#“i kept it with me because i have hope that i would have a daughter to give it to her and that shed have a daughter on her on to pass it on

[saintrvckwell]

there'll be no rest for the wicked (au)

joel miller x platonic!teen!reader AU

summary: more than enough of your mother's vices waltzed into your life unannounced, leaving without a trace. but then, then there was joel.

warnings: heavily implied father-daughter dynamic, joel grows protective for the reader, father-daughter bond, platonic stuff and thangs, angst as well (what else i would write, lol), but man the fluff, joel works as a cop (lol howdy), trigger warning mentioned into story (there is a warning before the scene! -- nothing happens, but the nature of it implies the boy's intentions, so i rather chose to give a warning)

wordcount: 4.6k

a/n: hi! lately i found myself enjoying the joel x platonic reader stories again and figured, i could contribute myself, again. treat the daddy issues strugglers like me, ha. enjoy!

splitting this into more parts, please, be patient with me.

Your mother was never the nurturing type. For her, this word did not exist in her vocabulary. She loved you, you supposed, because there was never a clear sign. You were left to wonder. Whether she really cared and if so, where was she?

Throughout your childhood, your mother seemed like a visitor. Someone who, once in a while, passes through. There was never a holiday, spontaneous trip or even a lunch. She had lunch, just not with you. Her friends, her social life -- it was everything for her.

And it seemed, as though, you were not part of that list.

From time to time, as you were growing up, the idea of your father popped in your mind couple of times. Your mother never told you his name, went as far as to not include him in your birth certificate. There was no clue. So, for a child, who's yearning for a presence of loving parent, your imagination stepped in.

Whenever your mom would be on a business trip or simply out with your friends, you would sit on the windowsill, counting the threes below your apartment window. Until you fell asleep. Until the dreams, the wishful thinking, the cycling imagination, gave you what you had been looking for.

A father.

It was natural, you thought. You wished to be saved from your mother's claws. Unmaternal claws that suffocated you. The desire in your eyes, she saw it. But never bothered to do something about it. Your mother never cared, she never listened. She never came to your recitals, school races or when you gave a valedictorian speech.

You put your sweat and tears into it -- trying to figure out that your message will be received. It was a significant moment in your life, or so the teachers kept saying. The praises were coming from every direction, except for the one you wished for the most.

This was the moment you were hoping for -- that she would finally acknowledge your achievements and efforts. And she would come, sit in the first row and cheer you on.

But the reserved seat stayed empty.

And you found yourself standing in the middle of the parking lot, diploma in your hands; your mother nowhere to be found. You waited, for almost an hour, before pulling out the keys from your backpack and setting off, walking the streets in your graduation robe, wiping away the tears you promised yourself not to waste.

Not on her.

When instead of trying, she stayed at home.

With a man.

The anger was running through your veins and the patience was standing on the edge of a cliff.

You could go ballistic.

Who would have blamed you anyways. Your mother's attitude gave you enough reasons to scream it out of your lungs and lose control. But, perhaps, the anger was the one, standing on the top.

The bittersweet taste of disappointment, there it was again.

"Hey, how was school today?" she asked, casually, as though it was an ordinary day -- to be frank, she probably had forgotten about your ceremony anyways.

The man, standing by the kitchen island, with a glass of brandy in his hand, turned around.

Compared to what had travelled through your apartments over the years, he looked decent. Well-dressed, without an awful cologne and more importantly -- without a fake smile. Most of your mother's short-term partners would always pretend wanting to find out more about you.

When they only wanted to find out what was under your mother's clothes.

Still, it would not last forever, you thought.

"Good," you mumbled, putting the cap back on your head. "Same stuff as usual."

There was an urge to leave this uncomfortable setting but before you made a move, the strange man had noticed the clothes you had been wearing and smiled, again. As if though it was contagious.

"Congratulations," he spoke.

Your mother looked up, eyeing your appearance.

"Oh, you had the thing today, right?" she mumbled, grabbing her glass of vine.

You couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, the bizarre kept getting worse.

"Yeah, the Valedictorian thing, if that's what you mean," you mumbled, holding onto the red case of your diploma.

"Cool," she nodded, "Hey, how about you go pick us up some celebratory dinner? Noodles down the street?"

The anger crawled back into your mind.

"It's raining outside," you shook your head.

"Ever heard of umbrella?"

You never attempted to lash out at her -- solely because of knowing the fact that she would not care. But now, when she stood next to her latest boyfriend, vine in her hand and disinterest in her eyes, you just wanted to scream.

Every symptom of emerging emotional breakdown was on its way, and you knew, you had to get out of there. Not another word said, as you departed into your room. There was no energy to slam the door -- to give a little statement.

Throwing off the robe, along with the diploma, you laid down on the cold, wooden floor and closed your eyes. Five minutes, you just needed five minutes to gather your thoughts. You got four years left, in the same household. Then you would be free.

You never understood her stance. Why was it so easy to show to all of her dates and parties, but never to yours? When you stood on the stage, reciting your speech, you could see the numerous pairs of eyes of those proud parents.

You did want her to sit among them and weep.

You just want her there.

At this point, you would be grateful for anything. For the tinniest amount of your mother's affection that she so graciously gave to her boyfriends.

"Can I come in?"

The voice on the other side of your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

There he was her boyfriend.

You did not know why he knocked on your door and frankly, you did not care. He was going to be here long, there is no point in getting to know a temporary vise.

He could not overlook the redness in your cheeks and how swollen your eyes had gotten.

At that moment, you were thankful he decided to not care either.

Or perhaps?

"So, what food for the celebration?" he asked, trying to cheer up the mood, after a minute of an awkward silence.

You frowned.

"I was thinking, since it's raining, we could take a drive and pick up something for dinner."

There was an urge to leave the house, without a doubt. And you could either take a walk and come back soaked and cold, and mainly, hungry. Or you could follow him to the front door, watch him grab the cars keys and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat.

The further the house had gotten, the lighter your shoulders had become. The burden of your frustration kept following you everywhere, like an unwanted traveler. But now, you had a moment to breathe out a little, after everything that had happened today.

Even if it meant taking a ride with mom's newest obsession.

For a moment, you cursed yourself for not taking your phone -- since the first few minutes of your drive seemed awfully awkward. You could have at least pretended to read something profoundly engaging instead of staring out of the window, visibly trying to avoid his sight.

He was not very talkative, but still, had this odd aura that floated around the car. There was no tension, especially once he put a cassette in, having the tunes of Billy Idol fill out the space between the two of you.

He had a good taste, you thought. But still -- he was not going to be here longer than two weeks. Why invest your time, you thought.

"So, valedictorian huh?"

After ten minutes of the drive, he finally decided to break through the initial awkwardness.

You looked up from your sneakers, staring at him.

"It's just a stupid red diploma case, nothing else," you shrugged your shoulders, whilst rubbing your fingers, nervously.

He chucked, shaking his head.

"You cannot be so modest, c'mon," he so exclaimed enthusiastically, you found yourself staring at him, little taken aback. "I mean," he gave you a quick look, before locking the eyes with the green light, "You should give yourself a little credit. It is an achievement."

Somewhere, in the pits of your heart, under the walls you were forced the built, there was laying a part of you, wishing to hear this. Only if the source could have been your mother. She had these sweets words for everyone, but you. There was never an applause to be given -- not that you would be asking for it. But a little pat on the shoulder never hurt anyone.

But she never cared enough to do it. So, you settled yourself with the determination to do more, to try more. The desperation ran through your veins like fuel.

Despite the desire to hide it, his words brought a smile on your lips. With that, the awkward silence vanished, as you drove through the suburbs, with Billy Idol's White Wedding.

That evening, somewhere in the middle of ordering your victory dinner, you learned that his name was Joel. And for the first time, you caught yourself thinking that, perhaps, it would not be so bad if your mother's newest vise stayed for more than two weeks.

Over the summer, to your surprise, your mother and Joel had grown significantly closer, travelling almost all the time. You found a job at your local cinema -- with too much free time on your hand, you could have used it for something practical. Saving money was always a good choice. You spent your days watching the same comedy three times in a row, covered by the smell of cheese popcorn and splashes of coke on your sneakers.

Of course, your mother would stop by -- although, mostly to just repack and set off, again. Throughout the summer holidays, you hardly ran into each other. Usually, she left before you got home from work. She would leave a concise note on the fridge (or, if she was running late, a text message) stuck together with a small chunk of money.

As the days went by, you happened to notice the uneasiness that suddenly settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew the source very well -- the good, old, fear of missed opportunities.

It was supposed to be your last summer before high school, naturally, there was the teenage urge to do something memorable. Something, perhaps, completely out of your comfort zone.

And, as it turned out, your empty house presented an incredible opportunity.

Before this sudden urge to fit into your generation, you had never thrown a party. Frankly -- you had no clue how to throw one. Clueless to arrange but eager to learn, the help of your friends seemed as the best fit. As people more fitting for the extrovert description, it posed no issue for them.

Thus, the curse landed on your shoulders.

Certainly, you had no idea how quickly these thinks can come together. It took bunch of your friends, pack of plastic cups, one text message and before you knew, the beer was lined up by the front door and your suburban house was filled with at least thirty people from which almost a half of it were high schoolers.

Seniors, if you may add.

Quickly, they managed to turn your dining room into beer pong game hall, with liquid spilling all over your mother's expensive rugs. Only then, the feeling in your gut started to cry out for help. There were the warning signs, hanging in your mind -- but each one was followed by a cup of beer, until you found yourself looking for a balance.

You lost the track of time, somewhere between your cups, as well as of your friends. It was supposed to be one, welcoming drink. But the more your house turned into a trashcan, the bigger was the urge to kill the voice in your head, cursing you.

For being so reckless in the first place.

Before this spontaneous get together, you had not encountered alcohol -- certainly not in form as large as this one. Rules of drinking were unknown to you; not that you would be too intrigued about them, in your state.

In that moment, the only think you cared about was to stand on your own for more than two seconds. The world around you had become a little dizzy -- this state of being was completely new for you which was quite noticeable for the ones around you.

So, it happened to be a matter of time before one of the seniors posed himself as the knight in shining armor.

If only.

You were aware of his presence but paid no mind at first. After another lost round of beer pong (with no surprise, against him), you had decided to get yourself some water to freshen up. You had no desire whatsoever to lead a conversation with him, let alone anyone else. You wanted to stumble back to your bedroom, lock the door and sleep this off.

Unfortunately, in your current state, path to your bedroom down the hall felt like a ten-kilometer-long hike.

trigger warning for the part below

"Are you okay?"

He could not have asked more useless question. The false concern almost made you chuckle.

"I am absolutely perfect," you grinned your teeth at him.

"You should get some rest," he spoke, unsettling smile on his lips as he brought himself closer to you, locking your possible ways out.

He was much taller, undeniably stronger and determined.

Without a doubt, that was the worst combination.

"Thanks," a forced smile landed on your lips. You had to be smart about this, given his advantages. "But I should actually go and look for my friends."

There was an attempt to make a move, quick slip out of his claws.

You have not even fully tried it, he was already in your away, again.

"I can help you look," the creepiness of his smile imprinted on your brain. "We can search your bedroom first."

The gulp in your throat grew so big, you thought it was going to explode in your stomach, pulling everything out as well. The anxiety was circling throughout your body, up and down, the sweat was running down your shoulders, despite how cold the room had become. Every bone in your body, every nerve sent a signal into your brain.

The fear was going to swallow you whole.

You have never encountered a situation like this. The uneasiness that suddenly held so tight on you.

You could have screamed but what that be good for? Everyone around were too drunk to notice and too unbothered to care, anyways.

Or perhaps, there were exceptions.

end of the trigger warning part

Just not exactly those you would ask for, voluntarily.

You always knew that the universe had its ways to fuck with you.

But this time, this time, came the cherry on the top.

When the scream echoed around the house, buying you an escape from this situation, leaving him too shocked to notice, you ran into the shambles that once used to be your living room, coming face to face with universe's sense of humor.

Dressed in a police uniform, wearing your mother's boyfriend's face.

There he was, catching the sight of your drunken appearance.

"Oh, fuck."

Your stunned reaction came louder than you initially intended, reaching the wrong ends.

His end.

"Officer Miller, we arrived at the scene of disturbance, over..."

You mother's never mentioned his occupation -- not that you would be dying to know, but having this intel beforehand, before you had decided to tarnish your and your mother's reputation, could have been a little useful.

Now, there was no way back, as you watched three other police officers enter your nearly-destroyed house. The number of scenarios lined up in your anxious mind, one coming off worse than the previous. Frankly, just the idea of your mother receiving such phone call, interrupting her annual girls' trip, the wrath would be horrid.

After that, you would wish to be invisible, in her eyes.

You had no idea how these things work. Couple of your friends once mentioned how a party, they attended, ended being busted but the process was never shared. So, you stood there, as though your limbs had frozen, watching the cops escorting all of the kids outside.

He could have been an asshole -- with all due honesty, part of you thought he would be. Your self-made catastrophe presented an incredible opportunity to turn himself into a hero in your mother's eyes. Her brave vise that had stopped her adolescent daughter from drinking her brains out.

But when the distance between the two of you decreased and his hand landed on your arm, you founded yourself letting a sigh of relief escape through your lips.

You were not out of the woods yet.

As inconspicuously as one could, Joel walked you out of the filled living room and back into the kitchen. He was aware of the liquid courage running through your veins -- after all, he was a cop. This, most likely, was not his first rodeo.

Also, he was not an idiot.

Or so you thought, for now.

It all depended on the events that were about to unfold.

"Here," he mumbled, handing you a glass of tap water, "get some more, I will be right back."

Within a second, he was one foot out of the door.

"What now?" you called out, curiosity prevailing the fear for a glimpse of second.

"They'll do search up, so unless you wanna get your ass busted, you better stay here."

With that, he departed into the hallway, as you dissolved into your anxieties, chucking one glass after another, naively hoping the sobriety would arrive sooner.

Despite the conditions, your foggy brain was capable of holding onto the ends, getting the grasp of what was going on, from the pieces you had gathered. There had to be an advantage he had found in helping you out, you thought. The possibility of him acting on the goodness of his heart seemed too absurd to even consider.

All at once, every partner your mother had brought into your life was a copy of his predecessor. One shallow as the other, hollow and unauthentic as the one before. None of them, especially those who you once had decided to give a little faith, succeeded.

So as exaggerated as it may came to be, you could not let yourself get easily fooled. Despite the part of you that wanted to.

Undoubtedly, there was something about him, the warm your mother never had.

But once that you started building castles in the air, you knew it was over.

So, you had to snap out of your liquid-influenced thoughts and stood stern on the ground.

There was no time to be naive.

Especially, once the so-thought, banished glimpse of danger entered your space, again.

just in case, (last) trigger warning for part below

In all directions.

It still baffled you how tall and buffed he was -- he could surely pass for an adult. Adult that should have no interest in girl your age, but here he was. With that intense gaze, sheepish smile and hands that quickly found their way to your hips.

"Brought you something," he whispered, reaching into his back pocket.

He slowly reached closer, his breath brushing against your cheeks, as his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, tucking something in. Only then, he pulled away, hands still resting dangerously close to your body.

"Your friend told me you're coming in September," he smiled. "Figured we could finish what we started."

In that moment, you were stone cold sober.

"I think you should go," you mumbled, rubbing your fingers. "The cops and everything.."

You had to find an easy way to let him down. Words from people like him, especially the fabricated ones, travelled faster than one would have wanted.

But he turned out to be too persistent for your abilities.

"Seriously, you're gonna get in trouble," you chuckled, as forcibly as one could, to shake off the fear.

He laughed, shaking his head.

The false care was the right string to pull, as he became more curious of the sounds coming from the living room. The voices layered over each other, mostly coming from the cops and their walkie-talkies.

He turned around, one last time -- and the second his face lowered to your height, the worst flew over your mind, as the fear squeezed you like a ball.

For the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing to throw up.

Right into his face, right all over him.

end of the trigger warning part

"What the hell are you doing here?"

