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constantcrying · 4 months

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Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

#yandere angst #yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere x reader

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livfastdieyoung69 · 1 month

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hi!!! love your work. was wondering if you could write a randy orton x fem!reader where the reader gets real sick before a big PPV and has a main event match at the PPV, so she gets stubborn and tries to wrestle anyways but randy keeps telling her otherwise? would love some fluff, but angst can also be sprinkled in <3

A BITTERSWEETNESS TO THE AIR

The royal rumble is a huge deal for the entire roster of WWE, no matter which part of it you were on. Everybody wanted to be in it, because anybody truly had a chance to have their Wrestlemania moment, something everyone in the entire wrestling industry seemed to yearn for.

This year, you had gotten a spot- a good one too, number 22. Also this year, you seemed to coincidentally come down with the worst cold to have ever graced this earth the night before.

Racked with shivers all night- thank god Randy had been on Smackdown the night prior and had to go on a different plane, landing in an airport halfway across the state. By the time your sore throat forced you up, Randy was already driving to the arena in the cheapest rental car available. And with no Randy, that meant no one to hold you accountable for bad decisions. Not that he made very good decisions all the time, but at least he usually stopped your bad ones.

So here you were, driving to the arena- shaky hands, tired eyes and all. Luckily it wasn’t much of a drive, you had booked a pretty close hotel to the arena, but not close enough for it to be expensive. Pushing out of the driver's seat of your own cheap rental and slamming the door shut, blurred vision and congested sinuses quickly making you stumble and pause for a bit in your spot, gripping onto the side of the car for support. After the small pause, you unlock the trunk and heave the couple duffle bags with much more difficulty than you should’ve had.

With a tight smile, you thank the staff members holding the door open with a raise of your hand.

”Ready for a long night?” The staff member asked from behind you, still standing by the door, now closed. Surprised by the sudden voice, you turn back and raise your eyebrows in their direction. Your ears ached and ringed as they repeated their question.

”Oh, yeah! Yeah, definitely. Long but worth it.” You answered, voice much more nasally than usual as you smile at them. They were quick to become concerned at the sound of your voice, asking if you were all right. You nodded quickly.

“Just a small cold- some warm tea and lemon, and I’ll be alright.” With another tight smile and nod, wishing them luck in their work for the night, you followed the arrows directing you to the lockerrooms.

“Hey!” A voice cheerfully calls, your name sounding after. With a want to do nothing else but sit down for even just five seconds you reluctantly turn from the door, shoulders dropping as you put on a small smile for the sweet, smiling girl.

”Hey, Molly.” You say, trying not to sigh through your words. Much like the former staff member, Molly Holly seems to notice your sickness as soon as you talk.

“Oh Jeez, are you sick? But you’re in the rumble!” She exclaimed, somehow still happy through all of her worry.

“I’m fine, promise. Really.” You ramble off the same excuse used on the other staff member, but it didn’t seem to work as well on Molly Holly. She reluctantly nodded, taking a step back from you.

”…Alright. Y’know Randy’s here, I just saw him a second ago! I can grab him if you want?” Before Molly was even able to finish, you were rapidly shaking your head, eyes grown wide.

“Oh, no no no,” You shook your hands out in front of you, an awkward chuckle falling from your lips. “No, that's ok. He’s-hes busy and I gotta get ready and…stuff.” With another awkward chuckle and a stumbled, quick goodbye you pushed into the locker room, leaving Molly very confused in the hallway.

Sitting in the first available spot that met your eyes and beginning to rummage through your duffle bags, your other fellow superstars looked on anxiously at your state. With much trouble, you began the hard process of ring gear (specially made for the royal rumble and even more troublesome than usual) and just about gave up halfway through before declaring it was time to take a break, half dressed.

Falling back against the lockers you sat against and closing your eyes with a sigh in your half-clothed state, the door practically rips from the hinges.

”Randy!”

”You can’t be in here, what the hell!”

”Oh my god!!”

Screams tore through the locker room, all of which Randy seemed to ignore. He marched his way towards your form, now leaning up on your elbows and trying your best to look up at him through sore eyes.

“May I help you there?”

“Yes,” He stated, quite aggressively, tagging your name on. “You can. Why the hell did you not tell anyone you’re sick?” Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sat up against the back of the locker.

”Randy, I think I can make it through a cold for a chance at a title at Wrestlemania.” Looking up at him with a snarky look as he moved a bit closer, gently taking the back of your neck in one hand and holding the palm of his other against your forehead, he exclaimed your name.

”You’re fuckin’ burnin’ alive, baby, christ!” He pulled you in closer to him, resting your head to his stomach. The relief of all of his cold against your warm face, your eyes close with the first good sigh of the day.

“You’re just cold from walkin’ around in a speedo all day long, weirdo.” You mutter (even though you also have no pants on), leaning into his warmth. The hand on the back of your head starts to stroke your head, your own hand moving to rest of his leg. Randy ignores your comment, shaking his head down at you before he starts to speak, starting with your name in a warning tone.

“We’re going to go see the medics.” You look up at him with a glare but he gives you a scornful look with raised eyebrows, stopping you from speaking.

“And you’re going to take some medicine. Then I’m going to go talk to someone and get you out of the rumble.” Randy spoke as softly as it seemed he could, knowing how much it would suck to be in your position. Unable to find any words you only close your eyes again and rest your forehead back against his stomach.

“Okay?” He asks. You nod against him, whispering an okay back. He plants a soft kiss to the top of your head before moving away and grabbing the pair of sweatpants you had just taken off to help you put them back on. He walks you down the halls as you sulk, rubbing your shoulder through the itchy material of the top of your ring gear.

The doctor was quick to declare you not healthy enough to compete (as if it wasn’t already obvious) and moved onto their next patient from the match that had just ended quite shortly, leaving you to sulk further on top of the cushioned table.

“I’m telling you this with all of the love in my heart,” Randy started, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you to him. Your head finds his shoulder with a soft bump, breath meeting his neck. “You wouldn’t have won in the condition you’re in. You could barely walk here, you’ve got the highest fever I’ve ever goddamn heard of. You wouldn’t have won.” He pauses, holding you close to him. “But next year,” With another pause he puts his hands on either side of your face, bringing your forehead to his. Noticing the glare of tears framing your eyes, his hands grasp softly at your head, giving you a small, playful shake. “Next year, you’re gonna rock them out of the fucking park, baby. You hear me?” He asks with a little smirk. With a wavering smile and a couple sniffles, you give him a small nod, barely noticeable. He pulls you back into his chest with a hand moving to hold you close once more. With a choked sob, you bury into his shoulder with hands grasping at his back.

“I know.” You muffled into his shoulder, the both of you rocking back and forth. “I know, this just sucks. So fuckin’ much, n now I have to wait a whole ‘nother year, n I’ve already waited so, so fucking long, Randy.”

He pulls you from his neck, placing your head to his, cheek-to-cheek. He nods, almost forcing you to do the same against him. “Yeah. Yes, it's terrible, but this is just the universe saying not yet. And next year, you’ll be better, and nothing will ever stop you. Nothin’, so let's get this cold gone, okay?” Randy pulls away from you for the final time to help you off the table with an offering hand.

Taking his hand in yours, you walk back to the locker room to grab your stuff with your head held high and a small smile but tear-filled eyes. Laying against a disgusting and sort of scratchy sofa somewhere backstage, Randy leaves you to compete in the royal rumble very bitter sweetly, and you try to sleep with many thoughts clouding your mind- to find a way to be better, to be the best, to grow as an individual outside and inside of wrestling. A smile graces your face with one final thought- these people better be fucking ready next year, cause they sure as hell weren’t this one.

look at me go! sorry this took me so long but also i used you instead of y/n for the first time and i feel like my frontal lobe has developed (it absolutely has not) and omg not molly holly ratting you outttt

Set in 2004 idk y i just chose a year and i felt like that one ig

Techincally gender-neutral bc everything I write is, but a bit of a nod to being afab with randy not being wanted in the locker room.

#randy orton x reader #liv writes;*!#randy orton #wwe #wwf

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thosehallowedhalls · 2 months

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Second Thoughts

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Raine of Riverbend (F!MC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1235

Summary: After choosing to leave the portals open, Raine is wrestling with second thoughts. Tyril is there to help her through them.

A/N: This started out as pure fluff and took a turn into the slightly angsty. Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompts: flowers & "Your laughter is my favorite melody."

The first tulips begin to bloom in April, dancing merrily amidst the crocuses and daffodils. Raine can’t resist leaning in every so often and simply taking a deep, cleansing breath. There’s something invigorating about those first shaky efforts of springtime.

After the winter they’ve had, they deserve some spring.

It’s been six weeks since she made the call to leave the portals open, letting people and magic pass through them freely, but she can’t stop wondering if she made the wrong decision. For the first three weeks or so, she’d wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, heart racing and convinced she’d doomed everyone in both realms to a slow and painful death. Tyril talked her down from many a nightmare during those long, terrible nights, and she’d fall asleep again within the protective shelter of his arms.

She hasn’t had one of those nightmares in three weeks, but her waking hours are still plagued by doubts.

“You’ll get yourself stung by a bee,” he tells her fondly.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Stopping to smell the roses is a time-honored human tradition. You’re just jealous you don’t have flowers in Undermount.”

“We do, too.” He gently tugs on her braid. “Next time you visit, I’ll show you the greenhouse.”

“How in the world do you…” She stops herself. “Ah. Magic.”

“Conjured in tandem by enough elves that only a little lifeforce is taken from each.”

“Tyril, you know I love flowers, but are they worth your lifeforce?”

His eyes light up at the promise of a debate. “Isn’t it also a human saying that beauty is its own reward?”

She takes his hand as images of him nearly falling at the battlefield flash before her eyes. “Nothing is worth your life, Tyril. Certainly not a few flowers.”

The argumentative light in his eyes gives way to tenderness. “I’ve never been one of the flora elves, Raine.”

“And you never will be. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She exhales. She feels like they just cheated death again. She feels like they just cheated death entirely too often. For once, she wants them to have simple, uncomplicated fun. “Let’s go on an adventure,” she tells him.

He raises an elegant brow. “May I inquire as to what you think we’ve been doing for the past year and a half?”

“I mean a fun adventure. Low stakes, no near-death experiences, absolutely zero monsters” A pause at his doubtful expression. “All right, fewer monsters.”

“We’re due to meet with Nia in less than two hours.”

“We can make it in time. Why don’t we go on a picnic to the woods?”

He looks at her. “Your heart is set on this, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then I suppose we’re going on a picnic to the woods.”

“This was a good idea,” she says an hour later.

They’re sprawled out on a blanket, two goblets of elven wine and a bowl of assorted fruit resting near them. Tyril looks relaxed, his forehead free of the worry lines that are rarely far behind.

“Has it made you happy?” He asks, as if that’s the only relevant criteria.

“It really has. We needed this.” She raises herself up on an elbow and grins at him. “Especially you. Your frown lines were developing frown lines.”

“I believe I’ve had cause to frown lately,” he says dryly.

She reaches out to trace the little crease on his forehead with her fingers. “Of course. But the worst part is over, Tyril. We can relax.”

“That’s sound advice. Do you intend to take it?” He gives her a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who’s been frowning recently.”

