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I know you already did the 141 boys when their wife gives birth (which was fantastic btw) but maybe if they missed the birth because of a mission or whatever else your brilliant mind can think of!
Don't give me compliments because then I'll follow you home like a cat and you'll never get rid of me 😖
Price
(This goes for all the men, really) but he's absolutely gutted to not be with you as you're giving birth
Honestly, if he had the choice, he would've rather lobbed off his own arm than miss such a momentous occasion in both your lives
It’s nothing less than the literal fate of the world that's keeping him from you, and he makes sure to reiterate that over and over again
The only thing that gives Price a bit of peace of mind when leaving you at a time like this is knowing you have a strong support system to help you through it
And boy oh boy does he put those friends and family members to use by having them constantly text him with every update imaginable
What time your water breaks, how far apart your contractions are, how much you've dilated, so on and so on. He wants to know it all
While he has to remain focused during the bulk of the mission, when he's able to, he's whipping out his phone to scroll through the literal hundreds of messages that await him
The updates are so plentiful and detailed that if he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend like he was right there beside you all along
And once he gets to the pictures of you holding your little one for the first time, well… he's not afraid to admit that he sheds a manly tear or two at the sight
Soap
He kicked up quite the storm at work when he realized he was going to be missing the birth of his child
He did everything in his power to try to get out of the mission – to try to get back to you – but, ultimately, he had no other choice than to go
But he's not just going to go gently into the night. No, he has a few tricks up his sleeve to make it as if he's still there with you in some capacity
Like Price, Soap takes comfort in leaving you with a huge support system to help while he's away
And also similarly, he's recruiting your loved ones (more so their phones) into letting him video chat with you whenever he gets the opportunity
(Does that mean he snuck his unauthorized smartphone into the middle of a battlefield? …. Yes. Yes, he did. .……....… Don't tell Price)
You'll be in the midst of a call with him and a bullet will fly right by his head and embed itself in the wall behind him
Of course, this has you incredibly concerned, worrying over how you're distracting him when he should be focused on his mission
But he assures you there's no need to fret, dear. He's perfectly safe and everything’s completely fine
(Oh, and just disregard that sound in the background, hun. No, it wasn't a bomb. Heavens, no! It was a… a… piano falling out a window)
Gaz
Even when he's away on mission during normal circumstances, he's calling home all the time to check in with you
But given your current state, now he's checking in twice as much as he usually does
Expect a minimum of three calls a day just to ensure things are still all hunky dory on your end
It's during one of these calls that your water breaks, and as you fly into a state of panic, forgetting everything you're supposed to do, Gaz has to calmly walk you through the steps of what you'd planned
He's able to talk you down and make sure you get yourself to the hospital in one piece, but then after that call, weirdly, you don't hear from him again
It's not until several hours later when you've already delivered your child that you're awoken by the feeling of someone beside your bed
You look to see who it is and it's none other than Gaz himself – still dressed in his full gear, covered in all sorts of dirt and grime, a hushed apology pouring from his mouth
He's so sorry he couldn't get there quick enough, beautiful. He left as soon as he could once he'd pulled a few strings with Price
But you don't even care about the excuse because you're quickly enveloping him in a hug. With tears in your eyes, you assure him it's alright. He's here now, and that's all that matters to you
Ghost
When he was informed he was being shipped off to a remote location less than a month before your due date, he was livid
No phone, no radio, no communication of any kind with the outside world and he was supposed to be okay with that? He very much wasn't
The higher-ups had to really hammer home the whole “safety of the world” thing to convince Ghost to go, and even when he did, he did so grudgingly
He finds that as he sits in this shoddy shack halfway across the planet from you, all he can do is keep a mental tally of everything he’s missing
Going with you to your final check ups, helping you pack your hospital bag, holding your hand as you begin to push, etc. etc. etc.
But what about things he might not know about? What if something's gone wrong while he's been away?
He can't let himself think on it too much because he'll end up putting his fist through the drywall, and he needs at least one good hand to hold his child with when he meets them for the first time
Seven weeks, four days, and nine hours after he shipped out, Ghost is on a plane back home
He doesn't stop to talk to anyone when he touches down at base (not even to report to his superiors). He just gets into his car and books it, not letting off the gas until he's parked outside your home again
And when he finally reaches the front door, an unexpected tremor passing through him as he grabs for the handle, he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and walks inside, beginning the next chapter of his life
#wiw asks#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#female reader#simon riley#john price#john mactavish#kyle garrick#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#cod x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2
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jason todd with a partner who’s afraid of guns
ft. gn!reader, mentions of guns (obviously), other weapons, potential home break ins, just jason being a little paranoid but we love him for that anyways
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i imagine he would already have his vigilante and personal life very separate (he's just a guy :( who wants some normalcy and domesticity)
so i don't really imagine him letting his partner see much of his red hood persona
like he's not exactly bringing you to fights or anything even remotely dangerous
so, knock on wood, you’ll never have to see him actually shoot anybody, but he will still try to find ways to keep you safe when he’s not there
probably soooo very very protective of you, like even if he was practically in love with you, would hesitate to start a relationship until he's sure that his enemies won't have a way to use you against him
he's going to like one safe house to store his stuff and then probably another one just to throw people off of his tracks before he heads to your place
i think if his partner wasn't afraid of him guns at home, like is just scared of handling them, he would probably have one on him when he's going home
to protect himself because he could be attacked anywhere and also in case something happens at home (his worst nightmare is walking home to an empty apartment when he knows you should be home and in bed)
and he normally would have a stash of weapons in the house, including guns, in case either of you have to defend yourselves
like preferablyyyyyyy he teaches you the basics like how to load a gun, turn the safety on and off, and shoot, but if not there are plenty of other weapons to choose from
and he’ll let you know where they all are (it’s not hard, like you’ll probably run into a few on accident throughout the day anyways) and will tell you where the guns are so you can avoid them if you so wish (he’ll probably have them in case he’s home and needs them though)
super paranoid guy but considering everything he's been through and how many people he's antagonized in gotham, makes sense
however, if his partner is afraid of even having them lying around, he's definitely willing to make some changes. he still uses them while he's fighting, but subconsciously, he might be less likely to reach for them
he's not bringing any guns home (probably just settle for some knives, idk why but he seems like he would steal batarangs for funsies so he might have some on hand)
like he’ll drop off his guns when he gets to one of his safe houses and then arm himself to the moon with other stuff (sorry again i fear he is a little paranoid but like it’s understandable)
as far as weapons in the house...i think he'll still have a few guns, just in case, but he'll make sure it's not somewhere you could easily find them, like if you guys both have your own offices then he’ll leave them in his
honestly, for your peace of mind, he probably won't tell you the exact location, just lets you know that there are a few for life or death situations (unless you ask for the location, in which case he's more than happy to tell you)
so many other weapons though. i genuinely don't think he'd compromise too much on that one. again, if you don't like sharp objects or anything like that, at the very least, he is putting pepper spray in every room and a metal baseball bat
and probably some flares, smoke bombs, nonlethal stuff so you can run to safety if you don't want to deal with the assailant head-on, but best believe you’ll know how to use all of them very well
and there’s always self defence moves, although i think he prays that you never have to get to that point
why am i imagining jason practicing escape routes with you from different places in your apartment like it's some sort of fire drill
“okay pretend i’m the attacker and i come in through the window with a knife while you’re washing the dishes. what are you going to do?”
“cry?”
“no, sweetheart, remember, if you’re in the kitchen and they don’t have any long distance weapons then you go with escape plan C.”
“bitch how tf am i supposed to remember all of the plans.”
HE DOES IT OUT OF LOVE
will actually stress tf out if you don’t do it so uhhhhhhhhh yeah i’d start studying
will make you practice it every once in a while just to keep it fresh
and it’ll be random too because “crime doesn’t give you a heads up in gotham”
on the plus side if you have any weird requests he’ll probably feel bad and do them
like if you want fresh flowers in the house at all times? babe, he was going to do that anyways. onlt the best for you
you want to decorate the house in whatever style you like? here’s his card (being a crime lord does make good money)
doesn’t matter if he likes it or not, it’s only fair. you get to decorate your place with cute throw pillows, he gets to hide a few daggers under the sofa, same difference
or like if you want his location at all times? and hourly check ups?
honestly, he’s touched that you care about his safety as much as he cares about yours. he’ll make sure it’s encrypted so nobody can hack into your phone and see that, but he’s more than willing to whip out his phone in chasing down some villain to tell you he’s gonna be late for dinner or whatever
guys, at the end of the day, he just really loves and cares for his partner, and he'll do whatever makes you the safest and most comfortable
he has some…interesting habits but it’s all to make sure you stay safe
and he makes up for it by bringing home little trinkets that remind him of you and planning elaborate date nights and all of that cute stuff to show how much he cares
and who knows, if you still remember escape plan p maybe he’ll have a little treat planned!
#jason todd#red hood#batman#dc batman#batman comics#batfam#dc robin#batfamily#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd hcs#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#jason todd headcanon#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason robin#jason todd fic#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood headcanon#red hood fanfiction#jason todd x male reader#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd x gender neutral reader
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By the Fireplace
BRUCE WAYNE X READER
MDNI wc: 1.2K summary: Finally snapping the sexual tension between you and your best friend. warnings: alcohol comsumption, dry humping a/n: It's not perfect but it's also nearing midnight so i don't care. Enjoy!!
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It‘s been a relaxing evening so far, hanging out with your long time best friend in his lounge by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, and some deep talk. Bruce will never openly admit it, but he feels like you are the only one who understands him. While being slightly drunk, it‘s easier to relax and shut his mind off. Especially sitting beside you on the comfortable couch; he wants to stay like that forever.
The shared comfortable silence almost makes him fall asleep, but his mind can‘t seem to find complete peace beside you. Even when his head is leaning against the top of your head, he can‘t seem to fully relax yet.
You feel almost the same. You do feel relaxed, safe even, but something keeps stirring inside of you when you are so close to him. Ignoring it and taking another sip of your drink, you watch the fireplace crackle contentedly in front of you.
Bruce sighs out beside you, indicating his tiredness after talking about everything and nothing for hours.
»Want a refill?«
He leans off of you for the first time in probably half an hour and reaches for the whiskey bottle by the coffee table. You shrug and sit up more, letting him fill your glass with the dark liquid.
His movements are slightly disoriented, but he manages to get all the liquid into your glass, and then get more for himself. With a low hum, Bruce sips on his drink, eventually leaning back on the couch. His once perfectly put together appearance became more dishevelled, some strands of hair sticking out in different directions while his tie is resting somewhere in the room; long forgotten.
You also take another quick sip, already used to the bitterness and set it aside for now.
»So… I think it‘s time to go, isn‘t it?«
The time on your phone shows that it‘s well past one am, but Bruce thinks otherwise. A small whine leaves him, completely uncharacteristic normally, but very on point in his drunken state.
»C‘mon, you‘ve only been here for what… two hours?«
He sways on his spot as he leans up and turns to face you fully.
It‘s not exactly true, you‘ve been in his living room for six hours by now, talking nonsense with each other. Gossiping, mostly.
But with your intoxicated brains it‘s hard to tell anymore. So, logically, you sigh out and give in. How could you resist your best of bestest friend anyway?
»A few more minutes, then...«
And that‘s how easily you can make him smile again. It‘s crooked and his eyes are mostly unfocused, but he is satisfied with your easy compliance. And tonight, he seems to be bolder with his actions.
»C‘mere… please,« sighing out, he opens his arms and almost tackles you down with his hug, »such a good friend.« He mumbles against your shoulder, basically squeezing you tight with his arms. If it wouldn‘t been the alcohol, you would‘ve pushed him away by now and pretend to find the physical affection cringe. Not that he does it a lot, only rarely when he is sure you are both absolutely alone.
A second after, you hug him back and sigh out in relaxation. You both melt together into one not too long after, refusing to let go of the other while basking in the comfort.
»I‘m definitely sleeping here tonight.«
You are not sure if you refer to his arms or couch, not caring at this point. He takes your words seriously and squeezes you lightly, almost making your breath hitch.
»Mhm… damn right, you will.«
His voice drops lower, getting into a low whisper as he keeps you close to his chest, refusing to let go of the comfort and sweet scent of you.
Even though you didn‘t mean your words at first, you find yourself quickly accepting the fact that this night will be spend here. Hell, you wouldn‘t mind falling asleep right now like this.
A small groan leaves him and he finds himself nuzzling into your neck, searching for more warmth and most importantly your scent. He needs to make sure you are actually still there and not just a silly imagination he came up with.
Following his actions, you wrap you arms tighter around his neck, shifting to press closer. Your clouded brain can‘t help it, neither does his own and soon enough, your limbs are tangled with the other in a more chaotic way. Thanks to Bruce‘s master-brain, he finds a more comfortable position and lets you straddle his lap.
Finally seated, you both relax and simply enjoy the presence of the other. You don‘t know what changed exactly, but in the next minute he is all over you.
Hands groping gently at your curves and fats, lips tracing your skin down your neck and shoulder. Your shirt seems to be in the way, but he is also too lazy to tug it off just yet.
Your brain catches up on what‘s happening and by the time he already started, you can‘t just stop. Acting by logic and pure desire, you give into the act and tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his head around a little.
Soon, the room fills his soft grunts and your heavy breathing. His hips desperatly jerk up and try to get friction, but it‘s harder in this position when his chest is pressed against yours and you are also pressed completely against him. Deciding you have enough of the friction that‘s barely even there, you lean him back into the back rest and do it your own way.
Hips grinding and sliding against his crotch earns a groan from both of you. The new friction feels more intense and delicious, soon getting breathless from it. His hands settle on your thighs and the small of your back, guiding you in a steady rythm.
Due to the effect of the alcohol, it‘s actually more sloppy than anything, but you both couldn‘t care less. It‘s sloppy, messy, hungry, whatever; you both need this.
Your heavy breaths turn into small whimpers, getting him riled even more than he already is. And then it happens, the final knot snapping without warning. You never came so fast before, maybe it‘s your intoxicated brain, maybe it‘s just Bruce alone, but it feels heavenly either way.
Your hips stutter and thighs shake on either side of him, and for a moment he stills too. A primal groan leaves him before he grabs onto your hips and continues, the pace faster and rougher. His brain immediately went to mush the second he realised what happened.
»Oh, yeah— s‘ good f‘ me… just like that, a little longer,« Bruce mutters under his breath, sucking new marks against the exposed skin of your neck and suddenly drags your hips painfully slow against him, trying to draw out as many needy sounds from you and milk out as many possible aftershocks from you at the same time.
The way he does it is enough to draw a second orgasm out of you, but your body simply gives out. A few final trembles and jerks, then you slump limp onto him.
Sighing out deeply, he caresses over your back and settles back comfortably with you. Your brain shuts off at the same time and are on the brink of falling asleep until he speaks up, voice low and dangerous.
»That‘s not all, doll… gonna stay the whole night, aren‘t ya?«
←MASTERLIST
#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#x reader#dc comics#batfam#drabble#batman x reader#dc x reader#dc smut#dc batman#batman#batman comics#oneshot#masterlist#dc universe#writers on tumblr#dcu#dc
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could you make a robb stark x baratheon reader where they grow up together as friends and were promised to each other, at the beginning reader thinks robb doesn't wanna marry her but then he tells her he loves her
if you could please add smut at the end (afab reader btw)
Robb Stark*Arranged
Pairing: arranged marriage!robb stark x princess!reader
Word count: 2272
Warnings: arranged marriage, anxiety, talks of running away, making out, (smut in part two but this is mostly wholesome), fluff
Masterlist here
A/N: sorry this (and everything else lol) has taken so long but part two with the smut will be up in the next couple of days :)
despite being a Baratheon by blood, by title, and by name most days you felt more like a Stark than anything else. Your father had sent you up to the North on your eleventh name day to become a ward of Ned Stark as part of an alliance of sort. Marrying his eldest daughter to a well-respected and established house only strengthened your fathers claim.
It had benefits for you, well at least he told you all his reasons in the letters. You’d be safe under lord starks protection, able to grow up alongside Sansa Stark who was only a year younger than you, become the future lady of Winterfell, and most importantly, to you at least, marry your childhood crush.
Yes, that’s right from the time you met him at four, him being five, you were smittened. Your father had travelled north on business but also happened to attend the wedding of one of the northern lords. He and ned laughed loudly, clinking their glasses together, as they watched you force Robb to walk down a pretend aisle with you that Jon helped you set up with chairs.
Of course, it was just a silly crush. It’s not like four-year-olds understand what a wedding is. By the time you moved to the north at eleven it was just a fond memory of your fathers he would tell at dinner parties.
In the nicest way possible when you first arrived Robb didn’t even care you were there. He was twelve and running about with wooden swords to practise with Jon and Theon while you and Sansa would practise hairstyles in each other’s hair.
However, by fifteen something dreadful happened. You fancied him.
Sure, in theory it sounded great but there were so many awkward moments. After all you were only fifteen. You couldn’t help that your face went beat red when he gave you a necklace for your birthday and when he told you that you looked ‘pretty’ one day you could barely muster out a thank you, you were so shocked.
You did your best to shove it down and pretend everything was normal over the years, but the crush never went away. You got better at hiding it. you had to as you’d grown closer over the years. Since Sansa had no interest in horse riding you were left to go with the trio, as you called them, instead. It soon became one of your favourite past times and you quickly grew close with the three boys. Especially Robb.
