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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 months ago

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Not Afraid Of A Little Blood (Human Alastor x Reader)

CW: Public sex, period sex, vaginal fingering, licking fingers clean Rating: Adult Summary: Out at Mimzy's Speakeasy for a night on the town, Alastor finds himself feeling rather amorous and isn't swayed by your monthly condition or the public nature of the location. You find your will crumbles as he shows he's simply not a man who's afraid of a little blood.

You loved the nights when Alastor spirited you away from your family home in the late evenings, when you should already be asleep. Your family did not approve of the older man, regulating your relationship to one that existed largely in secret.

There was no place you wanted to be but in Alastor’s arms. It felt like home. As he flung you around the dance floor, lively jazz running through your blood like electricity, the dull ache of your cramps was easy enough to ignore.

Alastor’s hands wrapped around your waist, holding you to him as you laughed together, though you didn’t remember the joke. With him, you could forget everything. That was the magic of Alastor. He chased away every worry and demon.

You hadn’t realized that he was chasing you or that you were fleeing from him until your back hit the wooden wall at the back of the speakeasy. Light struggled to reach the back of the room, but the music had no issue at all. Deep shadows swallowed Alastor as he leaned down, lips sealing over yours in a hungry kiss.

He tasted you eagerly, pushing into you as he trapped you into the shadows. The scent of tobacco smoke and the earthy scent of the bayou clung to him. Strong hands gripped your hips, clinging to you, greedily running over curves. The ghost of his thumb on the underside of your breast made you gasp.

He took that chance to slip his tongue between your lips, deepening the kiss. The taste of whiskey coated your tongue, filling your senses as you clung to him. Roaming hands ran down your sides, seeking and seeking until he hooked your leg just above the knee. He pulled it up, resting your thigh against his hip.

Greedy touches took into the feeling of your skin under his hands, roaming and exploring. Your hands slip under his jacket. Strong, lean muscles flex and bunch under your touch as you try to map the landscape that lay hidden under the cotton shirt.

Fingers went higher and higher, chasing the soft feeling of you. Your back arched, lost in the feeling of being touched by him.

“Alastor,” you moaned his name, clinging to him as if he would somehow keep you from drowning in the sensation of him,.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered as his fingers caressed closer and closer to your core.

“Wait-” The suddenness of your word, clear of the passion and lust froze his hand in place.

“What is it?” Alastor asked. “No one can see us, I promise.”

“It’s- It’s not that,” you whispered. “I’m… I’m on my…”

“Oh,” Alastor said, fingers flexing into the fat of your thigh. “I don’t mind.”

“What do you…?!” you gasp as his fingers caress higher and higher along your inner thigh, fingers finding the place where the pad was held against your body. “Alastor!”

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” Alastor’s voice was a warm purr as he ran his fingertip along the side of your folds. “Did you know it can make a lady’s monthly pains ease, if she’s had pleasure?”

“What?” your voice wavered, coming weak as he reached pushed the pad to the side, making use of what little slack the belt that held it in place allowed. It was a thinner pad, being early in your cycle yet, and it easily folded in on itself as he forced it to the side.

“Let me ensure you’ve got no reason to be feeling any pains?” Alastor asked, though the question sounded far from a request.

It sounded like he knew you’d agree. In truth, you struggled to deny Alastor anything at all. He owned your heart and soul. What harm was there in giving him your body, too?

“We can’t,” you whispered even as you ran your leg higher up his hip, opening yourself up to his hand just a little more.

“We can,” he whispered in your ear, tongue sliding out from between his lips and running along the shell of your ear. “Do you trust me?”

Lips worked their way down your neck, leaving a trail of stinging nips soothed by soft kisses. “I do,” you said, struggling to breathe.

Alastor wasted no time letting his fingers slip between your folds. You gasped as his fingers ran along your slit, circling over your clit. He repeated the motion again and again as your back arched, pushing your breasts into him. The dampness left from your cycle’s bleeding was quickly replaced with the slippery slick that spoke clearly of your arousal.

“You’re so responsive,” Alastor groaned in your ear as his finger worked into your tight hole.

The moan that fell from your lips was rich but unfortunately loud, leaving Alastor the choice to either withdraw his finger from you or silence you somehow. Without any hesitation, Alastor kissed you deeply as he pushed a second finger into you, swallowing the hot sound of your desire.

Again and again he stroked you from the inside, drawing pleasure you hardly could understand from you. The flat of his palm worked over your clit with each thrust of his hand, sparking more sensations.

“Alastor,” you whimpered as he took control of your body.

“You sound so pretty,” he groaned as his hips flexed, pushing his hand harder into you. “I need you, cher.”

Fingers left your core, leaving you feeling empty. It was a challenge to think too deeply about that with the way his lips moved over your skin. Soon, that feeling was gone too, leaving you no choice but to blink your eyes open.

Alastor’s hand lingered in front of your face, fingers shiny with the slick he had worked up from within your body. Unlike all the other times he had helped himself to the warmth of your core, you could see the dark smears and streaks, thicker in some places than others, that told you your blood coated his fingers.

“I am so sor—” your eyes went wide as Alastor brought his fingers to his lips.

The sight of his shiny tongue slipping from between his lips stopped the flow of your words. Greedily, he ran his tongue over each digit. Each pass of his tongue was a curling caress you couldn’t look away from.

Shamelessly, he licked his fingers clean. He seemed not bothered in the slightest by the bloody tinge to the slick. Surely he could taste it, couldn’t he?

“You taste as good as ever,” Alastor mumbled as he pulled his fingers from his lips,

It was only then that you realized he wasn’t touching you in that moment. Just as you realized that, he was touching you again in a whole new way.

The velvety soft skin of his cock ran up and down your slit, pushed out through the fly of his pants. You hadn’t noticed the sound of him undoing his pants, let alone the shifting he would have had to have done to free himself, too entrapped by the sight of him licking his fingers free of your bloody slick.

The music changed as the band ended one song and picked up another, reminding you that you were very much in public.

“Alastor, put that away,” you hissed. “Someone will see.”

“They’ll think we’re young lovers necking in the back,” he insisted, voice thick with desire. “I need to be inside of you.”

“I’m on my cycle,”

He cut you off. “I don’t care. I need you, need to be inside you so bad.”

“We’re in public.” The head of his cock nudged your sensitive clit, pulling a needy whine from your throat. Alluring kisses peppered your jaw, working along your neck as he teased you.

The touches of his cock against your folds were just light enough that he could say they were innocent, that he wasn’t trying to wear your resolve down. He just hadn’t gotten around to tucking himself away and as a result, as he kissed you, he slipped between your slick folds. Each innocent nudge and caress of his cock coated him in more bloody slick.

You moaned into his neck as he pushed forward, the shaft of his cock running through your slick folds. Fingers dug into your thigh as he hiked your thigh up again, using you as a shield against prying eyes.

“Alastor.” This time, his name left your lips not in protest but in a wanton moan that brought a smile to the lips that kissed your neck.

“You want me?” he whispered, lips kissing the collum of your neck as he spoke.

“I do,” you whined as his large hand slid forward, cupping your breasts through your beaded dress. “Fuck, Alastor. We’re going to get in so much trouble.”

“We won’t get caught,” Alastor reached between your bodies, grabbing his shaft with one hand and lifting your hips with the other, pulling you slightly off your freet.

The tip of his cock ran along your folds as you wrapped your leg around his, ankle resting on his calf. The delicious stretch of his cock pushing into you was all-encompassing. It was a battle to hold your head up, a battle you lost.

Alastor’s wet tongue ran up your exposed neck, tracing the line of muscles as he inched deeper and deeper inside you. The vibration of your soft moan was the greatest treat, felt but unheard as he slowly bottomed out.

“Hold on to me,” Alastor directed, hand digging into your thigh as he wrapped his other arm around the small of your back.

You did as he said, running fingers through the fluffy brown hair that was oh so close to curly that topped his head. He changed the angle of your hips, letting you sink deeper down his cock before he pulled out. Your weight was nothing to him as he held you in place.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Alastor said thickly, looking down at his cock, a bridge between your body and his in the dim room. Light reflected off of his slick covered shaft, ribbons of red covering him. “So beautiful painting me red,” Alastor said, sinking slowly into you again.

The pace was slow, more of a rocking of his hips as he stirred your insides with his cock. Deep gasping huffs of air passed between you as flushed face met flushed face. You could drown in the deep wells of love and affection you saw reflected within Alastor’s eyes.

The feeling of his cock in you was addicting. Nothing ever made you feel as full as he did. His large hands kept you grounded as he slowly worked his length out of you only to slide right back home in one easy thrust.

Alastor had to swallow, working to keep his throat open and wheezing breath from becoming a rich moan. Your eyes watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. It was daring you to lean forward and put your lips against it. Who were you to back down from a dare?

The salty taste of his skin coated your tongue as you placed open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin. The ghost of stubble scraped at your lips as you worked up his jaw, muffling your moans as he slowly thrust into you again and again.

“Cher,” he groaned as you nipped at his neck, just under his jaw. “So warm.”

“So big,” you whispered back, tongue tasting the sweat that formed on his skin. “You’re so big.”

His thrusts picked up pace, no longer the subtle rocking of hips as he worked in and out of you. The sound of the music covered the soft tump of your lower back hitting the wall he held you against. Breaths turned to airy moans as he fucked into you harder, faster. Each thrust bullied through your walls, the head of his cock reaching every part of you.

“Feel so good,” Alastor whispered in your ear, resting his head against the wall behind you. “You’re made for me.”

“Please, Al- I’m so close.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck, clinging to him. Nails dug into the muscles of his back, feeling each flex of his shoulders as he fucked into you faster and faster.

“Can you-” he gasped as your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock. “Can you be quiet for me?”

“Please, Alastor,” you whined, so close. The coil in your core wound tight and threatening to snap. “Please.”

“You have to mind your voice,” he groaned as your walls fluttered, so close to your peak and threatening to pull him along with you. “If you want to finish, I need you to be quiet.”

“I’ll try,” you whispered, making a promise both you and Alastor knew was a lost cause.

It was too late for him to stop, anyway. Each thrust had you clenching and fluttering, walls pulling at him lightly as he worked his way in and out. He was chasing his own release now, pushing you closer and closer to yours. He watched as your body went ridged, only movement being the gasping breaths in your chest and your walls clamping down on him.

Leaning forward, he sealed his mouth over yours as your body twitched and convulse. The coil within you had snapped, taking your control and resolve with it. Deep moans and high-pitched whines bubbled up from your chest as he fucked you through your orgasm, his own hot in its heels.

Alastor swallowed every sound as his tongue worked into your mouth, caressing and exploring everything he could reach as his thrusts turned sloppy. It was his turn to moan deeply, letting you swallow the sound as he swelled and twitched. Hot white ropes of his seed shot into you, splashing your cervix and painting your walls as he rutted into you.

His body stilled as his cock twitched against your sensitive walls. Neither of you were sure where one began and the other ended as you clung to eachother. Even as deep breaths mingled, he continued to kiss you deeply for a few moments longer before pulling away.

“I love you,” he whispered his secret confession as his cock slipped from your hole.

“I love you, too,” you answered, numb legs finding the ground as he let you down. You watched as he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping his fly. That did nothing to hide the smears of slick on the front of his pants.

“You should go clean up,” Alastor said, leaning forward to straighten the skirt of your dress as he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

You nodded, walking on trembling legs. Over your shoulder, you watched Alastor pull his shirt from his pants, letting the fabric fall over his hips. Such a thing would look sloppy, something that would drive your lover mad, but it was better than wearing the mark of your bloody slick.

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yiichan · 17 days ago

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KYII'ᔕ TᕼOᑌGᕼTᔕ Oᖴ TᕼE ᗪᗩY 🌷💌 — ANGST

IMAGINE — friends!95line x gn!you.

WARNINGS — hanahaki au, vomiting,/puking, blood.