She shifts, a guilty look in her eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” he admits. “You hide it well. It’s only that I watch you very closely.”

Well, hellsfire, what’s a girl supposed to say to that? “I keep wondering if I made the wrong decision. Should I have merged the realms? Or gone into the Shadow Realm? What if I made a mistake?”

“Uluvalir, I don’t think there was a right decision here.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, she can’t resist teasing him. “That must’ve hurt you to say out loud.”

He ignores her. ��Yes, leaving the portals open wasn’t a perfect solution. But if we had merged the realms, untold quantities of people would have died. Would you have been able to accept that?”

“No,” she admits. “It would have haunted me.”

“And if we had gone to the Shadow Realm, we don’t know what would have happened. We might have become infected by Shadow.”

“I’d never be able to forgive myself if you or the others had been hurt.” She blows out a breath. “Okay, I get it. There were no right choices, but there was the right choice for me. And I made it.”

Tyril takes her hand and tugs her closer. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” She kisses him, then grins. “But you know what else would make me feel better?”

“I believe I have an idea…”

When he reaches for her, she scrambles back. “Mind out of the gutter, Lord Starfury. I meant a race.”

“A race? You want to run?”

But she’s already on her feet and making for the trees. She’s starting to gain a real advantage when the sound of her name stops her dead in her tracks.

“Raine!”

Alarmed, she skids to a stop. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I was promised no monsters!”

She runs back to him so fast her breath is coming out in short gasps when she finally reaches him. “What are you talking about?”

A blue finger points at a creature that’s… surprisingly small to be a monster. “That!”

She follows his line of vision and breaks into helpless peals of laughter. “Tyril… those aren’t monsters. Those are geese.”

“The difference is hardly significant!” He glares at her. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No! I’m not! It’s just…” But she’s doubled over now, laughing so hard she can’t finish her sentence. When she looks back up, she’s surprised to find him smiling slightly. “Is that a devious smile? Are you planning to feed me to our geese friends?”

“They’re not our friends. And no. It’s only that I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a very long time.”

“We haven’t had very many reasons to laugh.”

“No. But I suppose I’m glad for those blasted things.” He shoots the geese a distasteful look. His hand twitches, as if he’s considering casting a spell to keep them far away from him. But his face softens again when he turns to look at her. “Your laughter is my favorite melody.”

Undone, she walks to him. “And your smile is my favorite sight.”

“I suppose I’ll have to smile more often.”

“Yes please. You of all people don’t need more frown lines.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be with you, Raine, and not smile.”

“Back at you.”

She tips her head to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothes her, and the scent of flowers wafts up around them in a gentle welcome, a promise of more beauty yet to come. Her friends are safe, the realms are thriving, and Tyril is right here in her arms.

For once, all is right in her world.

#tyril x raine #tyril x mc #tyril starfury x mc #blades of light and shadow #playchoices

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 1 month

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Why you calling me tonight?

Ex!August Walker x POC!Reader

Walter Marshall x POC!Reader

Summary:

The grass is never truly greener on the other side and all that jazz. It is never easy to walk away from something you love, but sometimes it’s the best thing you can do. Just remember, the better tended garden will always produce the brightest blooms.

Warnings:

Exes, Smut, Shameless Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Possessive Sex, August Walker Lives (Mission: Impossible), Light Angst, Love Triangles

Notes:

Hello Heathens! Here's a story that just wouldn't leave my mind after I heard the song "Not Like Alice" by SkyeChristie. It just paired so well with August and Walter. Happy Reading!!! *I do not own the rights to any lyrics used in this fic*

Divider @firefly-graphics Banner @cafekitsune

I was August Walker’s first, and probably only love. I supported him going into the CIA, and welcomed him home with open arms whenever he would return from a mission. Until he changed. He grew distant, and rarely came home. He was always with a fellow female agent “Alice” and I had suspicions that they might be more than just colleagues. Instead of causing myself more pain by snooping, and confirming my suspicions, I chose to pack up my things and leave everything behind. Including him. He had always been a hardened grump to my soft sunshine but this new hardness, the rays of my light could not penetrate. It is never easy to walk away from something you love, but sometimes it’s the best thing you can do.

Five years have passed since I left, with barely a peep from August. I’m not sure if that is due to a lack of caring or throwing himself deeper into his work and Alice. No matter, I’m happy with the life I currently lead, running a small used books store that I just so happen to live above.

I’m also very happy spending time with one Detective Walter Marshall. Clearly I have a type. We’ve kept it casual so far, as his schedule is forever changing. He tells me that he doesn't want to tie me down when I could be cozying up to someone who has more time. That doesn't stop him from spending late nights worshiping my body though. According to the grizzly man, I’m the perfect stress reliever.

Tonight, Walter was able to make it over for dinner and a movie. We’re all cuddled up on the couch when my phone begins to ring with an unknown number. Without thinking much of it, I pick it up, only to hear the unmistakable baritone that haunts my dreams of days past.

“Hello, baby girl. Did you miss me?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Of course I missed you. I never stopped. Just like my love never did. But it’s been five years, August. Why are you calling me tonight?”

Walter was well aware of who August was to me. I never hid the reason I ended up in this town. He found my courage to leave quite attractive actually. He was glad I knew what I was worth. Although we weren’t exclusive, August calling me out of the blue did put him on alert. I'm not sure how things will play out but I know, deep down in my bones, he is not going to leave me to handle this on my own. Not if he has a chance to make things finally official and put his claim on me.

“You were on my mind. Have been since you snuck away from me.” August chuckles. “It was surprisingly difficult to find you. I had to call in a favor from an old friend. I still have the note you left behind.”

My bags are stacked neatly next to the door, awaiting my exit. Three bags was all I was taking with me. Packed with all the things that held meaning to me. Everything else can be replaced when I reach my final landing place. I can’t bring myself to completely ghost him, even if I am leaving like a thief in the night while he is away. The love I still have for him is what leads my hand to scrawl across a page and leave the wounded pieces of me behind.

I miss how you touched my skin Before I knew where else you’d been Felt your promise growing thin Had to leave before you did Want forgiveness for your sins I’m not like Alice She knows how to twist a knife She knows how to start a fight She’s knows how to fuck you right She’s the kind of girl you like I’m not like Alice It's not your fault Thought you wanted sugar You chose salt I never meant to be your black sheep With all my silly thoughts I mean no malice I’m just not like Alice

“Still in touch with Lloyd I see.” I calmly state. “How’s Alice?”

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve been on a special assignment.”

“Hm. How convenient.” I hum.

At this point Walter takes the phone from my hand, putting it on speaker and setting it on the arm of the couch.

“Such sass. I wasn't expecting that. You were always such a good girl for me. Happy to take whatever I gave you.” August taunts.

Walter slowly begins to peel my leggings, and panties down my legs. He then proceeds to maneuver my body so that I am on all fours, facing my phone on the arm of the couch. He leaves a trail of soft kisses along my inner thighs. Blowing on my hot weeping slit before teasing my clit with his tongue.

I try to hold in my moans, but my strained voice, accompanied by the Walters growls as he devours my pussy from behind, has August hanging up, and switching to a video call.

“Go head baby, answer it,” Walt commands. He places a pillow under my hips to raise them higher. So that I can remain comfortable while he fucks me stupid.

I prop the phone up, clicking accept on the call, and Augusts’ chiseled, mustache sporting face appears on the screen. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, Walter slides himself inside of me. I close my eyes, moaning out, as I enjoy the stretch his girth always provides on that first thrust.

“What the fuck is this?!” August growls, “I knew something was going on, but did you really answer my video call with another man inside you?”

I can’t seem to formulate any words, as Walter gets to work destroying my perfect little pussy. But that’s okay, he is in full control, and has no problem speaking. “She sure as fuck did. You must be, August. The asshole who fucked up and let this little vixen get away. I should really thank you for that.” He thrusts in nice, and deep, making me cry out once again.

He doesn't hide what he is doing to my body. In fact, he gets a bit possessive, leaning forward and biting my neck. Dirty talking loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Fuck, sweetness, look at your little hole stretching around me. You’ve got a vice tight grip on my cock, baby girl.”

He tangles his hands in my hair, pulling my head back so that I can watch August lose his mind as he watches me succumb to the pleasure that Walter is providing. My eyes roll back as he picks up the pace and plays target practice with my g-spot.

“That’s it, sweetness. You’re right there. I can feel your walls squeezing. Now be a good girl and come for me.” The grizzly detective demands, letting August know I’m his good girl now.

As if his words were a key to unlocking my orgasm, I come undone. Moaning out and writhing beneath him. Uncaring of the show I’m putting on for my ex.

Walter is thankful for this coincidence. Glad that he made the time to come over tonight. This was the kick in the ass he needed to pull the trigger on locking me down for good. I’ve already met Faye. His ex wife adores me, and has even been pushing him to make it official.

Now he’s going to mark my body up for the world to see. A proclamation of who I really belong to.

He ignores the angered voice, shouting from the screen, and lets his instincts take over further. He ruts into me with a ferocity I have never experienced from him before. It ratchets my orgasm up to a new level, as he seeks out a release of his own.

My voice is going hoarse from the abuse my voice box is taking, but I couldn’t care less. Not while I can feel Walter, fingers digging into the meat of my hips, surely leaving bruises behind. The dirty talk has all but disappeared. Leaving only grunts, groans and curses in its wake.

I manage to slam myself back against him. Meeting in the middle of each powerful thrust, when I lower my chest further into the couch. Raising my ass higher, allowing for Walter to fuck me even deeper.

That instinctually submissive movement is the last straw holding back Walter’s impending climax. With what I can only classify as a roar, he buries his cock to the hilt, painting my womb white with his seed.

He bites my shoulder, as his dick gives its finally twitch. Placing a kiss after to soothe the tender flesh. It’s decided, from here on out, only death could take him away from me.

“You have got to be fuckign kidding me?!” August screams into the phone. We both look up to see his hair disheveled, tie undone and shirt a mess. “If you think this little stunt is somehow going to keep me away from you. You’re sorely mistaken. You. Are. Mine.”

Unbothered, by the angry CIA agent, Walter reaches over and grabs the phone. “Say goodbye to August, sweetness. We have some aftercare to attend to.”

I snuggle up to Walter's scruffy chin, eyes closed and mumble out, “Goodbye August.”

As August continues his tirade, Walter hangs up the phone. He places a kiss on my forehead, before pulling out of my sensitive channel. Placing me in his lap, he proceeds to kiss each cheek, before pulling me in for a soft kiss on the lips.

“What do you say to a nice hot shower and then cuddles in bed while we watch scary movies?”

“Is clothing required after our shower?”

“Most certainly not, sweetness. I don’t want a single barrier between me and your delectable body tonight.”

“Mmm. Good answer.” I place your arms around his neck. “You may now proceed with the aftercare, Sir.”

He growls at the title. “I’m going to need to hear you screaming that later. For now, let’s get you pampered. Oh, and baby girl..”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re forever mine now. Let that asshole try and come take you away from me. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever let you go.”

#poc reader #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #august walker x reader #august walker smut

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sinsdaycorp · 1 year

Text

No beta, we die like Weems.

Here, have a WenClair Drabble cause I had half a moment to myself today.