But perhaps, digestive problems could have been postponed.

When you found officer Miller standing by the kitchen entrance.

Officer Miller.

You were not sure whether it was the alcohol or the bizarre nature of this situation, but there was an urge to laugh over this phrase.

How absurd, you thought, that of all people, your mother would decide to date a police officer? The more you thought about this, the more you reassured yourself that he, truly, was not her usual type.

Whether it was a good or bad thing depended on the following twenty minutes.

The obtrusive boy gave you one last, nightmarish smile, before he followed your mother's vise out of the kitchen. You could not shake off the feeling his intrusive actions had left on you -- the eerie look on his face, the smile of winner. For awakening the fear.

You wished for this situation to disappear, cursing yourself for ever having such ideas.

After a while, the house fell into silence. The sirens outside the front door started to disappear, along with the heavy steps and chatters. You could not even think of the consequences that would follow this dreadful idea.

The urge to throw up arrived again.

And the kitchen sink turned out to be the only available option. So, naturally, within a second, every liquid your body had absorbed tonight, ended up exactly there.

There was no point in asking if this situation could have gotten any worse.

Because it could.

In the middle of cleansing your organs, whilst your hands were gripping the edges of the kitchen sink, you heard the slam of the front entrance, before a set of footsteps headed towards you.

It really could get worse.

Hair disheveled, mind on a rollercoaster and balance slowly disappearing into the night. Your already skilled friends knew how to throw a party -- just did not give you the manual of processing one. For a moment, you wondered whether your cheeks were splashed by the water, or perhaps, if those were tears, running down your neck.

Nothing about this night you wished to treasure. And you knew that what was about to follow -- was right behind.

Literally.

The pat on your shoulder startled you, almost hitting your forehead against the kitchen cabinet above. Slowly, turning off the faucet, you took a deep breath, trying to keep your existence in one place -- in all senses.

Knowing your current state -- Joel chose to be careful with the physical closeness, moving his hand away as soon as the room felt quiet again. Letting you turn away on your own, he stepped back, remaining focused, just in case your balance would decide to betray you.

"Get some more water," he mumbled, hands on his hips, as he watched you jump up on the cabinet. "That ain't smart, doin' this, y'know."

"Do I look like someone who makes smart decisions?" you hissed, wiping away the drops on your chin. Perhaps, the liquid courage was awaking, you thought.

Sigh escaped through his lips, now formed into thin line.

"Where's your mom?" he asked -- stepping into his police officer demeanor, frowning.

You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders, leaving him more confused than before.

"You don't know?" you looked up, mockery tone now swallowing your voice. "I'm surprised, considering you know more about her whereabouts than I do."

The sentence left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

The frown has disappeared, as he stood there, noticing the shift in your attitude.

"Does she know?" he asked, after a moment.

The look in his face almost made you roll your eyes. It was the typical look of someone who was about to offer you a lecture no one had asked for. Considering your experience with your mother's temporary better halfs, Joel was just passing through. None of your mother's relationships passed the three months mark. He was about to be gone in a blink of an eye.

"Look, I am trying to help you--"

Now, there it was.

The sentence, all of them had practiced. The sweet-caring tone of his voice, the pitiful look in his eyes -- all of them were the same.

Or perhaps.

You could not bet on him.

"Okay," you mumbled, chuckling again. "Good for you."

Joel's frustration started to arise. You did not make it easy on him.

He shook his head, trying to maintain his patience.

"Listen, smart ass," he stepped closer, as the frown arrived again. Although, this time with disaffection. "An ounce of gratitude would not hurt you."

Bitting your lip, you got off the kitchen counter, now standing face to face with Joel. He was much taller, with broad shoulders -- he was the epitome of someone who tried to play the good cop.

"Okay, Joel," you whispered, deadly sarcastic.

It was a risky situation; you were well aware. But the events of this evening emptied the rest of your decency.

"Thank you for being such generous police officer, even though we both know your true intentions," you smiled and curtsied.

Now there it was.

The thin ice had been broken and Joel's patience ran over the edge.

"Excuse me?" he asked, offended.

"Excuse me," you whispered. "I've got a house to clean. So why don't you go ahead and give my mother a call? She'll be delighted."

Part of you knew that being this harsh could come back and bite you in the ass. Perhaps it was the defense mechanism -- your mother had never brought an exemplary man into your life. And if they happened to resemble one and you chose to believe it, they vanished into the thin air before you knew it.

You could not settle with the thought of Joel being an exception.

For your own good -- for the high hopes you would be willing to give him.

Joel stared at you for a little, without uttering a word. Which, you chose as an opportunity to leave this conversation for good.

But it took one step in your condition, for you to fall on your knees.

Howls of pain escaped through your lips.

And two steady hands pulled you back before you managed to smack your face against the cold, kitchen tiles.

"Fuck!"

Curse words were flying left and right, though Joel had decided to ignore that. He could have paid you back -- which you were kind of expecting. Instead, with one swift move, you were back on your feet, with Joel being the one responsible for your balance.

The world around became slightly dizzy. And, for a moment, it felt as though your limbs were made out of Jell-O. The funny bubbling in your stomach made you laugh.

"I think I am gonna throw up."

Was the last thing you whispered, before leaning against the floor, letting the remaining bits of alcohol depart on the tiles.

It was Joel who, once again, caught you in the last minute.

"You really are a fuckin´ pain in the ass, kid."

It really, really, could get worse.

[diandrarumi]

another headcanon, so i read that fic about harry giving ginny his mother's necklace and it was just so sweet....

so in my head ginny is not that big for jewels and accessories, like she obviously loves girly things but she also grew up poor so she probably knew that jewellry is a luxury indulgence that is not something she'd have the luck to have. So she never really bothered with any of them

but then she saw how harry cried when he went through his family's vault and saw lily and euphemia's jewelry box and how harry was so touched knowing that he had family heirlooms passed down from the women in his family

and like he shyly gave ginny his mother's necklace and proposed to her with his grandmother's ring and when they got married harry gave her the jewelry box and told her that he hoped they would grow old together and that he could watch her pass down these heirlooms to their daughter and daughter in laws if they have any

and since then you'd never see ginny potter out and about without bracelets, earrings and necklaces.

ginny even lent victoire the potter tiara when she married teddy

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Batman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!” - Batfam x Fem!reader

Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans.  

Oop, I’m back (?). My dudes. It’s been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...don’t know if some of y’all saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didn’t really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, don’t hesitate to let me know if you do : 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

________________________________________________

“You’re evil, you know that right ?” You say, raising an eyebrow.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing. 

And that it was utterly...evil. 

“It’s going to be FUN !” 

Ah, and here’s his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family. 

“They won’t believe their eyes !” His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish. 

“That they won’t, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.” 

Jason. Still not calling Bruce “dad” (except sometimes, by “accident”, and even him don’t realize he did), he’d only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.

Dick chuckled and added : “Who would blame them ? We’re talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !” He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldn’t hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile. 

“I’m certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARS” Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point. 

Oh yes. That’s where you were going, to the JLA’s headquarters. To execute Bruce’s plan. Quite the evil plan indeed. 

“Hell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !” Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say : “what he just said”. 

And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his children’s teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes. 

Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise. 

************

Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters : 

“Oh, hey ! Look, Batman’s zeta tube is turning on ! We haven’t seen him in a while right ?”  

Indeed they haven’t. Because, well, let’s put it this way : Batman’s wife just had a baby. 

A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass weren’t TOO outnumbered anymore). 

And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl. 

Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne. 

Just a man, who thought he’d never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children. 

That was happiness then, right ? 

So, yes. Batman hasn’t been much at the JLA’s headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a “hero”). 

And that what’s made him particularly evil. 

He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadn’t forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !). 

And he knew they were a little worried about him. 

He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : “Everything is ok” to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadn’t dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didn’t talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his “red button”, him, or anyone in the family. 

They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasn’t anything bad. 

Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried. 

And Bruce knew. 

You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan. 

Why tell them, when you could toy with them ? 

“They deserve it.” He told you, and you weren’t sure if they did, but you weren’t about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didn’t come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise. 

Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours. 

This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughter’s life only between yourselves. 

It was nice, to go out “disguised” as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them). 

It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit. 

So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasn’t just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughter’s life being the only one being utterly smitten with her. 

Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Let’s just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it. 

Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby. 

She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of “readiness” ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family. 

And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLA’s headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husband’s arms. 

Evil. Your husband was downright evil. 

He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW. 

And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little “prank”. 

************

“Batman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?” Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself. 

None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...

Bruce’s face didn’t move an inch, he just held that little “package”, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin. 

Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing. 

Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?

The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??

WHAT ?! 

They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they weren’t there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation. 

They knew he didn’t have the same face expression, when they were around.

Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him. 

Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly : “He doesn’t kill people. He could break your knee caps though” in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jason’s death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldn’t be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them). 

It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children. 

Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his “mask” around them. After all, Bruce’s stoic expression was his face by default. It’s just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his father’s shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated. 

Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.

Like today. 

The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird. 

Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. That’s just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least. 

And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didn’t surprise them with something ? 

How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...

Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image. 

The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy. 

Odd. 

Yet, sweet. 

Were they surprised ? Yes. 

Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely. 

Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too. 

Were they happy for him ? For sure. 

Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to. 

Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky. 

Hal, couldn’t help but think : “First, he’s not a vampire, then, he’s married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!” 

***********

The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter. 

“Her name is Martha.” Bruce said “We named her after my mother.” and it wasn’t his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didn’t want to scare his daughter, as he still held her. 

She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruce’s hand hold her a little tighter. 

Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried she’d be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-

Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards- 

“What a sweet little girl !” Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her “voice reserved for babies and domestic animals”, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness. 

You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most. 

Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-

Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away. 

Damian. 

Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously. 

He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends. 

************

Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her. 

Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldn’t hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldn’t hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasn’t about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.

Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your son’s stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ? 

Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family. 

Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldn’t give her their “viruses or whatever”. 

You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice). 

You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didn’t have much luck for the first few years of his life. 

But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking. 

Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldn’t have hurt the amazon). 

************

It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, it’s Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them. 

Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didn’t fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes. 

They weren’t fooled by Dick’s agreeable smile either. A smile that didn’t always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless.  

Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly. 

Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her : “What ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I can’t believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*”. 

After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruce’s watchful eyes. 

Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They weren’t too worried, except-

Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her. 

And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course). 

“Oh no careful !” He’d scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and they’d scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh. 

“You little-” Hal’s colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I don’t know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldn’t be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together. 

************

Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him. 

She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruce’s, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman. 

He didn’t like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason

Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if he’d break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that. 

He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldn’t take her, and she was so adorable and-

He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to. 

Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didn’t say anything. He just let her do it. 

You really hoped she wasn’t going to take advantage of this when she’d get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA. 

************

“How can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?” Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable. 

Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ? 

“I believe, to make a baby, you need to-”

“Um, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! It’s just-Oh, forget it.” 

Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon J’onzz didn’t seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people. 

Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time. 

Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest). 

It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said : “I made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, she’s fine, and she likes it” and indeed, your daughter didn’t have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Tim’s face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damian’s was utterly vexed. 

Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him. 

As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone. 

************

Cassandra didn’t say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents. 

She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements. 

Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted. 

Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earth’s mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cass’ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his : “ -_-” face, by reflex really. 

Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to. 

She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didn’t like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...

Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyone’s heart. 

And you could see her slowly creep in every members’ of the Justice League’s heart too. 

Gods, you couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldn’t get out of it unscathed (to say the least). 

************

Martha was particularly fond of Duke’s inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions. 

As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep. 

He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Duke’s head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as others’ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...

But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too. 

And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace. 

He loved the idea that his arms were his daughter’s favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you : “They all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?” and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little. 

So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddy’s girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him. 

He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ? 

It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way. 

You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and- 

Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughter’s little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept. 

And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldn’t help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel. 

Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture. 

Seriously. That guy !! 

************

Batman smiling was...different. 

They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-

Well. Broad. 

It wasn’t his signature smirk. It wasn’t a soft smile. It wasn’t a half-smile. It wasn’t a smile that you could only see in his eyes. 

It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say). 

And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to “stone mode” when he noticed them looking), never that much. 

As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine. 

It made them all feel...soft. And warm. 

It was nice, to know the bat wasn’t just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, “just” a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it. 

That the Batman didn’t exist because of hatred, but because of love. 

Because he loved his parents, his city, and now- 

His family. 

It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an “a-hole” sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that. 

A loving man, who wanted to protect others. 

************

You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all : 

1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate. 

2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !

3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons). 

4. Dick’s “game” of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction. 

5. The success of Tim’s baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower. 

6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child. 

7. How Clark’s eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy “The Batman” was happy. 

8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didn’t like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an “emotional support baby”. Ah. 

9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world. 

10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA weren’t rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant- 

Oh it meant so much. 

And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLA’s headquarters. 

Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious- 

All positive feelings. 

And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying “byyyyye” to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them- 

Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh. 

Oh it felt like you would die of happiness. 

And still, Bruce’s hands held yours tightly. 

He knew. 

He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again. 

He knew. 

He never loved like that before. 

Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.

__________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Don’t hesitate to comment and/or reblog, it’s always greatly appreciated :). 

Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my “main” storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : “wait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?” and here we are. I really hope you liked this; I’m nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ? 

[targaryenluvs]

DELICATE

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x innocent!wife!reader

warnings: erm we’re back at it with another dark corio! possessiveness, literal murder, threats, vulgarity, nc touching -dumbification/babying, emotional manipulation and vulnerability, sexual undertones and thoughts, ownership?? NOT PROOFREAD

summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

word count: 2.09k words

a/n: i swear i can only think of dark ideas for him because he is practically crayz - i loved this concept tho so enjoyyyy - annoyed i can’t find any post-lucy gifs snd i’ve already used the other one help me plz

taglist: @sleepydang @aspieundercover @darktrashsoulbear @3lliesrifle @rafeysbafey @zejjef @themorriganisamonster @cryfordemie @winterblu2 @earthangel-111 @taylarxse @alexameliamg @katastrophic04 @jjggdfvvy @joshwifeyslaymamaballs @10ava01 @kis9na @princessdaella @princessloveweird @prettybiching @justacaliforniandreamer @bxtchopolis @witchafterz @har-rison-s

PART TWO

coriolanus wanted nothing more than a relaxing night. he’d been at a campaign meeting for about four hours and he’d gotten absolutely nothing out of it.

he was in the right mind to fire them all and work it himself but he knew he couldn’t. all he wanted was to go home, have a bath drawn for him, eat dinner with you and go to sleep.

coriolanus had seen a number of weird things in his life but nothing was weirder than seeing you, hanging up the laundry to dry. you’d stopped him in his tracks but hadn’t yet noticed his presence as you hummed to yourself and went about your business. after staring in confusion for a few minutes he cleared his throat, “y/n. what are you doing?” you turned towards him with a smile, “it’s christmas! so i sent the staff home for the rest of the day so they could be with their families. don’t worry i had them prepare your bath, dinner and everything else. there were some things left to do so i thought, why not do them myself? i cleaned my room and yours, ironed the previous batch of laundry and placed them away, dusted the library and i was hanging up the laundry until you showed!” you beamed as you continued to hang the clothing.

coriolanus took a seat on one of the lawn chairs as you continued. he decided to watch you, to make sure you were okay. because who on earth wants to do laundry? that was the very reason you had so many servants. but here you were.