WRITER'S NOTES — since i got no time to write again here is some scenarios lol. and also let's have a break from NSFW guys please you're flooding my requests when i said that it's full ):

speical mention — @sousydive

back | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

YOU had a crush on Seungcheol for a very long time. You had been childhood best friends, attending the same schools together throughout your lives. You were there during his most vulnerable moments as well as his proudest achievements. Over time, Jeonghan and Joshua joined your little group, making it complete.

Jeonghan was like the Loki of your group, always coming up with sneaky ideas. Most of his shenanigans got the four of you in trouble, but you never once regretted them.

Joshua, on the other hand, was the calm one. He often watched as chaos unfolded (most of the time, it was between you and Seungcheol), occasionally deciding to join in. In those rare moments, you found yourself enjoying a different, more playful side of Joshua.

As you grew older, you began to realize your feelings for Seungcheol. Through all the time you’d spent together, you had fallen deeply in love with him. But on the day you finally gathered the courage to confess your feelings, fate had other plans.

Seungcheol confessed to you first—he was in love with Jeonghan.

You could only swallow your words as Seungcheol confided in you, sharing his feelings. A dull pain spread through your chest as you listened. When he asked for your support, you gave it without hesitation, even though it hurt.

Before long, the two of them started dating. You teased them alongside Joshua, masking the ache in your heart with laughter. But no matter how much you smiled, the pain lingered.

Then, one day, you noticed something strange. You began coughing up petals.

At first, you dismissed it. But as time went on, the pain in your chest grew more intense, and more petals emerged from your throat. You hid your condition from your friends, pretending everything was fine—when, in reality, it was anything but.

When the four of you graduated from high school, you made the excuse of wanting to study abroad. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua saw you off at the airport, and as your plane departed, you couldn’t help but feel a whirlwind of heartbreak, loss, and relief.

The separation helped, at least for a while. You avoided any news about Seungcheol and Jeonghan, choosing to text Joshua only when absolutely necessary. Over time, your condition seemed to improve; the frequency of petals appearing dwindled. Though you still coughed them up occasionally, you believed you were getting better.

But then Joshua sent you a wedding invitation—for Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

The moment you saw the invitation, a wave of nausea overwhelmed you. Your phone slipped from your hand as you rushed to the bathroom. The retching was violent, your chest engulfed in excruciating pain.

Petals spilled from your mouth once again, now stained with vomit and streaked with blood.

You felt pathetic as you collapsed onto the cold tiles of your bathroom, clutching your chest. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

You were dying.

When you boarded the plane back to Seoul, you knew there would be no return for you.

At their wedding hall, you appeared thinner and sicker than Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua remembered. You approached your old friends with a brave smile, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes as you congratulated him and Jeonghan on their marriage. You also apologized for the long silence and loss of contact.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Seungcheol remarked, his hand brushing against yours. You discreetly recoiled from his touch, keeping a light smile on your face.

“I wasn’t really used to the food overseas, and work’s been overwhelming,” you replied simply.

Jeonghan pouted, his hand coming up to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said with concern.

You managed another faint smile, but the familiar metallic tang rose in your throat. You excused yourself quickly, slipping away to the bathroom.

In the first empty cubicle you could find, you fell to your knees and retched violently. Blood and petals spilled into the porcelain bowl as you clutched your chest, the pain tearing through you.

A warm hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you mid-breath. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as you slowly turned to look behind you.

Joshua stood there, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock as they darted between you and the mess in the toilet.

“You...” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What’s going on? What's happening to you?"

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jiminiecrickets · 7 months ago

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HEAVEN'S SHEATH. KTH / M!READER

summary. a wealthy lord's pacifist son finds friendship and affection in a poor soldier, unremarkable except for the fact that he is the lone survivor of a massacre. fate has different plans for them.

wc. 10k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, virgin!reader with a big dick (lol), reader is described as tall/strong, descriptions of blood/injuries/death, sex while injured (reader), riding, multiple orgasms, 2/3rds is only worldbuilding oops im just like that!!

a cloud of dust billows beneath the heavy black hooves of a friesian stallion, sturdy and strong-chested. the well-travelled dirt path swings over rolling green knolls, past flocks of white sheep herded into valleys and heavy brown cows grazing along the hillside. the untouched countryside is marked by clusters of tall green trees along the road and they shade the large river snaking through the vale.

amongst the verdant growth, throned between the river and the hills, lies a large manor built strong with stone and brick. other buildings lay scattered around its feet, and life is most evident here – servants hurry about, ushering goats into their wooden pens and their young ones out of the way of the black horse's brisk high trot. the little children stare with big eyes up at the regal stallion's wavy mane, watching how it falls softly over its long neck with each step. it is a horse that carries great presence and elegance, and its rider is no different.

at the manor's grand front entrance, an older man stands in wait, both hands resting on a cane tipped at both ends with gold. his hair is almost fully grey. his steely eyes track the horse and the dust and pollen dirtying its fine feathering on the lower legs.

"you've been sorely missed, son," he says in an unreadable tone, light enough for politeness but darkened by his heavy gaze. "does wartime make for a better view?"

the rider dismounts, hushing the horse as it snorts and tosses its head, hooves stamping. it yearns for the freedom of the run. he pets its soft mane. his voice is deep and monotone with disinterest. "certainly. it's quieter."

the man's eyes narrow. "you left all the kitchen girls alone, who i know you've a fondness for. you should be at home to protect them, taehyung, not gallivanting off to paint your pictures."

silently, taehyung passes off the reins to the stablehand, and turns to stare up at his father from the bottom of the steps. he tugs off his kid-leather riding gloves and places them in the pocket of his navy blue coat. "what do i know of war and fighting? you were the general, not i. i'd say you are much better suited to protecting these frail women from suffering under the hands of conquerors."

"you are the son of a general," he replies sharply. "the youth must carry on what their fathers forged."

"hate and subjugation, of course," taehyung sighs, shifting his bag of paints in one arm and his canvas in another. "humanity's pinnacle."

"stay your wit, boy. you'll find no friends with it."

he slips past him through the open doors of the manor, his paints clinking in its leather saddlebag. "yes, my lord."

upstairs in a large, sunlit room, he sets it all down with a soft huff. he glances around at the canvases lining the walls, leaning against cupboards and drawers full of paint thinners and varnishes. portraits of one woman dominate most of them – slender, pale, with dark hair, full lips, and a soft curving nose. in some, she sits primly on a chair amongst vases of flowers and goblets of wine, and in others, on chaises in simple dresses with a needle and thread in her hands, glowing with the early summer light blooming behind her.

these are the ones hung up or placed atop chests of drawers. not one touches the ground – that place, on the edge between floor and wall, is reserved for simpler landscapes and still lifes.

"i remember i told you to take down those portraits. do you find joy in antagonising me?"

taehyung turns. his father stands on the threshold, cane by his side. after he returned from the last war with a limp and new scars, he has not worn any other colour but black.

he turns back to his saddlebags, indifferent as he slowly pulls his paints and brushes one at a time from the bag. "no. i find no joy in speaking to you at all."

his father's expression tightens. "i did not make her ill. it was chance and nature. your hatred of me will not bring her back, no matter how intense. it is time to move on, son. lingering on it breeds only worse things."

"'worse things'?" taehyung snaps, gripping a put of paint so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i am not one of your soldiers, so don't speak to me like one. i don't need your pragmatism, your war-bred heartlessness. all she wanted was you. all she asked for was you, and you never came."

he has had this argument many times over since that winter. it festers hot fury in his chest just thinking of it, and it has not burned dimmer with time.

he turns and approaches his father, eye-to-eye. he is not a boy anymore. he surveys him for a moment. "war may have reforged you, made you richer and cleverer, but it burned away all that she loved. you never once held her again, felt her breath on your cheek." taehyung brushes his knuckles over his jaw. he shakes his head and begins to walk down the hall. "don't touch those portraits."

back for only a few minutes and taehyung already cannot stand the solemn weight of the air within these walls. he pushes open the front doors with more force than necessary and wanders through the large, walled estate, stone brick encompassing the major centres of activity.

mindlessly, he travels past the cowherds and shepherds leading in the meat for supper, and the stablemaster tending to his friesian, and the beekeepers. he passes the wall and almost reaches the wheat farm.

hushed whispers float up from the riverbank. he stops in his tracks.

by the water, the girls and women who work with the granary from the farm are crowded around something on the bank. the linens of their dresses are dark with water up to their knees, where they hold it back.

he notices the expressions on the girls' faces – bright with nervousness and fear, but tinged with… curiosity? they whisper amongst themselves behind their hands.

he approaches, ducking under a branch of the oak they shelter beneath. "what is so interesting?"

they startle, several sets of eyes turning towards him. one of the older girls, about his age, drops into a fumbled curtsy. "oh, young master—! we weren't doing nothin' bad, sir, but we was hiding from the sun when we found something the lord sir might need know. we found 'im caught up on the root branches here."

him?

taehyung steps past her. his eyes widen.

a young soldier, skin tinged grey, lies on his back on the riverbank, the water lapping at his calves. his boots have come off somewhere in the water. he wears an unfamiliar uniform: a mixture of thick fabrics to stave off the cold adorned with a strangely-patterned leather jerkin.

it is a poor man's armour, he realises, made of what he can scrounge up and what fits from the garrison's armoury. despite his lack of wealth, taehyung can tell he is a big man – tall, strong in ways only a life of hard work can create. he is fair of face, too, handsomer than many young nobles taehyung has met. perhaps a blacksmith's apprentice, or a baker's boy?

"which… which army is he from, master taehyung? can you tell?"

the question awakens him from his daze. he blinks. "ah – bring him higher on the bank, get his legs out of the water. let me closer."

he crouches by the body, pulling at the heavy cloth draped over the torso. at the neck, where the cloth is bunched and rolled to pack in heat, he finds a small red patch.

taehyung sighs and presses the soaked cloth back into place. "this man is very, very far from home."

the girls glance at each other uncertainly. "what does that mean, master?"

"many years ago, his homeland was seized, and now his people are under southern rule. he was an infantryman. simple cannon fodder." with a soft exhale, he leans over the torso and pulls him onto his side to reach the lashes holding together his water-heavy coat. "perhaps i can bury him someplace high, so that his soul may be reminded of home."

the body jerks and chokes out a lungful of water with a ragged groan.

the girls yelp, stumbling back. taehyung would have had he not already been on his knees. his eyes widen as the soldier's face pinches in pain, eyes still shut. taehyung reaches for the oldest girl, gesturing frantically towards the manor on the horizon. "find my father and tell him what you've found! you've my permission to leave the farm and all of that – he's alive!"

—

it is dark. everything hurts. this is hell – this is punishment, eternal and unforgiving. this is deserved for desertion.

then – light. light rings against bone and flesh.

velvet. mahogany. silk and down.

there is a girl beside you, leaning over you. her linen dress is plain but clean with a white apron over it.

your side explodes with pain. you launch upright with a violent shout, gasping and clutching the hot ache under your ribs. cries of shock throb in your skull.

you blink, hard, eyes adjusting dizzily to the brightness of the room. your torso is wrapped in cloth, which you can feel flat and taut against your skin. your hand comes away clean, and for several unthinking moments, you wonder why. your thoughts are slow and heavy.

"you ought to relax, master," echoes a soft voice beside you. her vowels are round and elongated, the accent so different from your own that you barely recognise it, much less understand it. you stare up unseeingly at her youthful face, framed by dark curls held back by a bonnet. she steps forward, a damp sponge in her hand. that is why your limbs feel cold. "your injuries are quite severe."

"where am i?" you mumble, your tongue thick in your mouth. words are unfamiliar. "who're you?"

she glances up at the other maids, huddling by the door. she sets down the sponge and extends a hand, though you flinch from it. she does not try again. "you are in the northern highlands. hadria. my name is aemma."