The first day back at Nevermore, Wednesday walks ahead of Lurch who was carrying her trunks filled with all her items. And was met with a surprise embrace as soon as the door opened to the dorm she shared with the blonde.

Enid’s muscles had come in, her hair was slightly shorter and she was definitely a few inches taller.

Wednesday had never experienced the need for water as much as she had in that moment.

She’d kept in touch with Enid, she promised the blonde she would, and choosing to ignore the stalker, she instead sent Enid a message after working the number out of Xavier.

She then blocked his number so he wouldn’t bother her.

She only kept in contact with Enid. She knew the reason, she saw it when she was around her parents. She wanted to treat Enid the way her parents treated each other.

But she wasn’t going to, because Enid was special and deserved so much more.

The acts of affection started small.

Enid and Wednesday would be sitting in the quad at the usual table they’d always occupied, sitting beside each other, pressed together from shoulder to ankle.

Enid was talking animatedly to Yoko about classes and that’s when it started.

Enid flourished her hands out in exaggeration and swiped her tray off the table with the flurry of movement.

Yoko was laughing so hard at Enid’s heartbroken look at her nearly full plate.

Wednesday, without taking her eyes off her book, slid her half eaten tray to the side and picked up her fork, holding it out towards Enid.

The blonde cheered up and started to eat as she continued talking to yoko, the way her foot tapped Wednesdays in a light thanks was enough for Wednesday’s heart to stutter.

Another time, it was in the greenhouse at the Addams’ home, Enid was getting too close to a plant while walking backwards as she spoke to Morticia about her own plant studies in school.

The subtlest touch to Enid’s elbow to stop one of morticia’s plants from biting the blonde.

Wednesdays hand felt like it was burning from touching the colourful sweater the rest of the day, but it was worth it to see Enid not be hurt.

At a parents day, Enid (and Wednesday just standing there) was talking to Gomez about her fencing classes when the blonde stopped, a scent catching the wolfs nose and she let out a low shuddering growl from deep in her throat as her eyes flickered across the entrance to the quad to see Murray and Esther Sinclair were making their way over.

Wednesday took Enid’s hand, letting her know she was there. As Gomez and Morticia stood and protectively shielded Enid from the blondes parents passing by, selectively ignoring Enid to go see her brother and cousins.

Enid excused herself and gave Wednesdays hand a light squeeze before leaving.

“Go to her, Wednesday,” Morticia said softly.

Gomez nodded.

Wednesday didn’t need to be told twice, taking off after Enid. She found her hiding in an alcove beneath some stairs, claws extended and hands planted over her mouth as she sobbed silently.

Wednesday carefully took the hands, gently stroking her thumbs across knuckles. When Enid took a shaky breath and opened her eyes to meet Wednesdays obsidian gaze, Wednesday brought a hand up, her sleeve pulled over the heel of her palm, she brushed the tears away.

“Don’t cry because of them, they’re not worth your tears or the breath you’ve wasted thinking of them. We are your family ma puce,” Wednesday murmured and pulled Enid’s hands to her waist before settling her hands on Enid’s cheeks. “You’re an Addams by extension, don’t waste time thinking about those people.”

Enid sniffled and nodded, dropping slightly to bury her face against Wednesdays neck, sliding her arms from Wednesdays waist to curl around her back, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never apologise to me, Enid. Not for feeling, not for anything. You are precious to me, and I will take you into my arms whenever you need me to. I will use my last breath to tell you I love you.”

Enid lifted her head. She knew their friendship had changed, the night Crackstone was defeated it had changed. She felt her love for Wednesday growing stronger every day since then.

But hearing Wednesday say those eight letters, Enid’s heart slammed heavily against her ribs.

Their eyes met again and as Wednesday licked her lips, Enid’s eyes dropped to watch the tongue peak out and disappear once more. Her throat dried.

This was t the first time she’d thought of kissing her best friend. It wasn’t the first time Wednesday had thought about kissing her either.

But it was the first time they acted on it, Wednesday curling her fingers into the hair as the base of Enid’s neck as she shifted to lean up on her toes. Enid leaning down, tightening her fingers to grip into the back of Wednesdays jacket, knuckles turning white in her grip as their lips finally touched for the first time.

Brief, and soft, and enough for them to know that their love was definitely returned by the other.

“Come along, Enid. I believe you challenged Pugsley to an eating contest, yes?”

Enid nodded, her eyes flitting back to Wednesdays lips. The goth pecked the blondes lips once more and pulled away from her completely, holding out a hand.

“Together, we shall go back out there, no one has to know you’ve been upset. Put on a mask, and smile. We can talk more about this later. Okay?”

Enid nodded dumbly, taking Wednesdays hand. Their fingers threaded together as they made their way back out to the table to find Gomez and Morticia gone, but Pugsley was still there, talking with Eugene.

Eugene gave them a welcoming smile.

“Wednesday, you didn’t tell me your brother was coming to Nevermore.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well… I thought you didn’t like bad news.”

Enid scoffed a laugh, shaking her head as she gave Wednesdays hand a playful squish.

“Be nice.”

“Yeah, Wednesday, be nice,” Pugsley said with a poke of his tongue.

Wednesday’s eyebrows shot up. “On the other hand. Having him here would be nice, I am getting rusty on my arrow shooting on live targets. Pugsley will be a great target.”

Pugsley grinned. “And water boarding?”

“Every day.” Wednesday promised.

#wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Drabble #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Addams #brief mentions:#Enid’s shit parents #morticia addams #gomez addams #pugsley addams #Eugene Ottinger #yoko Tanaka #wenid #sinsday

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fuckmymunson · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

♡ CW: Abusive relationship, toxic behaviours, heavy angst, miscarriage, verbal and physical abuse, destructive and intrusive thoughts. | Word count: 3.4k.

♡ a/n: trying the [y/n] format, lmk if y'all like and if I missed a tag pls.

♡ If you happen to be in an abusive relationship, please seek help! Take care and stay safe, xo.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He wasn't a monster, he was just a broken soul.

And she was a fool, trying desperately to fix the broken pieces of a doomed man.

The first signs were written in big, flashy red ink all over the walls, her body, and her eyes. But she believed, she hoped, and wished for a change. He was a good man, he loved her.

And if so, then why was she so afraid of him at that very moment?

"Remus, you're hurting me." She spoke weakly while a large scarred hand was wrapped around her wrist.

He looked at her, with wide, teary eyes, and his heart shattered for a second. Releasing her from his hold, Remus took a step back. She looked tiny and scared. Scared of him, of his words, his actions.

"Please answer my question." His voice was shaky, anxious.

"I already told you he is just a coworker, you don't need to worry." A soft hand caressed the now bruised wrist, and the guilt flooded his body, Remus took a step closer only to wrap her in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, feeling his own eyes tearing up. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He repeated. "I got carried away, I was jealous." It wasn't an excuse, but the words came without hesitation. "I can't lose you."

"Remus." Her sweet voice was comforting, and it only fueled his regret. "I would never leave you."

"Never?" He asked with a slight sob.

"Never." She promised.

It was a promise.

Remus was insecure, he was conscious of it. He tried to push his intrusive thoughts instead of working with them, instead of healthily dealing with them, being so used to just bottling up his emotions. Years after years of not feeling enough for anyone, she made him feel worthy of being loved and cared for. He was selfish for keeping you up with him, he was also conscious of that, but after almost two years together, Remus was incapable of imagining life without her. She got him through every dark night, hugging and consoling him after every nightmare, kissing his tears away. Every full moon she was there, the only ray of hope he had in his life. The only one he truly cared for, and she was a dream come true.

She was his muse, for a long time. Remus wrote poems about her, songs, and books. Words scribbled down in messy writing just describing how much he loved her, recounting every happy memory, expressing the feelings his lips weren't able to pronounce. Remus adored her and treated her like a goddess. She was his goddess.

After almost two years, something changed, something snapped inside him. His insecurities returned, knocking him down. She noticed something was wrong, and started questioning herself; Wasn't she enough for him? Was he realizing she wasn't worth it? doubt after doubt, Remus failed to notice how his mood was affecting her, being too self-centered in his self-destruction to notice he was destroying the one he loved the most.

The first time he hit her, he cried.

He apologized, for what felt like hours. She cried, but in the end, he forgave him. She believed in him, he could change, and he was going to help him be better. They cried together and Remus did everything in his reach to comfort her the same way she comforted him every dark night and bad day. That night, when they fell asleep together, he kissed her. Kissed her pretty, soft lips and felt at ease once again, all the anger melted away. Why was he angered in the first place? Remus couldn't recall what was the issue. All he could focus on was the way their lips danced together, how his hand caressed her body and made her feel loved. Neither of them heard it, neither of them noticed, being too distracted in their heated embrace.

Too lost in a loving kiss, to hear the sound of breaking down.

Exhausted. If she had to summarize how she felt, it would be exhausted. She loved Remus, beyond everyone and everything, it was a love so intense and devoted that she forgot she was someone. She forgot to love herself. He was her priority. He was all she could think of. He wasn't a bad guy, he just had bad moments. She learned to hide the bruises, she learn to hold her tears, knowing that seeing her cry upset him. The warnings were still there, brighter than ever. But she ignored them because Remus needed her and she liked to be needed. She loved to be desired.

"It's so hot, [Y/N]." Sirius looked at her from behind his sunglasses. "Take that sweater off please, you're making me uncomfortable."

She quit her job, Remus told her it was for the best and she agreed, eager to please him. She loved to see how his eyes brightened every time he saw her after work, dressed in that lovely pink apron he bought just for her. She liked to stay at home, she liked the privacy, doing the chores, and taking care of their little love nest. Remus invited James and Sirius for dinner, and surprisingly, Sirius was the first one to arrive.

"It's not, stop being ridiculous." She replied while preparing the table, feeling a sudden wave of nervousness hit her. Her left arm had a giant bruise, and the fingerprints of Remus's hand on her forearm, it was an accident of course. Remus apologized and bought her a bouquet of her favorite flowers the next day, demonstrating how much he loved her.

[Y/N] was afraid, knowing that his friends might not understand it, Remus loved her, and that was all that mattered. Sirius would probably be really mad, especially towards Remus and she didn't want to be a breaking point to such an important friendship for her boyfriend. So it was better this way. Remus who walked out of their bedroom at that moment heard the conversation, feeling the same nervous feeling at Sirius's words. They would probably judge him, and they will try and take her away from him, and Remus couldn't allow that, not even from his best friends. They didn't know anything about their relationship. They were in love, they just had problems like every other couple.

James arrived half an hour later accompanied by Lily, who looked radiant, pregnancy suited her, making her glow brighter than the sun. Hearing the young couple talk so excitedly about their baby, made Remus wonder, would you be willing to have a family with someone like him? Would you put your life at risk for him?

"Moony and Mrs. Moony, I think it's your turn to have a lil' moon." Sirius joked. Remus remained silent at his words but she giggled.

"Speaking of which... I have an announcement." Her words were like an illusion, Remus refused to think it was real, but it was.

Sirius yelled, excited, James and Lily cheered with him, a baby. A baby.

"Earth calling Remus." Sirius waved a hand in his face. "Are you with us?"

"Yeah." He replied, blinking a few times.

