug and brush away the talk with a blush, stating something along the lines of 'pillow talk shouldn't be done in broad daylight.'

And so you made a hypothesis: he could be silent because he usually can't shut up like what the others said, right? Whether he quiets down from exhaustion or from guilt, you'll never find out.

After sex, he rests by leaning his ear on your chest, burying his face between your breasts. The sound is a nice lullaby enough to send him to sleep peacefully.

We all have our own interpretation of NSFW headcanons and this is just a personal thought upon breaking down their character deeper in a more psychological way lololol. May or may not be experienced on lewd stuff kek-

#exile.flower #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact childe #genshin impact scaramouche #fatui harbinger #scaramouche #childe #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #what did i just come up with while dissociating while sick lmaaaao #not for children #gender neutral

722 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Congrats on the milestone Patricia!!!!! You deserve it, I’m so so happy for you!🥺🥺

May I request “I thought you were dead…” and “I waited and waited, but you never came back” for Oberyn, perhaps? Give me angst 😈😈😈

Hello, my love! You want angst? You get angst!

Oberyn x Fem!Reader ; warnings: mentions of death

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh left his lips as sweat trickled down his brow, and his chest, quickly absorbed by the thick fabric of his golden tunic. He raised the almost empty water bottle to his lips and downed the rest of it. He cursed himself for not coming more well prepared for making this trek in his damned heat.

But then he heard it, softly, and gently and from a slight distance, but he knew exactly what it was. Your laughter - it was forever ingrained in his mind, one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. He would never forget it. But why in the heavens you wanted to move to this forsaken place he would never know. It was one of the hottest stretches of Dorne, and almost completely secluded, save for the nearby small villages.

He shuffled closer and closer, his feet slipping into the hot sand and slowing down his trek. But Oberyn was many things, including a stubborn man, and he kept pushing. Pushing and pushing through as his sole goal was you. Surely you’d be happy to see him after all this time, right? He was your lover and you were his - you’d had him heart and soul, easily wrapped around your finger.

But just before your modest home came into view, he heard a new sound, a different one. One that made him stop dead in his tracks.

“Mama!” it was a small voice, a soft one. Oberyn swallowed the lump in his throat as he stepped forward, looking to the yard of your home. Despite being in the middle of the desert, your yard was filled with trees and plants and bushes, all clearly loved and taken care of. His heart caught in his throat as he spotted the small boy, eagerly running back to the wide open door, “Mama! Can I go to the river with my friends?”

“Of course, my sweet one,” you stepped into view, wiping your hands on a rag as the boy wrapped his arms around your waist, “be careful, okay? I don’t want anything going wrong.”

“I’m always careful,” he beamed before running off, his black curls bouncing with each stride. You waved after him, the smile on your features was as blinding and lovely as the day he had met you. You hadn’t seemed to age a day, despite the years that had passed.

Oberyn watched as the small figure disappeared into the distance, his mind spinning wildly with a hundred million thoughts at once. Was he...surely he couldn’t be...but….that little boy had been the spitting image of him.

He never knew...he hadn’t known you’d been with child. He didn’t...know.

Almost as if you sensed some kind of disturbance, you looked up, shielding your eyes from the golden sun as you looked around. After a few moments, you spotted his figure in the distance, a concerned look on your face at the weary man in front of you.

“Hello!” you called out to him, walking to the edge of the gate that surrounded your home. He sucked in a nervous breath as you came closer, waiting for the second you discovered who he was. But as he took a few steps closer, you seemed just as confused, “are you alright? Do you need water - a rest?”

Oberyn’s body was humming with energy as he made his way over to you, barely able to comprehend that you were there - living proof and in the flesh. Surely you would recognize him any second...you had to. Right? Right?

Step by precious step he came closer until he was a few feet in front of you. You studied the man silently, your curiosity piqued as you realized that somehow he looked oddly familiar. His chest tightened and felt constricted as he eagerly anticipated your reaction. But you just titled your head to the side and regarded him curiously.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, "do you want to come inside and cool down?"

You motioned for him to follow, wondering momentarily if he was mute or if he was in some sort of shock. Oberyn was rooted in his spot, unable to move. Before you could turn around to see if he was following, you heard him speak. You heard your name - whispered softly, reverently.

"Sunshine…" no. No, no, no. It couldn't be, surely you were mistaken. There was only one person in the entire world that had ever called you that.

And he was dead. Long dead - you watched him die.

Slowly turning around, you breathed in deeply, your chest rising and falling anxiously as you met the man's eyes. There was a nervous expression on his face as you walked back over to him.

"What did you say?" your voice was already shaking, trembling and cracking with every word, "what did you call me?"

"Sunshine," he whispered it softly as you shook your head, eyes already burning and stinging with tears.

"No," you insisted, "you...you aren't...why would you call me that? You don't know me…"

"I do," he whispered as the tears spilled over and ran down your cheeks. He extended his hand, moving to wipe away your tears, but you flinched out of his touch, bringing an ache to his chest, "sweet girl, you know me."

"Please," you whispered softly, "I don't know you… I-I-I don't know you."

"But you do. You know my name - you know me…"

"I don't."

"Sunshine-"

"No!" you snapped harshly as you glared at him, "there was only one man that ever called me that - the only one that was ever allowed to. Do not think yourself worthy of doing such a thing!"

"What was his name?" he asked, his brown eyes softening as you refused to speak.

"Don't you dare!"

"Say it," he insisted, "what was his name?"

"Please don't do this…"

"Say my name, Sunshine," he whispered, ready to throw himself at your feet and to beg you to say it, for you absolve his sins - anything, "please…"

"Don't…"

"You know me...gods, I wish I could hear you say it one more time…"

"I-I-I thought you were dead, Oberyn," you broke and said it. It was soft, a familiar sound that felt like heaven and hell at the same time. It was a sound you hadn't heard in years, and it brought forth every emotion you'd worked to suppress and forget and keep at bay, "I waited and waited and you never came back. I waited so long - they said you were gone…"

“They thought I was,” he admitted as his face fell at the sight of yours; nothing but grief and sorrow was etched in your features. He wished he could take you and wrap you up in his arms, but how you had pulled away from him, he didn’t want to upset you further - even if it broke his heart, “after everything...they left me at first, left me to rot, but something happened and I woke up again. It was like a miracle; I don’t know what happened or why….but I survived.”

“It’s been six years, Oberyn,” you sniffled as you studied the man in front of you. He was so different from the man you had last seen; he was older, more weary looking, with stray grey hairs infusing into his beard and the curls he had left grow out. Instead of the pristine visage you had known, there were scars on the side of his face, but they didn’t deter from his beauty. If anything else, they all told a story - a story of his death and rebirth.

And yet, he was still the same as he always had been. Soft eyes, honeyed and golden only for you, with the sweetest smile. Oberyn Martell - your Oberyn.

"I know," he agreed gently, "and it took me a long time to get better. I was bedridden and barely able to function for over a year."

"And then…?" you studied him as you tried not to completely have a breakdown at the thought of him helpless and broken.

"I looked for you," he promised answering your unspoken question, "as soon as I got better and was able to. I looked everyday, far and wide, I had people look for you, but none could find you. It was like you had disappeared. Vanished."

"I had to leave," you whispered softly as the tears you had been holding back rolled down your cheeks. There was no point in trying to hold them back - after all this time, the man you had once loved was back. It was like seeing a ghost after all this time. He swallowed thickly before nodding slightly, “I couldn’t stay - not in King’s Landing, not in Sunspear, not around everyone. I couldn’t go back and face everyone, in a place where everything would remind me of you. It was too much, Oberyn. My world ended that day, with you in a pile of blood and ruin. I couldn’t...I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he whispered as he reached up again, slowly and more hesitant, testing to see how far you would let him go. This time, you shy away from his touch, letting him gently touch your cheek and wipe away the tears that didn’t seem to stop, “you did what you had to. Many people would have done the same - I’m not sure I would have done anything differently.”