"aemma," you murmur. the sounds are soft and round, like a river pebble. like a river, you realise, you are damp and naked, save for a single sheet of folded cloth across your lap. you feel your face grow hot and you clutch it close, folding your legs towards your body for security. "m-may i – where are my clothes?"

aemma gestures for one of the other girls, who quickly scoops up a folded pile of clothes from atop the chest at the base of the lavish bed. the rest of the bedroom is similarly luxurious, with a dark palette that soaks up sunlight to warm its wood. the walls are pale, though framed by polished wooden frames embracing the room.

"here," she replies. "the lord father has gifted you some riding clothes to wear in their stead. they were to be given to the young master when he turned of age, but…" she pauses. she shakes her head and curtsies. "you're to meet the lord father and his son shortly. we were to inform them when you were to wake eventually."

"eventually…" you trail off. "how long have i been here?"

"two days, master."

your head begins to pound. you cradle it, wincing, and reach for the offered clothes. they are clean and soft under your callused fingertips. "ah… i'm no lord, miss."

aemma smiles briefly, folding her hands over her stomach. "the lord father requires it, master."

you have no heart to push. in fact, you would much rather lay down for another two days, though knowing you are under the roof of a lord churns up too much fear to do so. if northern men were anything like southern ones, you would do anything to keep your name clean.

"i'd like to dress," you say softly, glancing briefly at the maids watching you from the corner of the room. "alone, if the lasses would allow it."

with another curtsy, aemma ushers the other girls out of the room and closes the door after them. you do not miss how they sent you curious glances as they left. she now stands where they once were, watching you with badly-disguised intrigue.

you clear your throat and feel your cheeks and neck blaze, folding the cloth around your hips tighter. "i'm sorry. i meant entirely."

perhaps it is your imagination, but you think you spot a tinge of pink wash over her features. she finds sudden interest in the knots and grain of the floor. "the lord father instructed that you were not to be left alone in case you required immediate medical attention. you are evidently still in pain, so i must protest."

"ah." you swallow, and your mouth is dry. "p-perhaps… you could turn around, then?"

she glances up, as if to say something, but eventually nods, bobbing in a small curtsy before turning to face the wall.

as quickly as your aching body will allow, you shuffle off of the bed and dress yourself in finer clothes than you have ever worn before. the cloth is soft and sits finely against your skin like a baby's breath. you are so used to abrasive linens that you almost feel more naked than before.

"you found my boots."

aemma turns around – she almost regrets it, spying the last sliver of skin before white cloth falls over it like the pull of curtains. it is more titillating than seeing the entirety of you bare. "o-oh – yes, one of the servant boys found them downstream."

"ah, thank you. and my uniform, miss," you glance up at her, leaning heavily against the bed poster to slip on your boots, "do you know what happened to it?"

"they're with the hold's tailor. i heard it took quite the beating."

"that could be said," you mumble, straightening up at last. your side twinges with pain, but you attempt a smile. "well, s'pose it's time to meet your lord. i've got to thank my saviours."

it is just turning to twilight, and the hazy golden sun on the horizon feels like little more than a memory. candles light the path past gold-spun tapestries and gleaming windows. aemma leads you to a grand dining room, reminiscent of castles and times long gone. she halts by the entrance, curtsies to you, and hurries away without another word, which you find strange as she had been a pleasant conversationalist when helping you through the halls and down the stairs.

"the soldier awakens at last. how do you feel?"

you glance away from aemma's retreating figure. at the head of the long dining table is an older man with sharp eyes and a natural severity about him. seated beside him is a younger man, around your age, staring into his plate with his hands folded in his lap. you step forward cautiously, and a male servant pulls out a chair on the older man's other side. the lord gestures at it, watching you carefully.

"well, milord; thank you," you answer, taking a seat and quietly thanking the servant who readied it in the first place. he bows but does not otherwise acknowledge you, his gaze on the ground as he slinks back into the shadows of the dining room.

"you were asleep for quite some time. my son doubted you would live." he gestures to the young man across from you, whose romantic dark curls are loose over his forehead. "i am glad you are feeling strong enough to join us for supper. i trust that the girls took care of you?"

"yes, milord," you reply, glancing over the table almost longingly. you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. silver platters are laden heavy with dark ox roasts, honeyed lamb shanks, roasted salmon fillets, sausages and baked potatoes, and braised vegetable stews steaming hot. ruby wine is poured into silver goblets. you have never seen so much food at once in your life.

"the war has yet to touch us. we have plenty to share," the lord informs, his voice almost kind. "how long has it been since you have last eaten, soldier?"

your throat bobs before speaking. "ah… four days, maybe, including my time spent here."

the man's brow arches. "your general did not feed you before battle?"

"no, milord. they ambushed us before our rations were due." you glance at the young man. he has yet to look up, or indeed even move. "we… had issues with our supplies. weevils in the grain, rats in the captains' meat. we turned from two meals a day, to one a day, then one every two." you pause. "i don't think one more meal would have saved us."

the room falls silent, with only the crackling of the fireplace breaking the stillness. green wood pops in the flames.

"well, don't wait for me to begin," says the lord suddenly, shifting comfortably in his seat and reaching for a leg of ox, stabbing it with a knife and lifting it onto his plate. he piles his plate high with potatoes and mash. the action seems to spur on his son, who jolts into motion like a creaking old waterwheel, movements slow and measured. "tell us your name, soldier. i'd like to know the name and story of our guest. now, news comes to us slowly in this isolated place. how fares the war effort?"

glancing down, you realise exactly how many pieces of cutlery there are. knives and forks, spoons and little spoons, all slightly different in shape or size. you pause, hand hovering over the knives, nerves tightening in your chest.

a soft cough. you glance up.

across from you, the son rests his delicate fingers on the outermost knife and fork, using them to carry a richly-glazed steak onto his plate. he chooses a large spoon, fingers lingering on it where it sits on the table, and places it into his bowl of stew.

his gaze lifts to meet yours and just as quickly, a butterfly's flap of wings, he glances away. his cheeks are dusted pink, the rosy colour like gold on his sun-warmed skin.

you copy him. you take a slab of steak from the dish right in front of you. you are starving, but everything about this manor makes you feel small, and you fear taking more than you are offered. you give them your name, for it is the only thing you truly own in these foreign lands.

"the war?" you continue, trying to shake the tremor from your voice. "i wouldn't know, milord. the captains don't tell us much. it's all the same – i've fought in three different battles. this was the third. they give their speeches about king and country, and then we fight. it is noble," you say hastily, "but i am not a warrior. not many of us were. the enemy outnumbered us, outskilled us, and when the poppy fields lay silent, they piled the bodies of all our fallen and made pyres out of us."

"such would explain the scorch marks on your clothes." the lord nods. he leans in, and you fight the urge to lean away. "i shall ask the question we all ask ourselves, if you would not mind. how did you survive such a massacre?"

you glance at the son. he eats quietly, forking small chunks of meat into his mouth. you glance away. "i remember a spear. it was tipped… with a blue and white flag. it waved in the black sky as i looked up at it." you frown. "i'd never seen one like it before."

"the temerian lilies," he replies, almost approvingly. "you must have been some opponent – if the flagbearer loses his flag, it is a great shame to the army. it must be held aloft at all times. he would rather die than lose it to the enemy."

you lift a shoulder. the other aches too much to try. "they pulled it out of me after, then dragged me to a pile of corpses. i… don't remember much, but i remember them squabbling over another soldier's brooch for a while. i only wanted to escape the stench of death." you survey the feast laid out before you. "i s'pose i have."

"then we shall celebrate that," hums the lord, lifting his goblet of wine. "my son was the one who found you floating down the river. he said you were cold as ice and only recognised you from the flag you had sewn into your coat. it is brave to carry your homeland's colours when fighting for their conquerors."

"it was a small creature comfort," you respond as nonchalantly as you can. "they could punish me all they liked, but could never kill me. they needed every man in their ranks."

the lord raises his brows, and something like admiration crosses his features. he glances at his son and that admiration turns into a tiny downturn of the lips. he turns back to you. "not a warrior, you say, yet you stand with the united courage of a battalion. who was your father?"

you notice how his son stills, holding the steak on his tongue behind his lips for a long moment. he closes his eyes and with a deep inhale, resumes eating, as if unaffected.

"just a farmer," you say, diverting your gaze. "dead, long past. my ma raised the rest of us – six boys. i was their second. when the army came knocking, askin' for sons, i went, gave them my name. my older brother knew how to count, how to run the mill. i couldn't let them take him, especially not from the little ones – after da died and ma got sick, he was all they had." you tap the edge of the silver plate with your finger thoughtfully. "i imagined i'd either die or be done after one battle, so i'd be brought home quick regardless. now… it's been four years."

then, the servants bring out a round white cake, slices set down around the table – what a perfect intermission. you have made it rather impossible to return to frivolity with your story, and you gaze down at the cake in front of you. you assume this is their dessert, so quaint and pretty on its little silver plate, but you have little idea of how to go about eating one. something so small must require a similarly-sized utensil. is it the tiny spoon? the tiny knife?

you lift your eyes to the young man across from you. he is already watching, eyes large and dark. he picks up a small three-tined fork from the inner edge, tilting it towards you to show you its appearance, the little notch on the left prong. this time, he doesn't look away, and you have enough time to offer a grateful smile, however brief. he blinks owlishly, almost in surprise, before lowering his gaze again.

it is unfortunate. you would not mind looking at him more. he is undoubtedly beautiful, almost pretty, the sort of face people would immortalise in myths and paintings on temple walls – a kind of elven face, like those that turn goddesses to jealousy and gods to obsession.

you spend the rest of the meal stealing glances at each other when you think the other is not watching. he is far more successful than you.

—

from behind a balcony's closed doors, taehyung gazes up at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, surrounded by pale stars glittering in the blanket of darkness. he cannot stop thinking about the shy farmer's boy, his accent unfamiliarly pleasant – the vowels are soft and blurred, with each consonant crisp and clear. it makes for a bouncing sort of melody to his voice, one that draws taehyung deeper into his song.

he sighs softly and turns away from the night's landscape, uncrossing his arms and meandering through the empty halls. most of the servants are already tucked away, and his father drowns himself alone in old letters and wine.

in loose trousers and a looser white shirt, the vee of the collared neck laced with string, he finds himself in his library, rich and warm from a hearth already lit. curious. he shuts the open double doors behind him quietly to keep the heat from dissipating into the night.

his silent feet carry him through the aisles, where the shelves brush the ceiling with books and ladders. a walkway surrounds the room, essentially giving it a second level.

silhouetted black against the white glow of the moon beyond the arched window, a familiarly unfamiliar figure stands in silence, gaze turned up towards the heavens beyond the lines of books and old tomes.

standing in this still and quiet room, statue-esque in the way of classics, taehyung cannot help the journey of his gaze wandering up and down the planes of your body, painting to himself the sturdiness of your shoulders, the perfect balance between your booted feet. there is a severity about you he recognises in his own father – he sees it in your arms, tucked behind your back, and the practised way of standing that arches the spine just so to emphasise the broadness of the chest. yet, he knows gentleness when he sees it, and he finds it in the almost childlike awe in your expression, aimed up at his personal collection.

he steps out, the shadows melting from him like the shedding feathers of a raven. "what are you doing in my library?"

you startle, and taehyung almost regrets interrupting you. coward that he is, he would rather watch from afar than bring you out of that handsome serenity.

"f-forgive me, sir," you stammer, twisting your hands together as you incline in an awkward half-bow, half-stumble, evidently having forgotten the extent of your injuries as your expression tightens and your hand brushes over your side. "i didn't know it was yours. the – the doors were open, and i—"

"invited yourself in," he finishes.

"i – yes, sir…"

before you, he stands perfectly still. you could fool yourself into thinking his heart does not beat, for he is pale in the moonlight and beautifully dark-haired, with eyes like midnight lakes and lips like a rose.

you tear your gaze from his, breaking your trance. you begin to move past him. "forgive me, milord. i shan't interrupt you."

his hand darts out, wrapping itself around your wrist. serpentine, it slides up your arm and grips your bicep, forming creases in the cloth.