"Aren't you happy?" James asked with a frown, the moment Lily announced her pregnancy, James cried with happiness, they knew Moony wasn't the expressive type, but the lack of reaction worried them.

"I am." Remus faked a smile, holding his girlfriend's hand. "I'm just really surprised." And he kissed her, noticing how happy she looked. Remus could only imagine how beautiful and brave she was for carrying his child.

His child.

That night, Remus felt something change inside him, again. He felt at ease once again, he was going to be a father. Something that in his younger years he never thought possible, not even in his wildest dreams. He placed a pair of large hands over her stomach, earning a giggle from her.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier." Why was she apologizing? "I just wanted it to be a surprise."

"Thank you." He whispered, hiding in the crook of her neck. "Thank you."

"What for, love?"

"For staying."

Once again, he promised himself to be a better man. Not only for her, for him, but for the little one who was now growing inside her. A part of him, of her. A part of their love.

Life wasn't easy, and from here, it would only get harder. Remus's intrusive thoughts returned just a month later. Haunting him. That poor child was cursed, the poor child who had a werewolf father. A father incapable of loving without hurting. Remus was too consumed with his own life, consumed by his fears, and those fear started to take the best of him, to threaten his sanity. The goodnight kisses stopped, the morning routines felt monotone, and dinner felt empty. She started questioning, again. Feeling useless, feeling drained. The pregnancy was consuming, and she was barely hitting her third month. The distance that Remus was unconsciously placing between them only made things worst. Forced to watch her youth slip away every day that went by. She started to feel lonely, Remus was so close and yet so far. His presence felt like the sun itself, giving her all the energy and happiness, but draining her if they spent too much time together.

"Do you still love me?" She asked one night after he laid down away from her.

"You know I do," Remus replied feeling his heartbeat speeding up.

"Then why won't you show it?" She tried to suppress the sob, but it was too late. She started sharing her heart, she started tearing apart in front of him.

It hit him like a thousand concrete bricks. Remus hugged her, hugged for what felt like years. Too caught up in his emotional decay to notice his neglect towards his pregnant girlfriend. He kissed her tears away, just like he used to do. Whispering sweet nothings and empty promises. Promises that soon would be broken. For the following days, everything seemed to be going better, the kisses, the routine, and the love blossomed again.

But good things never last.

It was supposed to be a surprise, she bought a new dress, form-fitting and all. She walked to the little market down the street to gather all the supplies to cook his favorite food and bake his favorite cake, even taking time to stop by the local library and borrow some of his favorite books as well. Remus loved to lay on her lap while she read for him. She even called Sirius and asked him for that bottle of wine she knew Remus liked and was quite rare to get, who agreed, promising her he'll be at their apartment before her boyfriend returned from work.

Everything was going according to plan. Maybe that's why the moment she opened the apartment door, she was surprised to find a very startled Remus, his hair was a mess like when he runs his hand through it when he's nervous, his eyes were different, the usual loving honey eyes were looking at her with pure rage.

"Where were you?" He asks, his voice screaming danger. He had a very maul bouquet of flowers in his hand, her favorite flowers.

"I was at the market." Reassuring her statement, she placed the paper bags on the table.

"Don't lie to me [Y/N]," Remus spoke, looking almost disturbed.

"Remus, I'm not lying." She frowned, placing her slim hands on top of her belly in a protective manner. "I wanted to give you a surprise, cook your favorite dinner, and bake you that chocolate fudge cake you like."

"You're fucking lying." With quick steps, his hand pulled her by the arm in a bruising grip. "You were trying to leave me?"

"No!" She squeaked, panicked. "I promise!"

"Good." He breathed. "If you ever try to leave me..."

"Remus I would never, I love you..."

"If you ever try to." He continued, ignoring her. "I will fucking kill myself."

She tried to push him away, scared. Tears fell quickly with loud sobs, trying to place a distance between them, Remus interpreted it as a threat, she was trying to leave him. His emotions were too strong, too intense. Unbeknownst to both, the full moon was just around the corner. Making everything harder than it already was. Remus saw red. He pounced, and everything happened in a matter of seconds.

They were yelling at each other, screaming. She was crying, asking him to stop, to stop hurting her, to stop hurting their love. Remus tried to, but he wasn't conscious of his actions and for a moment he wondered if there was a time in his life when he was truly aware of what he was doing. Although that life seemed too far at that point. She pushed him, scratched him, kicked him. The bouquet was now forgotten on the kitchen floor, while the white linoleum was stained with blood.

Breaking down, breaking down, breaking down.

The front door swung open in a violent way. Sirius ran into the house just to find the most horrendous scene he had ever seen in his life. Blood, tears, pain. The bottle of wine in his hand fell to the ground, breaking and staining the floor as well. Remus hugged her unconscious body, his face bleeding from a few superficial scratches, his hands covered in blood. He was sobbing, clinging to her form desperately.

It took Sirius a few seconds to put the pieces together, and when he did, oh, he did.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He screamed, a crashing feeling of anger quickly taking control of his body.

"I didn't mean to." Remus cried, pressing his forehead against hers while his tears fell all over her face.

Breaking down, breaking down, breaking down.

The waiting was torture. The silent hospital hall was too loud, Remus felt his head pounding painfully, the blood that stained his clothes a constant reminder of his actions. On the other side of the waiting room, Sirius fixated his grey eyes on him, using every ounce of self-control he had left to not choke and murder the guy in front of him. His hands were also covered in her blood. He enjoyed watching him like that, looking like a guilty bastard, and Sirius wished he would feel that way the rest of his life. His black boot tapping anxiously against the white flooring, Sirius let out a shaky sigh. The tall, white walls felt suffocating, the bright lights felt pointed at Remus and only him, like big white arrows that screamed "culpable."

"Since when." He asks, after taking another deep breath, the bruises on her arms and legs caught his attention when the nurses were prompt to undress [Y/N] and cover her with a hospital gown. Remus only lowered his eyes, locking them with his leather shoes.

She gave him those shoes, for his birthday.

"Remus, since when." Sirius insisted, clenching his fists until the knuckles were white.

"I don't remember." The taller boy replied in a whisper.

The doors of the waiting room opened, and James walked in followed by Lily, who looked concerned and confused. They noticed the heavy atmosphere and the blood on their clothes and hands. Something was off, there was something in the air, something bad.

"What happened?" Lily asked, placing her hands on her swollen belly, just like she did a few hours ago, trying to protect her baby.

Their baby.

"Tell them." Sirius spat with irregular breathing, his chest rising in anger.

"Tell us what?" James inquired, while Lily grabbed his hand, something was really off. "Moony, what is he talking about?"

"If you don't tell them, I will." His dark curls framed his face, leaning down with narrowed eyes. Remus tensed, the shame and guilt were crushing his body, his soul, and his heart. Everything was too much, he felt heated, nauseous. He heard her cries inside his head on replay, asking him to stop. Please.

"It takes a different type of coward to hurt his girl, his pregnant girlfriend." Sirius's words clicked instantly. Remus bit his lip choking a sob, James's breath hitched and Lily gasped.

"Please tell me he's joking." James broke the silence, hands shaking. "Remus please tell me it's a lie."

Please.

"It's not a lie." He confessed, knowing there was no coming back.

A hand slapped him, all across his cheek. It stained, but he deserved it, he knew that for sure. Lily's face was as red as her hair, she screamed at him, the same words Sirius screamed at him, their words sinking deep down his chest, burning him. James hugged his fiance while she cried in his chest, trying with all his strength to maintain composure.

"Mrs. [L/N]?" A nurse walked in, with papers in hand and a gloomy look in her eyes.

Sirius and Remus stood up, expectantly, both fearing the worst.

"She's fine, just a couple of bruises and internal bleeding." She explained, unaware of the situation, or pretending to be, that it wasn't her place to opine or talk. She was just doing her work. "She was brought just in time."

"And the baby?" Sirius asked, snatching the words from Lupin's mouth.

"Unfortunately, it was a miscarriage." She lowered her head while saying those words, those mournful words. Lily pressed her face against James's chest even harder, muffling her sobs.

Remus felt his whole world-shattering, falling and breaking apart. He failed, again and again, he broke another promise and was now paying the consequences of his actions. His shoulders dropped and the tears streamed down freely. Sirius had a similar reaction, mixed with wrath, he blamed himself too, for not noticing it before, before it was too late.

"Can I?..." Remus spoke, raising his head, which gained him a piercing look from Sirius. "I'm... I'm the father."

He was.

Laying down in the white bed, [Y/N] had a dull expression. She looked extremely tired, with dark bags under her eyes and a melancholic aura surrounding her. She was still beautiful, the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

"I'm sorry." Remus kneeled next to her bed, burying his face in her covered thigh. "I'm so sorry." He repeated, over and over, crying.

A cold hand made its way through his hair, brushing it, comforting him.

"Stop apologizing." She spoke, softly, emotionless. "You don't mean it."

"I do." A whimper, a life filled with regret. "I swear I do."

"You broke every other promise we had." She closed her eyes, feeling the urge to cry, but no tears came out. "Why would this one be different?"

The worst thing was that he knew she was right.

"I gave you everything, and it still wasn't enough." She continued. "I left everything behind for you, I stopped living my life, to live yours."

It was a harsh realization, it was a nightmare.

"Aren't we too young for this?" She asked, letting out a bitter laugh, one that broke into a sob. "We were supposed to celebrate our child, not to mourn it."

He was done, his life was done.

"I wish I could hate you." Her fingers kept playing with a strand of his sand-colored hair. "I wish you could love me the way I did, now I'm wondering if you ever loved me. A part of me still wants you, but I can't. A part of me still wants to live our dreams, to accomplish our goals. Please, please tell me I'm wrong."

The sick feeling was too heavy, the burden was too strong. It was a dependency, it was a raged desire to be loved and cared for. It was two broken hearts trying to fix each other without noticing how empty they truly were. Remus knew he would miss her if he left, or if she left. But it was probably for the best. He felt caged, inside his own feeling and his actions. Knowing he still had the indecency to be next to her after what happened, he was far too selfish. She was the only thing he allowed himself to keep, to be happy, and he fucked it up.

He needed to leave, even if it meant his death of him. [Y/N] was better off without him, but without her, he was lost. He was a stray boat in the middle of an ocean, a dark ocean that threatened to drown him. Remus remembered all those times when she convinced him he wasn't a monster, all those times when he promised her, he promised her to love her, care for her, protect her. Failing miserably to protect her from himself.

Maybe he was a monster after all.

"I love you." That was all he could say.

"I'm afraid I love you too."

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. I appreciate any feedback!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Remember to take care of yourself and drink water! If you need to talk or vent, hit me up!<3

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #maraduers #modern marauders #omenhel'swrite<3 #marauder angst #remus x y/n #remus lupin angst

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toomanyrobins2 · 2 years

Text

I'm A Beast

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

2nd April

Dear Batman,

I am a BEAST. Please forget about that dreadful letter I sent you last week--I was feeling terribly lonely and miserable and sore-throaty the night I wrote. I didn't know it, but I was just sickening for tonsillitis and grippe, and lots of things mixed. I'm in the infirmary now, and have been here for six days; this is the first time they would let me sit up and have a pen and paper. The head nurse is very bossy. But I've been thinking about it all the time and I shan't get well until you forgive me.