You figured it was a good idea especially as the talks of your marriage began cropping up more frequently. Your parents started pushing you to go on chaperoned excursions to markets and walks through the gods’ woods. They had no clue, or at least pretended, about the unchaperoned ones. Often you disappeared into the gods wood for some peace or the fields behind Winterfell to race. Robb began to bring food in his satchel so your excursions could turn into late lunches in the few sunny days of Winterfell.
“I definitely won,” he grinned as he dismounted his horse.
“Yeah right,” you scoffed as you jumped down, “you cheated,”
“How?”
“You went before I said go!”
“It’s three, two, one, go on one,”
“No, it’s not. Its three, two, one, go,”
“As in go already I said one,”
“As in you’re a cheat,” you huffed as you sat down against a thick oak tree.
Robb laughed at your antics as he sat down beside you, pulling his satchel out, “Truce?” he offered as he pulled out a parcel of sandwiches.
You pretended to think it over before nodding, “Truce,” For a few moments you sat in silence eating the sandwiches before you finally decided to tell him the news that had been weighing over you for the past week. “My mother sent me a raven,”
“Oh?” Robb paused, mid bite with concern written on his face. Your father sent you letters on a weekly basis but so far, your mother had only sent three since you left. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, well, I think so. I’m not sure,” you paused for a moment before just blurting it out, “She’s coming next week. With a seamstress,” Robb stared at you confused, “For the wedding,”
“Oh,” the word shattered your heart. While you had become friends over the year neither one of you ever spoke about the impending nuptials. Sure, you wanted to marry him, but you were terrified. Not of marriage. He was a good man. He would treat you right whether he wanted this marriage or not. But that’s when the fear came in. what if Robb could never love you? “Aren’t most girls excited about fancy dresses?” he tried to joke, lighten the mood like he always did. Its what he always did whenever the wedding was brought up. Play it off, make a joke, laugh. It was all an awkward joke to him.
“I suppose, Sansa will be,” you laughed. She really had become like a sister to you over the years, “I suppose though this means it will be arranged soon,” you tried to look at him, but Robb just stared down at his food. “Unless we escape somehow,” you joked, copying his defence mechanism.
He looked up a smiled a little, “Quick you grab the horses, I’ll pack the bag. We’ll ride at dawn,” he joked.
“Imagine. Take all the back roads till we get to Riverrun,”
“Bribe the Frays into letting us cross,”
“Then straight down to Dorne,”
“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled, knocking his knee against yours. “Jon would never forgive me if I left him behind,”
“Him and Arya can come with. We’ll become sellswords,”
“Sounds like we’ve got it all planned out,”
-
When you returned to Winterfell Catelyn ran up to you both in a tizzy, “Where have you both been?” she whispers shouted, smiling at a passing lord before scouring, “A messenger from the king has arrived,”
You knew she meant well but your stomach dropped. you both followed her to the hall but soon the sorrowful look on your face was replaced by a grin, “Uncle Tyrion,” you rushed up to him immediately.
“Ah my favourite niece. Finally returned from some dingy pub I assume,” he joked though Cat couldn’t help but frown a little. They were both protective just in their own ways. “Don’t worry I’m not here to stay long. Just come down on your father’s behalf to organise the wedding. Speaking of, Lord Stark I do believe this is the first time we’ve met,” he extended a courteous nod to a very nervous looking Robb.
“Lord Tyrion,” he bowed.
“It goes without saying if you hurt my niece, I will have to have my men kill you,” he said, head tilting to the side making Robb gulp, “But other than that it’s lovely to meet you,” he grinned widely like a jester.
“Don’t tease him uncle,” you shook your head, but Tyrion just laughed, “I’d say you’ll get used to him, but no one has so far,”
“You’re so kind niece, truly,” he laughed, “Now onto business The king has organised his travels and shall be in Winterfell by the first of next month so we shall have to act swiftly,”
Panic set on all three of your faces. Though Robb and yours was far different than Catelyn’s. “My lord that’s awfully soon. We may not have the provisions to afford so many guests so soon- “
“No fear my lady. I was also sent with my father’s gold. No Lannister shall have anything less than a golden affair,” you could see the relief melt from Catelyn but yours was just setting in.
-
For the next three weeks every discussion you had was about the wedding. cakes, flowers, food, music, dresses, veils, and most daunting of all; organising the preparation for Robb’s and yours new chamber. Tyrion even sent a seamstress to your room to organise an outfit for your wedding night. It was all quickly becoming too much.
You’d barely even seen Robb since the planning began. There was no time to calm down and no one to remind you to breathe. That was his job. Whenever you got nervous, he would gently grab your wrist under the table, running his thumb over the back of your hand. But he was nowhere to be found.
You eventually managed to find Jon who told you Robb was under the same stresses. His mother had him arranging with traders and mingling with the growing number of lords appearing at Winterfell’s gates. “Suppose this is the stresses of being a lady,” Jon joked.
It was only then it hit you. Soon this whole castle would be yours to run. How would you ever have time to breathe let alone enjoy your husband’s company if he would even have you.
Despite missing your family, the night before their arrivals, you cried quietly in your chamber. Their arrival tomorrow only marked the three remaining days you had left as a maid. Perched on an open windows ledge, the cold air stung your cheek but at least as you watched the birds fly you could feel a little of their freedom.
Then there was a quiet but rapid knocking. The faint sound brought your attention to the door which was shut less than a second after it was opened. “Hey sorry I’ve not come sooner- “Robb’s voice entered the room, for some reason making your tears sting more. Robb shivered from the cold, “Why’s the window open? You’ll freeze princess,”
Robb rushed to your side, leaning past you to shut the glass to preserve what little heat he could. His confusion fell from his face when he saw your tears, “What’s the matter?” his voice was soft and tender as he sat across from you to hold your hands, his thumbs stroking over the back on them.
“I don’t know,” you lied in a whisper.
Robb knew. He always knew when you lied. He just nodded gently though. “I’ll start a fire,” he was on his feet again.
“I can fetch someone if you wish- “
“But I’m already here,” he teased as he knelt by the fireplace.
As he got to work in silence you padded across the floor. The stone floor felt like ice against your bare feet making you quicken your pace till you could sit on the small sofa in front of the fire Robb had started. “Easy, see,” he said, joining you on the couch, “We’ll get a heat in you,”
“Thanks,” you sniffled.
You sat in an easy silence though when you left out another sigh Robb was compelled to place an arm around your shoulder. You leant into his touch, your head rested on his shoulder and his on yours. A few moments passed before he spoke, “Jon said you were asking for me,”
You weren’t sure why you tensed, “I just worry sometimes,”
“I know,”
You couldn’t stand the next silence that followed so made a joke, “Thought you’d ran away,”
“Without you?” he said, pulling back to grin back at you, “Nah we have a deal princess. Say the word and I’ll get the horses,”
His smile made your stomach drop. It all felt like one big tease, “I thought,” you began to stutter, “You may have been running from me,”
Robb’s face fell, “Why would I do that?”
You sighed, turning to face the flames again as the tears threatened to spill, “It’s not like you chose this marriage. You weren’t exactly ever given the option. I wouldn’t blame you if you objected to it,” you muttered.
When he pulled away you could’ve sobbed but it was quickly replaced by confusion when he knelt in front of you, “Why would I object? all I desire is to be a good and faithful husband to you and may gods help me I will be. I wouldn’t desire another option if I was given a thousand,”
“Why?” you could feel venom briming in your voice, “Because my dowery? Because the king commanded it?”
The hurt on his face felt like a stab to the gut but his words only twisted the knife, “Because I love you,” he took your hands in his, “and I understand that you don’t feel that way for me and may never, but nothing will stop the way I- “
You didn’t even realise you’d moved till you pulled back from the kiss. Without thinking your lips had found his and now you stared into his eyes. It only lasted a second before Robb lusted forward, reconnecting the kiss into a messy, desperate thing.
As you felt him raise, you followed, standing to kiss him as his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands rested on his shoulders, now fully able to appreciate his strength.
You wanted more but he pulled away, your lips chased his making Robb breathe out a laugh. “You’re something else,” he muttered, a grin on his face, “I can’t imagine not wanting to be with you,”
This time your arms tightened, burying your head into his neck as you hugged him close. Robb followed suit, his muscular arms keeping your warmer than the fire, “I feel the same way,” you eventually managed to stutter out, “But I- “
“You don’t have to say it,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head, “I understand,”
“How did I get so lucky?” you pulled back to smile up at him.
He just smiled back, “I ask myself that each night,”
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still fresh l Joel Miller
Summary: another expedition in search of supplies, this time with company
Warnings: fluff, maybe a little bit of jealousy, two infected, a few shots, generally boring
A/N: I'm trying to use my days off. sorry if I'm boring.
your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes
short stories from life. [masterlist]
"You should be more careful."
Shane winced as you pressed the alcohol pad to the palm of his hand. The large cut had stopped bleeding, but it still needed a bandage.
"You have very delicate hands." he murmured, smiling at you.
"Thank you." you reached into your backpack for a bandage. "Maybe we can do without stitches."
"I think I could survive if you did it."
Someone cleared his throat loudly and you both raised your heads. Joel stood over you with a rifle slung over his back, looking around the area.
"We should go now." he mumbled, frowning.
"I'm almost done." you replied, tying a bandage on Shane's hand.
Everything was still fresh. Not only Shane's wound, but you and Joel as well.
It had only been a few days and you had already gone on patrol together. You had the impression that you were getting along better than before, but when Tommy asked Walsh to accompany you to check out buildings outside your normal area, you saw Joel's face darken.
Shane walked ahead and now he was directing you to the indicated location. The area was peaceful and the sun was pleasantly warming.
"I don't like it when he looks at you that way."
You turned around and looked at Joel walking next to you.
"And how does he look?"
"Oh, don't pretend you don't see." he sneered, raising his eyebrows. "I probably looked the same way."
"You're not looking anymore?"
"That's not- That's not what I mean." Joel snorted and you giggled.
Your fingers found his, much larger than yours, and intertwined. Everything was still fresh. Even though you had known each other for a long time, you had the impression that you were learning each other all over again.
It wasn't just about sleeping in the same bed, because that seemed almost natural to you, but about being together on a completely new, emotional level.
Joel felt like he was learning everything all over again, he had the feeling that you saw his helplessness and it scared him, but your presence was soothing.
And God, he loved your closeness. Not just in bed, when you were lying close, or when you made love, savoring each other's bodies, but also in everyday activities. Just coming home and thinking that someone was waiting for him - he missed it.
You rummaged through cabinets and drawers, looking for something valuable, something that could be useful at the clinic in Jackson.
"I've got some bandages."
Shane threw you a bundle, and you quickly stuffed it into your bag.
"Needles would be good. Or syringes." You mumbled, opening another drawer. "Or some antibiotics. I'll take anything."
Shane peered into one of the drawers. "Dead mouse?"
"No thanks." You laughed. "But I appreciate the effort. Where's Joel?"
"They're checking the room in the back."
You nodded and looked around at the empty cabinets. You didn't find much, but you didn't want to give up so easily.
"I think I saw a sign for the storage room." You said.
"Yeah, I passed it. Do you want to go there?"
"Maybe we'll find something."
The pharmacy building you entered was quiet and peaceful. Too quiet and too peaceful. Years of experience told you that if nothing bad was waiting for you in the first room, it was definitely lurking in the last.
You adjusted your grip on your gun and followed Shane. You could count on him. Joel knew you were safe with this man and no matter what he said or think about Shane, he couldn't deny it - Walsh knew what he was doing.
The heavy door creaked but opened smoothly. Dim light shone through the windows placed high under the ceiling, the shelves were already cleared out, but there were still many packages lying on the ground.
"What a fucking mess." he muttered, pushing a container with his shoe. "Ready for a shopping spree, sweetie?"
You smirked and entered the first aisle. After a few minutes, you already had some antibiotics and penicillin, gauze and a few more bandages in your hands.
"Painkillers!" Shane threw a few boxes your way.
Your bag was slowly filling up. You stood up and adjusted it on your shoulder, then glanced at another door in the back.
"Maybe they have medical equipment there." You said, Shane looked at you from behind the shelves.
"Be careful."
You touched the cold doorknob and gently pushed the door. The room was dark, there were no windows and you could barely see anything inside.
"And?"
"I think it's..."
A sharp screech almost paralyzed you. The silhouette of an infected man appeared from the darkness. You raised your gun, but when you took a step back you slipped on some empty packages and fell hard to the ground.
"Shit!"
A second monster appeared, they must have been hiding in the warehouse for a long time. You crawled as fast as you could, trying to reach your weapon.
"Hey, asshole!" Shane's scream distracted them and they stopped for a moment.
You noticed your gun lying under the cabinet and quickly crawled there. The first shot was fired and something fell to the ground with a thud.
"What the fuck!?!"
"Joel!"
Attracted by the noise, he ran into the warehouse and aimed at one of the infected. The shot was accurate and the creature's head splattered on the wall behind him.
Joel immediately looked at you and then at Shane, who was breathing heavily.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
You nodded. Shane nodded as well, and then carefully entered the room the infected had come from.
"You should have waited for me." Joel said quietly, approaching you.
"They surprised me, but I'm fine. Look." You opened your bag. "Look how much I found."
"If you had paid for this with your life, it would have been worthless."
"I'm fine, really." You tried to smile, but it didn't seem to convince Joel because he just shook his head in helplessness.
That was Miller - caring and protective to the extreme. Ellie would sometimes remind him of that, but that was how he showed his feelings towards others. He knew you would handle it, but he preferred to keep an eye on you. Especially now, when it was all so fresh.
"Sweetheart?" Shane's call reached you from the dark room, and you immediately noticed the look Joel gave you - "Sweetheart?!"
"Do you have anything?" you asked, ignoring Joel's face.
"Yeah, something you really want."
When Shane brought out the containers with syringes and needles to you, you almost jumped for joy. It turned out that the two infected were good at deterring other snoopers from entering this part of the building, and you only gained from it.
The bag you were carrying was full, and soon you put some of your things in Shane and Joel's backpacks too.
All of you wanted to get back to Jackson before nightfall so you just ate something in a hurry and set off.
Joel looked at you as you walked ahead. What you found clearly improved your mood and despite your tiredness you walked briskly forward. He didn't even notice when Walsh caught up with him.
"That was a good day," he said.
Joel nodded "Yeah, it was."
They took a few steps in silence. Finally Shane cleared his throat.
"Listen, I like her." he said pointing at you walking in front of them "She's a great chick, if you know what I mean."
Joel knew, he knew perfectly well. However, he wasn't sure what Shane was getting at and decided not to say anything until he revealed all his cards.
"I know you're living together again so I assume you and her..."
"Mhmm." Joel grunted.
"You're lucky, you know that?" the man smiled "No offense, but if I didn't know she was totally into you, I wouldn't hesitate to steal her from you."
Joel still didn't say anything. His gaze went to you, you were adjusting the strap of the bag you had slung across your body.
"You have nothing to worry about, Miller. She's safe with me. I'm keeping an eye on her because I like her, that's all."
Joel cleared his throat. "Thanks for today." he finally said "If you weren't with her..."
Shane nodded and smiled "But I was, so don't think about it that much."
It was already late when you reached Jackson. You ate a late dinner at Tipsy Bison and feeling the whole past day on your shoulders, you went back to your place.
"I need a shower." you mumbled, taking off your jacket and shoes "Ellie's probably staying at her friend's again, huh?"
"Yeah, looks like it." Joel replied and before you could escape him he wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled into your back.
You sighed quietly and reached back to run your fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry..." you said quietly as warm lips brushed your neck "I'll be more careful next time."
"I know." he whispered in your ear, turned you around and put his forehead against yours "Damn, I've wanted to kiss you all day..."
"Oh, that's long!" you chuckled.
"Mhm. Too long."
You took his face in your hands. His beard tickled your skin pleasantly, his strong body pressed against yours. Maybe it was all still fresh, but you felt it was right.
You kissed his soft lips. You missed this too, all day.
☆☆☆☆
Thank you for your time.
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#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#short stories from life
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Hey love ❤️ I love the way you do Zoro angst. I was thinking like Zoro and the reader get pretty drunk at a festival and some guy sweeps her off her feet. Like she's all giggly and blushy and he's miserable about it. I was thinking maybe his perspective. She ends up not going home with this guy cause she knows Zoro's tendency to get lost. He's pissed off but also wasted so he doesn't make much sense. Maybe they argue. Maybe he drunkenly confesses. I think you can pick whether it ends well or not. I like pain.
mwuhahah i thrive off of angst (but i suck at writing it). this also shall have little bit of miscommunication trope (I HATE IT AS MUCH AS THE NEXT PERSON BUT IT MAKES FOR BRILLIANT ANGST HELLO!), and this ends in like unresolved angst and tension (cause i thought that was super funny of me). also a bit of crack included (cause im a jester and a clown and i enjoy making everything a bit stupid).
drunken liabilities ft. roronoa zoro!
set up: check above! the strawhat crew are invited to a celebratory party after saving an island from merciless pirates and somewhere between the drinking and the dancing, zoro finds himself yearning for a certain someone. warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me. mentions of alcohol, a fight, random party shenanigans; zoro gets jealous and petty. mutual pining by two idiots. "We're just crewmates" stfu no you're not. nami is the best thing in the universe. yeah, thats about it. wc: 2.7k
zoro saw you.
he saw your smile, and your ability to turn every one of his jabs into a nice, little argument. he saw the way you smiled, all self-satisfactory when you finally shut him up in those arguments. he saw the way you took him on in drinking competitions and how you giggled when he pretended to lose. he saw how pretty you looked, eyes hazy and cheek flushed after each of those competitions.
roronoa zoro saw you, whether you knew it or not.
but now, he saw you swaying your hips with your hands wrapped around a man. a maN?? A MAN THAT WASN'T EVEN HIM?
nami cleared her throat, raising the bottle of beer to her painted lips. she wanted to laugh at zoro's grumpy face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together. but being a woman of honour and virtue, she held back.