“There’s...I...I didn’t just leave to protect myself,” you confessed, the words so soft and gentle they were barely audible, but Oberyn heard you loud and clear. You clasped your hands nervously, thinking back to the day you had found out. It was after Oberyn had died - or so you thought. He never knew, and suddenly it felt like a dirty secret. You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling, “Oberyn...I...we...I was with child.”

The Prince found himself unable to speak, the tears and emotion getting stuck in his throat as he nodded; his own eyes grew bleary with tears that threatened to spill over as he brushed a finger along your cheek. A heavy weight felt like it was on your shoulders, but if you knew - if you had any clue he was still alive - you would have found him...you would have told him. He looked at you with soft eyes before pulling you into a hug, unable to stop himself. You hugged him right back, unable to stop yourself, clutching at him as though he was the only thing in the world. Even after all this time, it felt the same as ever, like you had never strayed from his touch. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed a few kisses to the side of your head, “a son?”

“A son,” you reassured him softly, solidifying that the little one he had seen running around earlier had to be his son. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you pulled back and studied his face, cradling it gently in your hands before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “you finally had a son, Oberyn. I...I named him Elio. Elio Nymeros Oberyn.”

It felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs as he listened to you; this was everything he could have ever dreamed of, and yet...he hadn’t gotten to experience a single moment of it. Life was cruel that way; it gave and then it took and took and took. Oberyn’s eyes searched yours as he whispered, “for Elia? For me?”

“Of course,” you smiled softly. But before you could say anything yes, some excited shouts and laughter from the distance. It was then that reality set in and you took a step back from Oberyn, as if you suddenly remembered that this, the moment the two of you had just shared, wasn’t real life. No - it felt more like a fever dream.

“Mama!” the little boy was a blur as he excitedly sprinted towards you. Oberyn’s heart was beating wildly as he tried to get a good look at the young boy, your son - his son. He was too preoccupied with the new arrival to notice the other approaching figure, “I was going to go to the river but then I got distracted…”

You ran a hand affectionately through his dark curls, almost speechless at how much he took after Oberyn. Especially now, seeing them side by side, there was no doubt that he was Oberyn’s son. The young boy shied into your skirts as he tugged your arm around him and regarded the Prince in confusion.

“It’s okay, my little love,” you promised him as he made a small sound, “this is...umm..Nymeros.”

Oberyn had to physically stop from sweeping the young boy in a bone crushing hug. He slowly bent down so he was on Elio’s level and held his hand to him, “hi Elio. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” he said shyly, offering up a small smile, and taking Oberyn’s hand, “do you know my Mama and Papa?”

“I…” Oberyn passed for a moment before looking back at you. Surely...surely he hadn’t heard correctly…

“Oberyn, I-”

“Hello, my loves,” the arrival of another newcomer snapped you both of your daze as you turned to find your husband making his way over to the three of you. Elio’s eyes lit up as he darted away from you and towards the man. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him picking up the young boy and setting him atop his shoulders. He came over to you and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, as you beamed at him; even Oberyn couldn’t deny the glow on your features. He paused for a moment before kissing your lips gently, “hello, my sweetest.”

“Hello to you, dearest husband,” you gave him a soft smile before turning your attention back to Oberyn. The expression on his face was devastating; it was heartbreak personified. Your face pulled into a frown as you sighed lightly, “Jeron, this is...this is…”

“Nymeros,” Oberyn caught your eye, a sad little expression on his face as he held out his hand to your husband, “we...used to know each other, a long time ago, it was almost like another lifetime ago. I was...passing through and thought I recognized her and just wanted to say hello.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeron’s smile was easy as he shook Oberyn’s hand. It was easy to see why you had ended up with a man like him; he had a warm, gentle aura about him, and even Oberyn couldn’t deny his charm. He was a handsome man, tall and thin, with a shock of dark hair and almost black eyes and the most golden skin, with a smile equally as dazzling, “it’s been hot out, you must come in and cool down.”

“Oh no,” Oberyn shook his head, feeling like his heart was breaking a little more with each word, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please, we insist,” Jeron said as you looked torn, “join us for dinner! Any friend is family and welcome in our home.”

“Perhaps some other time,” Oberyn’s voice almost cracked as he looked between the two of you, finding the young boy already starting to doze off, no doubt ready for a nap, “I actually must get going. I think I’ve already stayed too long.”

“Well, you’re always welcome in our home,” Jeron promised him. He turned to you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I’m going to put the little one down for a nap.”

“Of course,” you said softly as he disappeared inside. Oberyn watched you closely for a few moments before a few tears rolled down his cheeks. It felt like a knife was twisting in your heart, but...you didn’t know. You never knew that he was alive or you would have been by his side the entire time.

“Oberyn-”

“Do you love him?” he asked softly as you felt your own tears well up again. You swallowed thickly before nodding slowly - and it was true. Jeron was a good man that you loved more than life itself, just as you once had Oberyn, “and our son. Is he good to our son?”

“He’s an amazing father,” you promised, “he loves Elio so much...he knows he is not his, but it has never stopped him loving him as his own, and Elio doesn’t know any different. He’s raised him since he was a babe.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes,” you dabbed at your eyes, “I am very happy. It took a long time to get there, but I am happy with this life. It is quiet and humble, but I love every day of it.”

“Okay,” Oberyn gave you a teary eyed, tight lipped smile, “that’s all I needed to know. That’s all I ever wanted, Sunshine.”

“Oberyn,” he took a step back and offered you one last nod. You knew what this meant - you knew what he was thinking. You shook your head as your eyes widened, “no, please, Oberyn-”

“Goodbye, Sunshine,” he whispered gently, “I love you always.”

“Please don’t...don’t just go...don’t just leave.”

“My place isn’t here,” he insisted, “but you’re happy, and...our son is happy and healthy. That’s all that matters.”

“No, no, no, please,” you knew it was useless; his mind was made up.

“I must,” he insisted softly, “you will always have my heart. May we meet again in another life, my sweet girl.”

“Oberyn…” it was a soft broken whisper as he slowly turned to walk away. He wanted to look back, but he couldn’t. Instead, he let his tears flow freely as he left, each step breaking his heart bit by bit. It felt like you were losing him all over again, “Oberyn.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #forever-rogue's follower celebration

415 notes · View notes

oldtowrs · 3 years

Note

i was wondering if you could write something where maybe the reader is obi-wan’s s/o and maybe he’s noticed that they’ve been down for the past few days and he like sits them down and talks to them about it and is just kind of comforting about it? i completely understand if this is too heavy and i apologize if it is. i hope you’re having a beautiful day :) <333

HER COMFORT, HIS STARLIGHT ——————— ˚ ⋆ ⊹ * · .

➣ an obi-wan kenobi/senator!reader fanfic

➣ SUMMARY - obi-wan realizes that his absence and the war is taking its toll on his significant other, the reader. and so, he takes it upon himself to comfort his lovely senator.

➣ A/N - of course I can! not too heavy at all! thank you so much for the request ! I got so excited when I saw the notification, you have no idea. I hope it was okay that I took a little bit of creative freedom in what was causing the reader's sadness. and I also added in a little bit of heart shattering jedi code vs. loving jedi angst. I also didn't pay too much attention to editing so lmk if there's a typo. feel free to send me something to write or maybe check out my masterlist for my other works!

➣ WORD COUNT - ~2.5k

➣ WARNINGS - sad reader, and I think that's it. maybe mentions of war.