"you shouldn't move so quickly. you're injured." he turns his gaze on you. "you'd leave so soon?"

"ah…" you flounder, helpless. "if the lord wish it so."

his searching gaze strips your body bare. you feel it prod your soul when his eyes meet yours. his eyes scan your face, and he reaches up with his other hand, brushing it lightly against the slope of your jaw. his skin is warm and tender-soft. your breath hitches.

"the maids missed a spot when shaving," he mutters, pressing his fingers against the patch of half-shorn stubble left on the soft underside of your chin. "a man would do it better."

all at once, he drops his hand and looks away. "i am no lord," he replies, his low, rich voice like waves lapping at the sides of a ship, almost careless. "just his son."

you hesitate, your heartbeat still in your ears. "th-then what should i call you, sir?"

he glances down where bandages hide the hole in your body. "just 'taehyung' will do," he says softly, eyes lifting again. he unravels his arm from yours, turning fully towards you. "you may stay – as long as you are quiet."

he moves away, so graceful he may as well have floated. his fingers glide over the covers like bumps of the spine, and they pluck a small yellow book from the shelf. he opens it, already turning to the first page even before he finds a chair to sit in. he curls up in front of the grand fireplace, the furry hide of a brown bear thrown across the floor in front of it.

for a while, you simply watch him and listen to the crackling of the fire. his slim fingers glide across the pages to turn them, the edge of the page caught gently on the pad of his thumb.

bathed in the yellow and orange hues of the fire, the lord's son is every bit as regal as northerners are said to be – hair like calligraphy ink, cheekbones fine, slim bodies tall and lithe. you could lose yourself in his cold, gentle darkness.

that burbling feeling of being out of place rises to the surface, worse than when you sat before the lord at his table. you and your callused palms, your worn and labour-worked body. you should not be here.

"you know you can choose a book, yes? i don't mind." he glances up. "forgive the mess. i can help. what do you like to read?"

"i'm sorry, sir," you murmur, averting your gaze. "i can't read."

it seems he'd forgotten your roots. he blinks. "oh. my apologies. but if not to read, what interested you about my library?"

"ah," you chuckle, scratching your head. "i've just never seen so many books in one place. travelling merchants would display some, but never like this."

"i see." he surveys you intensely, then glances away and clears his throat. he shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. at last, he says stiffly, "if you'd like… i can… read to you."

the silence is thick with more than just the fire's heat. it is hard to know taehyung's hot face is not because of the fire, and he is grateful.

"if milord wishes to," you reply quietly, watching him for any twitch of his expression that may give him away.

"of course. i wouldn't offer it if i didn't." he gestures to the chaise beside him. "sit."

you step into the semicircle of light afforded by the fireplace, licked by tendrils of warmth, and ease yourself into the chair with a soft grunt, holding your side. "milord is as kind as he is beautiful."

his eyes flicker down to your lap. "i wish you wouldn't call me that," he says suddenly, a little sharper. "can i not be called my own name in my home?"

your mouth opens and closes. after a moment, you reply softly, "i meant no offence. it just feels… wrong."

slowly, he exhales, closing his eyes and his book. he places a hand over its cover. "all of my life has felt wrong. everything is wrong no matter what i do – who i wish to be, the company i keep, the fears i carry… the love i desire." he pauses, opening his eyes to your earnest expression. he diverts his gaze to the yellow-gold cover of the book. "what more can one last wrong hurt?"

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "perhaps i can start over." you straighten slightly, offering a crooked half-smile. "what do you want to read to me, taehyung?"

he does not disagree that his name sounds strange coming from another's mouth, but he cannot remember the last time it was used by anyone else. he hums and rises to his feet, coming to stand over you in front of the fire; his shadow cast over your body deepens the maturity of your features.

"when you said i was beautiful," he asks, "did you mean it?"

staring up at him, you can do nothing but tilt your head in bewilderment. "yes. you are fair and handsome."

taehyung chooses his next words carefully. "if… i were a girl," he decides, clasping his book over his stomach with straight arms, "would it be a different sort of beauty?"

you frown, shaping an approximation of a girl with taehyung's features in your mind. "maybe. but she would still be beautiful if she was you." you shake your head, dispelling morphing images of regal dark-haired daughters. you hide your warm cheeks behind an apologetic smile. "i'm sorry. i don't know much. i don't usually deal with such thoughts."

but it was enough for taehyung. slowly, as if not to frighten you, he lowers himself, grasping the chaise's rests and draping himself gently over your lap. he watches your face all the while, his heart beating faster at the shock and nervousness that cross your face in a single second.

"is this… is this alright?" he whispers, placing his hand against your chest.

your adam's apple bobs, your hands hovering an inch off of his body as if he is made of glass. gently, you place one on taehyung's knee and the other behind his back, and glance up at him.

"perhaps you can sit closer," you murmur, eyes wide and searching, "so you may not fall."

taehyung smiles, then – the first smile of his you have ever seen. it is sweet, and crinkles the corners of his eyes. it makes your heart swell.

he hides his smile in his chest, his knuckles brushing the corner of his lips. he lifts his eyes, and a sliver of hope twinkles in them. "shall i read to you, then? i will give you a synopsis of each story so you may choose your favourite."

"please," you murmur, settling back in the chair and sliding your hand higher up taehyung's thigh so he may be more comfortable. "do whatever you wish."

"'whatever'?" he hums, and with a flippant little kick, throws off his boots to the ground, where they thump carelessly. he meets your eyes and falls into a nervous smile, tucking his bare feet against your leg and resting his temple against your shoulder. his hair is still slightly damp at the ends from his earlier evening bath. "then you wouldn't mind this, would you?"

"of course not," you whisper, biting back a shy, embarrassed smile. you are too old to be acting like this, especially with the only son of a wealthy lord, but the rush of excitement from seeing such a reticent man blossom and show his petals to you is too much to keep you away. "i am only a farmer's boy, taehyung. anything with someone like you is… a dream."

at the mention of his name, his smile widens slightly and a pinkness warms the apples of his cheeks. he busies himself with opening the book and flipping through its contents to find the correct page. he presses his thumb against the spine between the pages.

"here." he taps the words on the page. "this story is one my mother used to read to me. a princess is trapped in a tower, guarded by a dragon in an ever-changing thorn maze, and a brave, handsome knight rescues her. they are married and live happily ever after."

he looks up at you, searching for a reaction, and you can only give a breathy laugh in return, still dizzy with the idea that someone like taehyung could ever be interested in someone like you. "are you sure you should be telling me these stories? i'm not a princess or a brave knight. i'm plain."

"perhaps. but do you know who else was seen as plain?" he taps your chest. "the dragon, disguised as a statue. and you, strong dragon, will protect the princess," he taps his own chest, "from all the boredom and politics of castle life."

"don't you have other, richer boys chasing you?" you ask, because you know your place. "your own knight? i don't see what i offer that they can't."

he licks his lips, setting aside the small book on a round side table and swinging his legs over your lap to straddle you. reading it is the last thing on his mind. "i do, of course. but it is like you said – they are boys. when their wooden sword chips, they get a new one." he trails his fingers lightly down the centre of your chest, wide and strong, and tentatively cups what is between your legs. he leans in, long-lashed brown eyes flickering down to your lips. "i want more than that."

"i—" your breath hitches as he squeezes gently, learning its shape and heft with deft fingers. "a-are we allowed to…? i am a stranger in strange lands with nothing to my name."

he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. his soft hair curtains your eyes. "allowed? no. but when a handsome soldier from far away falls into my lap, what else is a man to do?" he draws his thumb over your jawline, stroking your cheek. he lowers his lips to yours, hot breath sweet with honeyed treats. with the faintest thread of a breath, he whispers, "may i?"

with your heartbeat thudding in your ears, your head inclines, and taehyung wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes his lips to yours.

his moan is sweet and starved as you kiss back to the best of your ability, your hands falling naturally about his waist. his lips are plump and warm, pillowy, and slicken with saliva as he deepens it, cupping the back of your head and pressing himself higher onto your body. he is desperate and dominating, sitting in your lap and rolling his hips into yours. you can feel his excitement through the cotton of his trousers.

when you part regretfully, gulping down air, he cups your face, his eyes dark yet gentle. he licks his shining lips, parted to pant. "you seem apprehensive. have you ever done this with a man?"

you wipe your lips with your thumb, tongue swiping over them in an almost bewildered motion. your eyes are wide. "a-ah… no. not with… anyone…"

"not even a girl?" he cannot help the surprise that coats his tone.

you shake your head, face aflame. "i never… my older brother had my father's charm. he was the one they all wanted, strong but lean. i was too much of a bull. they had fantasies of princes, and he was closer to it than i."

deeply and tenderly, he kisses you again. "it only means i won't have to fight anyone to call you mine." he brushes his thumb over your lips. "that suits me just fine. i was never the fighting sort."

he sits up on your lap, thighs bracketing yours. his bare feet tuck beneath him under his knees. when his palm grazes the front of your trousers, your breath hitches in your chest, and taehyung gives you a soft, if coy, grin. "i'll be gentle," he promises. he tugs slightly on the laces of the waist. "may i?"

mutely, you nod, your words sinking into the whirling depths of his eyes. his deft fingers undo the laces with ease and he pulls the thick cloth down your waist, tracing the vee of your hips with a pleased breath. he reaches in, lifting his gaze to gauge your expression. your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your knuckles are tensed on the chaise's armrest. the other arm is tucked tightly by your side.

"don't be nervous," he whispers, stroking you gently in your trousers. it twitches in his palm. "place your hands on my waist, darling. good. very good."

hesitantly, your hands graze his hips, sliding up to grip his slender waist. you splay a hand beside his waist, measuring it against him with fascination. he is slim and lovely… like the city nobles' soft-palmed daughters. you had noticed his hands during supper but hadn't the room to mull over them then, though now you do. they are square, masculine, but slender and fine-veined. his nails are clean and cut short, with a thin crescent of white at the ends.

he could not have been more perfect if he tried.

he slides his fist up to the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb against the slit and the smooth skin. you are mostly soft, but still impressive – the number of taehyung's clandestine trysts have lent him a certain experience when it comes to men.

you have reinforced your place as his favourite.

"i see why they call you a bull," he says slyly, squeezing your shaft as his fist sinks down on it. "they just don't know how to tame you."

your face floods with heat as you stutter meaninglessly. your grip tightens on taehyung's hips and a single slant of a thought marvels at how delicate he feels in your palms.

"be still, my darling," he murmurs, "and be at ease. you are no longer at war. you can close your eyes and hold me without fear. nothing will happen unless we want it to."

his voice, like syrup, melts the frantic whirlwind of thoughts in your head. you cannot help but want to believe him. "you make it sound so simple. i want to believe you."

"why can't it be?" he tilts his head, glancing down and stroking you contentedly. he swipes his thumb over the slit, where a bead of precome bubbles. oil – from a small bottle you only now spot in taehyung's palm – smooths each stroke of your shaft. "the world is so complicated. affection can afford to be simple."

he lets go for a moment to step back, sliding his trousers down his hips and calves and tossing them aside on the chaise. he flicks his dark hair and tucks a lock over his ear as he reassumes his place on your lap, pressing his chest against yours and tugging your cock to throb against the curve of his ass. the silk of his white shirt is cool and light against your hot skin.

his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as his hips roll languidly. he whispers, "do you want this?"

do you want more? the question is unasked, but you hear it anyway.

"i do, yes. please," you reply immediately, your voice rough with desire. your hands trail over his hips and tuck beneath the long hem of his shirt to caress his warm, creamy thighs, a feeling that traps your breath in your throat. you force out a sigh, shaky, and rest your forehead against taehyung's shoulder. he hushes you and cups the back of your head, reaching with his other hand behind himself to ease you inside his warmth.

taehyung's head tips back with a slow exhale, shuddering as you pulse with heat inside of him. he watches you closely, committing to memory the way your brows pinch and your mouth falls open as your grasp tightens, trembling, around his waist.