"fuck is wrong with him?" zoro muttered under his breath, mentally slicing up that man that was swaying with you. "why is he eye-fucking her?"
"you good?" nami laughed, finally.
zoro begrudgingly shifted his vicious glare from you and that stranger you were dancing with to nami. he gave her a shrug, "whatcha laughin' at, woman?"
"nothing, you're just murdering a man in your head again."
zoro said nothing, finding his words too simple to convey whatever it was that he was feeling. he didn't need to defend himself, after all.
it wasn't jealousy. pfft, ofcourse not.
maybe protectiveness? yeah, thats the word. you were part of the crew. and so, as the first mate, it was his duty to ensure that you were safe and sound from any imminent threat. even if that imminent threat was a man who you were dancing with. now, ofc, the swordsman wasn't a complete idiot. he knew that maybe he had a teeny, tiny-miny crush on you. maybe.
"i don't think it should be this normal for a person to be this casual about murder, zoro." the navigator egged him on.
"we're pirates, who cares." his shoulders slumped downwards as if to showcase his nonchalance about the subject matter.
"we care, we're the good kind."
"yeah, yeah. good kind." the former pirate hunter dragged the bottle to his lips, drinking in the intoxicating liquid as a light thump thump thump built in his head. he closed his eyes and tried to find a second of peace. but the people were singing too loud, and the makeshift lighting too blinding and if zoro recalled correctly, the sake he was chugging on was cheap as fuck. and he had had one too many as always.
typical celebratory things.
"you do know that she's single, right?" nami quipped after a minute, nodding in your general direction, "like, she isn't doing something morally wrong by dancing with a random dude. it's your own fault you're a pussy and can't ask her out."
he cracked open one eye, glaring at the red-head, "yeah okay, do you get paid to be all up in other people's business?"
"no," nami grinned, "but it's fun."
"right." zoro closed his eyes again and ran a light hand through his hair. he tried to guess where the other members of the group were. it wasn't hard to come to a convincing conclusion. he was sure that somewhere in the party, luffy, chopper, and ussop were busy playing some sort of food-related game. sanji was probably busy trying to pick up women. and the others mingling with the townsfolk. but you— what were you upto?
the swordsman's thoughts grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a wet, rabid dog. what if— what if you were swaying along with that man? your head on the stranger's chest, your ass hard against that man. what if that man took you through the unknown alleyways and up to his house and fu—
zoro whipped his face to look to where you were previously dancing. relief washed over his face when he found you on the dancefloor, still intoxicatedly dancing with the stranger.
but now the scene was different.
that guy had lifted you up in his arms. and the people around you (who were drunk out of their pea-shaped minds) hollered and cheered as you burst into a fit of giggles.
"hey, hey easy now." nami gently withdrew the glass bottle from zoro's grasp before he shattered it into a million pieces. the action from the navigator made the green-haired man looked down at his reddened palms in surprise. just protectiveness, right?
when nami spoke up again, she offered her (annoying) crewmate a sympathetic smile, "just go talk to her," zoro ignored the next part of her sentence, "when you're sober, okay?"
and that is how a very drunk roronoa zoro ended up in front of you on the dance floor.
the guy was swiftly carrying you away from the dance floor, to one of the darkened alleyways as you blushed and giggled when zoro approached the both of you.
"hey, i need to talk to ya for a sec." zoro's voice was slightly sluggish while addressing you, but the man turned around and gave him a confused look, "you want something, zoro?"
the swordsman shrugged, dismissing the well-natured man, "wasn't talking to you, was i now?"
drawing out your gaze on zoro, you scrambled off from the man's grip, standing up before answering, "sorry. what is it, zo?"
but it seems like whatever had been on zoro's tongue died within a minute of approaching you and that bastard. he resigned himself to a soft sigh, looking away from you. "nothin'" he grumbled, "nami was sayin that once you're done dancing, meet up with her."
"oh? is that all?" you asked softly, hoping that the stoic man would say something else.
but he was a man of few words, that you knew.
"yeah, well, she says she wants to walk back to the sunny with you. it's unsafe alone." he shrugged, "also, im heading back to the sunny."
"so soon?" and he nodded curtly in response. he gave the man next to you a quick side-eye before attempting to walk away from you at lightning speed.
by now the stranger had almost faded to the background as all your focus fell upon the man your captain called his first mate. as he walked away, his green hair were tousled, his walk a bit jagged up from all the alcohol. the overhead lighting plays with the dips and creases of his kimono and you found yourself following after him.
"hey!! where are ya going?!" the stranger called out after you but his voice faded between the rhythms and thumps of the songs and dances.
"zo!" you called after him, long forgetting the stranger that was spinning you around a few minutes ago. you caught up with him, "you know what? i actually wanna go back too, mind if i walk with you?"
he nodded solemnly, and you didn't mention that it was because you knew he would get lost and get drunkenly passed out on these unknown streets. and you didn't mention that you were worried about him, just because he was your crewmate. that's it.
the both of you walked in uncomfortable silence, as if something sinister was lurking around, waiting to ruin whatever peace remained between the two of you.
"you know." the swordsman voiced as he followed you into a dimly lit street. you were now far away from the celebratory festival, trying to take a shortcut to head back to the ship.
"hm?"
"you shouldn't get that close to a stranger." his words were innocent enough; a cautionary advice from one crewmate to the other. but it was his tone — dashed with a tiny bit of accusation — that made your skin crawl.
"well," you glanced back over your shoulder, finding his drunken form trailing you, "i don't really need you to tell me what to do. i can take care of myself, i know how to fight."
he scoffed, "oh, do you?"
maybe it was his tone. oh no, it was definitely his tone that pissed you off. so, you turned around. crossing your arms over your chest, you stared him down, "what's the problem with you?"
both of you were drunk, and the tension between you two ran high. one slip of tongue, one wayward action and the swordsman didn't know how the night would end— with you in his arms or with your dagger in his chest.
so, he decided not to take his chances. it was too risky, too bold. and the swordsman was never the kind to take uncalculated risks. so, he stifled his words and brushed past you. walking ahead now, he declared into the night air, "nothing's the problem with me, was jus' offering advice. don't take it if ya don't want it."
you followed suit, voice growing agitated, "why do you have a problem if i'm dancing with somebody else. or even making out or fucking them. it's none of your business. we're friends."
now it was his turn to turn around and glare at you, "i know that."
he paused for a second. were you really that stupid? did you not notice that whatever was left of his wretched heart belonged to you? or did you notice and you liked to stomp over it, anyways?
he finally sucked in a breath, steadying his drunken thoughts, "as you said, we're friends. you're part of the crew. and i was just l-looking out for you—"
"—well, you don't fucking have to. i am grown adult, zoro."
and just like that, whatever argument he had died within him. and he looked at you, dumbfounded. then, his gaze hardened and he stepped forward. were you really that stupid? or was he just that good of an actor for you to not see him the way he saw you?
he highly doubted the second one. maybe you were just very dense.
your breath hitched as he walked forward. if you had forgotten how scary the former pirate hunter can be, you were reminded right this second as you backtracked slowly. the two of you moved in tandem till your back was pressed against a solid wall and zoro stood directly in front of you.
towering over you, the menacing first mate said nothing as his gaze bore down holes into you.
"zo—zoro?" your voice was a meek whisper, eyes drifting downwards to avoid looking at him.
and suddenly, he was hyperaware of the situation he had forced you into. the closed proximity of it all, as you looked away from him. for someone who was a swordsman, he was certainly losing his patience. so, he simply pulled back, giving you some space. he sighed, he had clearly drunk too much tonight.
all that alcohol with all that pining was messing with his brain, "you should stay back, i'm going to the ship."
"what are you talking about—"
"—just go, enjoy. you're right, it is none of my business who you see." and with that the swordsman walked away.
"huh?? zoro!" you yelled after him, an unyielding resolve in your voice, "whe- where ARE YOU EVEN GOIN' ALONE? YOU'RE GONNA LOSE YOUR WAY!"
but in his classic avoidant way, he ignored you. taking long steps through the dusty road to reach the ship.
"oh my god, are you GONNA MAKE ME RUN TO REACH YOU?"
but he dismissed you again, clenching his jaw and continuing to walk. and you decided to jog to catch up with him, much to your dismay. he scoffed over his shoulder, fingers dancing along the hilt of his swords, "no need. sorry i ruined your plans tonight."
and that halted you dead in your tracks. to fuck with any apologies you had, who was he to pass around judgement for what you do?
"what's that supposed to mean? fuck you." you spat out, "i'm going back to the crew."
"fine by me." he grumbled, turning around to face you, "have fun."
"will do." you seethed, trying to raise his hackles, "make sure you don't pass out on the streets like a drunkard."
"even if i do, i'd be fine." he was getting more and more irritated, trying to raise your hackles right back, "why do you care?"
"ugh." you stepped forward, jabbing his chest accusatorily, "i was so dumb to leave that super nice guy to come chase after you! all you care about are your swords and your dumb sake."
he pursed his lips. what were you both even arguing about anymore? it made no sense, any of it. he wasn't even sure why the two of you were yelling at each other anymore. the nightly winds were unforgiving and cold. and all he knew was that as you yelled at him, blood rushed to your cheeks and your eyes came ablaze. your brows furrowed and lips fell into a pout as you awaited him to answer you. the gentle caress of the winds washed your hair over your face and you pushed them back in annoyance.
dammit.
zoro never believed in gods, but right now he would curse whatever deity sat above for making you so goddamn pretty. and making him so goddamn stupid.
as if looking at you would lead to his demise, now, it was his turn to look away. slowly drawing in a breath, he muttered, "jus' go back, there's no point arguing."
"fine. i'm leaving."
and wow, there must be some sort of cruel deity above. one who especially had a vendetta against zoro.
because, as if on cue, the man who you had been dancing showed up. he was slightly out of breath, as if he had run to come catch up with you, "hey! uh," he stopped short as he saw the stare off between you and zoro. "sorry, am i interrupting something?"
you turned around to look at the man, "what? no. nothing." you paused, giving zoro a short glace, "what are you doing here?"
"i uh—" the stranger shifted on his feet, a nervous smile on his face, "i- well, my friends forced me to come after you. i— i just... i know you guys are leaving in two days, but i was wondering if you would maybe wanna spend some time with me tonight? i, uh, i would really like to get to know you."
zoro stared at the man in a strange mix of jealousy and awe. was it that easy to confess?
"—it's okay if you're tired!" the man spluttered on, "i mean, i just wanted to talk— only if you want to, of course."
clearly, it was. because you turned away from zoro, giving that stranger a genuine smile, "you're too sweet. and, i was heading back to the party anyways, so might as well—"
"—really?" the man beamed and you nodded, walking towards him, mirroring his smile.
roronoa zoro watched you walk away, not even sparing him a sliver of a glance. and all of a sudden, the night air was too chilly and his headache too annoying and his heart, it ached.
before you turned to next street and disappeared with the stranger, you looked back at him. something in your gaze that begged the first mate to stop you, to call you back to him instead.
but he didn't.
all zoro could do was stand there, stupefied. you turned the corner, taking your gaze off of him with mild disappointment. before you turned, he saw you laughing at something the stranger had said.
zoro had no idea how long he stood there, transfixed at the ghost of you that was once in front of him.
roronoa zoro always saw you, right? well, now, he just saw you leave.
"what are you doing here? lost your way, marimo?" sanji asked as he materialized out of thin air on that street.
"huh?" zoro broke out of his daze, "what are you doing here?"
"hah," sanji looked smug, ignoring his question and blowing out a puff of smoke, "what did i expect from the idiot with no sense of direction."
"oh, go fuck yourself, shitty cook."
now, why did sanji show up at the exact moment zoro got his heart (whatever of it was left, anyways) broken?
the gods above must be laughing at the swordsman.
credits: to @bucciniexe for the format of the header; @chachachannah for the divider above! a/n: i don't know if this was nearly angsty enough, but i really do picture zoro as an avoidant who runs from his feelings for quite a long time. sooo, i hope this was angsty enough. thankyou @screaming-crying-screamingagain for the prompt, hope you like it mwuah <3
#one piece#op#opla#roronoa zoro#zoro x reader#zoro fluff#zoro angst#one piece imagines#roronoa zoro x reader#one piece angst#one piece x reader
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˗ˏˋ Entry : 049 - Lover! Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Trichotillomania ♡ ˎˊ
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
[ Trichotillomania: Repeated hair pulling habits from stress, anxiety and depression. Do not engage with this fic if you are in a poor mental health state. Familial abuse. Physical abuse. Body Dysmorphia. Depression. Suicidal Ideation. Trichotillomania can be considered as a form of self harm. Other variations of self-harm is in heavy description. Ends in fluff ]
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8f24b4f1e980e57de88390065b85c34c/4b85a1865259aee1-22/s540x810/5ca3979089a1628b58c3bfac329375803bff9267.jpg)
╰┈➤ ❝ [ Just Somewhere to Hide. Just somewhere. Anywhere. ] ¡! ❞
The only thing that's stopping you from ending things right now is that there is a lack of a knife present in your hands.
The kitchen is just a few steps away. Just one thrust into your heart and it's off to the comfortable embrace of death itself.
But you can't risk that, there's no spot in this godforsaken house you're imprisoned in for a peaceful death. Every corner of the walls around you is a death sentence to invite panic attacks in.
Why can't everyone just shut up and leave you be?
It's not like it's your fault you can't get into fucking college because of the tuition fee. Aren't you saving everyone's fucking wallets from that bullshit?
No one should give a fuck about your lack of education, you can enroll by the time the expenses die down.
You shouldn't have been here in the first place anyway. If it weren't for that single night you wouldn't be born.
But ah, life has a wonderful way of fucking up everything.
You grew pampered, with food served to you in rich flavors and huge amounts. You're thankful for that, you're thankful for the lovely childhood.
Oh how you wish to go back to those days.
But do you really?
Childhood may have been lovely but underneath all the glitters and rainbows were belts and hangers and brooms used to discipline you?
Can't spell a word right?
A smack from a fist.
Can't do your math right?
A smack from a hanger.
Can't translate between two languages fast enough?
A smack from the wood of a broom.
Can't do an essay right?
A smack with a belt.
Maybe childhood isn't lovely either.
Where was the place that you could hide yourself away? School.
Yes.
As much as you hated that place for all it's shitty standards it was a safe place. At least there you can pretend, at least there you can have some form of isolation even if you're being bullied and mocked for how you look and your voice sounds.
It's fine that you undergo discrimination and bullying, at least they're not swinging belts and brooms at you. It's just them destroying your self-esteem.
Not like you have any to begin with thanks to your parents who were even more brutal about your appearance that you now have body dysmorphia on tip of depression and anxiety.
Even if school is a place where teachers normalize humiliating students shamelessly for basic wrongdoings that can be corrected with simple warnings.
Even though that place is full of people who only respect you when they need something out of you, even if that place is a paradise for the pretty girls and a hell for those who don't fit the beauty standard— That place felt safer than anywhere else.
All your life you've never been given privacy because of your privilege. You're luckier than your cousins who have it harder, so be thankful.
But at one point you started wishing for your places to be switched. It's fine that you eat food that is burnt and poorly cooked, it's fine that you have to eat shitty food.
If it meant you can have a little more breather instead of getting anxious that you might have done something to earn the belt— It's fine.
You'd rather starve than anything else.
At some point in your life you started to pull your hair out. It started from a few strands. But all of the sudden there are clumps of hair gathered on the floors.
What did you get instead of receiving help?
A beating.
That's right, a beating.
You got your hair yanked, pinned to the floor, and slapped repeatedly on your helpless situation. When your aggressor was pried off of you— You got kicked on your already helpless situation.
In the end who is the one who asks for forgiveness and gaslit that you being pinned down and slapped is justifiable? You.
You.
The helpless you.
The you who isn't allowed to voice your feelings out so you grew to not know how to tell anyone what you really feel, even to the point that you feared telling your feelings is what will doom you into irreversible damage.
You feared your own emotions.
You feared everything you should have been allowed to fear from the years of abuse. The fear bedded into your soul.
Did you want help?
YES.
Fuck yes you did.
What happened instead? You are guilt-tripped into saying no that you don't need a psychiatrist despite the fact you have major social anxiety, severe trichotillomania and heck— You even cut yourself when you can.
Nothing.
Nothing could help you.
Everything is a prison and you yourself are rotten from the inside out.
No one wanted to help you.
Your family?
Right.
They only fucking insist on caring because the image of a severely mentally ill daughter is bad for their image.
Nobody really cared.
Nobody did.
Even if you cry your heart out nobody could help you.
Nobody wanted to help.
No one.
There's no one there.
Not here.
Not there.
Not anywhere.