--------- ˗ˏˋ ☼ ˎˊ˗ ---------

obi-wan felt it. he felt the way the sadness crept in and dimmed the edges of the force signature he loved so wholly. he felt it fading in and out whenever he was around, and while that was at least a small comfort - for it meant that you were at least happy in his presence - the lingering sadness had been there for days. and obi wan couldn't bear to see you suffer in silence any longer.

you're sadness was overwhelming your force signature, though you were not aware of it, and obi-wan wished that he could focus on relaying his latest mission into holofile for the archives, but it was damn near impossible when you were sitting so delicately and so forlorn on his bed, losing yourself in a holo-book to keep the sadness at bay. he wanted more than anything to be in your arms, pressing kiss after fluttering kiss to the curve of your heated cheek, to see you smile and feel the sadness lose its grip on the one he so dearly loved.

he loved that about you: how strongly your emotions were shown through the force. your angelic halo of soft sweetness was adorable to obi-wan, especially when it mixed with his and softened the edges of his grief-wracked essence and ebbed the pain of holding the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

but that was besides the point. your sadness, and the simple remembrances of your smile and your laugh was enough to tug at his heartstrings. the idea that something was bothering you, a fault that could potentially trace itself back to him, was worrying him. and so, in the soft, blue light of the fading day, with the bustling, silvery coruscant as a shining backdrop, obi-wan sat before your place on his bed and tried to make it better. a single, ever-gentle, fingertip brushed along your jawline before delving smoothly into your hair, and brushing the strands that had fallen into your beautiful face behind your ear - diverting you from the holo-book that had so thoroughly held your attention only moments before. the sensation of his gesture and the softness that lingered in his starry, ice blue gaze brought a small smile to your lips, but only for a moment before it returned to nothingness.

'whatever is the matter?' he fussed, worry drawing a slight crease between his brows, and collecting in the forming wrinkles by his eyes - a small detail of his which you absolutely adored. 'your signature. it feels...sad and conflicted.'

your head dipped in shame at obi's question.

he was a jedi, you a senator; he was constantly across the galaxy fighting a war that you were stuck dictating, praying to the maker that he would return. he had only just returned from a mission in the outer rim that had taken months, and now in three rotations he would be gone again, off to some remote planet or star system to hunt down the separatists and the sith, to bring the good within him to the galaxy.

yes, of course something's the matter, my sweet jedi.

how could you tell him? how could you so selfishly claim that you were not whole without him - him and his comforting presence waiting for you in your chambers after a long day of debates in the senate chambers, his soft words of comfort and his sweet nothings that fell from his lips like honey, the way his strong arms would hold you so delicately close and his fingertips would lose themselves in your hair on the days when the war was especially hard on the both of you, his laughter, his shining blue eyes and strawberry blonde beard, and warm smile and just him - when billions of lives depended on him and his 212th? how could you so selfishly want for him, when it was already forbidden, already against his code, when his deft hand and shining lightsaber and his incredible negotiating skills and duty was to the galaxy, not to you?

your silence was deafening, and obi-wan was drowning in it. and so he raised a gentle hand to the soft curve of your cheek, letting his thumb run loving little circles into the skin there as if to say please, darling... I'm here. just tell me.

you couldn't help but lean into his touch, eyelashes fluttering against his palm to hide the tears that had sprung to your eyes and burned like the wildfire of guilt, lips soft and plump as they hid themselves in his touch.

and then his hand lifted from your cheek, so he could place his forehead against yours as two fingers grazed your temple gently - a polite and loving query, a plea to let him in.

'may I, darling?' obi-wan asked, words no more than a heated whisper that fanned against your skin delicately.

and with a nod and your silent permission, you felt your energy gently flex inward as his consciousness became one with yours, the warmth of his signature melding with your own. a tear fell gently down the curve of your cheek and collected along the ridge of obi wan's thumb before it cascaded down his wrist. obi-wan found tears of his own gathering beneath fluttering lashes at the mixture of longing and guilt that filled him as you let him in.

'oh, my starlight.'

eyes fluttered open, shining with the silvery light of stars and of coruscant and with worry and guilt, longing and love.

'I'm sorry, obi-wan, I know you-"

your pain-filled whisper was cut short by obi-wan's lips, soft and kind against your own as he held the sides of your face with gently calloused hands. you could feel the remnants of his signature, warm and strong, still mixing with your own.

now it was obi-wan's turn to bow his head under the heavy weight of war. his hands found your palm, fingertips pressing lightly against your pulse as he lifted your hands to his lips with his own. his beard was soft and tickled the backs of your hands as he pressed kiss after kiss to the soft hills and valleys of your knuckles.

'my duty is to you, first and foremost. it's this blasted war that is tearing me away from my duty, from where I belong... from you. not the other way around.'

his words were soft, and his lips kind as they brushed delicately against your skin as he talked in barely more than a strained whisper, kissing trails of love along your hands and upwards towards your wrists.

'but thousands-millions even... they owe their lives to you obi-wan. you break the code for me, risk everything for me, and on top of that you have a war to fight and win,' you worried, the tears beginning to spill over. 'and here I am, crying like a child over your departures as if I have some claim to you, as if my life is more important than a galaxy of others who-'

'oh, my starlight, no,' obi-wan's gaze shot up to find your own, soft and serene, and filled with twinkling, sobbing stars dancing in his own tear-glazed gaze in that moment where his brows were drawn together to form that soft little line between them and his frown was so profound that the beard of auburn and gold did very little to hide it.

'darling, I need you to forget about that, forget about the galaxy, and listen to my words, alright? can you do that for me?'

you nodded softly, a timid, worried signal to continue. his hands, oh those strong, calloused hands, so delicate against your skin, so loving and protective, found the sides of your face again, his thumbs wiping the tears away until they were no more.

'this war would mean nothing to me if it weren't for you. i am a jedi, yes, a trained warrior and a negotiator, a pilot and a general. but above all, I am yours. you hear me?'

the emphasis he put on the word yours was enough to make your heart melt, sprout wings of white feather and take flight, and shatter into a million pieces all at once. and as if the soft push of the dark warmth of his timbre and the soft lilt of coruscanti basic through the space between the two of you wasn't enough, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pushing through the force the absolute adoration he had for you, the highest regard to which he held you in his heart. you were his starlight, the entity of life and light around which he revolved. and a war, nor a code of aloof isolation could stray him from your gravitation.

his hands fell from your face, sliding to the back of your head and the curve of your spine, guiding you into his arms and comforting embrace. you sighed as he tucked your chin into the curve of his neck and broad shoulder, gathering you into him and holding you tight.

'I know its hard, darling. i hate to leave you for months on end too, to not be able to hold you close after a long day in the senate and in the council, to not see your lovely smile, to worry that your safe and some blithering idiot hasn't attempted to take your life from me. it takes all I have not to turn around and run back into your arms the moment I leave. I feel your sadness, darling. I feel it across star systems, from the outer rim to the edges of wild space, for maker's sake. our grievances with this war are one, I assure you.'

you knew obi-wan could feel your tears streaming from your face on onto his bare shoulder in that moment, and you thanked the maker and the stars above when his fingers started combing gently through your hair and rubbing soothing circles in your back, calming you in the ways he knew only he could.

'but you have to understand, this war changes nothing about how I feel for you. you are entitled to your love, my starlight, just as I am to mine... to you. it is not selfish, not when your presence in the force has become one with mine, and mine with yours. my love for you only grows stronger the more I'm away from you, and solidifies its existence in my heart in your presence. yes, thousands of lives depend on me, but I depend on you, darling. I am yours, not the galaxy's... yours.'

obi-wan pulled you gently from your place upon his shoulder, your arms sliding from his back like silk and chiffon sliding gently, lovingly against cotton and wool. his stormy gray irises softened to a shining blue, devotion twinkling like stardust in the dim light of his chambers as his gaze found yours, and a smile so whole and so true spread across his lips, and caused his eyes to wrinkle sweetly at the corners while he held you steady with those loving hands against your cheeks, tear and heated blush mixing upon their surface.

'darling, stop crying, your going to make me cry,' he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the storm of guilt and longing that had been forming over the past few days now dissipating to a lovely sun shower in your heart.

'forgive me,' you laughed quietly, a smile taking over and eyes fluttering shut delicately, knowing that his accusation was only made in jest to make you smile.

his forehead met yours, soft auburn hair, tickling your cheek as it fell from its neat place atop his his head. in that moment you couldn't be happier, your worries dissipating into the nothingness of the quietly sweet moment.

'you are my reason to fight, darling. but more importantly, you are my reason to live, to return, to make this galaxy a better place for the both of us. I know it takes weeks and months away from us, my love, but I will not leave you... and I will never stop loving you.'

his words may have dissipated into the cool evening air around you, but they had burned themselves into your heart and into your memory, for later use when he was off-planet again and you were in need of his comfort.