I have a bandage tied around my head in rabbit's ears. It’s thoroughly pitiful looking. Doesn't that arouse your sympathy? I am having sublingual gland swelling. And I've been studying physiology all the year without ever hearing of sublingual glands. How futile a thing is education! I can't write anymore; I get rather shaky when I sit up too long. Please forgive me for being impertinent and ungrateful.

Yours with love and many, many apologies,

Y/N

THE INFIRMARY

4th April

Dearest Batman,

I don’t think it's possible to feel more guilty than I do now that I am on the mend. I have written the harshest words to the man who I owe everything. And now, on my bedside table, sit the most beautiful bouquet I have never set my eyes on!

And not only did I receive flowers, but a note as well! You are not bald! The joy I feel may eclipse my guilt entirely!

Yesterday evening just towards dark, when I was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, the nurse appeared with a long white box addressed to me, and filled with the most beautiful, colorful bouquet. And much nicer still, it contained a card with a message written in a funny little uphill backhand (but one which shows a great deal of character). Thank you a thousand times. Your flowers make the first real, true present I ever received in my life. If you want to know what a baby I am I lay down and cried because I was so happy.

Now that I am sure you read my letters, I'll make them much more interesting, so they'll be worth keeping in a safe with red tape around them--only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up. I'd hate to think that you ever read it over. Thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable Freshman cheerful. Probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don't know what it feels like to be alone. But I do. To make up for my behavior, I have a secret I've been keeping from you. I hope you won’t take everything away from me, but I feel so awful I must find a way to make it right.

Goodbye--I'll promise never to be horrid again because now I know you're a real person; also I'll promise never to bother you with any more questions. Do you still hate girls?

Yours forever,

Y/N

Bruce felt a weight lift from his chest as he read the letter. As soon as he saw the sign offs and her sending him love, it was a relief after a week of headaches. Y/N must have written the first letter before the flowers had reached her, because if there was one thing Bruce knew, she would have gushed…or at least he hoped she would. Instead of sending Alfred out to fetch them, he found himself at a flower shop. He had studied the language of flowers and had carefully crafted a message to her. Purple hyacinths for regret and blue for making peace. The lily of the valley was symbolic of his humility and hope that Y/N would return to happiness. Yellow roses showed his hope of friendship and the one flower he was nervous about: pink carnation. The message was never forget you and Bruce was worried it was too intimate a message. While Y/N may not know what he was saying or that he was even communicating, Bruce was reaching out in all of his stunted emotional intelligence.

8th hour, Monday

Dear Batman,

I hope you aren't the Trustee who sat on the toad? It went off—I was told—with quite a pop, so probably he was a fatter Trustee.

Do you remember the little dugout places with gratings over them by the laundry windows in the Bowery Home? Every spring when the frog season opened, we used to form a collection of toads and keep them in those window holes; and occasionally they would spill over into the laundry, causing a very pleasurable commotion on wash days. We were severely punished for our activities in this direction, but in spite of all discouragement the toads would collect.

And one day—well, I won't bore you with particulars—but somehow, one of the fattest, biggest, juiciest toads got into one of those big leather arm chairs in the Trustees' room, and that afternoon at the Trustees' meeting—But I dare say you were there and recall the rest?

Looking back dispassionately after a period of time, I will say that punishment was merited, and—if I remember rightly—adequate. I don't know why I am in such a reminiscent mood except that spring and the reappearance of toads always awakens the old acquisitive instinct. The only thing that keeps me from starting a collection is the fact that no rule exists against it.

Bruce remembered that particular incident fondly. Thankfully, the trustee had not been he. It had been Thomas Elliot who had the misfortune of the toad. Knowing that Y/N had been part in that attack on the odious man had a massive smile growing on Bruce’s face. He returned to the letter, hoping to hear more about her day.

After chapel, Thursday

What do you think is my favorite book? Just now, I mean; I change every three days. Wuthering Heights. Emily Bronte was quite young when she wrote it, and had never been outside of Haworth churchyard. She had never known any men in her life; how could she imagine a man like Heathcliffe?

I couldn't do it, and I'm quite young and never outside the John Grier Asylum—I've had every chance in the world. Sometimes a dreadful fear comes over me that I'm not a genius. Will you be awfully disappointed, if I don't turn out to be a great author? In the spring when everything is so beautiful and green and budding, I feel like turning my back on lessons, and running away to play with the weather. There are such lots of adventures out in the fields! It's much more entertaining to live books than to write them.

“AHHHHHH!”

That was a shriek which brought Harriet and Babs and (for a disgusted moment) the Senior from across the hall. It was caused by a massivecentipede. Just as I had finished the last sentence and was thinking what to say next, it fell off the ceiling and landed at my side. I tipped two cups off the tea table in trying to get away. Barbs whacked it with the back of my hair brush—which I shall never be able to use again—and killed the front end, but the rear fifty feet ran under the bureau and escaped. This dormitory, owing to its age and ivy-covered walls, is full of centipedes. They are dreadful creatures. I'd rather find a tiger under the bed.

Friday, 9.30 p.m.

Such a lot of troubles! I didn't hear the rising bell this morning, then I broke my shoestring while I was hurrying to dress and dropped my collar button down my neck. I was late for breakfast and also for the first-hour recitation. I forgot to take any blotting paper and my fountain pen leaked.

In trigonometry the Professor and I had a disagreement touching a little matter of logarithms. On looking it up, I find that she was right. We had mutton stew and pie-plant for lunch—hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum. The post brought me nothing but bills (though I must say that I never do get anything else; my family are not the kind that write). In English class this afternoon we had an unexpected written lesson. This was it:

I asked no other thing, No other was denied. I offered being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.

Brazil? He twirled a button Without a glance my way: “But, madam, is there nothing else That we can show today?”

That is a poem. I don't know who wrote it or what it means. It was simply printed out on the blackboard when we arrived and we were ordered to comment upon it. When I read the first verse I thought I had an idea—The Mighty Merchant was a divinity who distributes blessings in return for virtuous deeds—but when I got to the second verse and found him twirling a button, it seemed a blasphemous supposition, and I hastily changed my mind. The rest of the class was in the same predicament; and there we sat for three-quarters of an hour with blank paper and equally blank minds. Getting an education is an awfully wearing process!

But this didn't end the day. There's worse to come.

It rained so we couldn't play golf, but had to go to the gymnasium instead. The girl next to me banged my elbow with an club. I got home to find that the box with my new blue spring dress had come, and the skirt was so tight that I couldn't sit down. Friday is sweeping day, and the maid had mixed all the papers on my desk. We had “tombstone'' for dessert (milk and gelatin flavored with vanilla). We were kept in the chapel twenty minutes later than usual to listen to a speech about feminine women. And then—just as I was settling down with a sigh of well-earned relief to The Portrait of a Lady, a girl named Ackerly, a dough-faced, deadly, unintermittently stupid girl, who sits next to me in Latin because her name begins with A (I wish Mother Waller had named me Zabriski), came to ask if Monday's lesson commenced at paragraph 69 or 70, and stayed ONE HOUR. She has just gone.

Did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events? It isn't the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh—I really think that requires spirit.

It's the kind of character that I am going to develop. I am going to pretend that all life is just a game which I must play as skilfully and fairly as I can. If I lose, I am going to shrug my shoulders and laugh—also if I win. Anyway, I am going to be a sport. You will never hear me complain again, Batsy dear, because Harriett wears silk stockings and centipedes drop off the wall.

Yours ever,

Y/N

P.s. Answer soon. How am I to know what to read if I don’t know your favorite book?

@inluvwithladybug

@pierres-new-spectacles

@kity-k4t

#toomanyrobins #batman x reader #Batman #Batman imagine #Bruce Wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #battison #battison imagine #battison x reader #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #Robert Pattinson #✉️#batfamily #batfam #batfamily imagine #batfam imagine

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readingrobin · 1 year

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I'm still trying to get the hang of the whole "posting content" thing, but I think providing a reading wrap-up every month will allow me a little more to work with. January was a fairly standard reading month. I was able to get through ten books, though I added quite a few to my TBR. Kind of had a mini heart attack when I realized that, according to my Storygraph, I have about 1,731 titles on there. Well, at least I know I'll never run short of reading material.

Total Books Read: 10

Total Pages Read: 3,689

Books Read:

The Devil Aspect by Craig Russell - (Review) (3.5/5)

Sweep: The Story of a Girl and Her Monster by Jonathan Auxier - All I have to say is that the best kind of children's fiction tends to be the ones that expertly balance the harsh cruelties of life, especially during the Victorian era, with an unshakable sense of hope and a lot of heart. Sweep is one of those books that doesn't shy away from the reality and history of children in peril, but there is a warmness in its pages that comes from feeling and seeing the love and protection of dear ones long since passed. Definitely a bit of a tearjerker, but in a good way. (4/5)

The Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu - (Review) (4/5)

Property of the Rebel Librarian by Allison Varnes - Looking at the world around us, this book couldn't be more relevant, as book bans are sweeping across schools and kids are left without a choice in what they want to read. Though it presents a somewhat simplistic scenario of censorship gone wild, it's definitely meant as an accessible way for young readers to be introduced to the process of book banning and what can be done to make your voice heard. (4/5)

Season of the Bruja Vol. 1 by Aaron Duran and Sara Soler - A really beautiful graphic novel that highlights the conflict of surviving indigenous traditions vs. religious colonialism. Stories that point out the hypocrisy and brutality of the Catholic church scratch such a good itch for me. The world is a little shaky though, not much is exactly explained and you almost need some prior knowledge of Mexican mythology going in, but it's worth checking out. (3/5)

A Winter's Promise by Christelle Dabos - (Review) (4/5)

Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison - (Review) (4/5)

The Ivory Key by Akshaya Raman - Though it takes a while to get going, The Ivory Key does have a great readability to it as the action finally kicks in about maybe halfway through. Up until then, the book spends a great deal laying the foundation of this world: tensions between cities, the role and history of magic in this society, the dynamics of the main characters. I will say, being introduced to at least seven different important characters in the span of 30 pages is a tad overwhelming at first, but it levels out the more you keep reading. While I did enjoy it, there was nothing particularly exemplary about the story that wowed me. The Indian-inspired setting and mythology makes it stand out, but everything else used the same tropes, beats, and twists that I've seen time and time over with little to add to them. I liked it enough to want to read the second book coming out later this year, but probably not enough to keep it on my personal shelf. (3/5)

Black Panther: The Young Prince by Ronald L. Smith - Read this one in a day and was fairly satisfied with it. It'll definitely appeal to middle grade readers looking for Marvel tie-in stories, as it has a quick pace and a good amount of action and mystery. For me, I don't think I enjoyed it enough to continue with the sequel, but it was nice to see a younger T'Challa and M'Baku out of their element away from Wakanda and how dynamic changed over the course of the book. (3/5)

Scavenge the Stars by Tara Sim - For a book inspired by The Count of Monte Cristo, the story itself was incredibly simple and told fairly straight-forwardly, but I think that works in its favor. I'm at the point where I'm starting to tire of long-winded society dramas so I appreciated it for having a bit of focus. Everyone's motivation is clear, with a natural twist or two popping up along the way, plus a great amount of casual queerness. Though the world-building wasn't exactly intricate, there is a good sense of aesthetic and personality in the setting of Moray from its high status venues to the seedy gambling dens. I'm interested to see where the story goes in the sequel! (3.5/5)

Average Rating: (3.6/5)

#robin's book log #reading wrap up #book wrap up #the devil aspect #sweep: the story of a girl and her monster #the kingdom of back #property of the rebel librarian #season of the bruja #a winter's promise #such sharp teeth #the ivory key #black panther the young prince #scavenge the stars

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smithbrick · 10 months

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ONE.