You're all alone.
In this vast world that you try to paint into a pretty picture in your head— Not one soul wanted to help you.
The embrace of death seems all the more enticing now that you really think about it.
Why fear it?
Death gives you mercy from the agony of living.
Atleast if you're dead— No one ans nothing can hurt you.
You can sleep all you want while your body rots from six feet under.
You've always been rotten anyway.
Dying won't be any different.
Life always ends in slumber, it's about time for you to dream.
⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪
"My liege!" Beru's panicked voice yells out for his master, instantly jolting Jinwoo awake from his small nap after playing a few rounds after homework. "The empress— She's unwell!"
"Exchange"
The command slipped out of Jinwoo's lips in an instant. He knew what was happening.
Even if he doesn't know the full story of what you've been through— He knew the situation is bad as he feels Beru's heightened anxiety.
Jinwoo can technically peer into your memories and see for himself what really happens. But he didn't. He wanted you to tell him what happened in the years you grew up. He wanted you to tell him what pushed you to whatever the hell happened to you today.
He knew about your destructive habits. It was the result of bottling up your emotions for so long that it created a ticking time bomb that will burst at any moment should the right trigger be pulled.
And when Jinwoo finally materializes from the abyss-like wisps of shadows— He would find himself face to face with your figure staring out at the cityscape as you stand on the ledge.
"Stop, wait!" Jinwoo panics, breaking into sweat when he saw you take a stop.
He yanked your arm back in an instant, letting your back crash against his chest. Jinwoo held you firmly as you thrashed and screamed in his hold.
But ah, his strong arms will not let you go.
He refuses to let go. Knowing the moment he does you will take flight and descend to your demise. Still he was hyper aware of his strength, if he so ever squeeze too much and he might kill you.
As you stretched your palm out to yearn for the ledge— Jinwoo uses his to grab hold of yours and pull it back.
"That's not something you should longing for" Jinwoo says, his voice trembling as he uses his other hand to cover your eyes so you wont see it anymore. "A leap of faith is not what you need."
You kept thrashing in his hold, cursing Jinwoo out for daring to interrupt your final farewell.
But soon he would lift his palm up from your eyes.
As your eyesight adjusts back to the waking world— You find yourself no longer on top of the building you were in a second ago.
Instead in front of you is a vast field of grass with blooming flowers swaying back and forth along with the gentle breeze blowing your way.
Once Jinwoo could tell that you're no longer agitated, his hold becomes gentle, and instead he would just hug you from behind as you both sat on the grass.
Your breath was completely taken away by how pretty the sight is. Every single dark thought you had in your little head is instantly washed away by the peaceful and beautiful sight.
The sky itself is majestic, with full and fluffy clouds drifting about and even the stars blinking so prettily along with a meteor shower.
While your gaze is distracted by everything else, Jinwoo's eyes are on you. He could see another bald spot on your head from your hair plucking habits. At the center of it was a huge gaping wound fresh and still bleeding. He blows on it gently, the wound closing instantly and your strands growing back anew as if nothing ever happened in the first place.
"Better?" He finally asks as he nuzzles the side of your head.
"Mhm." You weakly nod, too distracted to really talk properly.
"I know, I know that I can't tell you that everything will get better" Jinwoo holds you softly, holding you tighter. "It'll be stupid for me to try and tell you about rainbows and whatnot."
"..."
"But if you want to run away, if you want to be somewhere far away like this. Just tell me. Don't go hurting yourself, don't think about leaving this world" He goes on.
You can't see him directly, but you knew by the tremble of his voice that he must be crying. And yet Jinwoo pretends to be strong. The one who needs comfort is not him, but you.
"When the world is too cruel on you, when everything is just too painful for your, when you just want to cry— Turn to me." Jinwoo said, no— He was pleading you. "I'll take you here. Just you and me. Just us."
A place of solace.
A paradise for both of you.
A place where no one can hit you, no one can yell at you, a place where you can let your guard down.
The thought of that caused you to break into tears. You wanted to tell him what you feel. What you think. What happened and why you're like this. But instead you only sob.
You can only cry your sorry little heart out, you let out all the screams and tears you've been hiding because you will be guilt-tripped for having emotions. For being weak.
Yet this man wasn't doing any of that. Instead he was rubbing your back as if he understood what you were trying to tell him in your tears.
You don't have to hurt yourself. Not as long as he's here. If it's a hero you need then he will be your saviour. Jinwoo wants to show you that you are loved.
If not by the world, then by him.
He will love you, more than he has now.
The world is beautiful, and you have unfortunately been too exposed to the ugliness of everything. So he will be your beacon of light.
He'll hold your hand and show you everything that should have been shown to you in the first place. He'll pamper you to the point that you'll forget your destructive habits.
After all, those came to life because of your environment.
In the hellhole that you are imprisoned in, he'll pull you out to take you home. A home for you and him.
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꒰ 🪼 A/N: What a way to start my Lover series hahah. I just needed this fic so bad so I'm sorry for introducing my new series like this. If you are in need of professional help please reach out immediately should you are able to. Please don't bottle up your emotions. You're only hurting yourself. If you are unable to reach out to therapists then please talk to your friends or close people for comfort. ꒱
ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .。✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.
#sung jinwoo#sung jinwoo x reader#solo leveling#solo leveling x reader#solo leveling x you#sung jinwoo x you#sung jinwoo x fem reader#sung jinwoo fics#sung jinwoo fic#sung jinwoo headcanons#seong jinwoo#seong jinwoo x reader#solo leveling headcanons#only i level up#ore dake level up na ken#‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings
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MOMMY KNOWS BEST 💕
Chapter 16
Progress was coming along nicely in the nursery. So far, Rebecca had successfully kept him from seeing the room’s transformation. She was confident that it would be ready for the big reveal on Friday. Brian also seemed to progressing with the hypnotic conditioning. She planned on really testing his suggestibility after she showed him his new nursery.
She wondered how Brian was faring at work. I wonder if Samantha has revealed our conversation yet. Speak of the devil. Her phone buzzed with a text from Samantha:
Good morning. I wanted you to know that your baby boy soaked his diapers right in front of me. You have done such an amazing job regressing him.
Rebecca: Oh I am so happy. I can’t thank you enough for your help. I feel so much better that he has someone to watch over him at work.
Samantha: It’s really no problem. He is just precious when he is little. You must let me babysit him at home sometime.
Rebecca: I think that can be arranged.
Samantha: I never in my wildest dreams imagined changing a grown man’s diapers. But now that I have, I think if I ever get a man of my own, he will have to return to diapers.
Rebecca smiled. Not only had she gotten her baby, but it seems that a new friendship was budding.
After Samantha changed his diaper, Brian knew that she was never again going to view him as her boss, but he hoped she would at least pretend for appearance’s sake. She filled up his sippy cup with apple juice and set it on his desk. “Ok sweet boy, its time to be a big boy for a while and get some work done. I will check on you later. And remember its ok to use your diaper, but just come get me if you want to try and use the potty,” she said much like a mother to a toddler.
Brian blushed again at the mention of his diapers. She left the office and closed the door behind her. How on earth could he possibly focus? He realized he was still sucking on the pacifier and he quickly removed it. If these two women could regress him with such ease at any moment, was he now permanently bound to diapers. He had fantasized so many times about being reduced to a helpless baby. Now that it was happening and he questioned if this is what he wanted. But he feared it was too late. He was going to have to accept and trust that they would keep him safe.
He tried to act like everything was normal. Now that he was alone, his adult clarity started to return. He needed to start brainstorming how to market this new Babies R Us line. Brian always liked to sketch out ideas by hand whenever he was brainstorming. He even kept a whiteboard in his office for this very purpose. He went up to the board. His mind was blank. How could he ever have a mother’s perspective? He looked down at the sippy cup sitting on his desk. He brought it too his mouth and tasted the sweet juice. Maybe he couldn’t tap into the perspective of a mother, but he knew what it felt like to be a baby. Maybe not entirely, but then again, he was in a very thick diaper. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the feelings he had when his mommy was in control. In those moments, he didn’t think in words, but feelings and sensations. He opened the cap to the marker and started scribbling the feelings he experienced with his mommy: warmth, safety, trust, love, giggly. He kept scribbling across the board: cold, wet, hungry, scared, small, full, peaceful. He stared at the words he had scrawled out. He keyed in one word in particular: trust. He grabbed a red marker and drew a big circle around it.
Trust could be a nebulous word. It gets tossed around so much that it sometimes lost meaning. But with his recent experiences, it took on new meaning for him. When he was wet, he had to trust that his mommy would change him. When he felt scared, he had to trust that she would keep him safe. He thought about the night that this all started. By him agreeing to be her baby, he was entrusting her with his greatest vulnerability. Obviously, babies aren’t able to articulate what they are feeling, but who would know better as to what a baby was feeling: mothers. He still had a long way to go, but this exercise was getting the wheels turning.
Brian was so consumed with his work, he didn’t realize that half the morning had elapsed. He was so happy that he had been able to regain that focus. It gave him a glimmer of comfort that maybe he still in control of some things. Maybe he could be both a big boy and a baby. But then a rumble in his belly snatched his attention. He hadn’t had a bowel movement since Saturday. Perhaps his anxiety and nerves had bound him up. When he had played in diapers before this all began, he had never messed himself. It was one thing to wet, but he wasn’t willing to do that. He felt nervous about having to ask Samantha to go potty. He could just use his diaper, but having her change a messy diaper might be even more embarrassing. He looked back at the board. Trust. He had to put it to the test and trust that Samantha meant everything she said to him.
He peaked his head out the door, “Umm, can I see you for a moment?”
“Of course,” she smiled.
Inside the office, Brian started to have second thoughts about asking, but then another rumble in his belly made him find the courage to ask. “Ummm, I need to use the potty… I mean the restroom.”“Oh! Ok. Let me help you,” she was actually surprised that he came and asked. Brian started to unbutton his shirt. She playfully slapped his hand, “Uh uh uh baby, let me do that,” she chided him. After removing his shirt and pants, she pulled his onesie over his head, “Lay on the couch for me.” She undid the tapes of his diaper and set it aside. Fortunately, these diapers were refastenable. She then went through the trouble of redressing him. “Alright, I think you look acceptable to walk through the office. You don’t have any big boy undies, but I think you will be ok for a few minutes. When you get back, I will get you back in your diaper,” she said.
“Thank you,” Brian said timidly.
“Thank you what,” she said with one eye-brow raised.
“Umm… thank you Auntie Samantha,” he said like a child that had just be scolded.
She patted his bottom, “Off you go.”
After a few minutes he returned. Although he still struggled with his embarrassment, Samantha was helping him feel more at ease. Back in the office, she had Brian undressed once again. The haze of regression swept over him again as he stood before her in nothing but his birthday suit. His thumb made it to his mouth. “Lay down baby,” she cooed. She pulled out some wipes and proceeded to clean his bottom.
“But Aunfie Samanfa, I wiped myself after I went potty,” he said with his thumb still ensconced in his mouth.
“I know sweetie, but I just wanted to make sure that you are all clean,” she responded.
She rediapered him and got him dressed again. When he was finished, he started to “grow up.” He pulled his thumb from his mouth and blushed.
She placed her hand on his arm, “Brian what did I tell you. There is no need to feel embarrassed. Do you think if I was judging you that I would be standing here? I want you to feel comfortable to act as little as you want around me. Ok?”
“I know, its just hard. And if it makes you feel any better, I still get really nervous with mommy too,” he said not even realizing that he said mommy instead of Rebecca. “Its hard and scary, but I want you to know that I am really thankful that you are here to help me. It really helps to know I am not alone. To be honest, I felt really scared yesterday, especially when I had my accident.”
“I have to imagine that must have felt really scary and lonely. You aren’t alone Brian. You can count on me anytime,” she said. Brian felt a tear run down his check. He felt like he had cried so much over the past few days. “Oh sweetheart, there isn’t any reason to cry,” she said as she pulled him in for a hug. “You are such sweet boy and you are just too cute in your diaper. I could just eat you up,” she snickered and started tickling him. Brian’s tears turned to giggles. “Now I don’t want to hear anymore about feeling embarrassed, whether its around me or even around your mommy. We both want you to be a happy baby. Now let’s try to get a little more work done before I take you out to lunch, my treat,” she smiled.
#ab dl diaper#diaper community#ab/dl diaper#diaper dependent#diaper sissy#diaper training#sissi femboi#sissifyme#diaper faggot#diaper gal#diaper discipline#diaper bulge#diaper pee#adult diaper lover#diaper bum#abdluk#abdlcouple#abdlsissy#abdlmommy#ab dl art#ab dl girl#abdlbabyboy#abdlbabygirl#ab dl lifestyle#abdlgermany#humiliation sissy#sissy cd#abdllittle#sissy tasks#sissifeminine
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A Doe in Fall (part 11)
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⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught 📍 (this bitch is getting long) Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦
Horny? Not this story yet but….Don’t worry, just wait a couple days… 👀 💦
Part 11 Caught
Taking time to cast out the line and wait for the big one to take the bait.
「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, jaws theme plays, fishing, sweet as fuck, and then not sweet, prostitution yelled into a crowd, rough hands, I won’t say the word ‘paddy wagon’ because the history seems to be targeted at the Irish in America so it’s called a wagon here」
Minors if you violate the MDNI I will toss you back into the river lie the pinfish you are 💥 🎣
Peaceful. Your head on his chest. Even breathes, strong heart. Corporeal. Real. There with you. A ritual to whoever brought you into his embrace, every morning you lied against him and you stared out the window. Past the greenhouse, where the woods were allowed to run wild and you knew the animals therein were safe to exist as they were meant to. Everything and everyone in their element.
His fingers would make little circles and pattern eights along your shoulder blade. Your gaze out and forward, his intently focused on the ceiling fan; then and there.
Occasionally he’d spell a word across your skin to see if you were paying attention. Today: B R E A K F A S T ?
He didn’t want to interrupt the sounds of the radio on the dresser with the half hearted question.
He carried your plate out onto the front porch, the swinging bench as much a perfectly suitable place to eat as anywhere else. You both tended to enjoy the back porch, but he felt an urge for novelty.
As you nibbled, he stared at the car. He didn’t really want to leave, but he wanted to go somewhere with you.
“Can I take you to the water? We could fish. I’m in no rush today.” You were unsure, tilting your head a little when he asked. He had offered before but you admitted you didn’t know how. “You’ll have time to shower before work.” His index finger came over and waited for yours to hook into his.
Alastor was beyond smitten watching you and your trousers bound down his steps. Hand in hand, in the early morning breeze of the impending fall, he led you through his property to the water’s edge.
A small cup of earthworms he scrounged up while you changed, two poles from the shed, and a bucket he hoped would have fish soon enough.
As a child he often ran through the woods of his home and played pretend, and as he got older and his imagination shifted he would fish for his mother. When his friends began to date and pair off, he’d hunt animals in a parallel kind of chase.
They took home gals, he dragged in rabbits.
And when his mother died, and the food he brought home was more than he needed, he stopped venturing past the clearing. That trek home to a bright house, his mother waiting on the back porch surrounded by the chirps of crickets was something he cherished.
But then her silhouette was gone. And the cricket’s song became one of loneliness. The walk to the house now a chore, a thing he had to do to get from Point A to Point B.
Pulling you by the hand past the field and its tall grass, into the shade of the trees where the air was so cool it bordered on wet, he wasn’t so worried about the return trip. No tedium in the navigation now.
Alastor wasn’t loquacious as it were, but when he did feel like talking he talked. He could, and did, name every species of fish that lived in the river. The ones he liked to eat, the ones he liked to look at, and the fish he didn’t care for much at all. His mother’s favorite was bluegill, and he said it was the scariest fish when he was young.
“The fucker has spikes!” He said it like he was introducing a villain, “I grabbed one once and it flexed these spines and I dropped it. I broke a pole trying to beat one to death once because I was too scared to pick it up again.”
You’d never fished. Not because you didn’t care for it, it just wasn’t what you did. Your mother didn’t take you to rivers or the sea. You stayed in buildings and parks near people. You could see the water, just never really interacted with it. Luckily, Alastor was ecstatic to teach you.
He saddled up behind you and explained how to cast out. It took a few tries to get it right, the release of the line a little tricky to get down at first. You could see the shine of the reels and could tell they were expensive and unused. Easily they were worth more than three dollars a piece. He bought two of them… when? The thought brought a silly, crooked smile you couldn’t contain.
“A friend accidentally hooked his own back once.” You watched the way his gaze seemed to soften as he was looking into the distant past.
“I hope he’s gotten better at it.”
Alastor shrugged.
Oh, right… Alastor had friends in a sense, but never had he really introduced you to someone that was remotely important. No one he lit up for, no one he invited over, no one he completely relaxed his put-on smile for. You had to wonder where they'd all gone.
“Do you ever see him?”
He shook his head, “He has a life now.”
Your chuckle wasn’t meant to be cruel, but it came off a little too incredulous, “Do you not have a life?”
He didn't look at you, which was the loudest indicator he wasn’t fond of the question. He cast out his own line, waiting to reply until he could settle, “Sweetheart, do you really think I’ve been living a life compatible with his? Or any of them?” He pulled back on the line a little to feel the tension, “Wives get uncomfortable inviting over single 40 somethings like myself. And I can only stomach so many surprise female dinner guests at such things.”
You felt like an ass.