'darling?'

the words broke the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two of you.

'yes, obi?'

'once this war is over,' obi-wan whispered, his words full of weight and of love. 'say the word, and I will leave the jedi order.'

your eyes shot open, shock sending you reeling out of the soft moment as a gasp fell like forget-me-nots from your lips. you searched obi-wan's now equally frantic gaze for any semblance of a joke, the humor and sarcasm he was so ell equipped with. yet, all you can find in his cerulean gaze is love, fidelity, devotion, and a down-right seriousness which shook you to your core.

'obi-wan! you can't be serious!'

'I am, darling,' he sighs, 'if it means a place in the galaxy that is only ours... the rest of my eternity spent with you, then I will.'

'but your position on the council! the order-'

'are nothing compared to the purpose I have found in you, my starlight.'

oh... oh obi-wan.

'your love gives me strength,' he sighed, gaze softening once more from their serious sharpness that had filled them only moments before, the severity of his promise ebbing away to loving truth as his thumbs began their circling comfort once more. 'and no code nor meditative session can give me the sense of goodness and purpose your love does. should you give me the chance and the honor, my starlight, I will leave the order. but the choice is yours. do you understand?'

'obi-wan, are you completely sure that's what you want?'

'as sure as I am that you are here before me, tucked into my arms, and that it is here with you that I belong,' he murmured, the corner of his lips quirking upward slightly into a lopsided grin. a note of worry plagued his aura as the adorable little crease formed once more between his brows. oh, how you wanted to kiss his worry away, starting with that adorable little crease.

'is it what you want?'

'I just laid my thoughts and feelings from the past few months before you, obi-wan,' you laughed, with a delicate shake of your head, a shining smile and an adorable scrunch of the bridge of your nose that sent obi-wan's heart flying through the stars. 'you truly think I wouldn't want you all to myself for as long as you can bear to be with me?'

a hearty laugh filled the small quarters as obi-wan threw his head back in laughter at your comment, falling back happily onto the clean linens with you not so far behind.

'there is nothing to bear, darling,' he smiled happily, the whole of the corellia system shining in his loving eyes, as he began to fiddle with the hair that had fallen into your eyes. 'and everything to love.'

you reveled in the way his arms wrapped around you in that moment, holding you to his broad chest as your fingertips delved into the auburn waves of his beard, before pressing a kiss so sweet to his lips, that you couldn't help but linger mere centimeters from him after they parted from your own.

'you better end this war soon then, general kenobi.'

obi-wan's heart burst aflame at the sound of his title falling like a prayer from your loving lips, lips that burned to meet his again and again in thunderingly sweet succession.

'for you, my shining starlight - my darling - the galaxy is yours.'

--------- ˗ˏˋ ☼ ˎˊ˗ ---------

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posted apr.29.2021. update not available.

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #sw prequels #obi wan fluff #obi wan x you #obi wan fanfic #obi wan oneshot

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satingrove · 3 years

Text

repose

pairing: frankie morales x gn reader (no y/n, no pronouns)

summary: frankie is a soft lover — especially in the morning, when there’s no plans for the day.

word count: 1.6k of frankie, fluff, and feelings

warnings: none! (but he comes with his own warning)

Rolling in his sleep, Frankie wakes to the abrupt bumping of his nose against your shoulder. He winces and rubs it softly, eyes blurry as they take in the day’s first sight: you, laying on your belly, your side now pressed against him.

There’s hardly any natural light to see which shape you take under the covers — it must be earlier than usual, or enough clouds have formed outside to block the sun from seeping through the blinds — but he feels your knee press to the side of his thigh, at least.

He lets head fall back to the pillow with a thud and slides his arm over your back, pulling you snug to his bare skin. Now conscious, he’s able to press his nose and lips on your shoulder again gently, dragging his bottom lip a few inches toward your neck. He notes your smell, how it mixes with his, how it seems lighter the more time he spends with you, the more he’s used to it. He’d bottle it if he could.

For a moment more, he’s patient, watching you as his eyes adjust. By his hand, your shirt becomes considerably bunched up around your torso, left with the wet marks of his lips. Your cheek is pressed neatly into the pillow and he smiles at that — the squished softness of your face.

“Baby,” he whispers, shifting some of his weight onto your body, fingers tracing a mindless line down your back as his chest presses warm to it.

His radiating heat is enough to wake you up, his open-mouthed kisses only speeding up the process. You lift your face from the crook of your elbow, met with Frankie’s big brown eyes looming, the corners of his mouth curved upwards.

“Hmm?”

That hum is Frankie’s invitation to roll you onto your back. He’s sure and gentle, pushing his hands under your sides and letting his palms ride the movement of your body as you turn. The pillow, the mattress, Frankie — even the huff he gives when he settles his legs between your own — are all soft against you. The sudden feeling of waking doesn’t feel so scary when it’s Frankie’s doing; he’s slow, considerate.

Through a veil of devotion, he looks at you. Natural and messy, far from proper — you like him like that.

“Hi,” he breathes, tracing his nose down the side of your warm face, until his lips are level with yours for a sweet and drawn out kiss.

“Good morning,” you murmur, stretching your arms above your head. The extension is pleasant, your muscles doing their subtle shake of relief. Lacing your fingers together, you mean to catch Frankie in the loop of your arms, but he’s swiftly moving down your body on his palms. “Baby—”

He gets level with your middle, fingers lifting the hem of your shirt, and he gleams at you, ducking his head under the fabric to give your stomach feather-light kisses. His lips are firm and wet, gliding easily over you, leaving cool traces over the curves of your belly and hips. The scruff of his face tickles on your skin, your own laughter exceeding his in volume as you grab the fabric from his head. The rustling of your shirt has his hair frizzing up, and he looks at you sweetly, innocently, messy curls spilling over his forehead.

You lift a brow, “Do you like my tummy?”

“Yes.” He whispers lowly, dipping his head to hide his flushed face.

“Are you going to kiss me all over?” You ask, expecting him to collapse back onto your chest and fall back asleep with you, but he smiles, about to peck your cheek when you lay a finger over his mouth.

“Wait,” you tease, “I bet you wouldn’t kiss my feet.”

His brows furrow, considering a sudden challenge, “...I’d kiss your feet.”

A pout at your uncertainty in him turns to a wicked grin, his body sliding even further down the mattress until your ankle is firmly set in his grip.

“No… Frankie!”

He settles on his knees, bringing your foot up to his shoulder, “Don’t worry, baby,” he soothes your panicked giggles, his lips pressing to the inside of your ankle. “Is that better?”

“Mhm, yeah,” you relax, the air from your lungs passing through your wide smile.

He releases your ankle, your leg pliant in his hands as he bends it at the knee, kissing his way up there. Frankie takes his time — that’s the man he is — patient and giving in his ways of loving you. He rests his chin on your knee, with your foot resting flat on the mattress.

Your breaths settle down to a steady in and out, him watching you intently, lips swollen and pink. He blinks and presses his face into your skin — even now, your stare heats him up from the inside out, and he feels much younger than he is; a spark of energy fueled by affection flits through him. It seems he may even fall asleep right here on your leg, drowsy and untroubled, though he rises with time, body stretching until he can nip at your neck, a hand gently easing your leg back down.

“What do you want to do today, baby?” He asks between open-mouthed kisses that have your breath hitching considerably, unaware of his knowing smirk.

“I— shit, I have to do laundry today. I don’t wanna do it.”

“Then don’t,” he whispers matter-of-factly, “I don’t care if you walk around naked.”

He knows even better than you that there will never be much to do on a lazy morning, or rather, that nothing you should do will get done. You are lying beneath him with your hands caught in his hair, his chest pressed to yours, and there is nothing as or more important that can pull him from this spot. Nothing higher on his list of morning pleasures — for each day of the week — including the days where he almost has you running late, days when morning pleasures must be given up for work and obligations.

Today is not one of those days. He lets his weight keep you here in his bed.

You take his face in your hands and tug him from the crook of your neck until you can see him, in all his seriousness.

“I really don’t,” he adds, tracing a finger up your shoulder.