“you can head inside corio, no need to wait for me!” you said sweetly. coriolanus was a strong man, always rational. but god when you spoke so sweetly to him- no. “there’s no need, i’ll wait till you’re done.”

the sun was hanging low as the last rays illuminated the dining room. you’d set out candles, flowers and other pieces on the table. back home you loved setting the table, until your father would reprimand you for doing something you didn’t need to. what will people say if my daughter is acting as a servant?

but right now you felt at ease.

you had a good life. good friends which were rare to find in the capitol. good family and a good husband. he was proper, took care of you in every way, even if he didn’t love you, you were grateful to be married to someone you liked. admired. you’d heard whispers of corio’s childhood, his depleted resources and poor upbringing. but you couldn’t care less. he was more of a man than anyone you knew. and he was extremely pretty, your parents would’ve probably married you off to whomever they thought would help with social standings so this match? a lifeline.

coriolanus kept himself in check. he was up for presidency, his name and wealth restored and he was respected and feared. you were a diamond in the rough. whilst all the other girls in the capitol were, special, to say the least, you weren’t like them. first of all, he could tolerate you. like you even. you were exceptionally smart, well-read and spoken, respectful of those worthy but even those beneath you. you were kind, not the fake kind of the capitol. kind to everyone, helping everyone however you could.

and to him it was more than perfect. someone kind would be easy to have, easy to be married to. he knew from the second he saw you as marriage material that you’d never endanger those around you. you cared, enough to put your happiness to the back of the line. you’d be easy to control. after the wedding he expected you to be clingy, desperate for his love and affection. as any girl would from their husband, but you kept your distance. you didn’t push yourself on him, you did your duty. you did what was required and more. but you always listened, listened to him.

so he assumed you’d be easy to be married to, but he was always in awe of you. your sweet smiles every time you passed eachother in the halls, in the morning at breakfast and at night for dinner. always catering to him.

“what should i wear?” “you can choose.” “you tell me.” “it’s your choice.” and god did it inflate his ego. you were always asking about him, how his day was, what he did, who he saw etc. but it wasn’t just small talk, you were always listening. absorbing his words like a sponge, wide eyes, head nodding along dumbly. he loved it. and over the year he found himself, caring, on the inside at least.

every time you’d go out there were hungry eyes consuming you. your face, body everything. and he wanted to personally pluck out each eyeball and feed it to their families. so again, overtime, he’d shield you, protect you. his sweet wife who knew nothing of what the others wanted to do to her. a hand on your back, an arm around your waist, a peck on your forehead and his large red coat around you. all for show right?

he wanted to puke.

the smell of cabbage wafted to his nose and he was oh so close to putting this fist through the wall. who on earth-

you were humming, again. “corio!” your voice was music to his ears, corio, no one said it to him anymore. not even tigris. but he only liked, only wanted it to come from you. “dinner is served, some of your favourites are here. i asked tigris what you use to eat as a kid. ooh, you never told me you liked cabbage, me too! guess that’s another thing we have in common.” you beamed as you walked over with a bottle of wine, “tell me when to stop.”

he eyed you up the entire time. trying to catch a fleck of disgust whilst you ate, andddd, nothing. you weren’t lying, you actually liked it. he swallowed his own fear and began to eat.

“mm, i was wondering what you wanted me to wear tonight? i’d like to match corio, if that’s okay with you.” corio smiled slightly, “i would like to match. i have something i would like you to wear tonight sweetheart.” your eyes darted forwards as the word fell, sweetheart.

you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face, he only used terms like that in public. and based on his reaction afterwards, of which there was none, it meant that he probably didn’t even realise. or he did, you could never read him.

the red dress did things to coriolanus. the idea of you in it has his head spinning, but to actually see you in it? he wanted to throw you onto his bed and never let you out.

but to you it looked as if he was studying the dress rather than looking at you in it. “you look good.” you grinned, “thank you corio! i love your suit, you look very handsome.” you straightened his suit as he looked over your shoulder, your back was bare. “do you have a throw?” you quickly nodded and picked it up from the dresser. “good.” you already got a million stares in ordinary clothing, tonight was going to test his patience and anger.

the gala was gorgeous. for once there wasn’t ugly statues and weird color matches. a clean and pristine white hall, chandeliers, gold accents.

your heels clicked on the floor as coriolanus held his arm for you. “your hand please.” corio stared, waiting for your further explanation. “when we link arms your arm is too high for me. i end up with my arm at my neck.” you laughed as he lent his hand, which you gladly took.

stares and compliments at every corner of the room, everyone was looking at you two. the future president and first lady of panem. a match made in the capitol. you and coriolanus made the rounds, talking to present sponsors, potential sponsors and other candidates, much to coriolanus’s distaste. after a while you realised you were sort of just standing there, so you excused yourself for a drink and a closer view of the band.

“you look, ravishing.” charles operman. a sight which no one wanted to see, but to you he was just an ex-peer of the academy. “charles! thank you, corio picked it out for me.” you’d missed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of your husband, but you were to engrossed by the angelic singer and band. “you know, i always thought we’d end up together.”

the abruptness of his sentence had you choking on your drink, “excuse me, i’m married charles. i’m sorry if you thought that we would be together, i see you as a friend. i’d hate to lose a friend.” you smiled as he got uncomfortably closer and leaned into your ear, hand on your bare back.

coriolanus’s grip on his cup was tightening as he listened to lucky drone on and on. he wanted to see the life leave charles’s eyes, maybe his head would make as a nice present for you. “excuse me.” he nodded his head as he placed his cup on a passing waiters tray. you were helpless, and he was here to help you.

his breath was hot in your ear and you could smell the liquor on him as he was grabbed from you. “coriolanus, sir.” charles mocked salute as coriolanus stared at him, maybe he thought if he stared long enough hed burn into the floor. coriolanus rarely smiled, but this one was unsettling to say the least.

“if you ever put your hands on my wife, look at her, speak to her. it will be the last time you do so. i might just call in a favor with dr gaul, i hear your fond of snakes?” charles’s eyes widened, he hated snakes. he couldn’t even watch the 10th hunger games, the second he saw the snakes he ran to the bathroom and hurled.

“when i become president, you better keep yourself in line. it’d be horrible to see your family in the games no?” charles took a step back, “you can’t do that, i’m capitol.” coriolanus drew back,

“you won’t be for long.”

you couldn’t believe your eyes, of course he’d protect you but, threatening? he’d never do it right? the shutters of cameras had you reaching for corio, “can we leave my love?” coriolanus turned to you, “of course sweetheart.”

he’d stayed up for a long time. a smile came to his face when he remembered the sound of charles’s neck snapping. the door creaking open revealed a disheveled you, “corio? are you awake?” he sat up as you released a breath.

“what is it y/n?” you took a shy step forward, “i uhm, i can’t stop thinking about charles. he scared me, i didn’t know what to do corio. i-” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as coriolanus swiftly got out of bed, helping you into his bed. “i- can i sleep here tonight? please?”

this was definitely not how he first expected to have you in his bed, but how could he say no to you? your hair in its braid, messy and lose, puffy eyes and tear stained face. he wished he’d first seen you cry underneath him but he’d take what he could get. what he didn’t expect was for him to like this, the scene of you crying, needing him. he was the one who could help you, console you, coddle you.

coriolanus nodded as he moved back to the bed, tucking himself and you in softy, caressing your hair and kissing your forehead. god he’d held out for so long, denied himself and his feelings but having you in his arms was all he could ever want, but the idea of being in you flooded his head.

would you cry like this? would you shout and scream? did you like it soft and sweet? he couldn’t be soft and sweet, he’d savour the moment but he loved the idea of unravelling you, he’d be the only one to see you like this, him being the only one to make it happen.

you curled into his chest, like a baby. your soft cries and whimpers went straight to his crotch and soon enough you were asleep.

his sweetheart, his delicate little wife.

corios hand slipped downwards and into your pants, he promised himself he just wanted to feel but god you made it difficult. he saved you tonight, didn’t he deserve a reward? didn’t matter if you detested he had you where he liked. so he slowly rolled over and placed you on the bed.

your eyes fluttered at the change of placement but he couldn’t care less. he was done waiting.

you squirmed underneath him in your sleep but his worries faded away.

[tender-rosiey]

How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?

troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3

sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.

he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.

you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”

your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”

he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?

is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—

“I will let you keep it.”

you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”

he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”

and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.

the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.

she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.

the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.

you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.

he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”

your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.

though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”

despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.

you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.

you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”

you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.

he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”

frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”

your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”

“her.”

“same difference.”

sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.

you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”

a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”

later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.

you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.

but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.

as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.

he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.

she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.

but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.

this is going to be a troublesome journey.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

some things are worth it

a/n: so, because i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy, especially in this au (literally had multiple dreams about him this past week) i rewatched the longest ride for the yeehaw vibes and this fantasy popped into my head.

summary: “oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

warnings: farmhand!tyler owens x farmer’s daughter!reader, smut, farmer au, bull rider!tyler, takes place before the previous fic in this au, secret relationship, bull riding (except i'm a suropean who has no idea what she's talking about, so apologies for the errors), love confession, secret relationship, kissing, clothed sex, car sex, size kink, manhandling, dry humping, dirty talk, handjob, fingering, thighjob, pussyjob, just the tip, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, why do i keep writing for this dude in the middle of the night?

word count: 4238

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Hey,” Tyler cast you a glance as you came bouncing towards where he still worked, tinkering with the tractor that had quit halfway down one of the farm’s golden fields. 

“Hello,” you blinked down at him. A rusty toolbox was planted in the wheat by his kneeling form as he fiddled away at the machinery.

“You need help with something?” he kept on twisting a bolt. 

“Oh, no,” a shy giggle bubbled out of you, “my mom just sent me down here to invite you to stay for dinner tonight. She made a pie for dessert and everything, or well, we did, I helped… it’s rhubarb, if that can help sway you.”

“Rhubarb, eh?” he puffed out a short chuckle. 

“Yeah…”

Briefly glancing back over his shoulder at you and the way your flowy dress caught on the wind, he uttered, “I’d love to, Y/n, but–, uhm… I can’t tonight.”

“Right,” you exhaled, a nod swiftly accompanying your words, “you already have plans, of course…”

“Tell your mamma I’m sorry,” he tried to soften the blow, “next time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathed, and as he returned his attention back to the machine, surely assuming that you’d bid him adieu and saunter back towards the main house, you instead shifted to lean against the tractor, “so… what are you doing tonight?”

Briefly glancing up at you, a soft smirk appeared on his lips as he purred, “you’re awfully nosy.” 

“Just tell me what your plans are,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Bull riding,” he informed you, “I ride on occasion, tonight being one of those times.”

Sucking in a breath, you uttered, “of course you do…”

Halting his tinkering with a chuckle, he pressed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, you just got adrenalin junky written all over you, so it checks out,” you gestured towards him and he let out a small laugh, retroactively confirming your accusation. As he shifted to look for a different tool, you opened your mouth once more and asked, “can I come?”

“Come what?” his concentrated gaze didn’t meet yours. 

“See you ride.”

Tyler’s eyes then snapped up to find yours, “you wanna come see me ride?” hesitation suddenly washed over his usually confident features, “uhm… I’m not sure your daddy would like that.”

“What? Me being around a bunch of rowdy and probably drunk strangers or going somewhere to see you?”

A warm chuckle then rumbled in his chest as a gentle shake found his head, “you’re trouble…”

“Is that a no?” you tilted your head in hope. 

“No…” he slowly exhaled and met your eye once more, “no it is not.”

You cheered for him at first when his name was announced and you caught a glimpse of him behind the fence, he even found your eyes in the crowd a moment as you clapped in anticipation. But then when it actually began, you stopped breathing entirely. It didn’t matter that he only had to stay on the beast for a few seconds, your heart still wouldn’t start beating again even after his boots were back on the ground and a proud grin stretched his lips. The petrified expression plastered on your features didn’t fade even when he found you afterwards and offered you a ride back home.

“You okay?” his deep timbre ripped you out of your stormy thoughts. 

Twisting your neck to blink over at him behind the wheel of his truck, you hummed, “huh?”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” he pointed out. 

“Oh… I’m just tired, I guess…” you lied, averting your gaze before you then heard yourself utter, “hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he held his eyes on the road. 

“How is it that you haven’t been hurt yet doing all of that?”

“Oh no, I have,” a soft chuckle bubbled out of the daredevil, “just not hard enough to stop me from getting back up.” 

A murmur then escaped your lips, just beneath your breath, “either that or you’re just too determined for your own good…”

“Maybe,” he cast you a glance and smirked slightly at the embarrassment that washed over your features at the realisation that he’d heard you, “but then again, determination isn’t always a bad quality to have.”

“It is if it could get you killed.” 

“Oh, how unromantic of you,” he puffed, “I could think of a handful of ways dying would be worth whatever goal you were going for,” his eyes momentarily flickered back to you in the passenger seat beside him. 

Holding his gaze a second before he redirected it back upon the dark road, you felt goosebumps tingle your flesh. 

“Hey Tyler?” you breathed, unsure if you were able to stop the words about to flow out your mouth. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever actually gonna do anything?” your vulnerable question was barely audible. 

Not yet catching onto your subtext, he inquired, “about what?” 

Staring over at him, you uttered, “me.”

His eyes immediately fluttered back to find yours, gazing back at you a second before it faltered, “I–… I don’t know what you mean...”

“Oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

His firm grip stayed on the wheel long after the car had halted.

“Y/n, I–…” he tried, though gave up in a soft sigh. 

As he refused to meet your stare, you felt your stomach begin to flip.

“Oh…” you then breathed, blinking down at your hands as they fiddled with the fabric of the sundress that you wore, “unless I apparently don’t, I–… you know what? Forget it, I’m sorry,” your eyes squeezed shut at the mortification, “let’s just go back to the farm and pretend I didn’t say anything…”

Though his grip didn’t shift away from the wheel, didn’t drift down to twist the key and restart the engine. Instead, to your surprise, you saw him in your periphery twist towards you before you felt his hands come up to cup the sides of your face and pluck it out of hiding. 

Pulling you towards him, he then pressed his lips to your own, rendering you reeling to claw your way out of the stunned pit his bold actions had cast you into. 

As one of your palms slowly floated up to rest against the back of one of his, a soft sigh flowed from your form as you melted into his warmth. 

However, before you sank in and lost yourself completely, you felt him withdraw, though still remained close, letting his nose ghost against your own as he exhaled, “this is a really bad idea… we shouldn’t… I can’t afford to lose my job.” 

“Why would you think you’d lose it?” your fingers curled around the back of his hand in a plea to keep his touch glued to your heated cheek. 

“Have you met your father?” he scoffed softly, “I should be grateful if he only fires me and doesn’t outright kill me.” 

“He wouldn’t do that.” 

“You sure about that?” Tyler half-joked before slowly retracting even further. 

Blinking back at him, your lips still tingled from his kiss as you quietly said, “…I thought you were the one who just insisted that some things are worth dying for… I guess you just have to decide whether or not I could be worth that kind of risk…” 

A gentle chuckle then bubbled out of him as he gazed back at you in amazement, “you sound like a fair maiden 500 years ago,” twisting his fingers and tangling them in your own.  

Puffing out a laugh of your own, you defended, “well you started it!” before you felt one of his palms slide to the nape of your neck and tug you back in for another kiss. His lips felt like fire, though the slow smouldering kind that licked you up and ignited your entire soul, “if you don’t think it’s worth it,” you breathlessly uttered against his kiss, “then you should probably stop kissing me like that…” 

As a gentle smirk tugged at his mouth, he answered you not in the form of words, but instead drifted his hands down your frame and scooped you closer, plucking you up and lifting you into his lap, wasting no time at all to claim your lips again.

It didn’t take long after you settled above him, the wheel of the truck poking the lower part of your spine, that the slow peck evolved into something more, something else. Something that had muffled whines crawling up from the depth of your lungs and vibrating against his tongue as yours desperately danced against his own. Something that had you rolling your hips and grinding down against the hardness poking your panties so perfectly beneath the billowy fabric of your dress, the material of which had begun to ride up as Tyler’s wild touch began to wander over the curves of your frame. 

Panting into his mouth, your head started to lull slightly as you rocked down against him, the sensation being nearly too much to stand in the way it was both overwhelming yet also not at all enough. Nevertheless, if he gave you the chance, you’d surely be able to cum just like this if he let you, if he told you to desperately rut against him like some animal in heat, then you would, because that was just the effect he seemed to have on you. He was always able to turn your brain off with but a glance and nearly cause you to faint if he ever flashed you a dazzling smile. 

To say you had it bad was the understatement of the century, but evidently, and thankfully, you weren’t alone in the predicament. 