Being a single man at his age, with a good job, a car, and land, made people uncomfortable. A lifelong chosen bachelor is fine, a rake is expected, but someone who seemed to be disinterested in dating and in fooling around? You could imagine the looks on their wive’s faces, asking questions that were thinly veiled insults.
What do you do for fun?
Is it difficult to find respectable dates when you work in jazz?
So, you’ve never been married, is that right? Not even close?
A mood change. You waited a moment to let silence kill the topic and asked, “What is the catch you’re most proud of?”
He thought for a second before a lopsided grin spread and you felt your heartbeat relax. “A gull.”
“A gull?!”
Alastor cackled, doubling over at the memory. “I threw out my line and as it flew through the air, a gull passing by grabbed the worm. It fought me for a minute before managing to get loose.” He ended up squating, blue jeans rolled up at the ankles and covered in spurs you just now noticed. “It looked as confused as I was.”
The morning was spent reveling in new and useless information about each other. Your fear of dogs, his fear of armadillos (someone told them they had the plague). The time you accidentally walked into a stranger’s home, the time he startled an old woman because he was standing too still in a store and she thought he was a mannequin.
Moments of intimacy intermittently interrupted by a tugging of the fishing line and excited easing in of the prize.
The fuckers did have spikes. You reached out for your first successful catch and the barbs pricked you. With a hurried step back, your short heel sank into the dirt and you lost your balance. Your ass hit the ground hard, and you needed a breath before you could reply to Alastor’s worried questions.
“I’m fine”, just embarrassed, you assured him before picking up your shoe and throwing it, “I have to go home and change out these shoes.” Leftie smacked against the tree with a soft pop.
“Bring over a few pairs, if you have them. I’m sure a pair of mom’s could fit you, you can wear them home. We could toss these into the river. Shoot ‘em. Run em over.” He retrieved the thrown shoe before kneeling to remove the other one. He touched your ankle, eyes shooting up to monitor your face for any pained expressions. “Burn ‘em.”
“First my stockings last week and now my shoes? You’ve gone fire-happy.” You wiggled your toes for his peace of mind, “It’s okay, I don’t have many shoes. We’ll reconcile someday.”
Alastor sat down properly on the grass and dirt of the river’s edge and took off his shoes and socks. You thought maybe he was trying to commiserate somehow, until he shoved the socks into the toe box and slipped one onto your foot.
You warned he didn’t have to do that and he flashed you a look, his smirk alone called you a hypocrite and made you go silent. “You can’t perform with tattered feet or a rolled ankle.” He laced them tightly, “I know where the stickers and ant hills are, I’ll be fine.”
Your eyes wandered over the bucket of water and fish, the worms in their cup, and his bare feet on the grass.
“Who taught you to be such a well rounded gentleman?” A rhetorical question, mostly.
“My mother, of course.”
“Your father didn’t worry you’d be too soft?”
“Ah, apparently not. He left before I was born,” Alaster fidgeted with the straps of your shoes. “He hadn’t considered,” every word was measured, “the realities of,” you could see him searching for the words in real time; this was a conversation he had never had before, “of being with my mother before knocking her up.”
The ‘family planning’ conversation on the kitchen table fluttered back to you.
“Oh, can I have permission to hate him?” Always the easiest emotion.
He clicked his tongue, hands busy looping your shoes together by their straps and then attaching them to his belt loop.
“He left her the house and the land before going. Kept his promise to help take care of me, in that sense. So, no. I think indifference is fair enough.” He grabbed your fish by the tail and placed it into the bucket. “Kinda funny though, had he stuck around he’d have seen how the only thing I got from him was his biggest worry: my complexion!” A joyless laugh, “But I’m just like her in all the ways that matter.”
It came out before you could think it through, “He didn’t love your mother?”
He winced. “Cowards can love just fine, I think. Maybe they love the hardest actually.” You nodded, knowing this wasn’t a philosophical debate where your opinion was needed. “I mean, what kind of man just gives away his only assets?” Alastor leaned over to fix the collar of your blouse, “A scared idiot in love, of course.”
You wondered about ‘family planning’. In their age it was nothing short of guessing and lamb innards. It was impossible to pretend you knew what his father would have lived through had he stayed. But you knew very well what Alastor lived through because he left. New Orleans was different than many other parts of the country when it came to mixed children, but the attitude was less acceptance and more a baseline tolerance for their existence.
The conversation, and shoe change, brought a natural end to the morning. Alastor helped you up, taking the opportunity to brush off your backside.
He led you until the clearing, he knew the land was flat there, and slowed down to let you walk a little bit ahead. The view of the house was much more inviting with you in it.
As promised, a shower. Originally alone, Alastor sitting on the toilet seat talking to you about dinner. Then he got quiet. He startled you a little when he peeked behind the curtain but everything settled when he got inside and his hands wrapped around your waist. Kisses for kiss’s sake. Skin on skin just to feel closer than you were before. A hum buzzing his chest as you hugged him tightly and wasted some water. Well, ‘wasted’ is subjective. The warmth radiating off his stomach rivaled the shower’s spray. You knew there wasn’t time for a nap, but the comfort was so deeply rooted you worried you’d fall asleep in his arms then and there.
His mothers shoes did fit, a pair of her black double straps with a nice wide heel replaced your T-straps and their damned thin one. The offer and action of presenting them to you was bigger than could be acknowledged. It was clear in how he wiped them clean with drilled in focus and set them in front of the bed for you like the main course of a fancy meal. The way they’d been kept packaged and neat in the guest closet.
“Throwing them away seemed a waste. Glad they could be of use.” He said it so casually but it was more than that. When she died he packed away her items and forgot about them. He couldn’t throw them away. It still felt like her house, after all. Who was he to change anything?
It was a little surprise to himself when he offered them to you. It seemed natural at the moment but as he said it his calm heart backtracked. Was that okay to do? Was it disrespectful to his mother? Was it rude to offer you a dead woman’s things? Would you be uncomfortable?
The little strings of worry all cut loose though when you did the straps and said, “I’ll return them in perfect condition.”
He had thought you’d take them forever. But no, that was better. “I’ll buy you your own just like them.”
You quickly buried the sincere sweetness of the moment with a joke, “Finally this long con is paying off!” What else could you do, threading the strap of your beau’s dead, dearly loved mother’s heels? It was like being on cloud nine with lead shoes. Confusingly wonderful and supremely daunting. You were literally walking in her shoes. The irony made you squeeze your arms to your sides to make sure your sweat pads were in their place.
Alastor thought if all you were getting out of this was a pair of shoes, you were definitely coming up in the red.
Negative.
Losing out.
He knew it was a joke, but had it been true he’d build a home on his land and fill it with shoes and dresses and whatever else you asked for. A stage all your own if you wanted. He’d clap and throw flowers at your feet nightly. If you’d let him.
Maybe he could do that anyway. Every night, praise you with his mouth in all the ways he could imagine you’d enjoy.
The analogy carried through as he drove you to work. What was the price of admission and had he managed to afford it yet? Again, he fretted over what he was giving you in all of… whatever exactly this was.
He knew exactly what he wanted it to be and knew very well what you didn’t want. So, letting sleeping dogs lie, he instead considered what you were actually getting out of the arrangement as it stood now.
He’d met women who just wanted a home to pretty up. You had your own space you seemed keen on so he doubted that was it. Sometimes women pursued him for his obvious disposable income. Images of you swiping the hundred off the hotel bar played across his thoughts. No, you seemed capable enough to earn more than your job paid. If anything you seemed to enjoy chasing down marks.
You’d made it clear your thoughts on marriage (“I won’t be bought by jewelry and promises of a pretty cage.”) though he did consider what could ever make you want that legal lock. He’d had friends who would have liked the safety a husband lended their image. Women who didn’t have any need or want for men in general. But things like banking and ownership were easier with a husband. And if he was aware of their preferences, they could still enjoy their love lives as they always had tried to before marriage. Alastor had considered such an offer before. Seriously considered it. It seemed to solve all of the problems he and his lady friend had.
His hands twisted around the steering wheel. He knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, he was always going to be alone. But the tiniest speck of desire to have someone love him and share his life remained buried in the viscera of his reality. So he turned down the sham marriage. What if he met someone inconceivable? Suddenly he would be an adulterer. Which was just hilarious to him. Such a thing could lead to a loss of employment and social shunning.
Plus, his mother would shake her head if he opened her very deserved home to someone purely existing to make a pleasant lie for the world. Disappointment could leak straight from her grave and into the floorboards.
Everyone wants something, though. He wanted to be seen in his entirety and accepted as he was.
You?
Well. All the things you seemed to want you had. Autonomy. Adoration. Attention.
His mind conjured images of you sitting pretty in your trousers in Beth’s. Moments like those, before he knew you, you had all of the things you wanted and seemingly needed. It made you upsettingly attractive to him.
Alastor didn’t want to be needed by someone, he wanted to be wanted by someone who already had everything.
As the car rolled over the bridge and you both made your way into the city proper, his thoughts wandered back to the notion of rings. His mother never had one, so he had nothing to hand down. Would you wear gold, like the necklace you hung on the mirror in the guest room? Or silver?
He suppressed an embarrassed chuckle, he was getting ahead of himself again. Daydreaming while he drove like he always did. But this time you were in the car with him.
You caught him blushing, asking if he got too much sun by the water earlier. Alastor’s eyes went wide and he laughed a forced ‘ha ha ha!’, punctuated by a flat and low “No!”
All you could do was laugh in return when he didn’t elaborate. The way he was gripping the steering wheel made his knuckles go pale through the thin skin of his hands. But the wonky smile he had told you he wasn’t angry.
He gave you a peck outside the theater’s side door, promised to swing by yours after work so you could grab some shoes, and drove off.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“Excuse you, you’re not welcome here.”
You heard it but didn’t really register what that implied. Sometimes people tried to sneak in who’d been banned, but it was…not common. The list of people was quite short. You didn’t stop to think of them all, regardless.
You made a habit of calling Ruth by her stage name as early in the work day as you could remember, to avoid any slip ups. So when you called out to her as you worked the room after your performance, she knew to answer.
“Skye, could you bring me some water?” Leaning on the bar you watched her make her own drink, flashing you a wink. She always got tipsy and ended up behind the bar when she was in a good mood. Which was most nights. The staff didn’t mind, the real money to be made was in liquor and whatever could be passed off as beer. So the extra pair of hands was appreciated.
“You’ve been especially happy lately. Good sex?” The glass was slid to you. All you could do was nod. You’d hadn’t actually had sex in awhile, but that wasn’t anyone’s business.
Your smile barely had a chance to slip off your face, your senses too quick for your body to keep up. The awareness that something was wrong hit you fast and hard, but only milliseconds before you felt someone grab you.
Brady’s hand gripped your shoulder and pulled you backwards, something slipping around your wrists as a uniformed cop came around the corner of the atrium. You struggled to get away from him, shouting general protests to being suddenly manhandled. Your voice erupted, the first cannon shot of the war as women and men began to swarm and berate the detective.
Barely a shocked laugh could be choked out from your tightening throat.
“You’re under arrest!” He yelled it, looking at you for just a moment before announcing it to the audience. An actor to his crowd.
“For what?!” Johnny pushed Brady with two fingers to the chest.
“Prostitution.”
A beat of silence as the room collectively gasped. Ruth was the first one to truly lay her hands on him, snatching his hat off and smacking him across the head. The other dancers moved like a school of fish, tucking Ruth into the safety of their numbers with a simultaneous jostling of the detective.
The cop leading you away stopped, “Just her? I thought-,”
Detective Brady dusted his hat off with the back of his hand and shooed the man away. “Just her.”
Before you had reached the glass doors of the theater, you tensed and pulled back. “What the fuck are you doing, Mr. Brady?”
But Brady wasn’t looking at you. He was scanning the room. Staring into the small but fierce roiling mass of regulars, dancers, and staff filling up the doorway in front him and flooding the atrium.
Johnny sized up Brady, getting nose to nose with him, “Show your face here again and we’ll need an ambulance, not a wagon!”
Brady leaned into the confrontation, “Now sir I’d be careful. That almost sounds like a threat.”
“Sure as shit is!” Someone hissed.
“Hey! Brady!” You tried again in vain to get his attention.
“Hush. You confessed to it already, no point crying now.” The cop’s voice was harsh, his disgust barely hidden. His palms were calloused and scratched at the exposed skin of your arms.
“Someone! Someone call-,” Ruth snapped her fingers as the syllables teetered on the tip of her tongue.
Goosebumps rose across your shoulders like little tombstones. Your autonomic nervous system came to a crawl. The grip on your arm tightened as you had to be wretched forward and out of the front doors.
Her eyes lit up, “Alastor! Does anyone have Alastor’s work number?!” Ruth was met with confused faces and shrugs from the others.
You didn’t feel yourself begin to cry, it was a reaction to the fact you hadn’t blinked since you became aware Brady didn’t seem too interested in your reaction to this.
This wasn’t an arrest. It was a trap.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:・
˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖
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Mattress
Word count: 2.1k
Pairing: Raiden x afab!Reader
A/N: I don't have any excuses, I am apparently feral tonight and decided to write a short fic for Raiden that is basically all smut. I feel bad that he tied in the poll but lost to the wheel :(( Have this as a peace offering <33
Summary: Raiden's bed is more comfortable than your own, which means you are always in it, much to his dismay.
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, p in v sex, no pronouns used, praise, Gentle!Raiden, eye contact, no use of y/n
The mattress of Raiden’s bed is significantly more comfortable than your own, something you tell him frequently. Something he tells you is not true every time you bring it up but continues to remain true to you. Whether it’s because it’s actually more comfortable or if it’s because it’s Raiden’s bed, you aren’t sure but it’s comfy here. Safe.
“Go back to your own bed,” he complains from beside you.
You pretend to think hard, humming, “Hmm no, I am comfy here.”
He’s exasperated with you; he just wants to read alone in bed and you are hijacking his peace and quiet. You think right about now he is regretting letting you live with him but you needed a roomie and he is one of your oldest friends, so he caved and let you stay with him.
“I can’t do anything alone anymore,” he sighs.
You huff out at him, “You can to! I am just having a little nap.”
“Do it in your own room,” he complains.
Whinging at him, you protest, “But my mattress is lumpy and weird, plus I don’t like sleeping alone.”
“Do what you want, you are going to anyway,” he acquiesces, this conversation going nowhere.
You smile smugly, proud of yourself, he always caves with you and now you get to nap comfortably in his bed beside him. You weren’t lying, your bed is genuinely lumpy and weird and you prefer sleeping next to him, your sleep is better when you know he’s beside you.
“You always give in,” you prod at his side, gloating.
“Do not push it,” he warns but you still poke at his side, “I thought you wanted to nap?” He asks, slapping your hand away.
You ignore him and sit up, continuing to tease and poke at him. He’s generally difficult to get a reaction out of, too ‘mature’ to stoop to your level but every now and again you push his buttons just right and he’ll retaliate. It’s always fun to watch.
Apparently, today he’s extra touchy and he shoots up, grabbing you and pushing you back on the mattress. He holds you down under him, your wrists being pushed into the mattress.
“You are meant to be napping,” he scowls at you, his face close to your own.
His proximity makes you nervous, this does not bode well for your crush on him. You’re stunned as you look up at him, not expecting him to hold you down like this and certainly not expecting him to do it so effortlessly.
“What is wrong? You normally have so much to say,” his brows are still furrowed at you.
You try to struggle against his hold, attempting to free yourself. Your attempts are entirely unsuccessful, your movements not even affecting his hold on you even a little bit. Which makes you frown at him, the annoyed expression on your face and unsuccessful escape has Raiden’s features lighting up. Seemingly pleased at your realisation of your defeat.
You ask him, “Can you get off me now?”
“Hmm no, I am comfy here,” he smiles smugly at you, repeating your words from before.
Your frown deepens at him but he seems to have done a one-eighty, overly pleased with himself while you are now annoyed with him.
As you gaze at him you can’t help but drift over all of his features, the smugness in his eyes, the definition of his nose, the softness of his lips. You quickly flick your eyes back up to his, hoping he didn’t notice your wandering gaze. But he did, he always notices everything you do, you can’t make an out of the usual decision or move, he notices and he always checks if you’re okay.
When it comes to your feelings you can’t tell if he’s ignoring them or dim but with the knowing look in his eyes now, he seems to have finally caught onto your desire for him at the very least. His head ducks down closer to yours, his lips lightly grazing your own, the slight touch makes you dizzy. You’ve liked him for so long and now he’s so close to you, his skin touching yours.
His lips move against yours as he checks with you, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, please?”
Your confirmation has him pressing his lips to yours properly, it’s so soft and so caring and so him. He has you melting for him just from a tender kiss and you really wish you could touch him but he’s still holding you down. His lips are gentle and searching, learning how you like to be kissed. One of his hands leaves your wrist to grasp the side of your face, his lips the smallest bit more forceful as he holds your face.
The increase in his urgency has a light gasp pulling from you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your free hand reaches up and holds on the side of his face, pulling him down to you more, wanting more from him. Craving all of him, and he provides, his kiss becomes fervent and full and it has you lightheaded. Small whines are slipping from you at the way he kisses you, he’s kissing you like you’re delicate, trying so hard to be gentle but being overwhelmed by his and your own need.