"do you like that?" he whispers, breathy. he bounces shallowly, grinding his hips into yours. "how do you feel?"

"good," you choke out through a groan. your hand slides down to the dip in his back, trying not to seem too eager as it cups his ass. "oh, fuck…"

"don't hold back for me," he murmurs, hips quickening. he moans in surprise as you buck up into him, thighs meeting his ass. the slap of your balls against his ass is obscene, and he scrambles to cling onto your shoulders for balance.

"wait – wait, wait," he gasps, lashes fluttering as your cock kisses that spot inside of him that burns pleasure through his guts.

you stop immediately, sliding your hand up his side. "i'm sorry! are you alright?"

he huffs a laugh, panting softly, and nods. "you're injured, darling. don't waste the good work we put into putting you back together. sit back – i will take care of you, understand?"

"a-ah…" your face burns with heat. "all right. whatever milord desires."

"very good." he presses down on your hips gently, his hands between his thighs. he lifts himself off of your cock until only the tip rests against his hole, then sinks down on it in one smooth motion. a strangled noise escapes your throat as you scramble to hold onto him. his heat grips your shaft like a vice, gummy walls clamping down around you with each drop of his hips.

he moans when your fingers dig into the sensitive skin of his hips, sweat gathering in the small of his back. the fireplace crackles softly, the air warm and sweet with the smell of sex.

he gathers his shirt in his hands about his ribs, revealing his dusky cock, swollen with need. he takes your hand and curls your fingers around his shaft, his eyes fluttering and lips parting as you tighten it. your callused palms drag deliciously against his veins and he grips your wrist with a soft groan, bouncing on your lap in such a way that he thrusts into the warm tunnel of your fist.

carefully, you stroke his cock, cautious about rubbing raw or tearing his skin. wealthy boys are a different breed – so much softer, easier to hurt. the smell of him, sweet and musky, hangs in the air around him, enveloping you when he draws close – crushed petals, herbs, leaves. it seems foreign, or at least the mixture does, for you cannot quite place your finger on it – then again, what do you know of luxuries like this?

"you are doing well," taehyung praises, gasping as you flick the head of his cock with your thumb. "oh, yes… f-fast learner, hm? oh!"

a jerk of your hips has him jolting forward, his cock spurting a sudden white rope onto your stomach. he purrs, bracing against your chest and slamming his hips down on your cock to slicken him with your pleasure. it works, and he seems unduly proud of himself when your cock throbs and leaks, forming a white ring around the hilt that thickens with each bounce of his ass.

"milord – milord," you gasp, a tiny pathetic noise that does not match your appearance, "please – i'm—"

"let go," he demands, a breathy moan escaping his lips. he closes his eyes and lets out a punched groan as your cock carves into his insides, deeper than any other man had ever touched. his reddened cock throbs, slit pouring precome over his belly and thighs. the pleasure curls around his thoughts, his head spinning from it, and he feels your stomach tense under his palms.

you spill into him with a deep, satisfied growl, head tipping back as he arches against you. your hips roll up against his and the coil tightening in his belly snaps at the sight of you so wrecked from so little. he cries out, ropes of white streaking across your shirt, and his hips stutter and roll, milking your pleasure for his own like a succubus. he presses his ass into your lap, white teeth sinking into his plump lower lip, and his eyes roll as the thick warmth fills him up to the brim.

at last, he slumps against your chest, thighs trembling and tensing as he hums softly into your neck. he buries his nose in the soft, warm skin, and cups your cheek to place a soft kiss on the corner of your jaw.

"mm… good," he purrs, smiling with tender satisfaction. "i – i shall bring you to your… mm… room. it is just down the hall from my own... should you wish to see me, you only need to knock." his breath hitches as he raises his hips slowly, hole twitching around your shaft, and when it pops out, a steady stream of come leaks from him, staining his tanned skin. he sighs, closing his eyes to the slowing of your heartbeat. "but i think i will stay here for a time, if you don't mind. just until i – until i regain feeling and control of my legs."

"is that… is that normal?" you ask, a tiny panting tremor in your voice. "to lose feeling like that?"

taehyung laughs into your neck, eyes crinkling. "sometimes, when i feel overwhelmed. it is no fault of yours – you are just… big. don't worry. i liked it."

he shifts in your lap to get comfortable but pauses as something pokes his thigh. a sly smile spreads across his fine features, his fingers lifting to trace your jaw and tip your gaze to his own. he purrs, "is that for me, love? excited again?"

you gulp, unable to tear your stare from his despite the embarrassment clawing at your throat. "i – i…"

"handsome and energetic. i'm a lucky man." he laughs softly, reaching behind himself and groping your hard cock with a low moan. "i myself have been told i'm rather voracious. perhaps you will be the first to keep up with me."

he lowers himself on your cock, head tipping back as he teases himself with the thick head. his dick twitches.

"what say you to a change of scenery?" he asks coyly, perfectly content with your ragged-breath silence. every word you might have said disintegrates on your tongue when he turns around, arching his back and pinning your cock to your stomach. shining precome smears along the cleft of his ass.

his body, carved out of shadows by the fire, rocks and rolls like a ship in the harbour when all its crew are asleep. with an encouraging smile, he takes your hands and places them on his hips, pressing on them to guide you to control his body. he hums softly as you squeeze his hips and spread his asscheeks, your breath shaky as he angles his messy hole against your leaking tip.

he watches your face with gentle eyes as he sinks down on your cock, his warm, wet hole swallowing up your shaft like he was made for it. you jump slightly when his ass firmly meets your lap, taking you hungrily until the hilt, and if he were a lesser man, your expression alone would have been enough to tip him over the edge. he sears every line of your face, every edge and plane, into the backs of his eyelids. it will make for fine company on lonely nights.

you speak for the first time in a while. "p-please…" you whisper hoarsely, blunt nails digging into his smooth, unmarred skin, leaving crescent moons in your wake. "please, move."

"ah, but you are badly hurt… i must take my time with you. mustn't alert the servants, either, for they'd certainly report to my father what they've seen." taehyung giggles to himself, gnawing on his lower lip in an effort to subdue his grin. he grinds down into your lap in circles, relishing in the pleasured, impatient groans that escape your throat. "he'd toss you out in an instant, and we cannot have that! i haven't yet had my fill of you."

"a-are you always so… playful with your men, taehyung?" you ask, voice slightly strained. you watch your cock vanish into him, over and over again. the sound that is made when he bounces on your lap is obscene and filthy. your heart stirs with desire.

"mmh – no. my past conquests have not been as – as alluring as you," he gasps, wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing circles over the ridge of his tip. "mostly, they bore me. you, however – you're more than a cock i can use to please myself, if i may speak so crudely."

"i – ah – th-think i should be grateful, then…?" you reply uncertainly.

"yes. unless, of course, you enjoy that sort of game… but tonight is about simplicity," he breathes, his skin tingling where your rough palms glide over his thighs, soft as cream. "we have only so long until the sun rises and the servants wake. i want to spend that time with you – learning your homeland's ballads and epics, your favourite flower, where i can touch to make you melt…"

he looses an airy laugh as your grip tightens on his waist, his shirt folded up between your fingers to reveal the curve of his spine and ass. you drag him down onto your cock roughly and he keens, eyes rolling back briefly. "ooh, y-you like that, don't you? ah—!"

already he is so sensitive. nowhere else has he felt pleasure like this – where his body is treated as more than a means to an end. he had been completely content with that when he entered this library, agreeable to the idea that you might like him only for what he can give you. but he swears – he swears on the old gods and the new – that the way you press your nose into the curve of his neck, the way you stroke him thin and thick tight and loose – caring, properly, for his own high – means your attraction is more than fleeting.

years of ending up alone in empty beds have made him soft. lonely. desperate. perhaps he is reading into things too deeply, as he always does – poor boy, always a poet. the backs of his eyes sting with hot tears as his tightly-controlled leash snaps, making him cry out, writhe, and shudder, knees and elbows buckling under the weight of his orgasm.

you catch him in your arms before he can slip, pulling him backwards towards your chest. it is warm, your throat shining with sweat, and he can feel the burning fever of your body through your clothes. still, you do not let go, push him away – you cradle him close, your heart thudding through your ribcage and into his own.

one of your hands tugs languidly at his cock, milking his pleasure from him. you watch quietly as it spills over your knuckles, your lips pressed against his sweat-slick shoulder, and help him lift his hips off of your cock.

for the first time in what feels like hours, taehyung takes a deep, full breath of air. he cups your face in a hand and smiles, wide and content.

"i didn't believe you could be more beautiful," you murmur, words slightly clipped at the end from a lack of breath. "i've never been happier to be wrong."

he opens his eyes with a flutter of lashes, pleasantly surprised. "haven't i already let you take me?"

"what do you mean?" you ask with a frown, tilting your head. your thoughts are foggy with warm laziness. the fire's heat does not help. "taehyung?"

the sound of his name almost startles him. he sits up, and a pleasurable ache sparks up his spine. he sucks in a deep breath. "you really… truly think that of me?"

you blink slowly, like a cat, and the fire's flames dance in your eyes. "i am a simple soldier. lies are above a man like me."

"you're more than that," he replies immediately, turning around on your lap to face you properly. "if you were just a soldier, you would have died on that battlefield. forgive me, but you had all the time to die on your way down the river. still, you survived." his voice softens, and he fiddles with your collar, straightening it and folding it down. "i am glad you did. i am glad to have met you."

"ah…" gently, you tug his shirt down, allowing him the return of some of his dignity, though he does not seem to care. "that reminds me – i shouldn't waste much time here. i should report to the general."

"for what?" taehyung scoffs, and it sounds… hurt. he glances away. "am i so repugnant you would rather march thirty miles a day in mud-soaked boots than stay here with me?"

"no!" you protest, sitting up as best you can with the growing ache in your side. you had been too caught up in the moment to remember it, and now your body reminds you jealously. "t'ain't that, taehyung. you are intelligent and kind and if we were in my homeland, i wouldn't hesitate to ask your hand. but surely you have a girl you're supposed to marry?"

"no, not at the moment. despite what he says, my father still grieves my mother. it will be a while yet before he'll allow another woman into the house." he traces shapes into your skin. "i will free you from the servitude of the evil king who bound you, and together, princess and dragon will live freely, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their backs."

at first, you smile at the newfound softness of his voice, but freeze. "free… of servitude?"

taehyung watches you, draping his legs over the other side of the armchair, kicking his feet lazily. his eyes are dark and watchful. "as i know it, the king's oath swears that you are only relieved of your duty when you give your blood for his and fall in battle against his enemies. have you not satisfied these requirements?"

"i may be no scholar, but i'm near certain that to 'fall in battle' means to die in it."

"have you not satisfied these requirements?" he repeats, firmer. "our doctors and priests said you were dead when i brought you to them. they said you may have been alive when i found you, but somewhere between the riverbank and their stone table marked the spot where you died. as they proclaimed this, you coughed again, and nobody could deny me this time when i said you were very clearly alive."

"you are telling me that i died… and returned? like a saint?" you ask sceptically.

"i only tell you what our doctors told me."

for a while, you are silent. determination creases taehyung's brow, and you cannot hold in the disbelieving laugh that erupts from you, though it morphs into a groan of pain in the middle. taehyung sits up and presses his palm to your cheek, his eyes so vivid and certain.

"you have already died, and thus retain no obligations to the crown," he whispers. his gaze scours your face. "you are free. free to stay here. live here…"

with me.

your heart drops into your stomach. you grip his waist, shifting in the velvet chaise. "i'm…"

"agree. agree to it. even if i cannot bear your children, we will sleep in the same bed, take walks in the wheat fields, eat and drink every meal together. you won't fear for your life every day. and as soon as the war ends and they open the trade routes to your home, i shall book passage on a ship and take you there. you may stay, if you wish. i won't deny you."