“I know, but I don’t think so. Too cold.”

“That’s it?” He laughs, settling back into you, supported by his elbows. “Too cold?”

“What else do you suggest?” You lean up into his face, lips moving pleasantly against his patchy stubble, peppered with new greys, his fading scar just above.

He makes an appreciative noise, dropping a kiss before your hairline, “You wear my clothes,” — another to your temple — “leave your laundry for another day, ignore putting away the dishes… something like that.”

Your thigh slides against his hip, his words halting.

The sheets are an overwhelming heat with the presence of your bodies, Frankie’s a little more feverish.

“Because, honey, we can do those boring things, if you want,” he taunts, gaining back his upper hand, pressing his fingertips to your sides, “the laundry, the dishes, the tidying,” he nips at your earlobe, taking it between his teeth, “I’ll make you watch me cut the grass, even…” He trails off into an open-mouthed glide down your neck, humming along to your sounds and subsequent squirming.

Gathering your breath, you tell him, “That last one doesn’t sound so bad.”

He huffs, shaking his head. He knew you’d say that.

“I like to watch you,” you continue, gripping his broad shoulders, and it’s nothing if not true. A soothing but wild fondness clouds you, thinking of Frankie doing these handy and domestic things, his cap thrown over his curls and his shirt a little damp.

The room has gotten lighter — you can see deeper into his wide eyes and he can see deeper into yours. “You want your coffee, baby? I’ll make some—”

Fingers curl tighter and arms flex around you, confirming that you’re not leaving this bed for another few hours, at least. These are the hands you feel safe in. The calloused and capable hands that gift you an undying sense of importance to him. He holds you like this when he’s needy, lifted against his whole front, and this is when he feels like they’re being put to good use, keeping you in close proximity.

He grumbles, muffled by your neck. “I haven’t slept in with you all week.”

The raspy edge to his voice has worn off and eased into its habitual velvet richness, and you don’t need to see his face to know those plush lips are in a pout, no matter how steady his words sound. But you need no more convincing than that, and the two of you are so tangled up in the sheets, you’re not sure you’d find a way out to make coffee anyway.

Frankie continues on, “There’s... nowhere else to be… today.”

He’s slipping back into a light doze, little puffs of air ghosting you, and you can feel the complete press of his soft belly against yours when he fully relaxes into you.

“And nothing to do,” you add, though still content to do these mundane tasks if Frankie is there, but only after you wake up the second time when it’s no longer morning, after coffee is made and his loose button up is haphazardly thrown on with his underwear — because he can’t be bothered to do it up all the way, and you don’t mind the view.

tags: @queenbbarnes @ayamenimthiriel @princessxkenobi @filthybookworm @mitchi-c @jettia @bookofbriar @nomanchesnoncreator @harrys-stan @meshlamando @jabbajambler @nakhudanyx @lycheemi @kj-holmes @goldengubs @mandoclan @lady-of-glass-and-bone @thehippiequilter

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #mediocre fluff let's GOOOOO

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

Haii so i have a promot for you, it’s stuckony and it’s based around a carrie Underwood song called “ Renegade Runaway “

So basically Steve and Bucky are outlaw, who rob trains, banks, and gamble

Tony is a sharffes and teacher kid, who is also one hell of a gunslinger (like Doc holiday,bat masterson, and Wyatt earp), he’s also a blacksmith

Also happy early birthday! 💙

Thank you for the birthday wishes! This ended up being a lot sadder than I originally intended and I wasn't able to include everything, but I hope it still lives up to expectations!

As always, this fic is also on ao3

Tony has his pistol out almost before the door closes behind him. He peers into the darkness of the yard behind the smithy, silently complaining about his eyes taking too long to adjust from the bright fires to the gathering twilight. It puts him at a disadvantage for whoever is waiting out there for him.

“Aw darlin’, is that any way to greet your two favorite outlaws?” someone drawls.

Tony snorts and holsters the pistol again. “Two outlaws, you might be, but my favorites? Far from it,” he snarks.

Bucky Barnes steps into the light spilling out from the window, hand dramatically placed over his heart. “Tony, that cuts me to the quick. Really, the cruelty of your words, they break my heart.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, unimpressed. He turns his back on Bucky and locks the smithy door. Peter will leave through the front when he’s finished sweeping and extinguished the lights. Everything else is already stored in the backroom for the night, so there’s no reason he needs to worry about leaving the door unlocked, though he certainly could. Timely isn’t the sort of town that invites trouble, not like some of the lawless towns further west.

When he turns back around, Bucky has moved closer, nearly looming over him. Tony leans back against the door, letting Bucky press against him. Bucky will do it anyway, it’s easier to just give in to him now instead of putting up a fight they both know he doesn’t want.

“You gonna apologize for bein’ so mean?” Bucky breathes into his ear.

“No,” Tony says flatly, crossing his arms. “It’s the honest truth.”

It’s not. Nearly everyone in Timely knows Tony’s sweet on Bucky and his partner, who must be around here somewhere since Bucky mentioned both of them. But it wouldn’t do to be too easy for them. He’s not one of Natasha’s girls after all, giggly and flirtatious and willing to turn their skirts up for a little bit of coin. He likes to make his boys work to get him soft and smiling.

“Now that’s just an outright lie,” someone else says. Tony turns his head to see Steve’s bright blue eyes much closer than he’d expected given that he’d only sensed one of them in the yard earlier. “You love us.”

“Don’t,” Tony denies, turning his head in the other direction so he doesn’t have to see either of them. Steve may be right, Tony isn’t nearly as annoyed by them as he pretends, but loving the two of them makes his life so very hard that it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t have any feelings for them.

“Tony,” Steve murmurs.

Tony stubbornly refuses to look at them. These two outlaws waltz into town all too rarely, typically on the heels of some mess that’ll raise the rewards on their heads yet again, and turn Tony’s life upside down for the brief time they’re in Timely, only to break his heart when they inevitably leave. Sometimes, he wishes he’d never met them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers eventually, keeping his eyes fixed on the side of the saloon down the street. “The sheriff’s in town tonight. If he catches wind of you—you know Howard wants to be the one to bring you in.”

“Your father’s on a wild goose chase, honey,” Bucky says. “He got word we were hiding out in Howling Canyon.”

“Are you?”

“Do we look like we’re in Howling Canyon?” Steve asks amusedly.

“No. I meant when you’re not—” He stops, biting back the last few words. When they’re not in his bed, he means, but he can’t bring himself to say that. After an awkward pause, he finishes, “When you’re not in town.”

“No,” Steve assures him. “We’re staying—”

“Don’t tell me where,” Tony interrupts, finally turning back to look at them. They both look worried, and he wonders if they know how tired he is of this game they’ve been playing for five years. “You know I’ll have to tell Howard if he asks.”

Not that Howard would. The sheriff is one of the few people who doesn’t know that his son houses the two outlaws when they’re in Timely. He couldn’t even imagine that his son would dare defy him under his nose like that. But both Steve and Bucky know what happens when Tony doesn’t jump to Howard’s every order. They were the ones who took him to Dr. Banner’s after all, after Howard broke his arm for taking too long to finish the horseshoes for Jericho.

Steve’s eyes are stormy at the reminder of Howard’s wrath. Bucky’s mouth is set in a tight line. Neither of them approve of Howard. They’ve told Tony once before that they would take him away from here if only he would let them. But he won’t. There’s too much keeping him in Timely: his mother and Rhodey, even young Peter, who’s only been apprenticed to him for a few months. He can’t just go gallivanting off into the sunset, no matter how badly he wants to. And besides, he knows that the only reason they ask is so that he can get away from Howard. He doesn’t delude himself there. They’d let him go with them just out of range of Howard’s reach and then they’d cut him loose. It’s pity that makes them ask, not—not anything else.

“Just—” He sighs and ducks out from under Bucky’s arm. “Come on. Howard isn’t stupid. He’ll figure out you’re not in Howling Canyon eventually, and I’d like both your cocks at least once before he does.”

Tony once had aspirations of being one of the best gunslingers in the west. He had the best aim this side of the Mississippi and he was quick. He’d been planning on making a name for himself, same as his father had.