Snaking a hand down in the non-existent space between your frames, you found the bulky buckle of his belt and began to undo it. 

“Please,” you panted, your tone sounding downright pathetic, “I wanna–, can I touch you?”

And before you could fumble to do it, Tyler didn’t hesitate to undo his jeans and seize your hand, stuffing it into his pants and guiding your fingers to engulf his girth, squeezing them lightly around himself for but a moment before his touch then faded and he left you to your own devices.

“Oh, fuck–,” he growled, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “just like that.”

His cock throbbed in your palm as he kissed you once again and let his wide hands raked down to your ass, kneading your softness as he groaned against your lips.

But he didn’t let your zealous touch stretch out for that long before you heard him crack the door directly to his left open. His grip on your bottom locked securely as he got out of the truck, effortlessly carrying you with him as he made his way around towards the back.

His hold on you stayed fast as he flipped open the bed of the truck and plopped you down on the ledge. A soft giggle bubbled out of you, even as your hands came up to cup his jaw and he slotted himself in between your parted thighs. 

“Shit…” he exhaled as his gaze fluttered down to spot the damp spot decorating your underwear, neatly on show as your sundress had ridden up even further. Your legs dangled slightly off the edge as his touch then reached down to trace the mark of desperation, your bottom lip swiftly getting trapped betwixt your teeth as he rubbed you through the soaked cotton, “guess you really do have a thing for me, sweetheart,” his teasing touch traced your core as the sodden fabric clung to you, “I mean, not that I didn’t already have my suspensions…” 

“You knew?”

“You’re not exactly subtle when it comes to these things,” he chuckled before letting his fingers dip into your waistband, “it’s cute,” he smiled as your eyes fluttered when his digits swept through your folds, scooping back up to your puffy pearl as it buzzed beneath his caress, “I always enjoyed all the random little reasons you came up with just to have an excuse to talk to me.”

“Okay, I know they weren’t always that smooth,” an embarrassed heat sparked in your cheeks, “but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it is.”

“Oh, I know,” he stated casually, grinning at the way your eyes suddenly grew, “what? Did you really think I just happened to always have some work in the barn whenever you went for a ride?” one of his long fingers then eased into you, causing your mouth to fall open in a silent gasp. 

“Wait, seriously?”

“And the time I needed your help learning the system in the tool shed?” another one of his digits found its way inside of your cunt, rendering you a panting mess in his grasp as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out, stretching you till your pussy sang out for him, “I already knew where everything was.”

The reply that was ready on your tongue swiftly fizzled out and became a forgotten relic as his touch then dissipated and instead floated down to where his jeans were already half undone. Tugging it the rest of the way open, he then stuffed his hand inside and freed his cock. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes couldn’t help but stare, yearning as you watched his cock throb in his tight fist. 

“O-oh, fuck…” the curse flowed out your lungs as your gaze stayed glued, nearly drooling as he suddenly hooked his grasp behind one of your legs and yanked you closer, causing you to tumble back onto your forearms as he manoeuvred your core that much closer to him. Hooking his fingers in the material of your panties, he slid them down your legs and, to your amazement, stuffed them into his pocket. As he then began to tap the hefty weight of his length down against your puffy petals, causing glossy strings of your desire to cling onto him and keep you ethereally attached, your eyes snapped back up to find his and the same whimper left your body once again, “oh, f-fuck…”

Trailing the bulbous tip through your wetness, he teasingly nudged the head against your swollen clit fiercely enough to make your whole frame twitch beneath him. 

“God… you feel so good…” he groaned, staring down at how his fat cock slid through and parted your glistening folds.

“Uh, Tyler–,” you begged hazily, your little hole winking every time he denied it any attention, “p-please–”

“What is it, baby?” he cooed smugly, “you want me to fuck you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded foggily, your gaze flickering back down to watch his teasing. 

“You wanna know what my cock feels like inside your pretty little pussy, huh?” his touch then dented your thighs, pressing both of your legs together, enclosing them around his girth and resting your ankles atop one of his broad shoulders. 

“P-please–”

“Is it all you’ve been thinking about?” the softness of your thighs interlocked around him lend him to snap his hips against yours and freely fuck your folds, the underside of him sliding against the seem of your cunt, “what’s been occupying that brilliant brain of yours?” he smirked and you couldn’t help but rock back against his efforts, “because it’s all I’ve been thinking about… how warm you must feel around me, how tight, how fucking wet, how–, fuck!” he then moaned as the way you’d needily tilted your hips up towards him lend his length to accidentally catch your leaking hole and sink in just the slightest bit till he halted his movements.

A shuttering gasp escaped you as well at the sensation as he’d nearly caused tears to roll down your cheeks from how badly you wanted him. 

As he caught your eye, his grip digging into your legs in order to hold on to his last strand of self-control, you panted up at him just as he was about to pull back out, “don’t stop.”

Staring down at you, absorbing your every reaction, he slid the tip back out, but so painstakingly slow that it caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

“But what if I did though? What if I just stopped, right here, right now? Just drove you back to the farm and left you a needy little puddle just like this?”

“No, don’t stop! Don’t–, I–…” your walls clung around his girth, “please just keep going, it can just be the tip, I just–, don’t stop…”

When just the memory of him kissed your entrance, he gently sank back in and stuffed the bulbous head inside your cunt, “you sure you just want the tip?” he slowly found a pattern, fucking you with just the essence of him, “you sure you don’t wanna feel me so deep inside of you that you won’t be able to walk afterwards? That you’ll still be able to feel what we did for days and days?”

Blinking up at him, your legs trembling against his chest, you breathed, “I–…” till your dizzy head began to rock in a nod. 

“Yeah?” he cocked his head and flashed you a smug smile, “then beg for it.”

“Please fuck me–”

“What was that?”

“F-fuck me–”

“What, like I am right now?” he rolled his hips to just shyly plug you up. 

“No, fuck me for real,” your words felt not your own as they desperately flowed out of you, “fuck me exactly like you’ve been dreaming of since we first met, since you first–, ah!” all of the air was then forced out of your lungs as he slammed the remainder of himself all the way inside, stretching you wide of him and letting the tip, the very part of him that had been driving you mad, kiss the deepest part of you and cause your eyes to flutter shut. 

Your knees bent and crumbled down to curl up beside your chest as he meticulously slid halfway out, only to jam his dick back inside. 

He was practically growling above you, sinful grunts rhythmically flowing from his lips at every one of his frantic thrusts.

“Oh my god,” you cried beneath him as your cunt swiftly began to flutter around him, “you f-feel so–, so–, g-good!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked and then perceptively asked, “are you gonna cum?” leaning down over you as he kept up his efforts. 

You tried to offer him an answer, but in the blissful abyss he’d cast you down in, you could only nod and squeeze your eyes further shut. 

“Then look at me, baby,” you sensed his fingers curl around your cheek, his reach dipping into your hairline, “be a good girl and look at me when you cum around my cock,” and when you managed to force your hazy eyes to blink back open, he stared back down at you as your cunt clenched down around him so fiercely that you nearly forced his girth out entirely, “there you go, fuck…”

But as your high began to melt away into sensitivity, the blonde farmhand didn’t slow his efforts in the slightest, moaning above you as he also was too close to cum to simply stop.

“Tyler, it’s too–,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking on either side of his frame as the creamy aftermath of your orgasm created a ring around the base of his cock and aided his erratic efforts, lending the entirety of his length to plunge back into you with such ease, even as your walls quaked and squeezed tightly around him. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he uttered hazily, “fucking take it, fucking–, ahh!” his hips then shuttered as he tumbled over the edge and pumped you full of his hot load. 

When Tyler one day had an errand to run, some thingy he had to pick up at a neighbouring farm, you hadn’t really paid attention to that part, you had kinda just stopped listening after the discovery that you would get to tag along simply because the neighbour knew you better than him. 

So, once you were both waiting on the ground for the farmer to return with the item, just a curious look to make the time pass by morphed into the pair of you full-on wandering around and being more nosy than what was good for you. 

Though the snooping halted once you pushed open the door to the westernmost barn and discovered a DIY contraption that tickled Tyler’s nostalgia. 

It was a tin barrel, strung up with ropes and tied to a few beams, though he still had to open his mouth for you to fully understand how it was a homemade training tool for when you first began learning how to ride a bull.

By then, some of the fear you’d felt the night you had watched him ride had overflowed and spilt out, which surely also was the reason behind why he suddenly insisted on you hopping on and letting him try to teach the terror out of you. 

“So, like that?” you asked, one of your hands hovering above the one you clutched around the makeshift loop tied around the uppermost quadrant of the barrel you straddled. 

“Almost, you’re only allowed to hold on with the one hand,” he pointed out and you swiftly adjusted, raising your left hand up high just as you remembered he’d done, “yeah, there you go.”

“So, just eight seconds like this?” your thighs squeezed around the drum as Tyler gently tugged on one of the ropes, only making you sway slightly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as you glanced over at him, “and then there are other things that can get you more points, like how well you hold your balance and if you’re able to control the bull or not, those kinds of things.” 

He then caught you off guard by pulling on the rope a little rougher and offering you a much harsher and more realistic buck of the barrel, though, to your shock, you reacted to it surprisingly well, clenching your thighs and tightening your grip. 

“Atta girl,” he grinned at the startled chuckle that bubbled out of you, “see? It’s not so scary. You’re a natural.”

“Or maybe you’re just going easy on me…” you pointed out, reflecting on how the love you’d had for riding horses since a very young age surely kicked in and aided you in this skill as well. 

“You’re doing great,” he stated, his stare staying glued to how your body and hips swayed borderline sensually to the rhythm he kept up, “relax, give in to the movements more.” 

“How?”

“Just–…” he sucked in a breath, “pretend that you’re on something else…” a sly smirk then spread across his features before he uttered, “pretend that it’s me you’re riding.”

You then promptly felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, as it became impossible to keep up your concentration on the task at hand and swiftly heard yourself shriek, “oh my god, Tyler Owens!”

Letting go of the rope, he stepped closer to you and enjoyed your flustered visage, “or better yet, maybe I should just let you hop on and teach you that way,” he let his palm slide up your leg as he came to stand beside you. 

“You’re ridiculous!” you laughed.

Snaking his hands around your waist, he then effortlessly lifted you back down onto the ground and uttered, “you love it.”

As you felt his breath fan across your features, your giggle got caught in your throat and faded away as you gazed back at him. 

“Yeah, I think I might…” you then whispered before he crashed his lips against yours. 

His boots then began to shuffle as yours did as well, letting him shift you till your spine collided with the gate to one of the empty stalls in the dusty barn. Pushing you up against it as he ravenously kissed you, one of his wide palms then swooped up from his fast hold on your waist to caress the soft peak of your boob through the thin layer of your tanktop. 

A breathy moan couldn’t help but slip up from your lungs when his kisses then faded from your lips and began to dance down the side of your neck. 

“Okay, easy there, tiger,” you caught his head in your hands as his sloppy pecks fluttered against your rapid pulse, “we can’t do anything here.”

“Oh yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow as he peeked up at you, “is that a dare?”

“No,” you chuckled, then reminded him of your neighbour, “he’ll be back any second.”

A groan then seeped through his grin before he pushed himself off of you, “fine…” yet still held his burly arms stretched out and fast on either side of you, supporting his weight against the half wall behind you and doing his very best to stop himself from diving back in.

But then you slowly let yourself float back into his space, “hey,” and tilted your chin to catch his gaze, “I said not here, not that we shouldn’t give it a try…”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[aennasan]

Jealous Papa to Baby Emi (Kenji Sato x Reader)

Synopsis: Yep. The title is basically the fic. I had so much fun with this that it became a bit longer than my usual drabbles and imagines.

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷

Kenji Sato would never admit it but you know him well enough to say that he is a very jealous man.

However, right now, you are 100% sure that he would never admit it, especially because his number one source of jealousy is his very own kaiju daughter, Emi.

He is not even discreet in showing it. Watching him opening his secret fridge and pretending to count his coco water but his eyes and mind was never even tuned in on the task he had at hand.

His eyes kept straying to you and Emi while you're teaching her about human things. Scowling, lip pouting, and his body emitting a vibe yelling, “When’s me? I want to be next.”

You do your best not to notice or smile as his scowl deepens, he is so funny when he is like this.

At first, you thought he was jealous of Emi becoming a Mama’s girl.

The baby imitating the way you will put your hand on your hips if she’s being sassy, raising an eyebrow if his Papa overreacts about something, crosses her arm and rolls eyes if she's rebelling and the best of it all, is copying your crossed legs whenever you sit on the floor.

Yet, you found out that you were wrong when he suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist, nestled his face on the crook of your neck and asked, “How about Papa, Mama? When are you going to spend your time with me?”

It took you by surprise. And all his actions for the past few days are starting to make sense. His intense clinginess, to the point that he would find you wherever you are alone and wouldn't stop touching you. The way he wouldn't let go of a chance to have you sitting on his lap. Cuddling to the fullest before the baby wakes up crying. He would pout and grumble whenever you remove his hand from you.

Your mind goes “Ohhhhh” finally putting the puzzle pieces together, of his out of pocket intense change in showing his affection.

But before you could even answer, Emi is already throwing a tantrum because you turned your back on her while she was practicing and showing you her dance.

“Must be hard being so popular.” Professor Sato joked once when Kenji was busy scolding Emi for prying his arms away from you. She is scowling, head held high, as she crosses her arms, not looking at his Papa who is now yelling, “Bad girl! You don't act like that in front of your Papa!”

“It is harder knowing that the supposed to be eldest is the one who is acting like a kid.” You gave out a heartfelt chuckle and replied.

“Oh! For sure. He is used to having all the attention only to himself. He probably didn't expect that his competitor would be her own daughter.” He smiled as you two continued to watch their exchange which started to get hilarious the longer it takes.

“Baby, how about dinner, just the two of us, this weekend?” You asked the moment you caught his eyes, your hand resting on your hips, lips curved with a sly knowing smirk.

At first, he whipped his head down fast, immediately pretending to still be counting, while mouthing “Oooooh! I must have drunk a lot of augh….coco water.”

But when he heard the magic word, his head whipped up so fast and he started walking towards you like a dog being told “Do you want to go out?” by its owner.

“Really?” He asked. Purple eyes practically shining with hope and excitement.

“Yeah. I missed you. We haven't gone out together on a date for a while.” Your smile softened when he instinctively leaned forward on your hand when you reached for him to cup his face with pure longing and affection.

“Emi?”

“Professor Sato and Mina would take care of her for us.” You cannot help the way your heart flutters when you see his boyish grin which makes his whole face glow with happiness.

You swallowed the twinge of guilt in your heart when you realized how much he must have felt left out and neglected by you these past few days.

You promised that this weekend would just be about you two. The both of you will enjoy the time of your lives, alone together as you two watch the sun dips on the horizon, your head resting on his shoulder, back pressed comfortably on his chest, while his arms wrapped around you, and his hand playing with your palm. It will be relaxing and you melt just by imagining it.

Or so you two tried your best to compromise.

When Emi saw the both of you dressed to the nines— the plan was to just tell her to be a good girl and bid her goodbye before leaving, she probably felt something was wrong, and the moment the two of you stepped on the glass elevator, preparing to leave, she screamed and threw the biggest tantrum.

The whole building shook from her roar. Her feet kicked the floor so hard that you swore it felt like there was an earthquake.

You and Kenji tried to console her but she didn't stop until Kenji promised that you two are not going to leave and Mama and Papa are going to have a dinner date with Emi.

As if knowing she had won, the baby kaiju stopped immediately and gave out the biggest smile.

Yep, you had been fooled.

So now you found yourselves at the side of the beach. Sitting in front of each other with a candlelight dinner. The sky is a beautiful mix of red, orange, and yellow as it slowly dips on the horizon. The perfect color and atmosphere for a romantic dinner date by the beach.

Except, beside your table is Emi’s own table with her fish, who was happy and chirpy as she looked around. Just content to be with her Mama and Papa. Cheery to be included.