"then why offer at all?" you ask quietly. "if you think i'll leave you the moment i can, why would you even try?"

"i can hope, can i not? by all accounts our kings have no desire to cease any time soon. perhaps you will learn to love me in time." he smiles, faint, and averts his gaze. "otherwise, i will be glad to help another soul. you will survive the war and return to your family, whole and healthy. out here, away from people, i have little chance to do something so good and noble."

"and if i grow restless? if i want to do something with my hands?"

he tilts his head thoughtfully. "how is your aim?"

"fair, i s'pose. haven't missed when it's important."

"the lord's hunter grows old," he proclaims. "he can teach you what he knows, and if you like, you may take up the title once he can no longer ride and shoot. besides that, there is always work to be done in the fields and granary – perhaps you'll find some comfort in the farms?"

you think about it, long and hard. in essence you would be a prisoner at his beck and call, though if taehyung tells the truth and is as earnest as he appears, perhaps you'll find freedom and enough work to fill your days with…

you give your answer, and taehyung's smile is like the sun.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #top reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut

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queenpiranhadon · 9 months ago

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A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll and after a LOT of voting (((again) again) again), we have this :) I’ll be honest though, I have mixed thoughts about this. Nova, I owe you my life for beta reading this ily girl (@that-multi-fandom-hijabi) Go follow her writing acc! (@novaaaaaa-writes) Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of blood, reader's a baddie, reader used to work for Azula, bad depictions of firebending, maybe some inaccuracies idk man, some people might be ooc idk 😅, thoughts about death (like once), lots of buildup, reader is a good cook, reader owns a restaurant, reader sets a table on fire, both of them are very attracted to each other lmao, reader refuses to fire bend, I kinda head cannoned, basically if a firebender doesn't firebend of a certain amount of time, the fire inside them builds up and can damage the wielder, like clogged pipe in a way, love at first sight (?), slowburn kinda, reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind.

Pairing: Sokka x Firebender!Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴇᴇʟ ʀᴏʟʟꜱ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It was safe to say, you were screwed. Traitor to the Fire Nation and all.

“Ugh…” you grit out, patting your side in discomfort, pulling your hand away to find sticky blood.

It was safe to say that Princess Azula wasn’t too happy to find out you didn’t approve of the current ideals of the Fire Nation. Alas, you were too far deep into her scheme to leave then, and you were now- but this time, you ran away.

You weren’t going to find the Avatar- joining him would only make things harder on yourself- especially since he and his friends most definitely hated you for all the stunts you pulled alongside the son and daughter of Firelord Ozai.

So you were left with two options. Sit in the dark and disgusting alleyway you were hiding in and bleed to death, or find somewhere to stay, patch yourself up, and bunker down with a new identity.

If there’s one thing the Fire Nation would underestimate about you- it was your will to live.

The journey to the Earth Kingdom was torturous, your aching feet would be screaming in overexertion, yet you pushed on. Solitude was your only solace, though the lack of social interaction guaranteed nothing would stop the onslaught of dark thoughts entering your mind, it was comforting to you that you were finally free to make your own decisions without anyone else influencing them.

You reached the gates of the Earth Kingdom battered and bruised- the month of so that you traveled for changed your appearance quite a bit- your hair slightly longer and the numerous different climates you had suffered through allowed your hair to settle into gentle waves. You got thinner, lack of food turning you into a near skeleton, but the muscles you had trained your whole life remained, and you were stronger than ever. Obviously, the guards didn’t recognize you, letting you pass without a hitch under a fake name.

You found a kind older woman in the outer ring of Ba Sing Se, who offered you take you in for the night.

There, you enjoyed a soothing bath and a good meal, and she was pleasant company. You slept on the couch that night, and left early the next morning, leaving a few gold coins as a subpar payment for her hospitality.

And then you were on your own again.

Days passed, and then months, you worked almost every job under the sun as you finally scrounged up enough money to open your own store.

It was a nice and quaint restaurant, and you worked your blood, sweat, and tears into it- and that was a statement, you rarely cried. Not anymore anyways- experiencing so much loss does that to people.

You called it the Unagi- your restaurant known for its excellent soups and eel rolls, both of which were comfort foods growing up. Even though you vowed to start a new life, and throw your old one behind, you kept this part of your old life with you. You stopped bending, not a single spark or flame left your fingertips after the day you left the Fire Nation.

Months passed, 7 to be exact, and you had built quite the reputation in Ba Sing Se- travelers from all over had some solely to try your food, and they were not disappointed. Your cooking prowess as a force to be reckoned with- and you enjoyed in immensely. For the first time in years, you were happy.

Of course, rush hour was the most overwhelming experience you had ever had to experience- as you refused to hire anyone to assist you run your shop- your trust had run thin, and you weren’t going to risk the product of your hard work to anyone. Eventually, you learned to keep all your ingredients preprepared- and then cook them in your soups and put them in your rolls the morning of each day, so that they were all fresh and it was less work for you. All your customers were understanding, and respected you for your time and work. People loved your story- a stranger and a traveler with basically next to nothing, and then turned your life around in just a few months.

After a few months, you practically knew all the gossip in the city- always overhearing the snippets of murmurs from your customers. Usually, you paid no mind to them, but today, what you heard stopped you in your tracks.

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah! The Avatar and his crew were spotted at the gates this morning!”

“Do you think Ba Sing Se is in trouble?!”

“I hope not, after what happened in the Northern Wa-”

You stopped listening after that, going back to the kitchen with the blood roaring in your ears. You stirred the soup you were making with a new intensity, as it your life depended on it. Dread pooled in your stomach- if the Avatar and his friends came around the Unagi, you were done for. The Avatar would recognize you, the only one to have seen you without the normal mask you wore- and the only one out of the group you had met.

You sighed, deciding to ignore the fear you felt. Months of peace wore down your guard a little bit, and you were used to forcing your body into a state of ease after the first few weeks you had stayed in the city- nightmares plaguing you day and night. They were gone now, thankfully, but if the Avatar and his friends destroyed everything you worked so hard to maintain, you might break.

Fortunately, weeks went by without a hitch, no sign of the Avatar, and no sign of the Unagi being burnt down.

One day, on a relatively quiet day, you hear a few voices outside.

“Here Sokka, Toph, take some gold and treat yourself to some food, I hear this place is really good.” A female voice says, she sounded around 14-15 years old. “We’ll meet you back in the square- bring some for the rest of us.”

You don’t hear much of what the girl says afterwards, opting to resume taking orders. That’s when you lay your eyes on the boy in front of you. He had a wolf’s knot, something you knew to be common in the water tribe. He had the build of a warrior, toned muscles littered with scars that you knew weren't achieved easily. And his eyes, a brilliant shade of blue you thought you could get lost in, a pleasant contrast to the red of the Fire Nation you would be tied to for the rest of your life.

It takes you a few minutes to realize you were staring, and a few more to realize that he was too. You cough into your fist awkwardly and look away, realizing you had company.

The young girl next to him slams a few pieces of gold onto the counter, but you, unlike the boy across from you, didn’t flinch – you were used to it. “Whaddya got for us, lady?” she asks in a brash tone, but you weren’t intimidated, nor were you offended, but the boy you were staring at earlier still apologizes on her behalf.

You chuckle lightly, it amused you to see the energy in the two of them as you respond to the girl’s question. “The gold can get you some soup with some salmon, along with eel rolls, on the house.” you say, smiling lightly.

The boy’s eyes light up in excitement, though he seemed a little older than you, there was no mistaking that childish enthusiasm for a nice homecooked meal.

“Can I get your name?” You ask, grabbing your notepad and quill to write down the order.

“Sokka” he says, with a teasing sparkle in his eyes, and you can’t help but grin at his antics. It’s been a while since you felt like this. You, giddy over a crush? The feeling was a little foreign to you, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“And you?” he asks, leaning slightly over the counter. You reciprocate his movements, telling him your name and telling him and his friend to take a seat.

Sokka and his friend, Toph, left shortly after, taking their soup to go and devouring their eel rolls. It was late now, you were sweeping up the floors, planning to leave and close the Unagi in an hour or so, before something unexpected happened.

You feel a sharp pain in your chest collapsing to the ground, your insides felt like they were burning, invisible flames eating away and you. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, mind raging and all you could see what red.

Why was this happening to you?

You felt your body flare up in pain, and all you wanted was for it to stop for it to go away.

“You will always be a part of the Fire Nation. “Azula had told you, with a manic look in her eye. “No matter how long you try to suppress it, your inner fire will never be satisfied. One day, your fire will turn against you, your body won’t be able to handle it anymore, no matter how strong you think you are. Let’s face it, you’re a monster, just like me.”

You didn’t hear the jingle of the door opening.

Letting out an anguished cry, you thrust out your arms, cerulean flames setting one of your tables on fire.

And staring at you, through the blue flames, were those sparkling eyes you loved so much. Staring at you with disgust and horror.

“Sokka, oh my god-” you say, in shock.

“Who are you.” he cuts in, his eyes sharp and cold.

“I-I swear, I’m not with the Fire Nation anymore, I-” You stutter, your throat closing in. You stumble back, staring at the flaming table with a horrified look in your eyes.

Sokka looks at you, unsure of what to do. You were the enemy, you were a firebender, one who could wield blue flames. Yet... he knew you were telling the truth. You were the same person who kindly gave them free food and didn’t turn them away even with Toph’s brashness.

He sighs, and looks around, before turning back to you. “C’mon, let’s go find my friends. My sister’s a waterbender, she’ll put out the fire for you.

You just stand there numb, your body still reeling from the aftershocks of feeling so much pain. You didn’t realize you were crying until Sokka walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, letting your tears soak into the fabric of his shirt. He strokes your hair lightly and holds you close. He smelled earthy, a musk that reminded you of the scent you smelled after it rained, all natural and grounding, soothing your worries.

“I’m here.” is all he says, and you stand like that, Sokka’s frame blocking the blue flames from your sight- a barrier between the life you live now, and the one you left behind.

BONUS:

After Sokka and you find Katara and the others, you put out the fire- Aang recognized you immediately, but Sokka vouched for you, saying that you didn’t ally with the Fire Nation anymore, and that you were trustworthy. And then, once you guide them to the back of the store, where your living quarters were, you and Sokka were alone again.

“Hey Sokka?” you ask, the boy in question looking at you with his full attention. “Why were you at my shop in the middle of the night?”

Sokka chuckles sheepishly and looks at you with that sparkle in his eyes. “I may or may not have been craving those eel rolls of yours.”

You snort, and you look at him with a teasing smile on your face. “You still hungry?”

It was safe to say neither of you got much sleep that night, up laughing and throwing rice grains at each other.

#sokka atla #sokka x reader #atla sokka #sokka avatar the last airbender #sokka #the gaang #gaang #avatar the last airbender #atla #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

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kurogxrix · 2 years ago

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Feels Like We’re Oceans Apart ( I. )

Ao’nung x Sully!reader x Sully!family

IN WHICH Ao’nung was dared to date the eldest Sully daughter with vitiligo, while Jake and Neytiri face the hells of parenthood with a child that’s different from others.

WC: 6k

Warnings: bullying, violence, misunderstandings, Jake and Neytiri trying their bests ok.

You were born different, just like your little siblings Lo’ak and Kiri. Though their only peculiar features were their five fingers and hairy eyebrows, given their human genes. You were a little more than that, a little more than what the na’vi could handle. They had no issues welcoming a five-fingered baby into their clan, mainly because they were ruled by one.

It was a whole different story when Neytiri had announced the birth of an oddly coloured baby. Presented under the curious eyes of the clan, they watched as Jake held a tiny baby clutched to his chest. Your skin was initially dark blue just like theirs, but it was the strangely arranged white spots on your body that troubled them.

It was nothing like what they had seen before, and so their minds could only jump to conclusions. They weren’t familiar yet foreign to the existence of albino na’vis, but accusing Neytiri of being unfaithful to her mate was far-fetched. Mo’at and Neytiri were scared to death once you were born, face to face with a spotted baby. They both feared that you were born with some incurable diseases, which was not too far from the truth.