I'm losin' myself in the tiniest objects I'm seein' my life on a screen I'm hearin' your voice in a strange foreign language If only I learned how to speak Noah Kahan - Halloween

“Ah, shit, my nuts.”

That was all Smith could muster as the pedestal reached ground level. Not the sprawling city streets, not the final tearful goodbye he shared with his brother, not the tense look on every tributes face—but the skin-tight suit giving him a wedgie.

To be fair, if he thought about anything else, Smith might have just jumped off the platform and ended it right then and there. Smith wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular belief. Things were only going to get worse from there on out.

Smith. It was his father’s voice, deep and unsettling. He couldn’t remember a time when his dad had ever said it with pride. The guy was probably sitting in his office, watching both of his sons in anticipation. A building a few blocks from the cornucopia reminded him of the company building. He wondered if Mason thought the same, if they would somehow know to find one another there.

Smith. Miller’s came out loud and clear. I haven’t given up on you. He had to stop himself from looking behind him, expecting his brother to be waiting from the sidelines. Was this how he felt? The dread was starting to eat him alive, gnawing at his insides like it was trying to escape. I promise I’ll have my shit together. He had just gotten Miller back just to lose him all over again. What was he supposed to do now? His brother would tell him to focus, to concentrate on the arena. Higher ground, weak spots, traps. He took a shaky breath as his eyes darted from one building to the next. You don’t give up on yourself, you hear me?

Smith. A chorus of voices now. His alliance—the ever-contentious Career Pack. He tried to find the three of them then, but it seemed their attention was called somewhere else. Asking Mason to sabotage the pair from Ten was a dangerous plan and it only occurred to Smith that they would have wanted that for him all along. He gritted his teeth, telling himself not to overreact and failing miserably.

Smith. The girl from Seven and his brother’s stolen wallet. Let go of all that inherited weight. Smith. Cain and Everett and their knack for being annoyed with him. I’m talking to you like you just pulled a stupid stunt and now you have to live with it. Smith. His friends from Two running away, as always, from the scene of the crime.

Smith. Mason. One and the same. Really, you’re even brother of the century in my book. Was he heading for the cornucopia first? Was he gunning for another tribute? Did he expect the arena to look like that? Was he prepared to fight? How were they supposed to find food and water? Did he trust their alliance? Their mentors? Brothers? Does he really trust them? Yes, I can handle it. Did he know what he was getting into? Was any of this worth it—

The countdown clock stopped and Smith’s instincts kicked into overdrive. A tribute, a nobody from a lower district, reached the supplies before he could stop them. He jumped on their back, wrestling with the tribute as he tried to get the other to drop their things. The less they had to survive with, the better. They both tumbled to the ground and, though Smith had the upper hand, the other tribute managed to slip away from his grasp.

He looked up to see the girl from Nine stuffing whatever she could into her shoes. They’d made eye contact and for a brief second, Smith saw red. He did not take to losing early so easily. The girl made a run for it despite the supplies she’d taken holding her down. He went to a throwing knife, laid out as if it was waiting for him, and aimed it at her back. As she crumpled to the ground, Smith made his way to her, weaving in and out of the carnage of the bloodbath. It was hard to ignore the cries from the other tributes, but the canons had thankfully muffled the worst of it. Smith wasn’t a monster—he knew that was sick. Still, he knew what had to be done.

Taking the knife from the tribute’s back, Smith grabbed her collar and put the blade to her throat. She bled out quickly, leaving a pool of it to ruin the concrete underneath them. He’d known it, heard it a thousand times before that ending someone’s life was nothing like it was on television. That those dummies, lacking a brain, heart, and soul, were nothing compared to real people.

In one swift motion, he claimed a life without so much as a second thought. Stepping away, Smith turned his back as the canon went off, unable to face what he'd done. His eyes lingered on the fresh tattoo still healing under his sleeve. Then slowly, they drifted down to his wrist, his palms, his fingers before settling on the bloody knife, red and guilty. How many more would he have to take?

Smith. Smith. Smith. He hated how it sounded just then. He hated that everyone only seemed to care, that it only seemed to matter, now that he was going to die. That he was making the family proud by doing the one thing he promised not to do. If these lives were the only things he had to his name by the end of it, Smith would have given it up a long time ago.

#133 #tw violence #tw blood #smith — ( character study )

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multitrackdrifting · 1 year

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gacha game anon - loool. half caught me, I was debating it but on second thought unfortunately I can't in good conscience recommend you play the current enstars, as I am a big fan and seeing peoples opinions of it makes me rather defensive. it's a very good game but people who haven't read the plot of the first game do not tend to understand how the character dynamics are supposed to work. now what you SHOULD play is mahoutsukai no yakusoku (promise of wizard). it is not a rhythm game and there aren't too many translations out there (but all the main story is translated on healingbonds dot dreamwidth dot com), but it's a fun romp, and the characters are great. it's a lot more lighthearted than something like enstars but a lot better with character building than a lot of other gacha games.

i am also assuming you've played fate/grand order by your posts but if by some miracle you haven't you should go pick it up and slog through til camelot. worth it. if you have played it though, I'd be interested in hearing who your favorite characters are! with such a big cast it's fun seeing everyone have a different set of favorites

I've played FGO but I am a slow-reader and I don't skip scenes in games so I just needa get back on it (maybe). Only gacha game story that I stayed on for a super long period of time was Granblue Fantasy, and while I like the writing the update pace is more glacial than FGO's by a significant margin in terms of the volume of story... slowed down p hard in the last 5 years (I guess because most of it is voiced). I might go back to FGO and give my thoughts on it as I go along, I really want to roll Prototype Saber though v_v;; .. I do have Merlin and Jalter so there's that at least!!

I have no clue about enstars honestly except for this image + one of my friends loves that series. I just don't tend to get into series without an eng transaltion in-app since my reading comprehension in japanese is pretty shaky at best. I've not heard much about the rhythm game at all so no clue what people are saying about it

I might read that game's translations after I'm done editing this current video, right now I'm working on a chainsaw man video that's gonna be like 30-40 mins long maybe more so I haven't even played games too much lately but I also want to read like the remainder of 86 Eighty-Six since the 11th one just came in the mail and im only a few books deep

All my friends play AK & Nikke right now, I currently play nothing but I used to be huge into Honkai3 story but I spent most of the last year grinding a 9-5 + studying full-time (dont recommend..) so I had to drop all the mobile games and I just listened to music on the commute to work instead

#my brain is addled so the order in which i do each of these is pretty random #asks #long post #gacha game anon #you get your own tag so you can find this easier :'D

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booksandwords · 2 years

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Radio Sass by T.L. Reeve & Michelle Ryan

Series: TSU After Dark #1/ Sassy Ever After Read time: 1 Day Rating: 3/5

The quote: “Look, I’m going to be that dick for a minute. You have been living the life your grandmother wanted you to have, whatever her reason might be. Have you stop to consider why you’re here? I don’t mean because it’s a great school either.” — Taichi Goto

I have one word to describe my feels about Radio Sass conflicted.

The men are hot, the smut is hot, Natasha is a relatable protagonist but it's half baked on the framing and has some serious flaws on the consent. I cannot abide by flaws in consent in polyandry and reverse harem. While it is dubcon not noncon, Natasha is fine with what happens to her, she had no idea the consequences of the whole moment. The fact that Keiji had to ask the next morning is confirmation that no one asked if she was okay with 1, the sex going that rough and 2, Tanchi bonding with her. To me these genre/s should be about female strength and empowerment this fails on that. At least to me.

The main four characters are Natasha Nemescu, Keiji Nomura, Taichi Goto and Maël Darius. Natasha is a Romanian-American human damphir (half-human, half-vampire), Keiji and Taichi are demons of Japanese decent and Maël a vampire of Balkan descent. It's worth noting that Keiji and Taichi use Japanese endearments and phrases occasionally without explanations. Particularly "“Amaimono no tame no amaimono.” He bowed low, then produced a piece of candy out of thin air. “Anata no tame ni watashi no kawaī hachidori.”" this is said at a pivotal point in a way, it's in front of a crowd, in a way he's claiming her. As both Keiji and his demon form, the Red Demon. According to Google translate it translates as "Sweet things for sweet things" and "For you my sweet hummingbird". Hachidori or Hummingbird is never translated and is Keiji's personal nickname for Natasha. Maël's is Princess, both a nickname and an honorific (she's a queen if you don't mind). Taichi really doesn't use one only really kawaī. I have a whole lot of other issues with that whole exchange. Taichi explains the meaning to her, it's patronising and disrespectful to the knowledge Natasha should have as an anime fan (subculture knowledge). The plot such as it is about Natasha coming into who she is and accepting her relationship. But it's shaky, there is clearly lore there that is transposed from the main series that hasn't come across properly. The framing for the relationship itself falls apart about a chapter in, it's a focus on how they meet while promising to be more.

As usual I have a favourite man, easily. Taichi. Taichi is linguistically odd in a way. His demon form defaults to Japanese (again whole other set of issues), but then he goes even quieter. He's the techy nerdy one. With a sense of inner peace, sweet intelligence, control and a serious flirtatious side. He's so intense. While being semi submissive to Kaiji in particular, the use of shujin (master but I think in a sexual specific context) was a fantastic choice. And I have a thing for Japanese men (maybe who knows my head is an odd place). He reminds me in a bizarre way of Tenchi from Pleasured by her Guardsmen, it's the intensity.

But I do like that it doesn't back off on the guys. The first time we see sexual it's between two of the guys, Keiji and Taichi. They have a brilliant relationship, both sexual and symbiotic relationship well before they meet Natasha. Keiji uses Taichi as an outlet of a form and enjoys nothing more than watching them put together Tanchi fall apart under him. Having that play is brilliant, it's something that a lot of books back off on letting happen, having the guys play and touch each other our pleasure and enjoyment. And in Radio Sass it largely feels natural.

As a stupid side issue that really did annoy me by the end. The spacing on the kindle version is all over the place. Like print version page gaps haven't been properly removed. There are designed markers for a switch in perspective and the passing of time but I've seen these gaps mark time skip. I'm going to be honest I was a tad confused at first.

2nd quote: He wasn’t her type normally, but both he and Keiji were delicious. Hussy. — Natasha Nemescu (I feel this quote, except they are my type)

#t.l. reeve #michelle ryan #tsu after dark #sassy ever after #reverse harem #book review #read 2021 #ktreviews #tw dubcon #booklr

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danger-noodle-uwu · 3 years

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I'm new to tumblr so is this how you do request? May I request the brothers forgetting mc's birthday and later remembering it. How would they react? Maybe they were busy or something. Your choice if you wanna do the dateables too.