Bucky’s bullet through his left thigh had put an end to that dream real quick.

He’d been young—hardly even an adult—foolhardy, and unwilling to listen to Jarvis’ warnings that he wasn’t ready to take on Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, who’d been terrorizing the towns in their small territory for the last three years. He’d been so convinced that he would be the one to bring them in and collect on the bounty. He’d studied their movements, known how they thought, and when Timely had gotten word that the two outlaws had robbed a bank in Faircreek, he’d ridden off on his own toward Harshaw instead of Tombstone like all the evidence pointed to.

He’d been right; the trail to Tombstone had been a false one. But he hadn’t had long to rest on his laurels because he’d been noticed. Steve and Bucky hadn’t been as lax in their vigilance as he’d assumed and they’d lain in wait for him, ambushed him, and ultimately shot him.

To this day, he doesn’t know what drove the two outlaws to take him in instead of leaving him out there to die in the desert, but they had. They’d carefully nursed him back to health, taken care of him when his injury had led to fever, and eventually, after nearly two months together, brought him to their bed with sweet words and sweeter kisses. He’d thought he would have done anything for them after that night, but the next morning, they’d sent him back on his way to Timely with nothing more than a promise that they’d be dropping in to check on him. It had been kind, though the damage had already been done. Tony’s injury ensured he’d never be the gunslinger he’d once dreamt of and his heart had been shattered. He’d apprenticed with Happy, taken up blacksmithing as a trade, and moved out of his parents’ home and into a small house not far from the smithy as his bad leg kept him from walking any great distances.

And when Bucky and Steve had kept their promise and stopped by his house to see him, well, his resolve to send them packing had withered. He’d made sure no one had noticed them and welcomed them inside, his poor heart still beating against his ribs in the pattern of their names.

They love him, he thinks, or at least they love him as best as they can, which is to say they don’t love him as much as he loves them. They certainly don’t love him enough to take him with them. And he understands—he does, despite what Rhodey thinks. His bad leg is a hindrance to outlaws such as themselves, particularly when it isn’t like they have a home base they could leave him out while they go out to commit whatever crime has struck their fancy. No, they’ve been nomads for as long as Tony has known them, never tied down to any one place, and he’s grateful that they at least love him enough to stay in this area instead of moving on to greener pastures.

He checks that the street is clear and then hurries them into his home. It’s changed slightly since the last time Steve and Bucky were in Timely. Pepper gifted him with a rug to go in front of the fireplace six months ago and Peter’s aunt made him a series of sketches of the view from the top of Howling Canyon that he hung in the kitchen. But other than that, the house is much the same as it’s always been, and he isn’t surprised when neither Steve nor Bucky pay any attention to the changes in favor of following him to the bedroom.

They strip him in silence, hands so gentle he’d call them reverent if he didn’t know any better. But he does know better. They don’t love him enough to be reverent. Reverence is saved for each other, for how Steve looks at Bucky in the early dawn when he thinks they’re both still sleeping, for Bucky saving Steve an extra cup of coffee, for the way they know how to tack each other’s horses just as well as they know their own. Reverence isn’t saved for him.

But he treats themreverently. He’s always treated them that way, since the night they took him to their bed. He’s never known any other way to love. They had been his first, the ones to ruin him for all others, and a small part of him hates them for that even as he kisses them hungrily, savoring these few moments he gets to spend with them.

He goes to his knees for them, worships Bucky’s cock with his mouth while Steve undresses, then lays down for Steve to open him up. He lets them fuck him, moans their names while they whisper praises in his ear, and pretends that this is enough, that he doesn’t want more. He imagines it though, imagines Steve lifting him onto Nomad and following Bucky out of town, never to return.

Bucky falls asleep when they’re done—he always does—so Steve is the one who stands and finds a washcloth from somewhere in the house. He wipes the three of them off and then lays down on his side, facing Tony.

“You’re sad tonight,” he says quietly.

“No,” Tony denies. He doesn’t want them to know that he wants more, that he’d do just about anything to get it. They’ll only feel bad that they can’t give him what he wants, like it’s any fault of theirs.

“You are,” Steve insists. “You try to hide it, but you are.”

“Steve…”

“I won’t ask you.” Steve’s own eyes are sad as he reaches out to run delicate fingers over Tony’s face. “I know you wouldn’t tell me anyway. That’s okay; you’re entitled to your secrets, sweetheart.”

There’s something terribly earnest in Steve’s expression, something that Tony doesn’t think he’s seen before. And he’s so close to blurting it out, begging Steve for something he can’t have. He swallows the words back with difficulty and asks instead, “What did you two do this time?”

Steve shrugs as best as he can. “A train.”

“A—” Tony stills. “You didn’t. Steve, you couldn’t. You’ll bring the Marshals down on your heads.”

“Had to,” Steve says casually. “Was the only way to get enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Gold,” Bucky says from behind him, startling him.

It takes a moment for the word to sink in, but his breath comes faster as he realizes just what they’ve done. “You didn’t,” he repeats, sitting up. He scrambles to the end of the bed, as far away from Steve and Bucky as he can get. The outlaws sit up as well, leaning against the headboard as they watch him warily. “What were the two of you thinking? No, don’t answer that. I know exactly what you were thinking: you weren’t. Because if you were, you would have known better. Forget the Marshals, you’ll bring the whole damn army down on your heads. How could you have been so stupid?”

“We were thinking we’d like to get a house,” Steve says, cutting him off.

“A—a house?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky agrees. “We found ourselves a little patch of land in California we’d like to settle down in. Needed one last robbery to get us enough money to buy it.”

Tony’s heart stops beating, he swears it does. “California,” he repeats faintly.

“Sure, they’ll never think to look for us in California.”

Bucky sounds so calm, as though he can’t see that Tony’s heart is breaking in front of them. How can he be so cruel? How can he just causally mention that they’re leaving him forever, as though the last five years mean nothing to them?

“When are you leaving?” he manages, and it shocks him how calm he sounds when he feels as though his grief is visible from the stars.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says. There’s something careful in the way he looks at Tony, like he at least might have some idea of what’s going through Tony’s head.

Tony repeats, “Tomorrow.” He nods, blinking furiously to try to clear his eyes of the treacherous tears he can feel welling up. He can’t let them know. They’re leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t want them to go. He knows it would have happened eventually. The lawless west is shrinking more and more each day. It’s only a matter of time before the law catches up to them. Their only option is to leave and go somewhere no one knows them. But does it have to be so soon? He’d thought they would have more time.

“So this is goodbye, then,” he says, twisting the bedcovers in his hands. He can’t look at them, too afraid they’ll know what’s racing through his head if he does.

“…Goodbye?” Steve asks. He sounds puzzled. Tony hates that. What right does he have to be confused? That’s for Tony, seeing as how he’s the one who’s been left out of the loop during all this. God above, how long have they been planning this? It must have been at least a year in the making.

“Yes, goodbye,” he says. “One last fuck to see you off, right?”

“One last… Tony,” Bucky says sharply, “do you think we’re plannin’ on leavin’ you here?”

Tony’s heart stops for the second time in as many minutes. “You’re not?” he asks, daring to peek at them. Steve looks horrified, Bucky thunderous as he leans forward to tug Tony into his arms. Tony doesn’t resist, too tired of pretending, too confused by the twists this conversation has taken to argue. Steve curls up against Bucky’s side, carding gentle fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Sweetheart, did you think we weren’t gone on you?” Steve asks, kissing his forehead. “We’ve been fallin’ for you since you figured out where we were goin’ and chased us down.”

“But you never asked me to come with you.”

“S’pose that’s my fault,” Bucky says gruffly. He gingerly touches the scar on Tony’s leg where Bucky’s bullet had ripped through him. “We saw how much pain you were in an’ we couldn’t bear to make it any worse. An’ that’s just what would have happened if you’d spent every night out there with us. We wanted to keep you safe, thought you’d be happier if you weren’t always in pain.”

“I wanted you,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw. “I didn’t want to be left behind.”