At least on this planet. Jake took his time to reassure his crying mate, telling Neytiri that it was not necessarily normal, but you weren’t dying. A trip to the human’s lab and a long series of explanations from Norm had reassured the both of them even more. Vitiligo was what the scientists at the lab had diagnosed you with. For them, upon visual inspection it was obvious of what you were suffering from.

“Stop moving, you little-“ the 13 year old Neteyam tried to restrain himself from cursing at you as you struggled in his arms. You were about a year younger than Neteyam, and his arms were still lanky and thinner than imaginable at the time, so holding you back was definitely harder than he could’ve imagined.

You were relentless, aggressive almost as you fought the invading urge to bite your way out of his embrace. But no, you couldn’t. Not again, not when your father stood a few metres in front of you as he stared you down with those unruly eyes of his. He looked at you as though you were some sort of stranger for a second, his eyes filling with an unfamiliar look before snapping out of it definitively. It was like Jake finally realised that it was his own daughter that was standing before him, and his ears dropped at the thought.

Blood dripped from his aching ear, the sounds of liquid plopping against the floor went unmissed by your heightened hearing. The two puncture holes in your father’s ears were the magnet of attention in the room, all eyes set on his injury like it was the most interesting sight of all year. All before he brought a hand up to rub the dribbling blood away, making his wound more visible before another bead of fresh blood covered the holes once more.

Neytiri simply stood beside her husband, little care towards his injury for the moment as she stared at her distressed daughter. You looked so out of it, and none of them could understand why. She felt Jake move away from his current spot, their shoulders brushing as the contact brought her back from her thinking. Neytiri watched as Jake walked towards you, inevitably calming you down slightly as he kneeled before Neteyam and you.

Your older brother almost dropped to his knees and started praying to the Great-Mother for the rest, his arms loosening around you just a little. The room was quiet enough for you to properly hear the shuffling of your smaller siblings, cluttered together at this side of your tent.

You felt your father’s hand come to lay upon your hair, caressing your hair lovingly in an attempt at soothing your nerves. Though you shied away from his touch at first, you allowed him to keep his hand there.

“You wanna tell me why you did that.” Jake tried again, his left ear fluttering involuntarily as he referred to his new injury. Never would he have thought that today was the day where he’d get physically assaulted by his own daughter, but parenthood is all about surprises.

His free hand came to rest on Neteyam’s shoulders, still being able to reach it from his kneeling position. Your father pushed your brother gently away from you, freeing you from his light embrace. Under his upclose stare, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your fingers like a little kid after getting caught sneaking candy. Your eyes bounced around the whole room, not once meeting his own.

You remained silent as you knew that he didn’t specifically want to talk about his injury, but rather why you had done it. It was all a blur of emotions, a rush of feelings that your father had interrupted. To him you were acting like a brat, but it was so much more than that to you. More of a realistic realisation than a childish tantrum.

Earlier this day, you had been spending time with a certain boy in the clan during an excursion. His name was Rangya, born a soft boy at heart in contrast to his stern father. He was nice and unlike the other kids in the clan, and you found peace in his presence. Eventually one thing led to the other, and the both of you strayed further away from your youth adventuring group.

It was dangerous out here for 2 kids of your age to be wandering around alone, and it didn’t take long for the group leaders to notice your disappearance. It was to your bad luck and stupidity that your father was a warrior, not even to mention the olo’eyktan, so it was his duty to go on the lookout for the both of you. His heart picked up the pace once he had heard your name coming out of the distressed woman’s name, who she was supposed to be keeping an eye on your class.

Surely Jake would give her a good talk later about it, but for now his own daughter and some kid were alone in the ruthless forest. Truth to be told, your adoration towards the boy ran a little further than a stupid childhood crush. No, instead you admired Rangya for his many traits at such a young age. He was undeniably the smartest and nicest person that you had ever met in the Omaticaya clan, and letting go of that could only be a fool’s mistake.

Though as time strayed and the sun cleared behind the moon, you failed to realise the way that the world was getting darker around you. Instead your new goal was to examine every single plant that surrounded the both of you, your hand clasped tightly into the young boy’s as he reassured you that it was only for your protection.

Now Jake was just there at the wrong time to catch an image of the wrong thing. It wasn’t like your hand in Rangya’s could be interpreted as anything else, or the fact that your faces were a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t that he was mad at you or the poor boy. Daughters had stupid, young boyfriends that father’s were opposed to, that’s how it usually went. At least that’s what he had thought that your relationship was labelled as. Matter of fact he had not even been visibly upset at you, but when he had demanded that you leave the boy and return back home, you knew that it was the end of it.

That once you arrived back home, your father would tell you that you had to cut off whatever dumb relationship that there was between Rangya and you. And so you did whatever you could to make the moment last, struggled, kicked and argued with your dad to put you back down as he had picked you up after you had refused to walk back home with him.

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed with frustration as you reacted in such a way. You’ve always been a calm kid, just like your big brother Neteyam. Though he had always thanked the Great-Mother that you were unlike his youngest son, because Eywa knew how much of a menacing duo you both would be. Now it confused him to no end as you kicked and cried in his arms, desperation thick in your voice as you begged for him to put you down.

Though he denied you of that right, instead dragging your breaking down frame back to your family tent. Chaos striked before Jake could even reach Bob, his loyal ikran. The sudden throbbing of his ear had caught him totally off guard, a hand unravelling from where he was currently holding you to hold onto his aching ear. It had not one single moment come to his mind that the perpetrator could’ve been you, but a single look at you had sold you out.

The crimson liquid that ran down the swell of your fangs was a dead giveaway, and the blood that covered Jake’s hand as he pulled it back down was like more evidence. If he hadn’t been angry at you before because of your bratty behaviour, then he sure as hell was now. He was livid, ears flung back painfully as it pressed onto his new injury. The top of his lips were pulled back in some sort of angry expression that he was trying to keep in.

You would’ve been lying if you said that you weren’t scared shitless on the way back home. The way that your father’s nostrils were flaring, and the fact that he refused to look at you once until you reached your family tent.

The recollection of earlier memories and the overwhelming feeling of your dad unknowingly pressuring you was too much. Too much for your little mind and frail heart to manage, for you had always been fragile at heart. Just like your mother, you had no fear in expressing your feelings physically rather than verbally.

Jake can’t help the frustrated sigh that leaves his mouth as he watches your ears fill up with tears, unable to tell him anything that he wishes to hear. He dipped his head all the way down to his chest as his hand dropped from your hair, exhaling once too quickly to regain his senses. You missed it as quickly as it came, the comforting feeling of your father’s touch. Your fingers were intertwined together as you fiddled anxiously with them, afraid once more of what your father thought of you.

“Fine, cmon lets just go and get checked up with grandma okay?” he asks rhetorically as he stands up, dusting his clean knees as a stress habit. He walked all the way towards the tent’s doors, barely having time to step a foot outside before his wife’s booming voice rang through his ears.

“Ma Jake, please just calm down for a second! You’re moving too fast and we can’t just leave Tuk here with them, they’re just kids!” Neytiri gritted her teeth as she scolded her husband, his eyebrows furrowed further than he thought they could as he listened to her. She bent down before you to pick you up into her arms, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck as she hoisted you up alongside herself.

What she was saying was true, Jake was truly going overboard and leaving their 5 year old daughter with their other young children was not all the most responsible. Although they all knew that Neteyam was more than able to take care of his family, they wished not to burden him anymore. He was spent from the hectic day of events that he had spent, and it was not fair to bear him of more responsibilities that were not his to care for.

But Jake was spent as well, he’s had a rough day and the churn of events that he had thought would be a nice and relaxing night with his family had truly roughed him up even more.

“Maybe we wouldn’t have to if we didn’t have to take such intense care of that child of yours!” he points a finger towards your mother accusingly, asif you were only her child. Asif it hadn’t taken the both of them to conceive you, like you weren’t his daughter. Though as quick as the words are to leave his mouth, he regrets them. He regrets the way Neytiri falls silent under his traitorous words, or the way you try to hide further into her neck in fear of catching a glimpse at your father’s angry expression.

He sighs again, and your ears cling further to your head at the sound of it. Jake’s expression falls at your body language, ear laid back, tail flat in between your legs and the undeniable sounds of your hushed sobbing. It breaks his heart that you cry because of him, that he had allowed such words to escape him. He’s scared you had mistaken his sigh as a sign of disappointment, and he’s much more scared of the death glare that his wife was giving him.

Though he didn't meet her eyes yet out of fear, he brought a hand back onto your head. As awkward as he always was while expressing himself, it doesn’t even feel like he’s able to mutter any sort of apology to you at the moment, and you feel your heart ache at the fact.

“Watch your mouth.” Neytiri grits out at Jake, teeth firmly grinding together as she speaks. She spoke out every syllable with a pricised articulation so he could hear every single one of her words right. She was angry, undeniably at her husband but now was no time to dwell on things. The faster that they would get ready to leave, the faster that Mo’at could get you checked up and you could all return back home to a good night's sleep.

The days after your little unexplained temper tantrum had been unexpectedly quiet for you. Unlike your ongoing personality around your parents, and your usual loudmouth that just loved to talk back to your dad, you were as silent as a rock. Your father had not even gotten to apologise yet, because Eywa knew how awkward he would be added to the fact that you refused to speak to any of them.

It was obvious that you were avoiding them just as you were avoiding the other kids in the clan. You complained each time that your mom forced you to leave the tent, and that was about the only time where you’d be audible. Neytiri was overwhelmed with the undying fear that she played a part in sending you into some sort of mutism. She cried to your father at night, when they were supposed to be enjoying their night between lovers as they laid under the stars.

She just couldn’t shake the worries away, no matter how much time passed. Until one day she brought up to Jake what she had overheard about you. She had dragged Jake outside of their tent, watching you from the corners of her eyes as you played with your handcrafted dolls. It worried Jake that Neytiri looked so on edge, asif she had heartbreaking news to deliver to him. And that was exactly that.

It didn’t take long for your mother to catch onto what the other kids in the clan were saying about you. Her ears pinning tightly against her skull as she heard the nasty nickname coming out of a child’s mouth, one that was designated for you. Not to add to the fact that their parents already thought you were the spawn of the devil himself, confused as to why Eywa had blessed you with life. It broke her heart to pieces because she couldn’t do anything about it, no matter how much she reprimanded those kids and their parents, no matter how many times she scolded them. Kids will be kids, and you’d always be the ‘ugliest girl in the clan’.

No amount of herbal paste would change your disorder and no amount of grovelling would erase what those kids had said about you. Though in Neytiri’s eyes, she’s always believed you were as beautiful as the sun. As every mother thinks of her children, she thought that you were blessed by Eywa with an utter beauty. But not everyone had eyes like your mother, they were cursed with the blindness of judgement. Neytiri would never fail to remind you of how good you looked in her eyes, that you were born special for a reason. That other kids picked on you because they were basic, and you were unique.

She poured tears as she spoke the same words as those kids to your father, wondering how anyone could be so heartless to her daughter. How anyone had the guts to talk down the child that she had carried for so many months, and birthed under the protection of the Great-Mother. How parents could allow their kids to speak ill of you in such a way, she’d never understand.

Jake connected the dots in his head, thinking that maybe that’s why you had acted the way that you had on that day. Maybe because you were ‘the ugliest girl in the clan’ or maybe it was because Rangya didn’t think so of you. He didn’t believe that you were what those kids had nicknamed you as, and Jake had selfishly ripped that away from you.

Though he believed that he was in the right, because no child of 12 years needed a boyfriend anyway. He should’ve just let you be, maybe then you would’ve realised so on your own. You would notice that the only reason why you wanted to be with that boy was because he didn’t treat you like the others. But now it was too late for that, and your father had stripped you from the potential future that awaited you with this boy.