Trigger warning

Mentions of Angst/sad/slight comfort

Lucifer

Busy almost all the time, the first-born barely spent time with our dear Mc. He would try to finish the work only for more to be slammed on his desk.

Never would his brothers acknowledge his efforts or the sacrifices he made for them. Instead they'd mock him. Mock him for being absent at all family times. Mock him for doing what he does.

It was once again such a time, such a day. They didn't bother to care what the day has held for his beloved. It was their birth.

The birth of the one who truly changed his life along with his brothers. It was such a blessing yet he forgot about it. Entirely.

The Avatar of pride was strong, Lucifer wasn't. He was weak. Vulnerable. Especially against his brothers whom he adored with his entire being.

And the mocking words had stabbed him deeply, which made his current state as to how it was. Drunk. Wounded. Crying.

Rubbing his eyes, he awoke to a mess of his office which screamed the need for cleanliness.

During the process, he found the calender. A sweet calender gifted him by his doll.

A smile had crept on his face as he lifted it for what? Perhaps to calm the unsettling feeling in his bones that told him to run but where he didn't know?

While their lover was, Mc wilted much like a delicate flower would if the sun stopped shinning, they were laying curled on the floor of his room. Mc needed him.

How could he forget his own lover's birthday?! even after he promised... it hurts.. so much...

Yesterday. The poor human cut the cake wished themselves a happy birthday when he didn't...crying...in pain...

The realization hit hard. He ran to Mc's room as fast as he could. A shiver ran his spine and the horror in his stomach grew as each and every step was taken.

Yet could not find them, so he went over to his office expecting a fuming Mc.

He was once again not right, for his beloved was breaking down as he took them into his arms. Consoling.

He apologised and comforted them. Reassuring them over and over again. Reminding them his heart still is with them and no-could ever take it away.

He later threw a party, just like how you wanted. You. Him. And the growing fragrance of the candles surrounding you both.

Though late as it may have been, it was the best birthday the innocent human had. Smiling while he kissed your knuckles, he asked for your hand in marriage.

Never had you expected this...

"I Found the reason for my smile, the day I found you. Will you let me be the reason for your smile and marry me, my love?"

Mammon

As most had expected, he forgot your birthday due to witches or the modeling gig, he did not.

Instead he forgot about preparing your birthday gifts. His excitement had always gotten the best of him.

The Avatar of greed did not have enough budget to prepare the gift you dearly wished for, therefore multiple part-time jobs and skipping RAD became more often.

Despite the scolding, he didn't bother and worked on, just imagining the smile you'd make once you saw what he got you.

''I'll make Mc smile. Just one more hour extra and the budget would be*chef's kiss* '' he thought as his co-workers packed their belongings up.

It was late night and the moons shined brightly over the streets of devildom however he wasn't much worried because it was not like your birthday the next day. (it was)

Stretching his arms, he woke up around 1:35 pm due to his fucked up sleep schedule, only to be greeted by your excited figure cuddling him.

Grey-haired demon thought it was the Delirium before the day itself. He was wrong.

At first he acted totally oblivious to the fact any special day was just around the corner. He knew that surprises even more better!!

And then your great mammon ignored you for a while to rid of the risk of you following him to the destination.

Though his plan was to get your hopes down, he ended up making you cry. It hurts a lot especially when the love of your life forgets your birthday afterall you gave him everything he wanted on his.

The visit was successful. He even had extras left to treat you!!!

The was big achievement for someone who hated working to the slightest, to work for 3 weeks and multiple jobs!!!

But before he left, the seller mocked him about being a damned day late for this gift could have been sold at a better price if not booked.

That is when it all clicked and he panicked. Today was your birthday! Oh shit!!

He rushed home back to you. As he ran, he planned how to ask for your forgiveness.

" Oi Mc I'm sorry!--Oh hell no!!" "Mc I fucked I am sorry, please forgive afterall I'm your first man.--fuck this shit imma just play smooth."

Panting, he paused right before the door of your room and knocked lightly. Seeking your permission to enter.

You lazily opened the door for him, tired after shedding many tears for him.

Mammon instantly knew what to do. "Oi Mc I'm sorry for not wishing ya' a happy birthday earlier but I was busy buyin you somethin', here darlin' close your eyes."

Hearing his apology, you felt oddly happy and followed his request. Soon you felt a soft cold metal cling to your wrist. A bracelet, huh.?

"Open y'er eyes, human." On your wrist was bracelet that said 'His human' and another matching one was on his wrist which said 'Their stupid' . (Now isn't that adorable?)

"I was savin' up for this, so ya' better appreciate it. Hmph!" Giggling you yelled 'I love you' at him making him blush immediately.

However, when he spoke, he spoke genuinely and not in tsundere.

"Ya' make my life worth living. You bring smiles to my face, and y'er touch shows me how much you love me and care for me. Y'er my friend and my lover. Happy Birthday!"

Leviathan

With envy filled to the brim, Leviathan was very focused upon you and having your attention only for himself. To not let anyone snatch you away for they could better be than him, he'd make notes to treat you like royalty and improve his guilt-tripping habits.

Guilt, regret, shame. His heart screamed within the confines of his chest, as he rubbed your back assuring you that he still loved and will continue to do so.

It was his envy. It had always been his envy. Who always held him captive like a bird in a cage, he struggled to break free. He just couldn't.

The fault was his for if he hadn't given in to the jealousy named poison, you would be happily celebrating your birthday rather than crying in his embrace.

The fault was his for if he hadn't screamed at your friends who just came to congratulate you about getting in a relationship with the demon you very much loved and to wish you a birthday.

They left because of him. Not because he humiliated them but he forgot his own lover's birthday and called them a pathetic cheater, as they didn't feel like reminding of what the day was. They had left off with their friends, returning at HOL at night only to get yelled at.

Caring friends as they were, they tried convincing Mc to leave which his love refused. So, they left pitying the poor human.

No-matter how much Mc begged her companions to stay, they didn't.

Oh the suffering for His Normie, they ran upto him vulnerable-ly and started hitting him weakly, breaking down. Why was he? Why was he like this?! Why must he always leave you crying due to his envy?!

"Hey easy...calm down please, I'm sorry. I really am sorry, please forgive me and I promise I will make everything right. Please." "How..?" "Please trust me. My love." "Are you sure..?" "Yes...yes...I love you..."

Could you really trust his statement? You wondered. He could forget his word much like how he forgot your birthday.

The great admiral of hell's navy was true to his word, and successfully united you again with those who almost abandoned you or it seemed like--but no they were just disappointed. They were never going to do such a thing.

The meet went smoothly, and soon the the sun was setting casting shadows along with dying light, it was a dreamy sight for anyone.

Leviathan had known that he still had to make upto you properly and therefore, he took you to the cosmos of frodane.

Red, blue, yellow, any colour you could possibly think of was there, shining as brightly you were.

Taking in a shaky breath, the Avatar of envy gave you a bouquet, each flower consisting different scent which complimented the other.

The shimmer in your eyes gave you away and he gave you a sweetly addicting kiss while mumuring...

"I always cause some mess. It is never your fault. I’m sorry for making you feel unhappy. I cannot believe that I cause hurt to you. You are my only hope for my life. I promise you that I will do my best to make a better version of myself for you, my 3rd waifu~"

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

And here we go... the pain and the suffering. Lol

Hope you like it and stay safe everyone. ♡♡♡

Have a good day!

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

Text

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

#attack on titan fanfiction #armin arlet x reader #yandere armin arlert #armin arlet x you #armin arlert fanfic #slight dubcon #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw crybaby reader'

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jesseevelann · 2 years

Text

"Hey, Itachi! I have a little surprise for you!"

Itachi looked up from his book to the door, there stood Obito, fresh from training and taking off his sandals. He smiled, closing his book and standing.

"Big brother Obito! Are you looking after me again this afternoon??"

Obito nodded, stepping onto the cool wood floor.

"You bet! But before we do anything..."

Itachi watched curiously as his brother dug through his bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped present with a bow tied to the shape of a weasel. Itachi was always astonished by the effort Obito put into gifts.

"This is your birthday present... it's not for another month, but I have a long mission set just before it... so I won't be here. So I'm putting my trust in you, that you won't open it until your birthday."

Itachi nodded, Obito's presents were always the best, and worth waiting for. Taking the box in his small hands, he walked carefully to his room to put it somewhere he couldn't see. Obito following, detouring to the bathroom to shower.

Itachi walked to the kitchen, pushing a chair to the bench and waiting for Obito, he always loved helping him cook dinner and make lunch.

‐--

"Hey, Itachi!" Izumi called, smiling at her classmate. "You've been down lately... something wrong?"

Itachi said nothing.

In the background, Itachi heard the chatter of other academy students.

"Did you hear, did you hear? That Obito guy was killed on his last mission!"

"What a loser! Can't even handle a simple mission like that!"

"Hahaha! I bet the Uchiha are glad he's gone! He didn't even have his Sharingan, the dumbass!"

Itachi's head fell low. Obito...

"Hey!! Are you even listening, Ita-"

"What are your thoughts on Uchiha Obito?"

Izumi was taken aback, and confused. Obito? What was so special about him?

"Well... I mean... I guess he was alright? He seems pretty slack for an Uchiha thou—"

Itachi was already gone. Running out of the schoolyard and back home. He didn't care about classes.

Why did you leave me, big brother...?

---

The ninth of June.

Today was the day.

The day Itachi was to open that present.

He sat with it in front of him, about a metre away. His knees were to his chest, his arms holding them tightly. Tears streaming down his face.

He was nervous. What if he ruined it? What if he broke it?

He couldn't do it. Next year... I promise.

---

"Hey, Itachi. Gonna open that box yet, or?" Kisame joked, sitting in the poor excuse of a living room with the rest of the team. Everyone looked at Itachi confused, some even annoyed that they were dragged out of their rooms for this.

Itachi sat with the box in his hands. He figured if he had people there, it would urge him to open it. For the first time, Itachi had touched the ribbon holding the wrapping nice and snug.

His breath was shaky as he pulled, the ribbon loosening easily. Of course it did, it was wrapped for a five year old. A small card slid from under it. Was it always there? How did he not notice it?

He carefully opend it, his breath hitching seeing the neat handwriting of his elder cousin.

My dear little weasel,

If you're reading this, you already know what happened to me. I had a feeling something would occur on my last mission, that is why I have you your gift a month early. I'm so sorry to leave you like this, I never wanted it to be this way... but I know you'll be a good kid, and one day when you have a sibling, a great older brother. I'll be watching over you from where I stand, always and forever. Promise me that you'll be good, much better than me. I love you, little brother

-Obito

Itachi let out a choked sob, peeling away the tape to release the box as gentle as he could. He was never impatient, but after sixteen years he finally had the courage to open the last gift he ever recieved.

Under the lid, sat a handful of their memories. A photo album of Itachi's first years and accomplishments, a sketchbook from when they drew together, and... Obito's headband. A spare that he had, the one that Itachi would were during training to be just like him. In amongst it all, was a handmade frame with the last photo they took together.

Obito stood with a smile, holding Itachi with one arm. Itachi held his favourite teddy in his arms, another gift from Obito.

Itachi closed the box, hugging it to his chest. He didn't want to ruin anything with his tears.