“Yeah, we, uh, we get that now,” Steve mutters sheepishly. “Tony, say you’ll come with us this time. Don’t make us go off on our own this time. We want you to come, can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it.”

He should argue. He should remind them that in the five years they’ve been riding off and leaving him at home, he’s built a life. He has a business and an apprentice and a little house that he likes. He’s not the wide-eyed child he once was, dreaming of adventure. But then, neither are Steve and Bucky, if they really do mean that they’re going to get to California and settle down.

“Darlin’?”

The next morning, Peter arrives at the smithy to find the backdoor locked and the fire cold. He frowns; it’s not like Tony to still be home at this hour. He turns on his heel and heads to Tony’s house. It’s as dark as the smithy is though it doesn’t look like anything is out of place.

Tony is nowhere to be seen. He wonders for an instant if Tony spent the night at Rhodey’s, as he sometimes does when it’s been too long between Steve and Bucky’s visits (though Peter isn’t supposed to know anything about the outlaws). He turns to leave, planning on heading over to Rhodey’s to ask if he’s seen Tony this morning, only to catch a glimpse of something on the kitchen table, glinting in the early morning sunlight pouring in from the door.

Curious, he wanders over to find a single gold coin—and a letter addressed to him. Peter immediately pockets the coin and then opens the letter. It’s written in Tony’s messy scrawl and he reads it eagerly, hoping it’ll tell him where Tony’s gone.

Peter,

I hope you’ve spotted this. The coin is for you. Under the bed, there’s a pouch full of more coins, but those are for Happy. They should be enough to drag Happy out of the quiet life to finish your apprenticeship. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but it was time to move on.

If anyone asks where I’ve gone, tell them I’ve run away to California.

Tony

#alle writes #alle answers #stuckony #if you like please reblog #nsfk #ish

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strawberry-nugget · 3 years

Text

𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝘼/𝙉: This is my piece for my very own collab 'Ice Cold Heart' and also my excuse to delve into some more canon rather than fanon Hawks, because canon Hawks has been clouding my mind lately and I needed to get this out

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Hawks/fem!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Angst, mentions of sexual themes

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k

"I'm in love with you"

The precious meaning of a phrase is only defined by the weight you decide to put on it. And today you have decided that with your words you'd give birth to what's only going to give you and him pure, undefined pain. An elephant in the room if you may, an ogre of emotions that otherwise would be unwanted to stand between the two of you.

You think 'otherwise' as if it's not unwanted already. The unrequited nature of your sentence will linger in your heart more than you'd like to admit, but you're ready to lift your eyes and meet his golden ones, ready to be judged with the coldness of his gaze, ready to be treated like you've expected you will when coming into his office.

You still have that hidden truth to spill to him, and it surpasses the one you spilt already, but you hold your dry tongue in your mouth for now.

What could possibly only hurt like a kitten's scratch -his mute, his echoing silence- is rather twisting numerous sharp daggers in your chest, twirling over the wound of your feelings, ravaging any hope for salvation you had been left with. You wonder how your friends ever managed to convince you that the hardest thing about confessing was the part where you had to build up your courage.

Your courage never suffered from a hit as you walked to his office, despite being terrified for what you had to say to him. Paperwork in your hands and none of a nervous trembling in your lips, iron clad feet clashing with the tiles of the building. You've made your decision to get rid of all those feelings, not wanting to spend another night bent on his desk or sprawled under him, only for him to act like he barely knows you in the office and then to be all greedy and sweet in public events.

His games, that god awful behavior of his, the way he chooses to use you -even if you feel like you use him to, to turn him into something that he's not with your imagination- you're tired of everything. And then there's also the fact that he's a traito-

"Aha"

The answer to your confession wasn't supposed to affect you either for better or for worse, rather this confession was an egotistical act, Mirko, or any of your friends previously said, that one had to endure in order to take the next big step. Whether that was a step accompanied by your desired person, or a step to redeeming the anathema a rejection could have caused.

Frankly it wasn't that the golden orbs staring back at you were rejecting. If anything, they didn't bore into yours in a way that left you hollow, but they didn't fill your heart with dreams either. And what your original intentions begged to stand up for was that you didn't care of any significant reciprocation.

You wish you didn't care where those words you had uttered had left Hawks, or in what inner conflict they had found him in. But you know, he won't be in any conflict about what you have to say, what you've kept inside for too long, what has bled onto your morals like a run over animal on the street, left to rot and seep into the road as it disintegrates under the sun or the cold.

Unbeknownst to you, deep down in his head, Hawks doesn't know how to feel, or how to react; its all too sudden for him to process. The way you spoke of it so casually yet, so lightheartedly, your tone suggesting that you let your most vulnerable object of thought slip through your fingertips, like you let it fall out of your head and shutter on the ground.

"I-"

It isn't much, just the start of a sentence that he hopes he could compose, but the way your brows furrow at the sound of his voice does nothing other than startle him.

You should have known, he's not going to give in to such demands. Love, relationships, he doesn't have time, space, a mindset, doesn't need you to be that one for him, he wants all the stability he can get when he wants it, however he wants it and he's gone when he gets it, swift as a bird, cold as stone. That doesn't necessarily tickle a nerve inside of him, you know the rules, even if he feels bad about you suffering like this there's nothing he can do -he doesn't even know how- and he chooses to let you speak, get it out, before he has to go and be a hero for the day.

"No, no save it," You wave him off "here's my resignation"

The authority in your voice isn't the one he was used to. As his eyes blink, honey colored orbs taking in the un-glory of your posture, he's met with the sight of your hands hugging around your own form; the ultimate sign of vulnerability, uncertainty.

"You don't have to quit because you fell in love with me"

'You fell in love with me' he speaks of the words so little, as if they're dirty, as if you're in this with yourself and they're so suffocating that he can't stand them, only to softly graze your ear with vore intentions, to tell you that you don't have to quit, to urge you to not take this too serious.

Your feelings aren't serious.

"I do" You speak, trying to jab him back with some crafted poison in your tone. But you know what you're going to say next will definitely do it for him, it'll poison him we'll, whether it makes you endangered or not. "I was on patrol when I saw you doing business with Dabi, so save it."

The weight of those words is what finally serves as a huge hit to your courage. You've outed yourself greatly and now the chewing on your bottom lip is profound and painful to a great amount. Hawks' face is contorted in a terrifying darkness, thick brows clenched above his eyes and lips pushed into a thin line, nose scrunched.

"Listen-"

"I just don't want to be a part of this"

That's when he knows he has to be forgiving.

Hawks isn't used to you, a fierce warrior of a hero, clenching your jaw tensely or furrowing your brows in sorrows. He isn't used to you being so upfront with your emotions either; whatever the two of you have shared in the past has been in words of reluctance and mind states of regret, each one desperate to prevent your hearts from getting hurt.

He knows his heart won't get hurt though, it's shielded way too well inside his chest, in such way he feels hollow, driven by anything other than the stupid organ. You should have known, he tells himself, before you got involved so deeply, but he left you with no time for thoughts like these, wiggling you under his wing while biting your skin instead of pecking it.

Just as Hawks has always known that he's going to hurt you no matter you rejecting labels or bottling feelings up and absolutely forbidding the mention of them, it's obvious that things can't go his way. He isn't used to you eyeing him with pain gathering in the corners of your eyes, but he's willing to play the part you're setting up for him right on the spot. Even if he has to admit, the thought of being painted in this color jabs him just like knowing things won't go back to the way they were between the two of you.

He doesn't mind. He had to let it go because by the time you know about the truth you won't even remember his face, or the way his voice sounds, and he shouldn't think about this but he does, in a way, in the very back of his head.

His mission, he thinks, is far more important than his personal life -it's a top priority for greater good.

Once greater good is achieved he's going to be able to invest in a personal life that involves feelings and excitement and even the noble pleasure of being able to choose between priorities. Right?

So, whatever he's feeling now -the tight knot in his throat, the painful lack of oxygen in his throat, his gut twisting and churning and his limbs alternating from spasming to going numb- he has to ignore.