“Come on now. Stop scowling. You're going to age faster with those deep frowns on your forehead.” Joking, you cupped his cheek, reached out to his forehead, and ran your thumb to the lines formed from frustration wanting to smooth it out.

With a deep sigh, he leaned on your hand and his lips formed a long pout.

“But how about a dinner date with just the two of us?” He grumbled.

“Hmmm…I guess maybe we could do that once Emi grew a bit more.” You smiled.

“That will be too long.” He sighed. Exasperated.

“How about sneaking out whenever she is sleeping or busy watching your games?” You compromised.

“We can do that.” He hummed, grabbed your other hand resting on the table, squeezed and kissed the back of it.

Sensing that your attention is not on her, Emi stood up, and started clapping and dancing to the new dance she learned. Mina instantly played one of her favorite songs.

“Show off. Mama’s mine either way.” You let out a laugh when you heard Kenji speak in a hush tone not wanting the baby girl to hear it and had another of her tantrums.

[endearng]

Stranger danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.

[zephyrrr101]

Not like her

Pairing: Daemon x niece reader

Warning: Targcest/incest, DUBCON?, size kink and breeding kink light, mention of somnophilia, slight manipulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, first intercourse, sweet Daemon, Daemon being a soft uncle hubby.(Because I simp) All ASOIAF warnings. MINOR DNI (but do with hungry bitches care?) also not proof read. High Valyrian translation might or not be wrong.

You looked around the Throne Room which had now was filled with hoards of people, All the nobles have made there way to King’s Landing to attend your sider sister, Rhaenyra’s wedding to your cousin Ser Laenor Velaryon. It was a match made out of convenience, you had known that.

Father had not told you much, nor had your maids and lady companions, all having been sworn to silence by your father. But it didn’t take much for news to not get to your ears. Red Keep was never able to keep gossips.

Apparently, Rhaenyra had been seen beyond the walls of Rad Keep during hour of wolf with someone in unseemly situations. There were no proofs that anyone had, but it had been enough for your father to set this betrothal to push the rumours away.

They weren’t rumours.

It was your sister’s sworn shield who had been the man who Rheernyra had shared her bad with that night. She had spoke to you of this a week after, since you broth were always close, your mother’s death bringing you even closer. You did not mind. Several lords went around having bastards, women too laid with men before marriages, you knew of it, why must Rhaenyra be kept from something she wanted But your sombre mood was not for your sister’s situation. Rhaenyra was strong and she welcomed things in her life with courage, even this marriage. Your issue was that your father, after he had talked with Rhaenyra, had a conversation with you too. You will be wed by the next year to a man of your father’s choosing. He did not seem to want another one of his daughters going and finding trouble.

You had hoped your father would give you the same liberty of choosing your husband that was given to Rhaenyra. You would not had minded choosing, you weren’t picky. You were a second daughter, getting many in a good family was always supposed to be your job. But you would have rather preferred if you could have a little bit of choice in it.

Thank you, Rhaenyra, I love you. But you fucked it up for me, Fuck you.

“Something on your mind, sweet niece?” You turned to Daemon who sat on your right. You were given the seat beside the Queen Alicent, not your preferable place, things between you and Alicent were awkward. She was your sister’s friend turned step-mother. You didn’t talk much, it was weird.

You sighed, turning to your uncle, who had come back from his trip to Stepstones a few days back. He had proven is determination when it came to the barren land. He had won it and now with your father’s blessings looked after the protection of Westros from there, visiting the place some times. “Father is setting up my betrothal.”

Daemon frowned, you could tell he was not happy, Daemon had been a constant in your and Rhaenyra’s life even of he was banished half of the time, more to you. While Rhaenyra had your father, you had your uncle. “Who?”

“I cannot say,” You fiddled with your cup of wine, you had lost your focus, drifting off in solace of solitude. “Father has not told me. But he says I will be wed by this time next year.”

Daemon did not reply. And you turned your attention to middle of room, Rhaenyra and Laenor had started to dance. You tipped your cup up, finishing your wine in one go you did not notice anything after that.

You did not notice how Daemon’s hand clenched around his cup as he glared at anything he could see, how his lilac eyes would fall over you, locking at your distressed race, how he counted each line that marred your forehead, how your tongue had slipped out of your mouth to catch the stray drop of wine and how licked it, your red tinged tongue moving over your lips wetting them. And you certainly did not notice the way he gripped Dark Sister’s pommel when Ser Harwin had come to ask you for a dance and you had agreed, leaving with the large dark haired knight.

No you did not.

You danced with other lords but again found Your way to Ser Harwin, or he did to you.

He spoke something to you, learned down so only you could hear him, Daemon could only imagine how he would be taking in your scent of jasmines, such a calming fragrance.

You nod.

He could not hear you from the distance but he had been around you for a lot longer to imagine how sweet your laughter must be in Strong knight’s ears.

This was it.

Daemon slammed his cup on the table, gathering attention of a few people around him and walked away, his brother’s cautioned words, blurred in his ears.

Ser Harwin was telling you about his tales of City Watch, how he sometimes sees the most hilarious things. Your favourite being the one where a certain lord was hit and thrown out of a pleasure house by one the workers and Ser Harwin had found him crying drunk with a bruised cheek. You had not noticed Daemon’s presence until he asked Ser Harwin if he could have a dance with you.

Who was he to say no to a seasoned warrior and dragon rider who could burn him to ashes if declined what he wanted.

“Ziry issa?” Is it him? Daemon asked you, you had well spotted the frown on his face and anger that was flowing in his lilac eyes. Something you could not comprehend.

“Skoros?” What?

Daemon takes your hand his, you let him guide to where ever he wants to, which happens to the farthest part of the dancing area, lesser people are here and you understand that whatever it must be that he wants to speak of he doesn’t want other to hear.

“Harwin,” He looks away from you and you follow his eyes, finding them on your father. It takes a moment for you to realise what he is asking.

“gimin daor,” I don’t know. You sighed. “It doesn’t matter does it, kepus? I must trust Father in his choice.”

“Your father’s choice?” He whispered, you could feel his breath tickling on your neck. “Look at this choice of his. Laenor is a good man but he will bore your sister senseless. And let us not forget his tastes.”

“It’s not that I don’t wish to marry, kepus,” You mutter, you suddenly found his doublet more interesting than the music or the dance. “But...”

Daemon hummed, his hand softly drew circles on the small of you back, you felt a shiver going through you.

“I understand politics but... I’d rather not be used as a pawn for gain without my say. At least without me knowing who I will be tied to for my whole life. I love my father, I really do,” you sighed, your eyes fell on your father and Alicent sitting beside him in a green dress. This wedding looked more like a disaster. “Look how miserable Alicent is. I do not wish to be another Alicent, kepus.”

Daemon listened to every word that left your mouth keenly. He embedded all of them in his very soul. His niece, his sweet and young niece who had been nothing but kind to him despite everything he might have one that could have hurt her. Even when his brother had sent him away for giving a moniker to his dead nephew all those years before. She had come to say good bye to him. Told him how she did not care for a boy who she didn’t even knew and wished him a safe journey, His little doll who always came to him when she didn’t like the braids her maid would put in her hair and have him redo everything.

I do not wish to be another Alicent, kepus.

And he imagined you, sitting beside some very aged lord, with life span of no long than a few years, who didn’t seem to be caring about anything but the cup of wine in his hands, children standing beside you and one in your hands, all while you looked sullen.

No. He couldn’t let it happen, Not when he knew how marriages like that ended up being.

He smiled at you, one his hand grabbing yours and other one caressing the soft skin of your cheeks, He looked at you with such intensity, with such fondness that you couldn’t help but feet the heat crawling up your neck.

“You won’t end up like her.” He told you and you knew better than anyone that his words were not hollow. It was an unsaid promise.

The wedding did turn out to be a disaster. Rhaenyra’s sworn shield had murdered Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, an event which had led to a rushed marriage between Rhaenyra and Laenor. As soon as the chaos erupted, your uncle had pulled you away towards the doors of the hall since you both were closer to it than the royal table.

The stress had caused your father to collapse and another thing had come to light some disease was eating him alive and now he had lost his arm.

In all, the day had been a like riding a wild dragon.

From what you could tell it was past midnight. And you could think of nothing better than trying to put yourself to sleep. It hadn’t taken much too. As your head hit the pillow and darkness engulfed you.

You had been sleeping deeply and peacefully. The tiring and stressed moments of the wedding had lulled you like an infant after having drunk a tummy full of milk.

You could not understand what it was that had woken you up. You felt hot. Surely it wasn’t winter and days in King’s Landing were hot sometimes but not so much to cause her such bother. Though it was not enough to cause you to get out of your sleepy reverie.

You let out a whine when you felt something moving over you leg and your shoulder, making you pull your leg away and shake your shoulder to put whatever was causing you discomfort away. The point between your legs felt wet, making you a bit worried about your moon blood but you were too far gone in sleep to care.

It was the wine you had drank like water before going to sleep. Curse the fucking thing.

It was a sound, something like a chimes that hit each other when wind flowed, that made you snap out of our daze a little bit. You forced you eyes your to open as much as they could which wasn’t a lot. You were drunk and sleepy. But you could recognise that voice and figure even in your blurred sight.

“Kepus?”

Daemon smiles at you. There were very few people who had seen him really smile genuinely. You were one of them. But this smile was different. There was something different about it. You couldn’t comprehend it.

Daemon hushed you, his hand softly laying you back again, It was then when you slowly started to come to sense. He was hovering over you and you felt his other hand between your legs, right on your...

“Kepus, what are you doing?” You almost shrieked, understanding what was going on, “Kepus, what—"

“Be quiet, sweet girl,” Daemon whispered, and leaned down, his lips falling on your cheeks, so, so close to your lips. His fingers circling your cunny, a place that was not supposed to be bare to anyone but your husband. “You didn’t want to be a pawn, right?”

“But-but Daemon—” whatever you were thinking of saying was long forgotten when you felt his his finger entering you, your breath hitched at the foreign sensation. “We shouldn’t.” You whispered, you weren’t sure if you had spoken it or if it was in your mind only.

“And why?” His voice low, you felt as if you were speaking of some centuries old secret with him. “I promised you that I wouldn’t let you be married just like this. I will keep my promise, sweet niece.”

“Daemon,” you whispered, your denial was dying on your lips with him adding another finger in you, his thumb rolling around your nub and his lips on your neck. He hummed and those were the sweetest vibration you had ever felt on your skin, a shiver passing from the junction of your neck and shoulder to your core. Some cold wind had not caused this. This you know. It was him, your kepus who did this.

Your hands went to his shoulders, bare shoulders, he did not have his tunic on. Your skin touching his warm one. He was always warm. Like a dragon. “Please,” you gasped feeling his fingers go deep in you and you squeezed his shoulders.

His fingers moved faster in you, his teeth biting at your ear, “Is this what you are asking, sweetling?”

If only you knew what you wanted. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to let go of this feeling. “Yes-fuck-kepus!” You moaned feeling his fingers curl in you. And then another on being added.

“Don’t worry,” Daemon kissed your forehead, and you realised how really small you were in front of his tall stature. Even laying he could easily reach you forehead when his fingers were far down. “Kepus will take care of. Always.”

You knew he would. Mayhap, it was that fact that you had not called out for someone.

You felt your lower abdomen clenched, you weren’t sure it was. It felt as if someone was pulling at it but from inside. And somehow it felt good too. “Kepus, Kepus, there...”

“I know, sweet girl,” his fingers moved in you even more faster, and that was all you could feel. “Let go. Just let go.”

His thumb softly pressed on your nub and you gasped.

Something washed over you, something ecstatic. You felt free. Just like when you were on dragon back.

You panted, feeling as if you were knocked out of breath. Maybe you were. You look at Daemon, as he softly pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in his mouth, you couldn’t help the heat on your face when you remembered that it was your arousal that he was happily sucking off his fingers.

You looked at him in daze, everything seemed hazy for a few moments. Daemon leaned over you, his knuckles brushing your cheeks before his lips dropped on yours.

They were surprisingly soft, you had always imagined him having a hard touch but here he was, touching you as if you were made of glass, that you would break at the slight wrong caress. You felt his tongue on your lips, and you opened, letting his soft muscle of his mouth melt into yours.

You let him do what he wished to for some moments, unaware of what you were supposed to do but it didn’t take you long to catch up and you moved your tongue against his, you felt losing breath by every moment though nothing seemed to matter. It was heaven where Daemon was taking you. And you did not want to fall down from there.

“Fuck!” You heard Daemon curse as he parted from you, and his lips fell on your jaw and something hard rubbing your core. Your hips bucked up, unconsciously and you moaned. “Stop doing that, sweet girl,” Daemon spoke, his lips were moving down and down from your jaw to your neck, his hands pushing the sleeves of your slip down, his mouth leaving wet trails between your breast.

“kepus,” you were too lost. Your uncle looked like one of those Gods of Old Valyria. So beautiful, his burnt skin like stars on the dark sky. Your hands wrapped around his arms, feeling his full strong muscles, your finger traced the healed wounds, you felt your inside twist and turn. “kepus,”

Daemon pulled away, his eyes were dark, almost pitch black, he was sat between your legs. When did that happen you weren’t aware. You chest heaved as you took each breath greedily and watched his hands moving to his breeches’ laces, pulling them and he shed off them off. You eyes were on him, whole of him and your breath hitched.

So lost in the sight of him you didn’t know when he came back and kissed you, until his cock rubbed into you and you moaned. “Kepus,”

“Shh. It’s alright.” He whispered, his hips moved, you could feel him even when he wasn’t inside you. “Fucking hells, you are wet. You want this just much, don’t you?”

You didn’t get to answer him, feeling his head on your entrance, at this moment.

“This will hurt, sweetling.” Daemon kissed your forehead, his hands brushed your cheeks and hair just like when he wanted to comfort you at any peril of your. “but it will become better. I will make it all better.” And with that he pushed inside you, slowly, and you felt yourself stretching around him as he moved in slow, sucking in breath sharply and curses leaving his mouth, all faded to you.

He wasn’t lying when he said to would hurt. “kepus,” Your nails dug into his shoulders and he kissed your cheek with caressing your head all the while.

“Good girl, such a sweet girl, taking my cock so nicely.” You could hear his groans loud and clear even when he was speaking softly and slowly. “so tight, so firm. But you will take it, won’t you?”

You didn’t answer but hid your face in his neck, tightening your hold on him. You felt tore apart, yet you didn’t want to let go. “so big, kepus,” you whispered as he continued to bottom himself inside you and he kissed your neck saying words of praises.

It felt like hours when he stopped, Daemon by then had bit on your neck several times, you felt as if you’d had bled, but there was no worry about it. He won’t hurt you. You knew.

“Open your eyes, love,” He whispered and you did, he was just a hair width away from you and you could look at his eyes so clearly, his pools of lilac, light than that was your. You wished to have his eyes in your childhood.

He kissed you again and you kissed back. You couldn’t have enough of his mouth on yours, the taste of yourself and the wine mixed in both of your mouth was so sweet to you.

“Come to Dragonstone with me,” His forehead touched yours. Both of you were breathing each other in, “Take me to husband and I will take to you wife, in tradition of our house. You won’t be like her. Ever.”

You won’t be like her, he said. And you knew he was true to his words. He will be. He will not. Not like Alicent.

Not like her.

“Avy jorraelan, Kepus.” I love you, uncle.

Daemon smiled. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen in your life. “Avy jorraelan, donus rinus.” I love you, sweet girl.

Daemon moved in you, slow at first, so deep, you moaned at each stroke, every time his hips met yours, you couldn’t help but cry out first in discomfort and then in pleasure.

His lips descended upon your breast, taking your nubs in his mouth, he suckled at one like a babe hungry for their mother’s milk, his other hand playing with your other and his hips pushing into yours. You couldn’t hear anything but his grunt and groans and your moans and whimper.

Daemon held your legs, putting them around his waist. If you thought he was deep before, he was reaching way inside you.