When he pulls back you’re breathless, you’ve never been kissed so attentively, so fully. The desire you feel for him is unmatched and you’ve been so carefully pulled apart by his lips alone. His thumb strokes high on your cheekbone, his eyes captivated by you, they keep flicking back to your lips. Waiting for you to catch your breath so he can kiss you again.
You’re still restrained, hand struggling under his hold to remind him he’s still got you pinned, he releases you at your movements and both your arms reach up, grabbing behind his neck and pulling him down to you completely. His lips crash against yours, eager to kiss you again, his tongue immediately in your mouth again. Exploring you carefully, attentive to how you react to him.
One of his hands slides down your body and holds onto your thigh, pulling it up and hooking it onto his hip. You use the position to your advantage and pull his hips to yours, your core pressed against his crotch. The shock of your movement has a surprised sound exiting Raiden, he moves his lips off yours and rests his forehead against you.
“We can stop,” he tells you, giving you an out. Not wanting to push you into something you don’t want.
You pull him close to you and grind against the bulge in his pants, “I don’t want to.”
The motion has him closing his eyes, having to control himself momentarily, “Then, undress.”
His words bleed with need and desire, you can tell his control waned thin for a second, his tone has an underlying commanding manner to it. It has you throbbing for him. He lets you push him back so you can undress, you slip out of your pants before tugging your shirt off.
“These too,” he comments, lifting the waistband of your panties before letting them snap back against you. The shock of it making you jump.
He had pulled his own shirt and pants off while you did, both equally undressed, “You first,” you retort.
Your apprehension makes him smile at you, he tugs his underwear off first, completely bare in front of you. His cock fully erect for you, the sight of it has your insides twisting, he’s large and thick and, “I don’t know if you’ll fit,” you observe.
“I am not that big,” he dismisses.
You look at him incredulously, “Humble to a fault.”
He shakes his head at you but taps your leg, reminding you to take off your own underwear, which you do, nervously. Chucking them to the floor when they’re off, Raiden shuffles closer to you again, between your legs.
“If you are worried, I will be gentle.” He assures you.
You look at him coquettishly, “You don’t have to be.”
His eyes shut, gathering himself, “I am going to be gentle.” He replies, it’s not a question.
“Okay,” you answer.
He slides the head of his cock through your folds, gathering all of your slick on him. Getting his dick wet to make the stretch easier on you, his movements have you twitching against him. His eyes are alight with satisfaction, enjoying your bodies reaction to him and his minimal touch. He notches himself against your pussy hole before gingerly pushing forwards, the stretch a lot for you.
He notices your struggle to take him, and he rubs his thumb over your clit, the pleasurable stimulation has you relaxing against him. Enough so he can push the head of his cock into you, the feeling has you both sighing.
“You are tight,” he groans, struggling slightly with the grip you have on him.
You argue back, “You’re just big.”
He chuckles a bit but pushes into you more, his cock is a lot to take but he eventually has you stuffed full of him. Your cunt taking him to the hilt, you’re so wet for him that you’re practically drooling on his dick.
Once he’s fully inside you, he leans down, pressing all of himself against you. Skin to skin. The contact has your heart soaring, feeling so full of him and loving the closeness. He looks you directly in the eyes, it’s intense and has you shying away from him, but he pulls your face back so you’re looking him in the eyes.
He watches your face carefully as he pulls out of you, his pace slow and steady, “You are beautiful.” He compliments you as you take his fat cock.
Your legs wrap around his waist, holding onto him. He holds your face still, making sure you keep your eyes on his, wanting to watch your face as you fall apart for him. His cock is rocking back and forth into you smoothly, never speeding up or slowing down, keeping pace. The unwavering manner of his strokes has you craving more but loving what you’re getting. Not wanting him to change anything and wanting so much more, he’s driving you crazy.
His expression is pleased as he watches the way you melt for him, the way your eyes glaze over, and mouth opens letting soft sounds of whimpers and moans fall from it. He offers you compliments the whole time he rocks into you.
“Doing so good for me, look so pretty right now… You always look so pretty,” he murmurs to you, his own eyes glazing over with the pleasure your cunt gives him.
You try to tell him how good you feel but you’re a bit scatter-brained at the moment, “Raiden, you feel –mmph– good, filling me so much –hah–”
He doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying the lost look in your eyes and incoherent compliments. His thrusts are still holding steady but you’re getting closer, his consistent pace working you up gradually. You’re throbbing around him, close to the edge. He’s twitching inside you, close to his own end as well.
“Want to cum at the same time,” his hand reaches down and rubs circles into your clit. His eyes stay on your face, never wanting to look away. The fingers on your clit have you right on the edge, about to fall off. He tells you, “Now, cum for me.”
And you do, very suddenly, and he cums as you do. Grinding into you as he releases his sticky cum inside you, it’s filling you completely. He’s still watching you, carefully taking in your expression as you come down from your orgasm. His own face pleasure filled, eyes lazy and content.
It occurs to you that you had been subconsciously waiting for his permission to cum, he has a soft domineering way about him that compels you. He’s polite as he tells you what to do, so much so that it doesn’t even seem like he’s telling you what to do.
“You look beautiful when you cum,” he compliments again, genuine as he does.
His compliment is embarrassing and has your cheeks heating up with it, he smiles at you and leans down to press a tender kiss against your lips. He kisses you for a moment, enjoying the closeness of being inside you while pressing his lips against yours, coming down from your highs together.
Eventually, he parts from you, careful as he pulls out. He rolls onto his back and takes you with him, leaving you resting against his chest. He’s comfortable, maybe more comfortable than his mattress.
“Is my mattress really better than yours or was this always your end goal?” His chest vibrates under you with his words.
You laugh a bit, “Your mattress is actually better, this was good too though.”
He hums a bit, “I have a feeling you will be in my bed even more frequently now.”
“Will that be my fault or yours?” You tease.
“Mine,” he answers, kissing the top of your head.
⊹₊ ⋆
#mk1 2023#mk1 smut#raiden x reader#raiden x reader smut#raiden smut#raiden x you#raiden x you smut#raiden mk1#fanfic#smut
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Heart of the Great Wolf
A Vision of Never
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader
Length: 5.2k
Warnings: recent childbirth, talk of pregnancy and labour, past character deaths, fluff, child rearing
Notes: A little "what if" about Robb having lived, in this version of the story the world isn't ending and Luwin is still alive, just pretend it makes sense. Previous Main Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
Things had only accidentally worked out well this way. The timing of his sons outburst correlated perfectly with Robb pressing his lips to your forehead, and muttering for you to sleep. It hadn’t been as long this time, and while going just as smoothly, it was far easier on Robb’s mind not to have you labouring for so many hours, only so much Maester Luwin being able to do to ease the pain in your state. Still some time, but not as many hours luckily. The first labour near two years ago now, Robb had as much time as he needed to stay by your side.
The war had moved fast after his Uncle Edmure had married Rosalin Frey. Robb had been as relieved as his mother to find Arya alive, but none too happy that The Hound was the one with her, and subsequently had assumed Robb would pay for his own sisters return seconds after learning she was even still alive but it was you who simply tossed a bag of gold at him, knowing that men of House Clegane were none too pleasant nor peaceful to argue with.
One by one both his sisters were found alive and safe and once word reached shortly to them that not only was King Joffery dead, but Tywin Lannister too, they all knew there was nothing left for them here. No true war to be fought and with the Frey’s loyalty through marriage, what scattered remains of the Lannisters were never making it anywhere near close enough to reclaim the Riverlands nor even consider branching North. They, for now, could go home. And the timing couldn’t have been better.
You were able to spend your final two moons pregnant in Winterfell where you belonged, and while Robb and his siblings prepared the North for a rule that had not been seen for some three hundred years, his mother helped you prepare for your labour. And yet somehow, near two years passed after that and the situation was much the same.
Only now more snow properly fell on the ground and stuck, and the healing of everything passed was getting a little easier, making celebrating this just a bit better.
Much like you two discussed, your child was born a boy, and named promptly after the father you both went to war to rescue in the first place. Normally Ned was well behaved, but Robb suspected he could faintly hear you in labour and that made him upset. Staying with his uncles and aunts, eventually Arya had to be the one to gently knock on the door, poking her head in interrupting the moment trying not to run in and fawn all over the newborn this time, saying that Ned was beyond fussy at this point and none of them could get him to calm down.
That worked out, you were barley awake any longer, your much exerted strength leaving you as Robb had a chance to go find his son, asking his mother to watch over you all while you slept. Something she was more then happy to do, being a grandmother suited her well. Robb suspected too, it somewhat helped fill that hole in her heart that Eddard Stark’s death had left behind. It made him glad, she was never happier then reuniting with her children, and it made her happier so to have a grandson, one named after the husband she lost. He was too young to understand yet, but little Ned helped heal this family more then he knew.
Now though, while giving you a chance to sleep, Robb had worried his sons fears about hearing you in pain that it was over and when you woke up he could come see. For now, he kept him distracted and Robb did that well.
None in Winterfell could say that being King took away his duties as a father. By the time his son was able to start walking, it was easier for you to share raising him. Robb could now do his work with his men, and his son there and not need every ounce of attention on him as a small infant needed. Nearing his second name day was even better. He could walk, and was speaking so much more. You insisted otherwise, but Robb knew his son was so smart just because of you. The moment he uttered something resembling a true word, you had started to encourage it everyday, and here he was. A small boy of two, and when he wanted to be, a talkative little thing.
Currently stood behind him, the main hall was empty, as he held his son upright to stand on the table with his support, mimicking better the sight he’d see. Talking to him quietly about what it was Robb would do as King, and explain more then he could grasp, but Ned enjoyed when his father taught him these things. Turning partially, the sun shined through the windows just at the perfect angle that the reddish auburn of their Tully side matched in their curls. “Do you get bored?”
A grin shined on Robbs face with a laugh, “Do I get bored? What? In meetings?” His son nodding his head, Robb moved to stand a little more to the side where he kissed the side of his head. “Aye, I do. But listening to people I’d rather not, is one of my duties as King. If I can’t fix the small problems my people are having, how do they expect me to fix the big problems?” His face scrunching for a moment, Ned shook his head, Robb being able to understand he was agreeing with him.
More quiet now, Robb looked over his sons shoulder, seeing a more heavy blink in his eye. Asking, “You tired, pup?” Nodding, Robb smiled softly. “Yeah, you want to see if your mother’s awake before you have a nap?” He nodded again, and Robb prompted him to turn around. Scooping his son up into his arms, as his little ones held on meekly, his head falling more into his shoulder.
The path there Robb couldn’t hear it as well through the thick stone walls, but still faintly as the bells still rung. Not many places you had grown up where the bells rung for anything but horror and Robb had been determined to change that. He hadn’t considered just how much like his own father he was, the birth of his second child, a daughter, as the bells rung all day. The sound at least faded the further near his bedchambers he got, his son barley perking up much at the sound of your voice chatting with his mother. You sounded much more energetic then you had before.
“I’m surprised we didn’t know, Maester Luwin had said he was certain of everything.”
Catelyn sounded bemused herself as Robb turned the corner, approaching the door as you all came into sight. It had been quite the shock for everyone, and another reason it was such a suprise, the fact that this labour had gone so smoothly. Maester Luwin predicted it would be a girl, and he was right. But, he later had said that was sometimes uncommon but not impossible, that a mother could carry two children in her womb and none could tell. Your belly grew to be the same size as the last, being able to eat much better the entire pregnancy then catching you up in the last two moons, but none knew until his daughter had been born and you still laboured another child.
It was no wonder you had been so exhausted.
You looked bright eyed over at him as he walked in. The midwives had stayed to help to clean your appearance up despite Robb insisting he didn’t at all care that you looked a mess. Your loose dress had been pulled down as one babe was feeding from your breast. The other likely had been done already, swaddled, bundled and asleep in Catelyns hold. Your voice was still a bit raspy from the energy you had been shot of, but enthusiastic as your sons head perked up right away. “There’s my sweet boy.”
Instantly Ned had moved in Robbs hold, having predicted it as his arms stretched out “Mama,” Robb hushed in his ear to go easy on you before putting him down onto the bed. Making his way over carefully, he could stand only for as long as it took to match what he saw Robb do all the time, press a kiss to your cheek gently before his little legs gave out and sat down. Looking down at the baby, his bright green eyes just like yours looked back to you. “Daddy says I have a new sister and brother.”
Nodding, your gaze trailed down to the babe in your arms. “You do, this is your little brother, and your grandmother has your little sister, Lyanna.” Looking between you both, you nodded your head over to where Catelyn had begun walked to the bed, “Go on, she’s asleep but she really wants to meet you.”
Letting a free hand go long enough to push his curls off his forehead and press a kiss there before he begun moving to meet his sister. Robb had circled around to the other side of the bed where you were, sitting gently to face you as his eyes trailed down to the baby. “Going to be a lot harder to feed them yourself now that there’s two.”
Your grin was gentle and still a bit weak, but just as playful in your eyes. “Maester Luwin assures me as long as I have the patience for it, that won’t be a problem.” Robb only rolled his eyes in a jest before leaning closer. Cupping your cheek gently as he moved to press a kiss to your lips. Chaste and lingering but uncaring with only his mother in the room. Leaning back only enough to meet your eyes, his thumb ran over your soft cheek as you muttered, “I have a feeling this one will be the needy one.”
Nodding down to the baby, Robb smiled. Leaving your cheek to brush his hand over the baby’s back just soft enough that it didn’t interrupt him. “Are you insinuating our little Ned wasn’t needy with you as it was?” Protesting back that it was never as bad as he liked to joke it was, but Robb only laughed. “Maybe, I suppose we’ll see whose the needy one in the next few weeks won’t we? Who knows, with three wolves crying for your attention now, the needy one might be me.”
Halfheartedly hid Robb hear his own mother snap out with bemused ease, “That has always been the case.” Turning with his face twisting in mock offence asking what exactly she meant by that, his mother was sharing a highly entertained look with you behind him, knowing you gave a look that matched how amused she was with herself. “Out of all my children, you had always been the neediest as a baby.”
His gaze dripped downward to a look mocking of disapproval but she could read right through Robb. Especially when he could glance down and watch his son gently holding onto the edges of the blanket little Lyanna was wrapped in, as if knowing he didn’t want to interrupt her own sleep but watching with wide eyes. You caught him right away as he turned back, your own gaze unbearably sweet as Robb looked back.
Just in time as the baby finished, Robb helped you carefully lift him up to burp taking no time at all before his head dropped down a bit into your neck and shoulders much like Ned did with both of you. The baby though hid a bit in your hair, you could read the question in his eyes if you wished for him to take the baby but you shook your head. Happy to keep the little one close as Robb only fixed your dress for you, before leaning to kiss the back of his newborn sons head.
Sensing a figure coming up beside him, Robb turned partway to see Ned crawling over before grabbing him and picking him up onto his lap. Holding him gently, he muttered down, “You want to stay and nap in here?” The little Nod warmed both your hearts as you shifted, your arm raising enough so that he had the space to crawl into your side, curling into you right away and still small enough that he wasn’t in the way of the baby.
Turning to glance at his mother, Robb nodded to the other side of the bed. Moving to sit next to you, but not before reaching over, to gently take his daughter from his mother, holding her close as he smiled fondly at the sight. “I’ll let your men know not to intrude for the time being.”
Muttering a genuine thank you, Catelyn smiled with shining affection in her eyes. Her husband may not be here to see it, but she was so grateful that she was here to see it for him. Their first boy together, now with a growing family of his own. Twins, if she could tell Eddard now. That Robb didn’t just have his second child, but it was twins. Mother protect her, was this castle going to be full of chaos in no time with three Stark toddlers running around.
She could recall standing outside of the Twins right before Edmure’s wedding, and seeing how happy Robb was at your side and wishing for nothing but to be able to go home and try to rebuild. It felt almost out of reach then, but it was here, and she closed the door gently, watching as Robb carefully held his baby girl while sitting beside you. The family she always wanted Robb to have.
Your eyes trained down on your two young boys, you felt Robb warm at your side as you gently shifted just enough to lean somewhat against him. His warm voice so soothing in your ear, “Have I mentioned that I’m proud of you yet.” Muttering that yes he had, many times, Robb grinned. “Aye, but I will say it again. I’m so proud of you.”
Turning to meet his bright blue eyes, you both felt a comfort wave over you before looking back to your newest son. A whisper on your lips, “What are we going to name him?” A hum of question came from Robbs lips, so you clarified. “Your son, we’ve had Lyanna’s name picked out for years now. We never talked about another boy name.”
You could feel Robb grinning, but didn’t know why. “Yes we did.” Turning to look at him, while gently shifting the baby now that he was fast asleep to lay out in your arms, his head covered by the top of the blanket next to Lyanna’s, Robb continued. “We agreed on a name the same night we picked out the name for these two.” His head nodding down to first Lyanna and then Ned, who too had fallen asleep so quickly.
Your brows narrowed in thought, and Robb knew with a playful, bemused grin exactly the moment you recalled it. Your face dropping amusingly flat as you rolled your head to the side with a raised brow. “Robb, he is not going to like that and you know it.”
He only grinned more, kissing what of your head he could reach. “If he were bothered to come visit again before they were born, like he promised, he might have gotten a choice in the matter.” You muttered that he had a lot on his place, but Robb only settled that. “I know, love. I’m teasing, he has his reasons. But, we also have ours.”