But for the worse part he doesn't really know how to act. The confession that has startled him is still lingering on repeat in the back of his head, fueling the small ignition of a flame that begs to put you on a pedestal, or rather, it began to make his mouth move on it own, to tell how that he too wishes he could be with you as more than this secretly exclusive arrangement you've set.

Maybe, his heart pleads, maybe he can tell you about his mission and clear up the confusion.

He wonders if that would be a part you'd want him to play for you.

"I won't give you away. So long as you don't involve me in this, I don't have ulterior motives for protecting civilians."

"I-" He starts, darkness bottling up in his gut, stomach falling after going utterly numb. Somehow he knows he's not going to utter a word if he keeps acting like that.

"Hawks-"

"You'll get over it."

It's sharp and it's short and it sends heavy, lethal daggers to your chest, so much that you can feel your heart beginning to slip from in between your ribs, out of chest and onto the floor of his office. It'd be a mess to clean, the blood if your agony and your heartache rightfully on his floor. For him to look down on, this time, physically.

"I will"

He knows his words hurt, just by the mere look your face contorts and he won't utter a word about what you just said, he'll link you to Endeavor and when the time comes you'll know. His cause is greater than your heart breaking, greater than chasing after that small arrangement he's made so he can get physical release from time to time.

It's better not to react. Not to terrorize you into anything for if you're afraid you might out the wrong truth to the heroes in your circle and his plan -the commission's plan- will fail and the heroes will lose this war. And he can't lose.

You want to look at him with menace and disgrace, not to atone him for the way he's making you feel; crashing your dreams, poisoning your morals and your thoughts, living down to your expectations so much that you don't know what to think of him.

Like he did when you saw him after closed doors, cold and unapproachable, to the point he's scary. Manipulative so much that you found your way under him without even realizing how fast it happened, what impact it had to you to get involved with him. You just want to be out, unwielded from his spider's web and latch yourself into something real and kind, to serve your purpose as a hero. As a human.

When he opens his mouth again you're not scared anymore, of what he may do to you, of what will happen next.

"Hand me your papers so I can sign them"

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#hawks x reader #bnha #hawks #bnha scenarios #bnha hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x you #keigo takami x y/n #bnha fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks bnha #bnha angst #hawks angst

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

My Knight in Shiny Armor

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Reader is a fantasy novelist and writes Spencer into their story.

A/N: Heyy heyyy- this is my entry for the SFW fic swap that @imagining-in-the-margins organized! (Can y’all tell how much I love fic swaps I might have to organize one myself one day) This is a super fluffy little fic for @thekatherinewinchester! Hope y’all enjoy and my entry for the NSFW fic swap will be coming soon! If you have any requests they are open and I’m looking for requests for my next event- 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021 (I’ll make up a better title soon I promise) thanks for reading!

Warnings: this is so fluffy there’s no warnings 🥰- unless you don’t like the secret relationship trope

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.2k

Garcia came up to me with a giddy look on her face as I was pouring sugar into my next cup of coffee. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she was holding a book that looked similar to a novel that I was extremely familiar with. A blush on my face immediately formed and I forgot that I was still pouring sugar into my cup, though I’m sure that I’d still like the excessive amount of sugar I put into my coffee. As Garcia had said before, it was my ‘brand’, whatever that means.

I cleared my throat in preparation for the interrogation I was about to face, “What’s up Garcia?”

Instead of point blank telling me what she was all giddy about she opened the hard covered novel in her hands with green binding that I had seen numerous copies of.

“The mysterious man was taller than the rest of us by far, with fluffy brown hair that his helmet tried in vain to hide. It wasn’t just his handsome looks that drew me to him, it was also his intellectual abilities. He was far superior in intellect to any other man I had met in the world. The rousing conversations I had with him also made me feel respected by him which was much more than I could say compared to the other men I had met. The name of the mysterious knight in the shiny armor that had invaded all my thoughts as of late was named, Spencer.”

Once she finished the excerpt of the book she shut it dramatically then raising her eyebrows, I knew exactly what she was asking with her nonverbal cues, “I’m friends with the author…”

The look on her face after I trailed off told me that she wasn’t buying my lie. I was about to say something more convincing, but Garcia was not impressed with my attempts to get out of this ‘interrogation’.

“Oh- no no no, you aren’t getting away with it that easy, boy wonder. The blush on your face isn’t fooling me.” Her calling out my blush only served to make my face an even deeper shade of red, I could tell just from how hot the room suddenly felt. She continued on despite my deepening cheek color, “I want to know how you got your New York Times Best Seller partner, tell me everything.”

I figured there was no way to deny it now, the way I fidgeted and the blush on my cheeks gave it away easily. Even though Garcia wasn’t trained to study human behavior she wasn’t stupid and I wasn’t a good liar. So, I proceeded to tell her the story of how we met.

Of course as soon as I finished the story of how we met at a coffee shop Garcia bombarded me with more questions and brought the rest of the team to ask. She even got Morgan to say he’d read the book because he wanted to know “what does pretty boy look like in shining armor?” Which Garcia of course had to correct, as she had read the rest of the book.

As I was riding the metro after work my mind decided to wander about what had happened today. At first I was excited to share with Y/N about what happened today, but then I started to worry. What if they didn’t want to tell anyone?

We hadn’t really discussed telling everyone about our relationship besides passing comments in conversation. I worried that maybe they wouldn’t want to tell everyone because maybe they’d be embarrassed to be seen with me. Maybe that’s why they hadn’t brought up me telling the team much.

Once I had gotten back to my apartment I opened the door and was immediately greeted with the smell of Y/N’s cooking. Normally, I’d be super excited that they decided to pop in my apartment, but my anxiety about what had happened today was taking over my mind. I was rooted to the floor in front of my door, not wanting to have to admit to them that I had told everyone.

“How’s my favorite genius?” Their melodic voice called out from the kitchen. There was no way I could avoid it now, they’d probably be able to immediately tell that I was anxious. They were good at being able to tell exactly what I was thinking, and it wasn’t even their job. I often joked with them that their ability to read my behavior was as good as mine.

I decided I better get this over with.

As I walked over to my small apartment kitchen I prepared my explanation in my head. When they spotted me they opened their mouth to speak and I just started to rant, “I may have told the team about you. I got cornered by Garcia in the break room and she happened to have your book and read the parts where you wrote a character based on me- and”

“Slow down, baby.” They cut my ranting off once they had gotten her bearings. Normally being cut off makes me annoyed, but in this case I could tell I was in a swirling anxious mind set that I wouldn’t break out of unless an outside force helped me stop. I took a deep breath, which did help slow down my racing thoughts. Once I had slightly refocused my thoughts I noticed that they were looking over at me from where they were standing over the pot of pasta at the stove with a look of concern, which surprised me.

“You’re not mad?”

They turned the oven off as the pasta was definitely done now, making their way over to the other side of the kitchen where I stood. Bringing their warm hands up they cupped my cheeks and then asked with sweetness, “Why would I be mad.”

I couldn’t help but start to spill my thoughts into another rant to try and explain my reasoning, “Well- I didn’t really talk about telling them with you and I know that communication is important in a relationship from what I’ve read. And it felt like I made a mistake because I wasn’t communicating properly and I’m an idiot, I’m sorry you have to date someone who doesn’t know anything about relationships.”

“Spencer, it’s ok I promise. I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to introduce me to them soon anyway and- you aren’t stupid I promise, baby. You’re a genius, remember?

After we ate the dinner they had cooked they brought out their book to read to me, specifically the part in reference where my fictional counterpart came to save the day.

“You’re my knight in shiny armor.” They said with fondness, this was my favorite line in the book.

“Shiny armor? Why not shining armor?” I had asked this question numerous times since I had seen the same line in their book. I knew the conversation in the novel like the back of my hand and every time we read the book together we enacted the conversation. They acted out the protagonist’s lines perfectly, which was not surprising since the protagonist was partially based on them from their own admission.

“I don’t know, I just think it sounds cuter,” Their words were as sweet as honey, making me want to lean in to kiss them, but they needed to finish the line, “and in my book, you’re cuter than all other knights in shining armor.”

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader

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