“This cunt, your cunt was made for me, sweet girl. Look how good it take me. Even when you were asleep. Getting wet for me. It knows it’s mine. You know that too, don’t you?” you ought to feel humiliated and offended at such words. Being owned by some was not something you liked. But the way Daemon said it only made you clench harder around him making him groan, “fuck, yes. Yes, you do.”

“Yes. Yes, Kepus.” You whimpered at his fast pace inside you. Lost in the world of pleasure you were, you couldn’t hold your noises anymore. But of course you uncle would remedy it for you, putting his lips on yours, drinking every single sound in which left your mouth.

You clenched, your hands in his hair, pulling at them, feeling the tugging feeling as before in you. Daemon knew it all well.

“Going to give you my seed and you will swell with our child, sweet,” Daemon muttered in your ear. You felt yourself liking the prospect. Even imagining it in your head as your uncle rutted in you.

Our child.

“Yes”, you nodded, kissing his neck, “a babe, Kepus. With your eyes. I love your eyes.”

“Whatever, my sweet girl wants.” He grunted and you clenched on him again.

“Fuck, kepus.” You moaned, you were sure by now you had scratched his back bloody. “I... I feel it. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetling,” he muttered, “Let go. Just like before. Let it go.”

It wasn’t long you felt the same bliss wash over you and you felt warmth fill you in. Daemon’s seed, you knew it was as you both panted. Daemon stopped moving inside you after a few more strokes, but he did not pull out. He lowered himself to your bed and pulled you on him.

You rested your head on his chest, some silver hair, rubbing against your cheek, you took in the scent of his sweat, his skin glistening under the moonlight that fell in your room.

You felt him pull the sheet over the both of you, his hand running over your hair and exhaustion began to take over you. Your eyes drooped but you kept blinking the sleep away.

“Sleep,” Daemon kissed your head and you fell asleep just as quick as you had woken up, you hands wounded around his neck.

You prayed it not to be a dream.

[backinmyphase]

Not the whole truth

Synopsis: You didn't know why, but Satoru Gojo was acting different than usual and not in a good way. Well, your husband was sure that you were lying to him.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3100 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups, much Angst, trowing up, mention of curses

I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit later than usual, I was feeling a bit sick and fitting with the chapter I threw up :') But I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment, I love to read your thoughts!

"Were you expecting a letter?"

Your husband Satoru Gojo doesn't even look at you as he speaks. Instead his face is expressionless, like a mask he was wearing. Almost like your mother.

He was acting so different from yesterday, it was scary. Did you cross a line?

"No, why? Did a letter come?"

His voice isn't heared a couple of seconds, until he spoke again. "Yeah, from your mother."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen as his words sunk in. She knew. She knew where you were. The house wasn't yours anymore, she knew. How? Since when? HOW?

Satoru's head rose and his eyes suddenly seemed so far away. Like an ocean you will never cross. Cold, like the icebergs in the Antarctica. Not like anytime you saw them before.

"Oh really?"

You kept your voice steady as you took a grape from the offered lunch of the hotel.

"Yeah, here." he slided the piece of paper across the small table to you. Your name written in the handwriting you knew so well. "Does she write you regularly?"

Your mind froze as you thought back. Yeah, she did. But not because of the reason he thought she did. Not because she was worried about her precious daughter. No, more like she worried about her hopefully grandson.

You just nodded and wanted to open the letter as his warm hand grabbed yours.

For a moment he seemed approachable. His eyes bigger than before he looked at you with almost desperation in those deep eyes.

"Are you really close with her?"

The piece of paper sank deep into your skin as you looked at him. What should you do? You couldn't let him know, your mother would kill you! But...

It was so hard when he looked at you like that.

Your hands fiddled with the piece of the paper and drew your whole attention. They were twitching. You wanted to rip them out.

"Yes, I am." the lie left your mouth like a rock falling down a mountain. Fast but not safe. "Didn't I tell you that already?"

His eyes and mind closed from you eight in front of your eyes. You could see his emotions being pushed down and his body sitting up straight.

"Well, then." he stood up to go to the bathroom. "Could you tell me later what was written inside?"

You just nodded as he left. What happened since yesterday? What did you do? How did you get in this situation?

+:★:+*━━━ A bit ago ━━━*+:★:+*

The bed was cold. So so cold. Your consciousness slowly grew as you shivered at the unexpected coldness under the covers of the big bed.

He wasn't here.

Did you wake up early than usual? Normally he would wake you by accidentally being a bit louder when he came back from his round around the town. But Satoru didn't seem in sight.

Your body had the usual heaviness it was yesterday freed from. It wasn't easy to leave the bed but you wanted to get up.

You felt terrible.

The tiredness became unreal. Why couldn't you just be well rested after that much sleep? It felt like a boulder pressed your body down and chained you to the bed. Your body seemed so lazy.

Legs heavy, you slowly made your way to the bathroom. The clock surprising you.

10:24?

That couldn't be right. No, Satoru should have showed up by that already! And you surely haven't slept that much! Right?

As you looked at your things you needed to get ready, you sighed. There it was like every morning. The hairpin of your mother, your wedding present.

Why did you even take it with you? Yes, it was pretty but the guilt that came with it was far more influence. And you didn't even use it!

It almost seemed to look at you disappointed.

Your exhaustion was really getting out of hand! Maybe you should talk to Hina's grandmother for advice against sleeping problems...

As you began to brush your teeth, you this feeling of uneasiness began to creep up your back. Slowly, like a someone was watching you. Like something will happen...

The sound of the door opening made you cough up your toothpaste.

"Er, phew! Satoru?" you called over your shoulder while washing your face.

"Yeah?"

"Did you have trouble?" you dried your face trying to get your eyes to open properly. "You're later than usual."

He kept quiet for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed. "Yeah, you could say that."

The silence after that wasn't like the silence yesterday. It was awkward, you didn't know what to say. You couldn't explain it, but he sounded different. He didn't sound like smiling.

"I'm going down to eat lunch." his voice got a bit more quiet and moved away. "I didn't get anything."

"Okay." you didn't know what was happening, but something was wrong. The comfort of yesterday wasn't seen in any corner, didn't matter how much you searched for it.

Oh, god you did something wrong, didn't you?

+:★:+*━━━ Now ━━━*+:★:+*

Your letter weighed heavy in your hand. And as you opened it, the weight only seemed to grow.

Dear daughter,

I hope this letter finds you enjoying yourself. Well, after all that's what you so desperately seem to want. You can count yourself lucky, your slip up is being forgiven. The higher ups seem to be of the opinion that you acted for the greater good and just didn't think. That you wanted to take action in the matter heir.

They expect that you will expect a child when you come back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were. Your vacation isn't frowned upon, as long you don't forget why you took it.

Enjoy your days, Sincerely, your mother.

On the back was the date of your next meeting engraved. She didn't write you anything else. You felt like throwing up.

Taking action in the matter heir? Expecting a child? You weren't close to anything like that!

What would they do to you, if they find out? No, when they find out? What will your mother say?

The table full of things to eat was suddenly all grey. You didn't feel hungry anymore, even though you didn't eat much.

Tears began to form in your eyes. You couldn't help it. The reality of what you were supposed to do came crushing down on you, making no room for the lightness of yesterday.

You desperately rubbed your eyes, trying to stop the tears but it was no use.

You couldn't show yourself like this to Satoru.

Your room didn't have the thickest walls, he would hear you in the bathroom. So you moved to the bathroom for the guests that weren't staying over the night and tried to calm down.

What were you supposed to tell Satoru?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru knew that he should have given you both letters. But there was this uneasiness in the room with all these questions.

Why did these old hags even write you?

He couldn't explain it to himself. And he wanted to open the letter so bad to find the answer. But...

He didn't want to open letters that were for you. That felt so wrong. Like he was using your trust and god he didn't want you to be mad at him again.

But did you even trust him?

If you did, why were you lying to him? You seemed to have anything but a good relationship with your mother. But when he asked you, you insisted that you did. Two times.

Your face as you looked at the letter wasn't screaming happiness. No, it was confusion and even something like fear.

Did you think you could fool him?

The mirror was fogged as he left the shower. He felt uneasy. Like he wasn't seeing something he should.

Sighing, he started to get ready. Maybe he was over thinking. Maybe you did have a good relationship with your mother. You did have meetings with her a couple of times.

Which were really long...

The meetings?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"You don't look well. Are you okay?"

In fact you looked like you had cried. But you didn't seem to show that to him, meaning you smiled at him like that would be a prove.

"Yeah, don't worry."

He couldn't stand this charade that you played now. But he decided to play along. "What did she write to you?"

"Oh, the usual. I should greet you from my mother. She wished us a good honeymoon and that we would enjoy our time." the laugh that followed was more than forced.

He felt his patience slipping away. "I thought she didn't like me?"

You looked at him like he was speaking another language. "I mean yeah-, but your still my husband which she respects." the fastness with wich you spoke gave you away.

You were nervous. Why were you this nervous in his presence?

"Ah."

"Are you okay?" you looked at him with a frown. "You seem on edge."

Oh and how he was on edge. Who wasn't, when they knew they were being lied to?

"Yeah, just a bit stressed." he couldn't help but look at the letter in your hands. "Have the feeling there is a curse nearby."

"A curse?" your eyes were grewing big. "Here?"

"I will look for it later." he was sure he needed some time alone after this. "We can go to the restaurant some other time, right?"

You nodded, a terrified look in your eyes. "Of course!" you stood up. "I should go to our room, I don't want to hinder your work."

"Wait."

Now or never.

"I wanted to ask you something."

You stopped. Your tense back to him. "What is it?"

"Did the higher-ups bother you with something? Regarding our marriage?" he cleared his throat. "Just curious."

You didn't look at him, just muttered a small 'No' and 'Is there anything else?'

He let you go upstairs. Now he was sure of it. You kept something from him. And this something was in those letters.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru was out for hours.

You were worried about him. He seemed so out of it this morning. And then these questions...

Was he onto something?

You couldn't afford his mistrust. Not when your whole purpose is making an heir!

That sounded so wrong.

You looked at the books on your night table he bought for you. They were all a bit different. Some a different genre. Like he wanted to make sure you had at least on book that you would like.

You hated yourself for lying to this man.

You sighed as the usual tiredness overcame you again. Grabbing a book you read. Just wanting to forget this morning.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was late. The moon was already up and as he went up the stairs he knew that you would already be in bed.

He canceled your reservation.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to ho there anymore. Not after he read what these douchbags were writing you.

Not after he knew what you kept from him.

He opened the door slowly and careful trying not to wake you. You were curled up on the bed, you seemed to shiver.

On the table next to you the second letter.

"Satoru, is that you?" your teeth were chattering.

"Yeah, it's just me."

He felt so dumb as he looked at you. So dumb for thinking you could just have a normal honeymoon, when you weren't even in love.

"Need your warmth." you sniffled. "Please?"

He was fighting with himself. He didn't want to invade your personal space, not after reading all of that. Not when you thought of it like it was your duty to-

He shivered just thinking about it.

But at the same time he didn't want you to be cold. And how could he deny his darling wife?

"I'm coming." very carefully he laid himself next to you, trying to avoid touching you, just carefully hugging you. "Is that better?"

You seemed to sleep already.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was so cold.

Your body felt like being pushed around, everything seemed to spin. Your hands felt frozen, like they didn't were under the covers.

Your throat was dry and something sticky seemed to make itself home in it. The force that held your eyes closed was so strong.

The spinning didn't seem to end.

Wait, a second... It didn't just feel like your body moved, it did!

With much willpower you forced your eyes to open and slowly turned around. And your blood seemed to freeze with your body.

There was Satoru sleeping but had a frown on his face. And a distance between you. But not because he moved, you were pushed back. By something you couldn't see. By infinity.

...

You forced yourself up, away from the bed. Everything started to make sense. He wasn't comfortable in your presence. After yesterday he searched for distance, even in his subconsciousness.

You were to pushy, god, why were you so pushy?!

Slowly you took steps back, trying to get away from the invisible wall that so clearly pushed you away. Almost stumbling you went into the bathroom.

01:24

Kinda ironic.

As you looked in the mirror you gasped. You looked like a corpse. Your fingers in the light even a bit blue. Panic started to rise and pushed you onte the ground.

Spit began to collect in your mouth and your stomach twisted. Your head was so heavy as you slided over to the toilet.

And then it just fell all out.

Your stomach twisting and turning, the pain slowly leaving but your eyes were burning even more.

It seemed to go for hours as you sat there. Defeated, so so powerless.

You felt disgusting.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You didn't know how, but somehow you collected all your pieces and cleaned everything before falling onto the couch.

It was harder then the bed, but that didn't bother you anymore. The distance between you was far more important now.

He seemed to sleep so peaceful now.

He had moved since you stood up. God, now you were the one watching him sleep, you should get your act together.

But even though you were so so tired, you couldn't sleep.

Your surrounding seemed to watch you and the uneasy feeling from the morning came doubled back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were.

They knew where you were. They could just come. Maybe even tomorrow. And even though you knew that would be unreasonable, the fear didn't leave.

You wanted to cry. But it was so cold.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was early than usual. Satoru was still sleeping as your eyes opened. Your body was heavy but the feeling of disgust with yourself made you move.

Normally you wouldn't go downstairs, you would hjust read. But you didn't want to be there when he woke up. No that would be unbearable.

So you went into the bathroom again, the crime scene of the night nowhere in sight. The hairpin waiting for you on the counter like it was ready to stab you.

A laugh escaped your lips.

Your mother really couldn't leave you alone, even now she stole herself into your thoughts.

Why were you even here?

Trying to get away from all of these curses in this hotel room, you hurried as you stepped the staircase down. You really needed a light chat with Hina's grandmother.

And some tips against bad sleeping.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru hadn't slept so bad in a long time. He turned and turned but couldn't get any good position. And he was sure that that couldn't be normal.

Normally he had a rhythm in his sleep. Get the minimum that you need and get up. He normally had to work after all.

But now his thoughts just couldn't shut up.

He woke up much later than usual. And he knew something was wrong when his six eyes were tired.

You weren't in the room.

The room was so coldly empty, his thoughts almost were silent. But only for a short time, they began to circle around the thing that was bugging him, even in his dreams.

Your lying.

And he knew he shouldn't, he knew that what he was doing was maybe much much worse than just lying but the letter from your mother was right next to him on the night table.

"Didn't I tell you that already?"

Fuck it. Maybe this was unreasonable, but he had to live with you for the rest of his life. And he hated secrets.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"Oh, Mrs. Gojo you look like you didn't sleep well, is everything alright?" the sweet elderly woman looked concerned as you sat down in front of her.

"Just trouble with sleeping. Do you have any tips?"

Her concern only grew in her eyes. "Well I drink warm milk before sleeping, I can bring you a cup every evening, if you want?"

You smiled at her. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She just nodded, hesitant smiling back. "It's naturally."

She brought you a hot chocolate, while she handled the organization of the guests. Turning the pages in the guestlist she spoke again.

"Were you happy to receive the letters?"

"Oh yeah, my mother is always a surprise." you began to chuckle a bit, but it died down in your sticky throat as you realized what she has just said.

"Oh I can relate! I write Hina always a couple of letters at the same time!" the woman chuckled a bit. "But I thought the two letters were from different people?"

"Oh they were." you tried to keep your composure even though the panic mixed with lots of anger made it really hard for you.

Really Satoru?

Two letters?