Both of you looking to the baby, you could see it. How much the name would suit him, just as Ned suited your first boy, and Lyanna suited the little girl now asleep in her fathers arms. A laugh huffed through your breath as he asked what was it. “If you asked me what? Five? Six years ago, what my life would’ve looked like today, I’d never have said this.”
“Neither would I.” His thumb gently ran over his daughters cheek, both your sons has your green eyes, but Lyanna had his blue eyes. Ned was growing up to look like a perfect blend of both of you, but he was nothing but eager to see what these two grew up to look like, who’d look like who and everything else. “But I’d never want anything else.”
Meeting your gaze again, Robb leaned over once more as you tried to gently meet his lips. Nothing greedy or needing, but deep and lingering as your three small children slept all around you. Resting your heads against the other as you muttered more low, for his ears only. “Cersei tried warning me. About not to fall in love with you.” He tried looking at you closer, a scowl forming in his brows but you didn’t look away from where your thumb ran over youngest sons cheek. “Before we arrived in Winterfell, she tried to warn me. That you’d disappoint me one day, that you’d move on, not want me. To give you your children, and only ever love them because I’d never get it from you. She tried telling me something similar, if perhaps a bit less morose when I was a girl too. I’d think about who I’d marry one day, and never came up with an answer of a man I would genuinely love.”
Something distant but amused twisted in Robbs features as he spoke up, “Didn’t you sabotage Cersei once? When she tried publicly announcing a betrothal?” You laughed right away, the memory so clear as Robb joined. “Little did you know then, you were merely saving yourself for me.”
Sighing happily, you leaned back against him, his head resting more atop yours. “I should’ve known how easy I’d fall for you on our wedding night.” Elaborating at his further hum of question. “I was terrified of it all. If you’d want a bedding ceremony, the bedding itself. I was terrified. But you had convinced me to be comfortable in what? Minutes? It was strange how easy it felt to be willing to do it with you.”
His lips again pressed against your hair. “I know I seemed eager, but I really would’ve been alright if you didn’t want too. Would’ve helped you change into something more comfortable, and at least helped you get used to sleeping beside me.” You only muttered that you didn’t need help with that, and Robb laughed, trying to hold back not to wake Lyanna in his arms. “Aye, that was after I had taken you twice though. Hard to not fall asleep beside me when I had you clawing down my back.”
Hissing with an instant fluster, “I did not-”
Robb only cut you off, his face so bright and amused at your instant reaction as if you didn’t presently have three children together. “I had the marks for days to prove it, my love. You’re lucky I dress myself, otherwise you’d have come back to a reputation of yourself already being a little she wolf.” Flustered, you only muttered that he had given you that reputation in the army camp, Robb laughed again. “Wanted my men to know that nothing they could buy would beat what I had every night for free.”
Shaking your head, Robb could read the still flustered look in you but also something playful. He spoke again before you had the chance too, but with something he knew you didn’t expect. “I’m sorry it took so long. To give you a baby. You never said it, but I knew you were frustrated with yourself the longer it never happened.” He was right, you had never said it because you didn’t even wish to think it. You were scared to tell him when you finally were, thinking you’d burden him at the worst possible time.
But then you received the news. That Bran and Rickon were thought dead, and his own grandfather had passed. With Catelyn still imprisoned having released Jaime Lannister, and Edmure’s foolish search for glory leading to losing the chance both to kill The Mountain and aid in your fathers capture of Kings Landing, all felt lost. Robb felt he had nothing but you left, and only the small barley grown baby in your belly seemed like there was a shred of hope. Without that, he might have felt he didn’t have much left to fight for, and you dared not think what would’ve happened then. If Robb truly felt alone and betrayed by everyone around him.
Even now, sometimes you both pondered if this peace would stay. Word from the Riverlands of the happenings in Kings Landing would reach you both, and it seemed at least, that peace would not go away for some time. Your father still on a fight for the Iron Throne looked more promising now then ever before. With Tommen as King, young and sweet and inexperienced he held no chance. Cersei it seemed was busy making a mess of things worse for him, and part of you felt sympathy. She in a few weeks had lost her eldest son and her father, both of which were said to be done at the hands of her own brother. You knew Sansa was not involved. Petyr Baelish had helped her flee Kings Landing, but was intercepted by Dacey Mormont and a squadron of men.
Robb and Catelyn knew that he would try and hide her in the Vale with her aunt Lysa, and sent Dacey to retrieve her. Luckily, even without having met Dacey herself, going with a woman of the North, a woman whose own title was trusting, a sworn shield of Robb Stark, managed to get her back.
Once you were able to ride home, the Ironborn all but fled. They stood no chance against the full strength of the Northern army with Robb leading and yet you still heard no word of Theon. Bran and Rickon weren’t dead as feared, they had fled and returned once Robb had, but none knew where Theon was. You didn’t want to know, in truth. He had betrayed Robb, betrayed you, betrayed the Starks and the place that was more home to him then the Iron Islands ever would be and he ran like a coward.
He knew he didn’t have the Stark boys, and he must have feared Robb turning around to take his head. Torched the castle and fled, where he was now, Pyke, dead, or something far worse, you did not wish to hear of it. He chose his path, and he chose wrong. And he decided to live with the consequences. According to Roose Bolton, his bastard Ramsay had gotten to the castle after the Ironborn torched it and left.
But now? You all sat in Robb and your bedchambers. Winterfell rebuild, family all reunited again, and peace was found in the new again Kingdom. Your sweet son, little Ned with auburn curls just like his father and green eyes just like you, cuddled asleep in your side. The shining bright light he didn’t know he was, just your baby boy truly. In Robbs arms, his newborn daughter, small and sweet. Named after Ned Stark’s long passed sister, Robbs tribute to reunite them with new life as they reunited in death.
You had expected her. Maester Luwin said by the way you were carrying, and the sudden and frustrating new craving you had for sweets were all indications of a girl. Robb had been elated, not a single thought in his head but getting to have a little girl of his own. He had helped raise his little sisters, he would be perfectly prepared for a girl of his own.
Saying to you in these very chambers that night, you only a few moons in but showing earlier then you did even last time, Robbs hands were on your stomach all the time. He’d kiss your stomach saying goodnight to his daughter, then carefully bring little Ned to do the same, telling him to say goodnight to his sister. Only babbles at first, but once he started to speak it got better.
Even now, Robb had told him his sister’s name and he couldn’t quite say it perfectly. He knew the name, and how it sounded, but as he did with many words he could say them just not eloquently. “Lya” he called her. A feeling in you that would be her nickname for some time. Robb though, he had put his son to bed, and held you looking out the window as the snow fell that night many months ago, the same window you both stood together at, minutes before he pulled you into his bed.
One hand firmly on your stomach as he spoke. “I don’t want her growing up the way you did.” Silent as you let him elaborate, pulling you just a tad closer. “A distant father, not letting you feel loved the way a father should love his daughter. I don’t ever want our little girl to grow up feeling anything close to that.” You only muttered that you didn’t think that would be the case, but he insisted you listen. “Just because you know something, my love, doesn’t mean you don’t still worry about. Remember how you knew I thought you were beautiful all through your pregnancy and after, but you still worried I wouldn’t want you anymore?”
A laugh left you, Catelyn had to help you then. Telling Robb a sort of sickness of the mind infected new mothers and filled their heads with worries and doubts beyond reason and being a mother herself worked very hard to help you realize that you had nothing to fear. Even then, you still worried some days. Robb had you long passed that now, but that night he knew and understood why you’d think of your future daughter and fear her repeating your life.
But as Robb held little Lyanna now, an adorable baby girl who was at complete peace sleeping in his arms, Robb knew there was nothing to worry about. He adored Ned, and was very vocal about that fact and he’d be the same to his newborn child, both of them.
Seven hells, he thought. Twins. He wanted a large family with you, but the gods had just made that want so much easier for him to obtain. The confusion when you still seemed to labour after Lyanna only for Luwin to confirm you carried another babe in your womb, Robb almost laughed then. He was sat behind you to lean back against, a support as he refused to ever let the midwives tell him to leave. If you weren’t in such a state, he would’ve told you already how happy he was. It would be chaos, it would be quite something.
His son already about to reach two years of age, and now two newborn twins to the mix there was no easing either of you into this. It was here and you both would deal with it. His eyes glanced over to you, your newest son asleep in your arms, almost curling into you as if wanting to be close as possible to his mother, and little Ned asleep against your side. Your boys were all over you, and you would spoil them both he knew. Just as he would spoil Lyanna. His little princess would never go without feeling like one if Robb was to have his way.
Now with the birth of a second son, he had what some Lords referred to it as, an heir and a spare. He never cared to look at Ned like his heir, he was young, and new to the world and all that mattered to Robb was that they were loved. His two Princelings and his little Princess in his own arms, they were just titles. Things to present them to the court as.
In the everyday, his children would run amok in the corridors carefree and spoiled and happy. Thats all he cared about. After needing to lose his own father, and fight years in a war to have his children, he’d do everything he could to ensure they didn’t suffer anything close to the ways he did before having them.
Looking back over, you hadn’t yet taken your eyes off any of them. Swapping your glance between all three, even going so far as to shift how you held the baby, so little Ned could more comfortably rest his head in your lap. His little arms trying to wrap around you as if wanting to protect you in your sleep as your newest son snuggled close into your chest as if wanting to be as near you as possible. He grinned, you both were right, that one was going to be a needy child for your attention. And he knew you’d spoil him.
Many times already, he would gently or even playfully suggest that you let Ned breath a little, not coddle him so much. He was a northerner, a Stark. He was fierce and tough and you were bundling him to go out into the snow as if he were one a layer away from freezing to death. You wanted to protect him and show him love, and if he could only just barley persuade you to ease up with Ned, with this one, there was little chance of that.
Raising a daughter would be perfect for you. You half helped raise Robbs little sisters, you half raised your little sister in Shireen. You would do perfectly raising a girl, showing her the motherly nature that you never got in full that you should’ve. But, he had a feeling his newborn son was going to be attached to you at all times, a true wolf pup sticking to his mothers side. In a strange way, it was suiting.
What his little son would be like, and to whom he’d be like that with? He wouldn’t burden you with that thought. Already you refused to speak how disappointed you were. He had promised he would come back, come visit as he put it, “before you have the next one.” But, here you were, twins and not a sign that he was coming to visit. If Lyanna filled the memory of an aunt the Stark siblings never knew, and Ned shined over the castle to reinstate faith they hadn’t had since the boys namesake was killed, then naming the baby boy in your arms was suiting, if not for everyone elses sake, but for yours.
Something in Robb’s brother struggled to accept his offer to return to Winterfell where be belonged, and struggled further now to even convince himself to visit no matter how much they all, but more importantly, you, wished for him to. But you wouldn’t say it, and he couldn’t convince himself to come anymore.
Thus it felt right. Naming the needy baby boy in your arms, Jon.
#robb stark x reader#jon snow x reader#jon snow#robb stark#robb stark x you#jon snow x you#robb stark imagine#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf
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okay. okay. batfam fic. is this a really late response? who cares (the answer is no, fuck you, it's perfectly on-time)! i just had a lot i wanted to say. so... let's start. i LOVEEE having a reader that's so aware? i just think - while i adore when readers kick and scream or whimper in trained obedience or whatever - there's something so scrumptious about someone who knows they're trapped and is trying to learn to maneuver carefully (even though it all goes to shit anyway). i can't help but wonder what would happen as time goes on. or immediately in the aftermath. would reader even be able to attempt to go back to pretending everything was normal? or would it just send them straight to where they were at the start? and then i think about everyone else. how would they respond? would the reader even tell them? in an effort to maintain normalcy, would they keep it a secret from the rest of the family? or would they be so distressed they'd be unable to? and then their response would really be the deciding factor in the family's response. if they pretended it didn't happen, how long would it take them to figure it out? and how would they respond to knowing they withheld that info? if they were distressed and told them, would they explode as a family? or would it worm into their heads as... a more concrete idea? if jason did it... why can't some of the others? i mean, i bet one of them would be willing to believe that the reader wouldn't have been so upset, if they had just been the one to do it. jason's so rough and rude, even without trying. he can be so mean. no. reader should have that experience with someone who is gonna be nice to them, who wants nothing but their pleasure, over and over and over and.... well, you get the point. personally, it felt so realistic to have the reader try and be calm and rational. i'm kind of passive when it comes to confrontation. i'd prefer to keep the peace. but.... well... i'm also curious. i probably wouldn't be able to stop myself from eavesdropping or snooping, especially if i knew it concerned me. i'd want as much info as possible, even if it made me sick. sorry this is so so long i'm gonna cut it off here just want to say i LOVED the fic. your batfam is my favourite. i love how you just make them all such freaks in their own way. none of them are safe.
ahh thank you so much! long asks like this in response to my silly little fics keep me fed for days T-T
plans for a continuation are still solidifying and i'd hate to give two much away, but prt one was very much the reader desperately trying to prolong the 'fucking around' phase (or, the not fucking around phase? ig?), whereas we've thoroughly transitioned into the 'finding out' stage of things at the time a continuation would pick up. they're all such poorly contained freaks when everyone's still trying to pretend they don't want to fuck their step-mom, it might take a little while to figure out how they'd behave once fucking the aforementioned step-mom is up for further discussion.
#i know people complain about certain characters being excluded but#god there are so many of those little freaks#i'm sorry duke i'm sorry barb#i'm excluding you because i think you're too good to be here#not because i don't love you#whether or not my personal favorite (steph) is going to be included is a matter of debate#on one hand i don't think she's that deranged#but on the other#her and tim are kind of nightmare twins y'know#hmmm much to consider#personal#anon ask
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Phantom Pains | III
Fandom: ACOTAR
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2.7k
Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.
|| Previous Part | Next Part (wip) | Masterlist ||
All Azriel ever wanted was to keep you safe. From the moment he first saw you, he knew you were something precious, something to be protected. Convinced he knew best how, he kept you away from the inner court, away from the side of himself he was afraid you would turn from in fear. His hubris and shame kept you away from the people who could protect you while he was gone.
Cas and Mor had wanted to be introduced to you years ago, before things were even official between the two of you. Afraid it would only put a target on your back, he let himself pretend it was better for you to never cross paths with that part of his life.
After the war, he started to let his guard down. Mor would commission gowns from you, both supporting you and building a professional relationship as a compromise to respect Azriel's boundaries. When he eventually decided it was time to officially introduce you to everyone, he went to Feyre first, thinking it would be easiest for you to connect artist-to-artist rather than let one of the others completely overwhelm you. She was happy to agree, and excited at the prospect of helping ease you into their family. When she finally got her dress, it brought your little shop more attention than you'd had since coming to own it. The way your face lit up when you told him about having to hire someone to help you out helped reassure him that he'd made the right choice. He wanted nothing more than to introduce you to the rest of his loved ones, knowing they'd love you almost as much as he did.
It was obvious to them all how much you meant to Azriel.
It was obvious to everyone who knew who he was that you were the Spymaster's weakness.
That was his mistake; growing too comfortable with the bubble of peace that had existed undisturbed around the two of you. When he was with you, he let himself imagine he was someone else, someone with less blood on his hands.
He never should have forgotten, never should have let his guard down. It didn't matter how many times he'd been able to walk you home with no issue— every moment you were seen with him was a public admittance that you were important to him. Azriel could never be a normal illyrian, never act like it was possible to separate the parts of himself. Every waking moment he was the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster. His love for you didn't keep you safe, it only made you a target. Everything he did to put a smile on your face made it that much easier for others to hurt you.
——
Azriel is on his way back from his mission when Rhysand gets in contact with him.
Come home, he says. Now.
He tries to ask questions. Anxiety swirls in the pit of his stomach as he flies, any response met with a resounding silence.
The mission had been underwhelming, the intel he'd gotten no more than cold tracks leading straight to a dead end. Whispers of rebellion, more faeries foolish enough to act out against Rhysand moreso because of what he is than what he's done. There was nothing when he'd gotten there, just a long-abandoned camp that left no clues behind. His shadows couldn't find anything either, returning just to whisper confusion in his ear. While he was ready to call it and go home, he didn't feel right dropping the thread without seeing where it might really end. After a week of searching, he felt like he'd been run in circles, and told Rhysand he was coming back to Velaris empty-handed. It seemed to be a routine the past year, a lot of low-effort surveillance that seemed to result in nothing.
Not even a souvenir? He'd joked.
He wasn't joking now.
Azriel lands on the balcony of the Town House. If it were official Court business, Rhysand would be in the House of Wind. But the Town House? This was family business. He opened the doors swiftly, some of his shadows immediately fanning out to sweep the residence.
"Az," Cassian calls, voice tight and shoulders tensed as he practically marches towards him.
"What's going on?" He asks in response, scanning the room. The atmosphere of the house is low, and it has all of his senses on high alert. "Is everyone okay?"
Shadows curl at his neck, overloading him with information. He winces, unable to sift through it all at once. They're panicked, some moving around the room so fast they're knocking chairs into the table and toppling over vases. The noise draws another person into the room as Cassian steadies him by his shoulders.
Room, he can barely make out in their desperate jumble of cries. Your room, your room. Five in house. Three in room. High Lord, doctor, sw—
"Azriel!" Mor cries, ducking around Cassian's wings to help hold him straight as his shadows continue their barrage of information, nearly knocking him off his feet in their haste.
Five in house. Three in room.
"Mor, grab a chair before they knock him down—" High lord.