"I'm sorry, big brother... I'm so so sorry...!"

---

Tobi burst through the door, adrenalin pumpimg through his veins hard. Itachi clutched at his chest, coughing up blood violently. He ran over, catching Itachi in his arms.

"T-o-bi...?"

He stayed quiet, helping Itachi to sit on the ground, holding him up so he didn't collapse into his own blood.

Itachi continued to cough, tears slipping from his eyes. He looked at Tobi, his eyes widening when he saw him remove the mask.

Sharp, defined features... and deep, painful scars dug deep into the right side of his face. An eye filled with guilt, regrets and pain.

"O-Obi-to...?!"

He nodded slowly, tucking Itachi's hair behind his ear, his hand going further back and carefully untying the headband, pulling it off.

"I'm sorry, Itachi... I broke my promise to you, and—"

"No... it's fi-ine... you're here now, that's all I need..."

Obito pulled Itachi into a hug, it was loose and gentle. He ran his fingers through his hair softly.

"I missed you, big brother..."

"I missed you too... little weasel."

#obito uchiha #uchiha obito #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #izumi uchiha #kisame #the akatsuki #itachi's birthday #angst #cousin content

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

When the Chips are Down

part 15

masterlist

Hello my darlings! I’m back from vacation, and I have an update for you! after leaving you on such a cliffhanger too. If you haven’t checked out the newest fic in the Forbidden Fables collab, you should! @chimchimsauce has done a fabulous job with it, and I’m always a sucker for a good Cinderella story. --- chaotic puff

Shock. Horror. Despair. All of these things ran through him in waves as he stared at the door in front of him. Y/N was behind that door. Y/N was behind that door, and she was dying while he sat out here helpless to do anything about it. Jin had shut him out of the room, demanding he stay put while he went to go help the doctors with Y/N.

He’d thought that after the hours of pain they would get to sit and enjoy their little girl in peace, but it seemed like that wasn’t meant to be. Instead he and their daughter had to sit alone and forlorn without any idea how she was doing.

The baby made a small distressed sound, bringing her father’s attention to her, and Namjoon suddenly realized he had no idea what to do. He’d read the books. He’d planned, but he had no idea what to do in reality. Y/N would have known. She was a perfect mother, but Namjoon didn’t and he felt lost.

“It’s okay, princess.” he cooed, awkwardly bouncing her. “Eomma is gonna be just fine.”

That didn’t seem to help anything as she let out a sound that was more of a squawk than anything else before bursting into tears, crying her little heart out. Namjoon didn’t know that a being so small could make such a loud noise, and it sent him into a panic.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he begged, but she seemed set on ignoring him. “Please don’t cry.”

“Oh, goodness.” came the exasperated sigh from the other end of the room drawing a relieved sigh from Namjoon as salvation was in sight. “Give her to me.” Sen appeared as if from nowhere with a diaper bag hung on her shoulder to scoop the screaming infant from his arms.

“How’s, Y/N?” Yoongi asked, plopping into the seat beside him.

“I don’t know.” The screaming stopped, Namjoon looked up to see Sen’s swaying back and forth gently, happily cooing at the baby. “How did you do that?” He asked in awe.

Sen turned, showing him the newborn happily settled in her arms with a bottle of formula. “She’s hungry and mom’s not here. She’s a little upset. The least we can do is fill that belly.” she smiled gently down at his daughter, and he even caught Yoongi with a ghost of a smile from the corner of his eye. They were good together despite both of them arguing that it was a matter of convenience and that the only reason they were together was their son.

“I don’t know what to do…” he whispered, staring down at his hands. “I thought… I thought Y/N would be here.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Sen nodded along with Yoongi’s words. “Do you want to try?” She offered, a little awkwardly. She and Namjoon had never been on the best of terms.

“I don’t…” Sen rolled her eyes, starting in on giving the crime boss instructions on how to hold his arms and cradle her head as she settled the upset infant into his arms. Nara was quick to settle as Namjoon offered her the bottle again, cradles in his arms as Sen sharply reminded him to mind her head. “See? It’s easy.”

“She’s so small.” he whispered, awestruck despite how exhausted he was.

“Newborns are like that.” Yoongi deadpanned.

“What am I going to do if something happens to her?” he asked, brow furrowing and making him seem even more haggard than he was. “I don’t know anything about raising a little girl.”

“She’ll be okay.” Yoongi assured him, the smallest of smirks tilting up the corner of his mouth as he watched Namjoon begin to panic again as Nara started fussing once more. It was a simple fix. Sen had Namjoon fix the angle of the bottle, and all was well again. “She’s tough like that. She’s put you through your paces, that’s for sure.”

A half choked laugh escaped him as he lifted his gaze to meet that of his old friend’s. “She has, hasn’t she?”

“With any luck this little lady will be more like her than you.”

Another choked laugh.

“We’d all be doomed.” Yoongi shrugged, gently tugging at the tiny foot that was poking out of the blanket. “Who’s with Yoonho?”

“Hayan. That woman loves kids.”

“Think she and Jin will be having any soon?”

Yoongi gave him a look that clearly conveyed that Namjoon should have known the answer to that question already. “You know how he is with her. They’re probably not going to have any until Jin is absolutely certain she’s healthy. He thinks the poor woman is going to break if she so much as sneezes.”

Soon enough the bottle was done, and Namjoon thought he was free and clear. She’d been content the whole time, and Sen had been kind enough to do the burping and changing before handing the baby back to him. She was convinced that if he stood up while holding her, he’d drop her. She claimed he looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over, and she didn’t want to be responsible for telling Y/N why her brand new baby had been dropped on her head.

The problem came when Nara was handed back to him. She was fed, changed, and burped, and by any normal reasoning she should have been content and probably drifted off to sleep, but no. the moment that she was back in his arms she started caterwauling again, and nothing he did soothed her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking between the couple frantically. “What did I do?”

“Here.” Yoongi let out a long suffering sigh and scooped Nara out of his arms. Magically, she stopped crying within minutes, settling against Yoongi’s chest as he leaned back in his chair.

“How did you do that?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you.” Sen shrugged, rummaging through the diaper bag. She pulled out a pacifier and handed it over to Yoongi who took it and offered it to the sleepy little girl on his chest.

“She’s my daughter.”

“She’s Y/N’s daughter too.”

Yoongi and Sen stayed with him for a while, occasionally they would try to hand Nara back to him, and she would scream each time, but eventually they had to return home to their son. Jin had made them promise not to let Hayan overdo it. Namjoon was left alone with a diaper bag and a screaming child who would not settle no matter what he did.

He was exhausted. He was worried, and slowly, a tinge of resentment settled within him as he looked at his daughter. This tiny, squawking being was the reason Y/N wasn’t with him. If she hadn’t been pregnant, none of this would have happened. Maybe if it had been a son, maybe then it would have seemed a little more worth it, but it was a girl. He’d been so excited when Y/N had told him, but now all he felt was bitterness. He was going to lose his wife, and it was all this tiny, useless girl’s fault.

He was on the brink of throwing her across the room when Jungkook appeared. He hadn’t left the house since Y/N had first gone into labor, but it was the first time he’d seen the boy since Nara had come into the world.

“Is this her?” he asked, nervously eying the screaming bundle in his hyung’s arms.

“Yeah.”

Very unceremoniously, Namjoon plopped the baby into Jungkook’s arms despite the younger man’s panic at being offered the baby, but to both of their amazement, Nara stopped screaming after a time.

And then, in the quiet as Jungkook cooed at his daughter telling her how pretty she was, he began to resent himself. It wasn’t Nara’s fault. She was only a few hours old, so new and small. She didn’t know what was happening to her mother. She didn’t know that she was going to be all alone in the world if her mother didn’t pull through. It wasn’t her fault. She was just as frightened as he was, and he didn’t know what he was doing. She didn’t even have the added benefit of being able to understand what was going on. None of that was her fault.

“Is there any news about noona?” Jungkook asked softly, staring at the same door that Namjoon had been anxiously staring at since Jin had pushed him out.

“I haven’t heard anything.” he admitted, staring down at his hands. “The doctors are with her.”

“Has Jin hyung been out?”

“Not yet.” he sighed. “She likes you.” he glanced over seeing his daughter drifting off to sleep in Jungkook’s arms. “She screams every time I hold her.”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re stressed. Baby’s don’t like stress.” Namjoon’s eyes widened. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before. He’d been on edge since Jin had pushed him out of the room with Nara in his arms. He hadn’t thought that his nerves could affect the baby. “She looks like noona.”

“She does.” he admitted, the tiniest worn out smile. “And she likes me just about as much as her mother does too.”

“It’ll be better when you both get some rest. Why don’t you get some sleep, hyung? I’ll take care of Nara, and I’ll wake you up if there’s any news about noona.”

He shook his head. “No. I want to be here if there’s any news.”

“You need rest, hyung.”

“I can’t…” he whispered brokenly, resting his head in his hands. “I can’t when she’s in there… when I don’t….” he took in a deep shaky breath. “I can’t think without her. I can’t breathe. I can’t even get our daughter to stop crying.”

“She’ll be alright. Noona is strong.”

“There was so much blood.”

“Jin and the other doctors are with her.” Jungkook was going to continue, but Nara let out a mighty wail startling both of them, and he was quick to shove the newborn back into her father’s arms in panic. “Your kid, hyung.”

Namjoon was no less panicky than Jungkook, but he didn’t have the luxury of pawning off the newborn on someone else when she started crying. She was his child, and he was going to have to learn how to soothe her, especially if her mother didn’t pull through.

“It’s okay.” he mumbled awkwardly, bouncing her in his arms. “You’re okay.” he knew she had to be tired. She was so small, and she’d barely slept at all between all the crying and the different people coming to sit with them.

Jungkook plopped down beside him, smiling bashfully. “She’s really loud.”

“She is.”

At that moment though, Nara did something that made his frantic thoughts pause. She reached out with one little hand and grasped onto his finger as tightly as she could and her cries settled into whimpers as he pulled her a little tighter against him.

“It’s going to be okay.” he told her. “Appa’s here. I’ll look after you.” he promised as she looked up at him still all teary and red, but she was settling, the first time she had settled in his arms since she’d been born.

“See!” Jungkook beamed. “She likes you.”

And hopefully she did. If not, she was going to make him go grey much quicker than planned.

“Joon?” Jin called, stepping out of the room, and Namjoon’s stomach dropped seeing the amount of blood on the scrubs he wore.

“Is she…?”

Jin gave him a tired smile. “She’s okay for now. She’s lost a lot of blood though.”

Namjoon stood up, already making his way to the door, but Jin stopped him. “She’s sleeping now. She’s going to need a lot of rest, and she’s getting a blood transfusion. You need to be gentle with her for a while.” Jin ordered sternly.

“I’ll give her whatever she wants so long as she’s okay.”

Jin nodded. “You should go sit with her, for a little bit, but you both need rest.” Namjoon nodded, only half paying attention to him now that he was allowed to see Y/N. “Don’t you dare wake her up, Namjoon!”

But the man didn’t hear a word of the warning as his eyes zeroed in on his wife. She looked far too pale and sickly and small all tucked up in bed, but she was alright. She was alive.

part 16

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