Taglist (if you want to be added just say so):

@zoeyflower @bubera974 @ssetsuka @lady-of-blossoms @peqch-pie

@karlaolea @slut-for-fictional-men @tnt-kokoo @gojoscumslut @sillyfreakfanparty

@tbzzluvr

@emi311 @the-number7 @o-ikawaii @doodle-cat16 @yozora7154

@levisfavoriteteashop @roscpctals99 @starlightglimmersworld @manyuyuu

@dahliawarner @aliisinwonderland @lov3vivian @inthedarkshadows000

@haikyuusimpsblog @sheismaryy @asahinasstuff @honeydew-cheesecake

@sanriosatoru @kimsrie @444na0m1 @humongousdreamlandbear

@elitesanjisimp @dummyf @elernity

@s4ikooo1 @roseyposeylemonsquozey @shitforbrainsmal

@mo0nforme @local-mr-frog @lovemiss-vale @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore

@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @meowforluv @rirk-ke

@certainduckanchor @uknowimdumb @smolbeanzzz @deliciouslydeliciouspenguin

@bloopsstuff @rnriz @saihar4s @m3ntally-unstable @feyrfly

@ughbitchasspussy @cherubsptals @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @thatglamourist

@kujofam @sakusas-sugarbaby @konigswifeyforlifey @duh-nik

@alinasromanova @miizuzu @cgmajor @reactwithjan @mereniss

@seungminsapuppy @junslay @melonmako @staarflowerr

@kiarathace @ghost-buddies @poopypipi @somestardeww

@oneofthesevensins @teramisuyhin @bloomingwitch @tedbunny333

@berryjuicyy @pretty-bandzz @itspapachulo @mo0sin

[s-awturn]

Other Plans || F1 Grid

cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,

a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.

f i r s t p a r t

LEWIS HAMILTON.

You never regretted leaving.

As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.

The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.

But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.

You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.

“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.

“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.

“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.

“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”

“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.

“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.

“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”

He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.

“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.

“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”

He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.

“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”

“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”

He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.

“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”

And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.

And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.

Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.

On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.

There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.

You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.

And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.

And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.

“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.

“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.

“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”

In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.

But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.

When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.

Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.

Santiago and Martín.

“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"

“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.

“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.

“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.

“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.

“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.

“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.

You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.

It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.

Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.

“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.

“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.

“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.

“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.

He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.

“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”

“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”

Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.

“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”

Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.

“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”

And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...

You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.

“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.

“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.

“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”

“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.

“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.

On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.

Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.

CHARLES LECLERC.

After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.

The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.

“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.

“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.

“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.

“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”

“Would you like to live here?”

She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”

“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.

The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.

“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.

"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.

You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.

“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”

“You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”

“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.

“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.

“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.

“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.

You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.

“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”

“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”

He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.

“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.

“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”

You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”

Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.

It was already too late.

LANDO NORRIS.

Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.

“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.

After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.

Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.

You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.

Not even by a miracle.

“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.

“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”

“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.

“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”

Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.

“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”

“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”

“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”

“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”

If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.

“Please understand my side...”

“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”

You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.

“I’m sorry, I was scared!”

“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”

“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”

“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”

And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.

MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.

When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.

Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.

Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.

“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.

“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”

You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.

“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”

“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”

“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.

“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.

You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.

“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.

“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.

“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”

“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.

“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”

“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”

Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.

“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”

“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”

He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”

“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.

“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.

“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”

“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.

“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”

He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.

“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.

He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.

“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”

He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.

taglist: @spngi, @monacosprince, @camelliaflow3r, @simbaaas-stuff, @bsammy, @sabrinaselina55, @irenkaproszepana , @avni-sarai, @itsapurrfectstorm, @janeh22, @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs, @llvstrous099, @gotthemilk-69, @ladscarlett, @daemyratwst, @anewpersonthatexists, @loohs-world, @sarcastic-nerd

Some who requested to be tagged on the taglist unfortunately could not be located, if I forgot someone, please complain on ask, thank you, management.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:17 pm]

(cw: “ass”, parents!au, parental stress)

You felt like you were going absolutely crazy. You hadn’t had longer than 4 hours of sleep in weeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper shower, you’re pretty sure you had 3-day-old baby sick on your shirt, and the house was a mess.

There were mountains of laundry to be done, piles of dishes that kept growing, the trash was overflowing. The state of your home reflected how you felt. And it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t Jaehyun’s. It was a joint feeling of feeling like there weren’t enough hours in a day mixed with the overwhelming stress of having a colicky baby.

Your poor daughter, for days she had been crying and crying for no apparent reason. She was just a few months old, but her fits of distress were worse than normal baby cries. She had no fever, she was kept fed, her diapers were kept clean, there were no signs of teething. She just didn’t feel good and it broke your heart to see her in distress.

Jaehyun was out right now, on a mission to finally find a formula that would sit well with her in case it was the formula that was making her uncomfortable. You were trying your best to quickly throw a load in the washer while her tiny sniffles calmed down in her bouncer.

It had been 6 minutes since she had last let out a cry, 3 minutes since you set her down, and you were going to use this time to your advantage. You couldn’t handle the mess of the home on top of being overwhelmed with your crying baby.

You shut the washer, hitting start and immediately heard her poor cries, deep and throaty. She was wailing. Her tiny face was scrunched up and red. You cradled her, rocking her as you walked up and down the halls of your home. You shushed her to try to calm her, pat her bottom, swayed back and forth, and still her cries persisted.

You looked down at her, feeling helpless as you finally sat on the couch and let tears fill your eyes. You felt useless. You had tried everything to help her feel better, her pediatrician said there was no apparent cause for her discomfort, you had tried 4 different formulas, you tried various pacifiers, white noise machines, everything. The only other option was letting her cry alone in her crib, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her alone in such a state.

You kept her cradled closely to your chest as you cried, hot tears falling down your cheeks. Tears of frustration and your own distress. It felt like this stage was never going to end. It had been days of having a baby attached at your side or Jaehyun’s. Neither of you could be too far from her.

Jaehyun opened the door, kicking off his shoes, and immediately went to the kitchen ready to make a bottle for his daughter in the hopes that she would soon feel better. Her tiny cries broke his heart as he expertly made her bottle, warm water, a scoop of powder, mix. Before he left he grabbed a plastic syringe and filled it with gripe water, before finally making his way toward the cries of his daughter.

But he stopped upon seeing your overwhelmed face. “Honey, baby, what’s wrong?” He asked, taking the baby into his arms while he cupped your cheek with his free hand.

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks, “I can’t help her! She just keeps crying! The house is a mess, I’m a mess, I’m tired, I’m hungry, I stink, I feel like I’m going crazy, but I can’t rest until I know she’s okay.”

Jaehyun felt his heart break, he knew the feeling, he nodded thinking quickly on his feet, “you go take a bath or a shower. Take all the time you want, let me handle her, alright?”

“I can’t leave you alone-”

Jaehyun interrupted you, “you can and you will. You let me sleep in this morning and now I get to help you. I have more energy to deal with her. I got her a fancy ass organic formula, I have gripe water, I got this. We got this, honey. Go.”

You nod, pressing a loving, grateful kiss to his cheek as you leave the living room, hesitating because the baby continues to cry. Jaehyun shoos you away, finally turning to his daughter her had calmed down just a fraction. He gives her the gripe water, giving her the new formula as he hopes and prays that this will soothe her and get her through this colicky phase.

Her small sniffles calm down, tears no longer streaming down her small face, but he swipes away the streaks anyway. She drinks eagerly, her eyes drooping shut very slowly. The bottle is nearly empty as she finally falls asleep and the suckles on the bottle stop. Jaehyun props her onto his shoulder as he pats her back to burp her.

You come back out, hair wet and dressed in fresh clothes. You look so much more refreshed and alive. Jaehyun smiles at you softly as you settle beside him and lay your head on his free shoulder. Seeing you look worlds calmer than just minutes ago and the familiar sweet smell of your body wash, eased his stress and worries. He knows his family is alright, everything will be alright.

You stare adoringly at the two people you love most in the world, “thank you. I could never do this without you. And I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologize, my love. You knew I freaked out yesterday and let me rest some more. We’re a team, we have to have each other’s backs for little miss over here. Do you feel better?” He asks you in a low voice.

“Much better. I folded a load of laundry so now you have some clean t-shirts and my shower was great. Thank you, honey.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m doing the bare minimum,” he stops his pattern of patting and rubbing his daughters back as she finally burps, “there we go.”

Jaehyun carefully sets her down in her bouncer and turns to you, whispering, “you take out the trash and I’ll start loading the dishwasher.”

You give him a mock salute, pressing a peck to his lips before heading to the kitchen. He turns to his daughter and watches her chest rise and fall for a few moments before heading off to the kitchen behind you.

That night you and Jaehyun are finally able to sleep through the night, your daughter sleeps peacefully in her bassinet. All thanks to that organic formula that costs more than a meal for the two of you.

[divinesolas]

Hi, could you do an Aemond one shot where he and Reader (Rhaenyra's bastard daughter) are husband and wife and she and Aemond are married, based on the first episode of season 2 where instead of killing Aegon's son, kill the reader's son and aemond

a.n: hi hi ty for the request 🫶 i had a little too much fun writing this, this probably isnt what you wanted this is not a happy fic but i still hope you enjoy regardless 🫶🫶 slightly inspired by the events of ep two

Despite the halls of the keep being pure chaos everyone swiftly moved out of the way for the one eyed prince who rushed through the halls seeking out the one who he knew needed him.

They had been in his room. They wanted him. But they must have left his room when they knew he was not there and stumbled their way into the nursery which was attached to his room where his son had been. His son. his only child. and he was furious.

The door to the council room slams open and otto swiftly turns to look and stand before him, “where have you been-“ otto is shoved out of his way as he goes to kneel next to his sobbing wife on the floor who was clutching a blanket on the floor.

You look at him with red eyes and choke out his name, he grabs your face in his hands and looks upon you for a moment before you throw yourself into his arms. Shoving your head in his neck to breathe in his scent, to feel his pulse, make sure he’s real.

“they killed our son.” your words come out choked in between your sobs and he strokes up and down your back, “i tried to offer them anything, gold, myself, but they only wanted him aemond only him.” he shushes you and pressed a kiss against your temple, speaking into your ear. “Im sorry my love im sorry.”

He will return the pain they have brought to not only himself but worst of all to his wife and he will pay it tenfold. A lone tear streaks down his face as you say nothing more merely continue to sob into him while the other faces in the room can only merely watch with sorrow.

He picks you up, making sure to keep the blanket firmly in your grasp as he turns to leave the room ignoring the voices calling after him. They must want to discuss what they plan to do now but he wants no part in it, only wanting to comfort his wife.

“they were saying they want to blame my mother.” You had calmed down at some point, still delirious with grief but you had stopped crying, merely staring blankly up at the ceiling as aemond kept you firmly next to him. “she would never do a thing like this. my mother loves me, why would she send someone out for my son.”

Aemond is quiet and his hand on your back falters for a moment, “she wishes to punish me.” you say nothing but he notices how you shift ever so slightly.

With the way you two were right now nobody could tell the two of you have not spoken in those fourteen days since his return when he broke the news to the court. When he broke the news to you. Your own brother murdered in cold blood.

You could never forgive him despite his attempts to talk to you after, you swiftly dismissed him and his words would fall on deaf ears. Your baby brother was everything to you, you remember growing up side by aide and he was teary eyed the day you permanently moved to the keep.

despite your hatred for him and your hatred for your mothers usurpation you cannot go home. The people here watch you like a hawk you cannot even send a letter out to her but alicent is free to beg and plead to her like a pathetic dog. you hate them. Yet you allow him to comfort you because you know you will get no comfort from anyone else here.

“they wish to flaunt me around like a prized lamb. ‘gain sympathy from the houses.’ he says.” You ignore his words and continue to speak. “I will not allow it.” you shrug mindlessly and sit up, he stays laying down. His eye patch off and hair down from its usually prime and perfect state, he had thrown his shirt off at some point too.

You can see it, the hurt that laces his eye and his face, his hand finds yours and you want to rip it away but you cant, the warmth on your skin bringing you a small sense of comfort.

“i had thought we would work. That you would finally move on and forgive grievances of the past. But i hate you just as you hate me aemond,” “i do not hate you. i love you.” you shake your head as he says it, sitting up and gripping your arms tightly, trying to hold your gaze as he says it again.

“i will never forgive you. I will hate you for as long as a breathe.”

“i did not mean to i lost my temper that day.”

“you feeling sorry means nothing to me you know that. how would you feel if the men who murdered our son came in here and said they were sorry., that they didn’t mean to.”

He says your name and his grip tightens on your arms but you continue to merely stare off mindlessly.

“i will repent for the rest of my life. our son will be brought justice.”

he will kill every man in the keep if he has to, slay every man in all of westeros if they cannot figure out who had done it. For you. for his son.

“i love you.” the words come out strained as he begs and pleads to anyone who is willing to listen to him for you to say something else anything to him.

you do. you finally look at him. a look devoid of any love you had once had for him. and it kills him.

“you’re pathetic.”

[bluetimeombre]

˚ · . Nothing fucks with my baby, ˚ · .

You are Hugh's young controversial girlfriend

[FINALLY! it's here, I have kept you all waiting, I hope I haven't disappointed! I said in the other posts that I wasn't gonna do much smut but I think I went more than even I thought. Got me blushing and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy, I'm still riding this Hugh train (want to be riding him) who said that?]

warnings: older man! younger reader! fem!reader. Not proof read. Smut! Penetration, riding, oral (both receiving) praise kink,

Only a bed separated you and Hugh.

"Ok, so we're gonna pick it up from where we left it last time," said the director. "Get ready."

Hugh was in black clad trousers, shirtless, 'sweat' that was really water sprayed. His hair was already messy, perfectly so as if you'd been running your hands through it.

You still had a robe on, your makeup artist touching the highlight to be 'sweat' while Hugh watches every sway of the brush on your cheeks.

The scene was this: Hugh's character seduces yours. Well, there was seduction on both ends, characters or not. It was the first kiss, the first sex scene, the first true intimacy between your two characters. It was hot, heavy, sensual and loving. It was supposed to be all gripping hands and racing pulses, moving bodes and fumbling lips.

But it was the first kiss scene you'd share with Hugh. There'd be plenty more to come, but the director thought it would capture the true emotions of your characters to get it first try.

"Yummy," whispered your makeup artist in your ear as she leant over, slowly un-doing the ties of your robe.

"Play nice," you mutter to her.

"You don't," she winked before parting with your robe, leaving you in your silk nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Hugh gulped, his eyes raking over you as you smiled. Your nerves were sky high, but Hugh seemed already in character.

He played the groundskeeper in 1930's Britain, best friend of your 'father', playing blackmail and seducing his daughter. You. And boy was it easy for Hugh Jackman to seduce you.

The cast and crew had been great at making the both of you comfortable and you'd all been for dinners, lunch's, cast parties, yoga sessions. They'd done everything to make it comfortable. And it had worked. You and Hugh got on like a house on fire, always around, always laughing. But there were the lingering looks once the laughter died, or the 'goodnights' that lasted longer than appropriate, and the touches, the constant excuse for it.

Maybe it was because you were young, alluring to a man not long divorced from an almost thirty year marriage. Maybe it was because he was everything you ever wanted, but you had a feeling lines were going to be crossed. The pit in your stomach was either dread... or desire.

"Right, all set?" the director asked.

Hugh smiled, patted his thighs and nodded.

You flashed a smile too but wiped your palms down your dress, un-knowingly shuffling it on your chest.

Hugh caught the movement and gulped. He was screwed.

"Action!"

You watched as Hugh, in character, stalked toward you. As scripted, you took a step back, hitting the bedpost but kept his gaze. You were a headstrong character, and you could do that, even if your knees felt weak.

"You er, get dressed for me, pretty girl?" he asked. He slipped his fingers through the strap, fingers caressing your skin.

Your shiver wasn't scripted and as Hugh's eyes flickered to your own, you wondered if he knew that. "You should go."

"Your pa's not home."

"My mother is," you whispered, standing taller on the bed post as if you weren't afraid.

He smirked and dragged the strap down until he could see your bare shoulder. His eyes flickered back up to yours. "Wendy's a nice woman. She doesn't expect much."

A furrow in your brows, as planned. "How dare you-"

Hugh kissed you with such force your head came back to hit the bedpost but his hand was already cupping the back of your head, easing the thump as he pressed you against it.

It wasn't scripted.

His lips were as soft as they looked, mixed with the gruffness of his stubbly beard that dragged over your chin as he dived into you like a man starved of breath. You obeyed his every move, every tilt of his head you followed.

His teeth sunk into your lip and your gasped. His tongue dipped in, meeting yours gently asking for permission.