"We don't have time—" Doctor.
"—just get Rhys—" Sweetheart.
Silence falls over the room as his shadows still in a single breath. His wide eyes meet Cassian's, flicker over to Mor's distressed, tear-streaked face, and the pieces fall into place.
"Y/N?" he breathes, terror gripping his chest.
Hands reach for him once more, mouths opening in explanation, but as his knees buckle, the light is sucked out of the room in an instant, and he's gone.
——
"Now," you say, making a few final adjustments to the garment in front of you. "There's still some work to be done, mostly alterations, but it will absolutely be done in time for the party."
The woman behind you is absolutely giddy, facing away until you give the word.
"Before we get started on all that, I know you mentioned you wanted a draping that was loose and flowy, but I was worried the fabric might snag on your jewelry." You explain. "So It's still a loose drape, but a little less than what I first showed you when we were picking out fabrics."
She lets out an impressed 'ooo' as you explain. "That's so smart; I can't wear my chunky bracelets with half my dresses. My lady, I defer to your judgment."
Letting out a laugh, you fluff out the skirt in preparation for its presentation. "Okay! Now, three, two—"
"—one!" Mor cuts off, spinning around to see the dress. Her hands fly up to her mouth as she bounces on her feet. "Yes, yes! Oh, Y/N, it's even better than I imagined."
Pride wells up in your chest as she moves closer to see the gown, but a wave of confusion washes over you as you sway slightly on your feet. She… liked the dress? No. No, she didn't like the dress. This isn’t what happened. Your head spins as you watch Mor fuss over the skirt, playing with the fabric to have the gemstones on the inner layers catch on the light like stars.
You ran out of that fabric. There wasn't enough left for a full skirt, so you had to go without it. You stumble backwards towards the wall, but nothing catches you. Panic grips your throat as you float weightlessly, and everything is drowned in black.
It's okay, a voice whispers in your mind. You're alright. I need to see what memories they locked away so I can figure out what they were looking for.
Memories… that was a memory? But that didn't happen. You try to close your eyes tightly against the darkness, but you feel nothing. Light floods your vision, and suddenly you're sitting on your couch alone.
"Hello?" You call, voice shaking. "Who's there?"
"I suppose an explanation is in order, now that you're here." The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once, until an unfamiliar faerie steps out of the shadows with his hands raised.
You stand unsteadily as he moves closer.
"My name is Rhysand, though you can just call me Rhys," he says.
"While I wish the circumstances were better, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N."
"Rhysand…" you mutter, feeling feint. "Azriel's brother?"
A fond expression crosses his face. "Not typically the first title that comes to mind for people, but I must admit it's refreshing."
The couch behind you seems to beckon you once more, and he has no objections when you sit back down. "What's going on?"
"I thought this might be easier to digest." A chair you certainly don't own appears on the other side of the coffee table for him to take a seat. "We're in your head right now. I can't say I've ever tried something like this, but I quite like it. Although I believe your mind may be doing most of the heavy lifting, so we don't have much time."
Holding your hands out, your flip them over as you curl your fingers. Everything has a bit of a smoky quality to it, like it would all disappear with a gust of wind, and feels the same sluggish consistency as your shadows.
"What… happened?" Quiet as your voice is, he seems to hear you perfectly well.
His gaze is pained when you look back up at him, eyebrows pinched as he tries to explain. "From what I can tell, someone has gotten access to your mind, and had been taking and altering your memories. I don't know for what purpose, so I've been trying to see what they've hidden to try and figure it out. Do you know when this may have started?"
The answer comes to you immediately, the incident having weighed on your mind since it happened. "I lost a few hours a little over a month ago. Azriel found me standing in the street."
Something passes over his face, and the moment of silence that follows has dread building in your gut.
"Az spoke to me about that night," he says softly, almost slowly. It reminds you of that moment with Mor, before everything in your head exploded. He opens his mouth to speak once more, but his attention is snapped elsewhere. Looking to the side, his expression twists with confusion and anger. "Someone's trying to break through my wards. I'll be back soon; let your mind rest, and we'll continue once you've regained your strength."
"Wait—" you lurch forward, reaching for him, but you continue falling forward as everything you see dissipates.
Your existence feels lighter and lighter, until you feel nothing at all.
——
Azriel feels the wards fighting him, digging under his skin as his shadows slip through cracks that aren’t there. He’s never tried to travel within the house like this, never had need to, but with his shadows guiding him to you he had no complaints.
His room explodes with darkness as he finally lands on his feet, the sound of an older woman screaming in shock filling his ears before they all congregated around his bed. Looking around frantically, he took stock of the occupants of the room.
Madja stood by his dresser, hastily straightening bottles of medicines and salves that had been knocked askew by his arrival. By his bed, stepping back from the writhing mass of darkness, was Rhys, with a displeased expression.
“What happened?” he asks before the High Lord can speak.
Rhys sighs, rubbing between his brows as they pinch together. “Was that you, bursting through my wards?”
“Rhys,” Azriel hisses.
“You were right,” Rhys says, leveling him with a look that urged him to try and stay calm. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then, Az. But we can fix it, now.”
The ground seems to fall out from beneath his feet. Stumbling forward, the Spymaster catches himself on the foot of his bed, shadows curling up his arms.
“She’s had multiple memories locked away, and when Mor caught on…”
Azriel looks up at him, wanting him to finish but not wanting to hear the words.
“It was a Daemati.”
The breath leaves his lungs, and the illyrian curls in on himself at the jolt of pain that shoots through his chest. A steady hand grasps his shoulder, grounding him.
“She’s alright, now. I’ve shut them out of her head so they can’t do any further damage, but…” he trails off, as if it might ease the blow.
Azriel understands the implication loud and clear. “But they’ve already caused damage.” He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, taking deep breaths as Rhys sighs. The only sounds in the room are his breaths, the rustling of his sheets, and the near-silent clacking of Madja’s equipment. “How bad is it?”
Rhys’ hand twists on his shoulder as he moves to sit beside him on the bed. “She may have some residual issues with memory loss in the future. I didn’t get very far, but they’ve locked numerous memories away, most pertaining to interactions with you or Mor.”
The silence that follows is somehow more tense than the last, and when Azriel finally straightens back up to look at Rhys, the expression that greets him is pained.
“When I asked her when she began to have issues relating to her memory… she claimed that you found her standing in the street a little over a month ago.”
A month ago. Had you really been suffering for so long unnoticed that you’d lost so much time? Everything he’d just chalked up to stress about the customer influx, and you were missing three months worth of memories. What had they even left for you?
He turns to look over his shoulder at you, his shadows parting just enough for him to see you sleeping peacefully in his bed.
“I’m keeping her unconscious for now,” Rhys tells him. “It will give her mind time to rest and heal itself, so I don’t do more harm than good.” His hand squeezes his shoulder, turning his attention back to him. “With the depth and frequency of attack… they have to be somewhere in the city, Az. Somewhere close to her.”
His fists clench tightly in his sheets, a low-bubbling rage festering in his gut. “Someone in Velaris did this?”
“We opened our gates to Hewn city,” Mor calls from the doorway. The two turn to look at her, a heavy weight settling upon the room at her words. “We should start with any frequent visitors, see who spends a lot of time in her part of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.”
“The intel we’ve been getting,” Azriel says, voice raspy. “Almost a year of nothing.”
Rhys answers with a dawning dread. “Someone wanted you out of the city. Away from her.”
He shares a look with Mor as Azriel stands from his bed and storms out of his room, half of his shadows rushing after him.
——
Cassian is downstairs to meet him at the door. “Don—“
“Move, Cas,” he snarls, stopping in front of him.
“Think, Az. If you go tearing through the streets of Velaris—“ an attempt to shoulder past him is stopped with a hard shove, “—they’ll be in the wind before you can find them.”
The two have their stand-off, Azriel’s siphons beginning to burn as Mor makes it back downstairs, Rhys close behind.
“You’re needed here, Az.” She’s met with a glare, hazel eyes dark. “Don’t give me that. You know we need to narrow our search down so they don’t see us coming.”
Rhys steps forward with a subtle tilt of his head. Azriel’s gaze snaps towards him, brow cocking as he waits for a third iteration of the same argument. “Y/N needs you here, with her.”
Silence falls between them, a battle of wills crackling the air around them. Darkness creeps up his legs, his torso, curling around his neck to voice their deliberation.
Sweetheart, they say. Alone, hurt, with us, safe, sweetheart, safe.
He closes his eyes with a heavy, weary sigh, shoulders dropping and siphons fading. A heavy hand lands on his shoulder from behind.
“We’ll find the son of a bitch who did this,” Cassian promises. “And then they’re all yours.”
He opens his eyes for a moment, searching for deep blue. Rhys’ gaze meets his, darkening as he nods his confirmation.
“You’d do the same for me, brother,” he says. In a moment unshared with the others, the rest goes unspoken.
If it were Feyre lying there. If it were my mate instead.
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Here I am falling into my old dialogue-heavy traps! I was going to queue this for tomorrow but I got too excited lmao
TAGLIST (comment or message to be added/removed)
@pellucid-constellations @horneybeach1 @hyemishii @brujitafantomatico @batlokiuniverse
#acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#acotar x reader#acotar fic#a court of thorns and roses#arlathavellan: fanwork#arlathavellan: acotar#arlathavellan: phantom pains
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[task force 141] As dads
Kyle is the ultimate girl dad. The kind of dad who takes his daughter out for brunch every Sunday, just the two of them, and every now and again, invites her to a fancy restaurant where she gets to dress up in her prettiest dresses and twirl around like a princess. He never misses a tea party, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by stuffed animals while sipping pretend tea, and declaring apple juice to be the finest drink he's ever had. His nails are often painted in vibrant shades, matching hers, and more often than not, there's a subtle shimmer of glitter on his eyelids, a leftover from their last impromptu makeup session. He embraces every bit of it with a smile that says he wouldn't trade these moments for the world. He's the kind of dad who is all in, a girl's dad through and through.
Johnny is the proud father of two sons who are, in every way, his spitting image. They have the same mischievous twinkle in their eyes and the same wide smiles that break out just before they get into some trouble with their dad. Whether they're outside tossing a ball around, racing bikes, tackling each other on the grass, or roughhousing indoors, Johnny is right there with them, tossing them into the air or launching them onto the bed while they squeal with delight. Together, they're a trio of troublemakers, always in sync with an unshakable bond.
John’s daughter is his mini-me in every sense when it comes to personality. She's a serious little girl with a sharp wit and a big voice. She is never afraid to speak her mind. When adults try to fawn over how cute she is, she doesn’t hesitate to set them straight, demanding respect with a confidence far beyond her years. In John’s office, she has her own designated corner, a small space where she can "work" alongside her dad. While John has a glass of whiskey on his desk, his daughter insists on sipping apple juice from the same kind of heavy, old-fashioned glass. She won’t settle for anything else. She mirrors his no-nonsense approach to life, and it's clear she’s every bit her father’s daughter. And John couldn't be prouder.
Simon’s child, whether a boy or a girl, is the version of him that might have existed if he'd grown up in a normal, safe, and loving home. The child is quiet, thoughtful, and kind, with a natural instinct to protect, but without the scars and rough edges Simon carries. Their gentle spirit is a reflection of what Simon could have been if life had been kinder to him. Simon’s love for his child is like a rainy Sunday afternoon; outside, it might be cold and grey, but inside, it’s all warmth and comfort. The cozy embrace of a soft sofa, a warm blanket, and tea brewing in the background. Everything feels safe, peaceful, and right. His love wraps around his child like a blanket, offering comfort and security. And most importantly, his kid never, not even for a moment, questions their place in Simon's heart. They know, without a doubt, that they are the center of his world, the light that cuts through any darkness he’s ever known.
#cod imagine#call of duty imagine#task force 141 imagine#kyle garrick imagine#johnny mactavish imagine#john price imagine#simon riley imagine#gaz imagine#soap imagine#price imagine#ghost imagine
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Nobody Pt. 7
(C.Sturniolo X Reader)
Summary:
Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places
Word Count: 1,255
TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited
A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.
if I missed something, please let me know
-Madi <3
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“”“”“”“”“”
“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”
“who said I was pretending?”
I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.
“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”
I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.
“”“”“”“”“”
The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.
Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-
Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.
He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.
“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”
I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”
He meant it.
I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…
But here we are.
“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”
He’s rambling, I love it.
I love him.
“”“”“”“”“”
it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.
It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.
It’s always the same:
-It starts with tossing and turning
-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)
-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake
-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.
He doesn’t have to.
I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.
I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.
I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.
“”“”“”“”“”
The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.
“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.
he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.
I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.
“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”
“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.
“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.
“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.
“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”
“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.
“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”
“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.
“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.
“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”
I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.
“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.
Then I’m crying.
And Matt is holding me while we both cry.
“”“”“”“”“”
@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi
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Family Dinner. Yan! Slender x Reader. CW; Controlling relationship, Slender is a dick, small allusions to physical harm, normal yandere behaviors and content.
You can’t breathe.
When he stares at you like that, irritation swirling around him, the anger seeping out of him in physical waves, you can’t breathe. He doesn’t even have to touch you to choke you, so suffocate you, and tears are brimming out of your eyes against your own will. Pretending to be strong won’t work on him, as much as you want to try sometimes.
“What are you wearing?” His words are filled with venom, and it takes every fiber of being to hold back the cry that wants to escape from you.
“I- I- I just wanted-“ You try to answer him, but he cuts you off quickly.
“I didn’t ask what you wanted. I prepared this expensive, tailored outfit just for you to wear tonight to finally meet my family because they won’t stop pestering me about it, and you do this? You wear something so— ragged?” He gestures to the clothes you’re wearing, clothes you’ve had for a very long time, clothes you normally feel comfortable and safe in, however, not anymore.
“I just… That outfit is so tight. It’s uncomfortable. I wanted to be comfortable when meeting them.” It takes you a long time to force the words out, and your voice is barely a whisper. He steps forward, towering over you, and he forces you to look up at him, gripping your cheeks painfully as he yanks your face upward.
“I did not ask you what you wanted. I picked this outfit myself, for you to wear, to make a good impression. I give you this house, I give you these clothes, I give you any fucking thing you ask for, and all I ask in return is that you obey me and at the very least pretend to love me. I don’t think I’m asking for too much, so why don’t you stop acting like a brat, and do as you’re told for once?” His words cut deep, and it takes you every remaining ounce of remaining control to not fight back because you know it will only make things worse.
You do follow his orders, you do everything he asks of you, and you never fucking complain about any of it. You have never outwardly complained about any of this goddamn bullshit since the moment the devil before you decided to steal your soul. You hold the right to bitch about him in your mind, and he cannot take that away from you. If he chooses to listen to those thoughts it’s his own damn problem as far as you’re concerned. You take a deep breath, clench and release your fists a few times, and you stare right back at him.
“You told me, when you first brought me here, I hold the right to negotiation.” You stare him, dead in the face, and he clenches his jaw, but he does not make a rebuttal. “This dinner is far more important to you. Your family is unaware of the way you treat me, and I know better than anyone that you want it to stay that way. If you want me to be a polite, well-behaved Darling, you will allow me to dress comfortably. It does not have to be this outfit, but I will not be choked and corseted by the outfit you have chosen. You may choose a selection of other outfits, but I get to pick one, and I will behave the rest of the night. I will put on whatever act I need to for them to believe I am happy here, but I will be comfortable while doing so.”
You nearly choke at the end of your words, trying to resist shaking as he stares you down. He could agree, or he could do any number of other things. He could slap you, lock you in your room again and forbid you from leaving, he could scream at you until your ears are ringing and your head is throbbing if he wanted to. After all, what you’ve just done is a direct act of defiance. But he doesn’t.
“…Fine.” His response is said spitefully, and if he had eyes one of them would probably be twitching.
He releases you with a flick of his wrist, your head flipping to the side, but he chooses much more reasonable outfits for you to wear, and you easily select one. He leaves you to get dressed in peace, and you do so quickly. You were lucky tonight. There have been previous nights where he’d rip your clothes off of you, sparing you no dignity, and force you into whatever outfit he wanted you to wear. Tonight, however, most likely spurred on by his need to appear normal to his family, he allowed you to win. Your win will be temporary overall, but it makes your chest fill with a small amount of pride. When you open the door to your room, he’s standing outside waiting for you, arms crossed, looming irritably.
“We leave in five minutes. Get your shoes on and be by the front door in less than that.” He goes to turn to leave, but instead bends down and puts his face beside your ear.
“Do not get used to defying me, Darling,” his tone could make you sick with how saccharinely venomous it is, “for it will not always turn out the way you want it to. Behave like this again on the next night you must meet someone important, and you will meet your consequences.” You feel as though he could have stabbed you from the way his words sink into you, but before you can respond he’s gone, evaporated into thin air as he teleported away from you.
The pride previously filling up your chest is now gone, and you wish you could just melt into a puddle on the floor instead of attending this family dinner. Any thoughts of asking for help don’t even appear in your mind, because after all… No matter the consequences, he would probably kill you, or his family, on the spot.
You feel like the more likely option is his family. He promised you, beyond everything, that you’d never get away from him, even in death.
#yandere#creepypasta yandere#yandere slenderman#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanons#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta scenario#creepypasta scenarios#creepypasta x reader#slenderman scenario#slenderman#slenderman headcanons#slenderman headcanon#slenderman x reader
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