You grabbed his cheeks, drawing back enough to get a look at him. There was a wild frenzy in his eyes causing them to go darker, but beneath that you saw his concern, his worry that he'd gone to far.

Whether this was acting or not, you didn't care.

You drew him back in, lips smacking as passion pulled both your strings. He groaned as you obeyed him, body flattening against yours.

His hands raked down your shoulders, taking the straps with you as you gasp and shiver. The gown wasn't supposed to come off but at that rate, you didn't care if it slipped a little. Hugh's hands moved down your sides, to your hips, gripping the material and bunching it.

"You," he gasped against your lips.

He met your gaze and you smirked, challenging him. Luckily, it could all work in character.

You had no knickers or anything on. It was all to easy to see the line in the dress if you did.

Hugh groaned and brought your head back to his, tongue wasting no time in sweeping into your mouth, tasting every corner and marking it as your own.

He spun you around until he was against the bed, his knees buckling and falling, you in his lap.

He groaned into your mouth, loud enough for the microphone above you to hear. Your lips paused on his, hands crawling into his hair as you felt it.

He was hard, so incredibly hard.

Hugh's eyes were scrunched shut as you backed away a fraction, his tongue licking at his lips for a taste of you. Your hair was starting to stick to your head from real sweat.

His trousers were pulled over his crotch, highlighting the size of him as your mouth watered and your thighs tightened on him. His gaze was hooded as he watched you in silent awe.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you pressed yourself against him, feeling every ridge through the tiny fabric of your nightgown. God, he couple feel every warmth of you. How much you wanted him.

He pecked your lips and brought your bottom lip out with his teeth. From the cameras and the lights and the amount of people in the room, the sweat on the two of you started to be real, mixed with your pants and soft moans that weren't necessary for the scene but needed to pass between the two of you.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shoulders as your rocked yourself onto him, grinding onto his clothed crotch to feel something.

Hugh kept one hand on the back of your neck, occasionally drifting into your hair and tugging with every rock of your hips.

You wondered if the director would ever call cut and you hoped he never would. If it all ended here. Your only consoling thought was the amount of intimacy scene's you and Hugh would have to share together.

He grabbed you and rolled you over as planned until you were flat, chest heaving with breaths and he was kneeling over you. His hands went to his belt, twiddling to undo it.

In a frenzy of passion, your hands reached out to help, grazing his bulge. He watched you as he finally un did the belt and your nails scraped down his thighs.

Hugh loomed over you, grinding down into your cunt until he could feel how wet you were, his lips coming to your shoulder. He didn't have to bite, but he seemed satisfied with it.

"Cut!" called the director.

Your hands halted where they were in his hair and Hugh fell against you, caging you to the bed as you both panted.

"Well done, guys, that was great, you got it over and done with. Now for the rest of them, but that'll come gradual," said the director as both Hugh's and your team came to the bed.

Still, neither of you moved.

"Gradual, yeah," you panted, your hands still stroking back Hugh's hair until you realised what you were doing.

Hugh kissed your shoulder once before rolling from you and taking the robe offered to him. You took things slower, knees weak at just the memory of him.

You took the robe and wrapped yourself up.

Hugh glanced back at you, not once, twice.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You’d thought about it all day. Even as you half-heartedly did the rest of the scenes for the day. Your head was only half on set, the other half focused on the feel of Hugh under you.

In your trailer that night you played your music, gripping your hair in one hand and riding your hand with the other, trying to re-make the magic of feeling him under you.

God, how wrong it was. He was your costar. Old enough to be your father and your celebrity crush for god knows how long. You couldn’t be with him even if you wanted to, he’d probably leave the project if he knew how you’d watched every semi pornographic scene with him in it just to get yourself off.

The knock on your trailer altered you.

Quickly you pushed yourself from bed and wiped your fingers on your shorts, rushing to answer the door.

Hugh’s hands were braced on either side of your trailer door, panting as if he’d ran a matharon before turning up at your step.

“Hugh,” you smiled, desperate to act casual. “What’s up?”

He sighed, staring at you dreamily. He didn’t wait for an invite in. “I thought we could practice, some more.”

You looked up at him. You must have looked a mess, flushed cheeks and devilish hair, but he didn’t look much better. He was in a casual top, black sweatpants low on his v-line.

Daring to peak, you could see the indent. He was still hard.

Your thighs clenched in together from the overwhelming heat. “Yeah, of course.”

You sat next to Hugh on the sofa where you’d left your last script. Your thigh against his, his finger grazing your knee.

You cleared your throat, trying to read when all you could do was bask in every little touch from him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” said Hugh. His eyes were on you, script forgotten.

Glancing from him to the script, you flicked a page. “I don’t- where does it say-”

With a rough hand, he tilted your jaw to him until your lips were a hairs breath away. His tongue flicked out, darting over your lips, begging. “Honey, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gulped, mouth opening for breath or for him, you couldn’t tell which was more important. A hand crept up to cradle the back of his head. “I can’t tell if we’re practicing or not, Hugh.”

His head rested against yours as he moved it side to side. “Whatever gets you to fall in love with me.”

His eyes met yours.

“As if you even have to try.”

Your lips were soft and mouth wide as you received him, tongue gracing his mouth as he grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, the script crinkling between the two of you. Your hands were in his hair, grown longer for the part, then raking down his neck then over his shirt until you were gripping it in your hands, pulling him closer to you while you lost air.

Hugh pulled back enough to kiss your jaw, biting at the skin.

“Is this-“ you gasped, holding onto his shoulders. Your thoughts weren’t working, nothing was. All you could think was him, his hands on your hips.

Hugh's lips reluctantly dragged away from your skin, as if he'd die to be parted. "Is it what baby?" when he saw your concern, his desire dimmed. All he wanted was for you to be alright. "Tell me," he brushed back your hair, thumb pulling down your bottom lip, after all, he still needed you like you might die tomorrow.

You sat back on his lap, trying to distract yourself from the dampness in your pants. "Is this real?"

"Doesn't it feel real to you?" he laughed, rocking himself into you.

"Is this Hugh?" you whispered, "or just your character."

His eyes softened. Hugh cradled your cheeks, holding you to look at him. "This is me and you, honey. I-I know this all seems sudden, and we can stop if you want-"

"I'm not saying that," you quickly cut him off as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted him, even if it meant heartbreak for you later.

He pulled back and looked up at you. "This is me wanting you. As y/n. As whatever you will give me. As my love, as my baby. As- as everything i've been thinking about for months. As everything I've been waiting for, baby," his thumb smoothed over your cheekbones as you nuzzled into his palms. "If i've made you feel like i'm using you i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, but this is real to me."

You glance up at him. Your lips press a kiss into his palm as you hold his hand to you. "Good," you mutter. You adjust yourself, settling down on his lap again until his clothed erection is begging for your wetness. "Because this is real to me too."

Hugh growled and kissed you, all tongue and teeth as he sort to get every piece of you in one. His arms, strong and large, wrapped around your back and held you into him until even when you pulled away to breathe, your breath was full of him.

With his strength, he pushed you down on your sofa, throwing the script behind him and pulling your legs until they were thrown on either side of his hips. He was lucky you were still in costume, your dress riding up to reveal your white panties, with a damp spot.

Hugh lied down, looking at your pussy as his one hand held down your hips, the other crawling up your chest to squeeze your breasts. "This real? This all for me, honey?"

"Yes," you gasp, running your hands through his hair as his salt and pepper beard scraped your thighs.

"You want me?"

"Yes, Hugh."

"How badly?"

"So, so badly," you whisper, eyes shut as his breath fans where you need him most. "Please baby, please."

He kissed over your panties. "So polite, honey. So good for me." He licked a stripe up, letting his tongue swirl over your clit.

Your back arches. As he repeated the motion before hooking his fingers through the band and slowly- agonisingly slowly- pulling down your panties and the scrunching them up in his hand.

He moaned at the sight of you dripping before him. How he had you panting by the smallest touches. You were his to touch. To ruin. To taint with him and only him. "Thought about this cunt of yours more than should be allowed."

You chuckle, propping yourself up to indulge in the sinful image of him between your thighs. "Yeah? Thought about it too."

"Tell me," he said. His eyes were on yours as he peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, fingers indented into your flesh.

You moan, eyes fluttering shut. You think of every crude images you'd conjured in your mind. Him suffocating between your thighs, you sitting on his face, riding that perfect arched nose. Your mouth stuffed with his cock as he eats you out. Riding him. Up against a wall. Every filthy thing, you wanted to do with him. "Thought about your tongue, your cock, fingers, nose."

He laughed, glancing up at you. "My nose, huh?"

You chuckle with him, falling back and throwing your arms over your face. The laughter catches in your throat when you feel his tongue dive into your folds, the warmth spreading. You moan, legs going to close if it weren't for Hugh tapping them.

"Keep them open baby," his voice was rough in demand as he focused on you. On tasting you, on spreading your folds with his fingers- sliding them in and out to get a feel, as he shoved his tongue in depths you didn't know he could.

You bite down on the back of your hand, but your cry is barley muffled. "Fuck, baby."

Hugh eats you like he's starved man. He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations through your body that he receive gladly. It goes through him like you're one person. He finds himself grinding down on the sofa like a teenage boy. That's what you're doing to him, making him focus on you and not cumming before stuffing you with him.

"Hugh, I'm-" you mutter all too quickly.

"God, can't wait to taste you cum on my tongue, honey," he said. "You want my nose huh?" He stuffs his face into your pussy, tongue flicking up and down your folds as he nudges his nose on your clit repeatedly until he has your thighs shaking.

"Hugh!" you moan, holding onto his shoulder to stabilise yourself.

Hugh slides his fingers into you, using your wetness to his advantage as he continues to work you with his tongue. He slobbers, spitting down your folds and fingers as he works it into you, groaning at the sight. "Can't wait to feel this around me. God, I wanted you on my cock so bad, with the camera's watching, with the crew. Want them all to know an old man like me can have you falling in love."

"Always," you gasp, focusing on the warmth in your stomach and Hugh's fingers curling inside of you. "Want you to take me. Use me. Have me."

Hugh flattens himself against your sofa, groaning, eyes rolling in the back of his head like it's your mouth warm against is cock. He grips your hand that was on his shoulder and holds it until his fingers bleach white from the grip. He rests it on your sternum, looking up at you.

Wisps of your hair stick to your forehead, your chest spilling out the dress and rising and falling as your body trembles. You hold his hand just as tight, if not, tighter.

"Cum on my lips baby, please," he begged. "Want to taste you. Want to make you cum."

It took little more encouragement from you before you came on his tongue, gasping and grasping as you did. Hugh ate it up, licking the mess from your pussy and your lips. It has him quivering and knowing he'll need this taste every day just to keep him sane.

"Hugh?"

He glances back up at you. Your pink cheeks and wide eyes. He grins, licking his lips and wiping your juice from the corner of his lips and licking it from his fingers as he crawls back over you. He nudges his nose against yours and grins at your smile. "That was amazing."

"You're saying it like you just had the best orgasm of your life," you laugh.

His brows rose. "Best orgasm of your life, huh? I can give you plenty more where that came from?"

You smirk, running your hand from his chest to between his legs, rubbing your hand over his dick that trembles at your touch. Satisfaction gnaws at you as you watch his eyes shut and jaw clench.

"Baby, almost had me cumming in my pants like a teenager," he chuckled, shakily.

You tut, sitting up to have better access to his lap. "Can't be having that."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

That's how the rest of the months of filming were spent.

At first, the two of you agreed to take it slow. Little dinner dates, grabbing coffee together and walks in the local parks. Luckily it was known you were filming together and the paps weren't too fussed.

You tried to take it slow, but the sex was anything but.

In the mornings when you were inevitably in the make up chair first thing- as the star of the movie- Hugh would join you, passing you your coffee order and breakfast before taking a seat next to you and chatting away with you and the make-up artists. Even if he wasn't shooting that day, he was there. On the dot. Every day.

Your team of people smirked knowingly even if neither of you confirmed it. But the stolen stares and kind offerings were enough. Surprisingly, nobody warned him about being with one so young and neither you him much older as he was.

Because everyone knew it was true, real love. Because first, it came from friendship.

He helped you with scenes when you asked, helping the emotions play out. Even you gave him new perspectives of looking and taking om scenes. It was refreshing. Life with you was refreshing.

The more intimate scene's became harder, oddly enough. Because you'd get to into it, the director yelling cut several times to tear your bodies from each other. Then, when you were alone at night, you jumped on Hugh, climbing him like a tree.

Sometimes you couldn't wait till night and dragged him into your dressing room, sliding down to your knees and un-doing his belt.

"Eager?" he'd tease.

You wouldn't justify him with an answer. Your hands messaging his balls and tongue licking up his cock until you had him down your throat or stuffed in your cheeks was enough for him.

At the end, you had to stop reading scripts with Hugh as his glasses perched on his nose was too much for you.

Enough times he knew that and would eat you out wearing them. And only them. You'd watch the lenses steam up as he licked and moaned in you until you were cumming over his chin, sometimes landing on his glasses.

"Honey, you're too much," he grinned and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Dinner nights after long days always ended up with your foot gently trailing up his leg in his dress pants, his hand gripping your ankle as it inched closer to his cock, finger running circles.

Hugh would have to park in the dark and pull you onto his cock, ruining your dazzling dress and tearing the seams of his trousers to have his cock free and nuzzled into you.

One of your breasts was in his mouth as you rode him, his arm wrapped around your waist and helping you move. His cock warm and throbbing inside of you.

"Oh baby," he moaned around your breast, teeth pinching at your nipple. "Grip me like a dream."

His hand gripped your ass, pushing you and pushing you, throwing his head back and groaning out as the car rocked form your hard movements. It didn't matter how many times either of you had each other, it was a constant need never satisfied. You breathed new life into him and he wanted to use it all on you.

"Hugh, I need you!" you whined out even as his cock was deep in you.

But he got it. Because it wasn't enough for him. "I know, baby, I know!" he lurched forward and kissed you as you grabbed his cheek, keeping him there. Your tongues fought as you tried to catch your breath, bouncing on his cock. He growled. You whimpered.

"Fuck me, Hugh," you told him, biting down on his earlobe as you cuddled into him, bouncing on his dick as fast as you could to reach your third high that night.

"Shit, just there- right there!" he held your hips down as his cum spluttered into you, him growling and moaning out your name like prayer. Nobody in the world had been so devoted to something like Hugh was to you.

And the balance was perfect. The next night Hugh would join you in your trailer- where most your times were spent. You were curled into his side as he was shirtless, reading. Those annoyingly attractive glasses still there as he laughed at some parts of the book and you'd ask what it had said and he'd explain it to you while his fingers twirled strands of your hair.

The next day you'd be attached to him all day, lips forming as one as the camera rolled and the director gave you pointers. It was a scene of the two of you in the garden. Both indecent (although of course following Hollywood guidelines) Hugh didn't even let you up from his lap, instead holding you there as you both acted professional and took the director's words. You could fuck him, love him and work with him all you needed.

That night, Hugh would have you on the floor of his trailer, the two of you hardly making it through the door before he had his cock in your mouth, stirring you with his hands in your hair.

"Did so good today, my good girl, working so hard for everyone," he groaned as you chocked around his cock.

You took him deep and took him out, spitting over his cock and working him with your hand. "So big," you mumbled, drunk on having him. You sucked one of his balls into your mouth, devoting attention to both of them.

"Oh, fuck, y/n, you're gonna be the death of me. God, I just know you wanted to ride me with everyone watching, could feel how wet you were."

You take his cum down your throat, licking every last drop before you both fall asleep in his bed to film together the next day.

You both walk on set, laughing, smiling, with coffee in hands and every on set watches and smirks cause they know. Maybe they don't know all the filthy things you get up to, but they can see it's more than just another hollywood controversial talk.

But Hugh is in love with you.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl, @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen, @apizzacalledmel, @corvusmorte, @slut4you, @ellak69, (how you're only just on the taglist no idea babe), @wolverigrl

[steampunkedemon]

josh went to see bubs on friday but his ex decided to make it as difficult as possible and i just…….i’m so mad for him