He let out a grunt of disappointment, moreso towards him than towards the guilty children. He couldn’t help his gaze from flickering from his sobbing mate that he was hugging tightly against his chest, and back towards your innocent frame that was still playing inside of the tent. Kiri was now next to you, brugudly so as her eyerolls said.

She held one of your wooden dolls in one of her hands, moving it comically as she played around with yours. There was a glint of something else behind those annoyed eyes of hers, some sort of hidden glee. Perhaps not because she was playing with those stupid toys of yours, definitely not that. Maybe it was because she was the first one that you had slightly opened to ever since the incident, and Kiri felt pride in the fact that it was her.

She was happy to know that you felt safe enough in her presence that you didn’t completely close yourself off whenever you were near her.

Not long after Jake’s little outburst and a long trip to grandma Mo’at’s tent, she felt disappointment seeping deep within her heart once she couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong in your system that drove you to act in such a way, and it annoyed her to no end that she could not do anything to help her first granddaughter.

A trip to Norm’s lab was what had been recommended to Neytiri from Jake, and after a long time of overthinking it, she declared that there was no other way. Human technology was definitely more advanced than whatever the na’vi had, and maybe they’d have an answer for what Jake and Neytiri were silently looking for.

Norm had said that he was no therapist, but it was obvious that the teasing and bullying of kids had affected you in worse ways than they would have imagined.

And all the while you tried to ignore their sympathetic gazes as Norm explained these things to them. You didn’t want your parents to feel this way for you, you didn’t want to feel this way anymore. You didn’t like becoming an emotional wreck everytime that some stupid kid that you didn’t know made a comment about your different skin.

Eventually, you grew to accept that the teasing would never cease as long as your vitiligo was part of you. And you also came to terms that your disorder would always be part of you, so what was the point of grieving over something that you couldn’t help? Therefor, you just grew away from it, accepting that maybe this was how you had to live your life. That you'd never experience that wholehearted love that your parents shared.

In the long run, your father and you had managed to come to good terms again. After months of longing silence, you were the first one that had made a move, pleading for his forgiveness because of how you had acted on that day. Though Jake was quick to stop you, putting aside his lack of confidence in the comforting domain as he held you tightly into his arms, apologising on his side.

Now you stood at 17, arguments and disputes between your father and you now long forgotten. Your vitiligo was still very much there and visible upon your smooth skin, not that you had expected it to lessen in the few years that had passed anyway. You were slightly happier now, despite the kid’s teasing still being present and active, you tried to pay them less attention.

It didn’t escape you that you were still ‘the ugliest girl in the clan’, but you’d pretend like it didn’t affect you for as long as you had to stay in this clan. You didn’t want for more trouble to rise in your home, so you played it off as though the words didn’t affect you. When in reality, there were nights where you stayed up to watch the stars all up by yourself, your mind elsewhere as the soothing sound of the river flow calmed your nerves. You’d imagine a potential future with someone that loved you for what you were, with a couple of kids and a big home that would welcome you at the end of the day.

A future where you’d have someone to kiss and call you pretty at your wake, but they were all just dreams after all. Some alternate reality that your mind had made up to deal with everything that was going on in your life and you had no other option than to just accept that fact.

Upon dismounting your Ikran on the warm beach of Awa’atlu, you could already sense that your family’s presence wasn’t fancied. Your feet had not even had time to brush against the fine grains of sand before thousands of eyes were already turned towards you. Though being the people that you were, it was hard to feel uncomfortable under so many weary stares. However, something about some new sets of eyes ogling you all for the first time felt unsettling.

You stood straight between your two brothers, your rider’s mask still on your face as you tried to keep your posture up to prove that you feared them not. A quick look around was enough to tell you that this place was beautiful, even though you hadn’t even visited the best parts of it yet. Though it was not home, it would do for now if it meant that staying here kept your family safe.

The clan leaders were unaccepting at first, well at least Ronal was. It was clear that she didn’t want any of you here, and by her fierce stare, you were no exception. Her eyes visibly widened as she rounded your family, finally falling upon your frame. Her eyes explored your body with no shame, excluded of all crudeness. There was some sort of curiosity and disgust that swirled muddled up in her eyes as she examined you from head to toe.

Ronal grabbed onto your forearm roughly, shoving you in front of your huddled family group so the whole clan could see you. You couldn’t help but lower your head to your chest in an attempt to hide from their sickening gazes, but their sounds of opposition fell loud to your ears. She pointed out your discoloured patches to the people as though it wasn’t visible upon first look. It made you feel little, the fact that it was people that didn’t even know you, judging you for how you looked. Judging you for the white patches of skin that covered your entire body like an art piece, but to them you were not worthy of that title.

You could hear the growl of your mother in between all, and the one that Ronal sent her back in hostility.

An intense feeling of dread was swirling through your chest, what if your family wasn’t given uturu because of you? What would happen then, would you be forced to look for another option of a temporary home? Or was this the only one you could afford from now? Never ending questions ran through your mind as you felt the soft touch of your mother’s hand upon your wrist, slowly pulling you back towards her as Ronal retook her place besides her mate.

You couldn’t even look your mother in the face after that, too afraid and ashamed of what the Olo’eyktan’s judgement could be because of you. Though you missed the pitiful glances that your family had casted upon you, Tonowari had seemed to have compassion for your family, one that Ronal did not share but had to live within.

Soon enough, Tonowari had introduced you to his entire family, and a friend of theirs that looked like the sweetest boy that you’ve ever met. He had a mop of curly hair sitting atop of his head, complimenting him well.

Tsireya was the nicest, a literal guardian angel sent by Eywa herself to watch over your family. Her eyes held no judgement and her words were genuine, so you felt more than comfortable whenever you were with her. It didn’t escape you and your big brother that Lo’ak had already developed a crush on the girl, she was charming and heavenly, you couldn’t really blame him.

But when an angel’s near, the devil strays not far behind, and he himself was Ao’nung. It was already bad enough sharing the same age and air as this absolute menace, given that he was just like his mother had made everything 10 times worse. He hated your family based on the minimal interaction that you had in those few minutes of introductions. To say that he had some sort of special hatred towards Lo’ak, Kiri and you was an understatement.

He seemed to loathe you even more based on the fact that his father had picked him to train you, given that you need to adjust to the Metkayina ways.

Despite everything, the first week in Awa’atlu was literal hell. It was hard to adapt no matter how much you all tried, and the rude eyes of the Metkayina followed you around like a bunch of predators. You were sick and tired of the attention, you just couldn’t escape it. It didn’t matter if it was here or back in the Omaticaya clan, you just wished that you could be invisible to the people.

Now that you’ve hit the 3 weeks mark, too much has happened for you to even recall properly. The amount of fights between Lo’ak and Ao’nung that Neteyam and you had to break apart was uncountable, and facing your father at the end of the day was something that you dreaded more than anything. Added to your mother’s constant nagging at you to stay low, because she feared of how the people would treat you if you did one wrong thing in their eyes.

It wasn’t that she didn’t fear for her other kids’ safety as well, especially in a clan that she knew little about, with people that didn’t necessarily like you all. She was a little more wary about you, because if you had been treated badly in your previous clan, who knew what this one had in stock for you. She wasn’t blind to the constant staring each time that you’d leave the marui alongside her, she just didn’t like thinking about it.

Neytiri prays every night for the Great-Mother to lift some burdens off your shoulders. To let you rest at night without having to worry about what other people are saying behind your back, to let you feel normal for just one night. Because she knew that no matter her words, there would always be a longing in your heart to be like them, like everyone else.

“Do you think this one looks better?” Neytiri snaps her head towards you, watching as you hold a weaved top tightly to your chest. Stretched out across your bust like you were trying to show what it looked like without actually wearing it. Neytiri’s eyes moved towards a second pair that you held loosely by the fingers, before shrugging and choosing the one that was currently sprawled out across your torso.

You took the unused one, throwing it towards your sister that was looking for a pair of her own. The top hit Kiri in her face, woven beads clanging against her forehead as your attack took her off guard. Quickly recovering, your mother watched with a sigh as the now-angry Kiri tried throwing it back on you, only to miss completely as you laughed hysterically.

Kiri didn’t seem to have taken your little melee really joyfully, instead she looked like she was ready to murder you. Your laughter died out as you grabbed the top from its discarded position on the floor, walking now calmly towards your little sister. Neytiri couldn’t help the smile that grew upon her face as she watched you open the closed palms of your angry sister, delicately placing your piece of clothing into her hands as you said something to her.

She knew how close Kiri and you were. She was different just as you were, even if she wasn’t covered with what looked like a bunch of stains. No, instead she was a ‘four fingered freak’ just like you were, quoted by the infamous Ao’nung himself. You both had eyebrows like your father, and Kiri’s biological mother. You were about in the same age category, with you being slightly older. So you both understood and trusted one like no other, and Neytiri knew that behind that grumpy personality of hers, Kiri loved you more than she would ever admit.

“Mom? You okay?” The sound of her youngest daughter brought Neytiri out of her thinking again, shaking her head as she walked towards Tuk. Later that night there was a big feast that everyone was expected to be present to, and your family was no exception. Though your father was happy to be included, your mother still felt out of place, a little forced.

A group of unruly teenage boys sat in front of a huge bonfire. It sizzled and popped, threatening to burn those who came too near as the wind blew it closer to them. The sound of raucous laughter resounded around the entire zone, but the night was busy and the area was booming with loud voices that engulfed their own.

Ao’nung sat spaced out between his friends, his legs crossed out before him, a plate of half eaten fish in his hands. He was too busy laughing at whatever joke his friends would crack at every few minutes to even focus on getting his dinner finished.

From the corner of his eyes, Ao’nung could make out a faint blur of your frame. You were sitting with your family, who they were sitting with…his? Ao’nung’s eyes grew in size as he fully turned his torso around to confirm whatever he had just seen. He watched you sit besides his sister, the both of you talking about something he couldn’t quite make up from afar. You were laughing with Tsireya too, you looked so happy.

“Aye, brother!” Ao’nung turned his torso back towards his friends, slightly embarrassed of getting caught looking in your direction. Though the smug look on their faces was not what he had expected once he had turned back, and the roll of his eyes was what they had received. He looked back at his plate, raising a piece of fish up in his hands as he brought it to his mouth to eat. He nodded at the boy, signalling for him to continue his sentence.

“Aren't ya the one that’s been getting close to that Sully girl?” he nodded his head towards something past Ao’nung’s shoulders, and the boy froze as the laughter picked up again. This time it was louder, more genuine as they all turned their eyes towards you and your family. The boy only shrugged his shoulders at the accusations, nothing he could deny as they had seen it with their own eyes.

He snarled at his friends once he heard them snigger in return, shutting them up all at once. Way to piss his mood up at the end of a good night, what a bunch of morons.

“How about a challenge to finish this night right, huh?” Ao’nung ears picked up at the sound of it, visibly raising and turning out towards wherever the voice had came from. He picked his head up, now interested in some good play. Ao’nung had always been known for his big ego and competitive personality, a challenge was not something that he was about to let his friends win. He was going to beat them, no matter what it was.

His friends exchanged mischievous glances, bumping shoulders together like a bunch of kids as they giggled. Ao’nung couldn’t tell if it was from the one glass of dandelion wine that they had downed earlier or from their sheer stupidity. Nevertheless, they recovered from their childish antics before the boy brushes the dust off of his knees.

“How about you date that girl for a whole month!” The boy yelled out, a little too loud as a few heads from nearby families turned towards them. Ao’nung’s eyes widened at the demand, not even needing to ask for precisation to know who his friend was talking about. His face contorted in a swift act of disgust before his expression fell again, shaking his head as a ‘no’.

The noise picked up again as a series of ‘boo’s and ‘awe’s resounded from their group, attracting attention once more. You were unaware of what was currently happening behind your back, instead focusing on hitting your brother’s shoulders playfully as you noticed the longing looks that he would send to Tsireya.

“What i’m i even getting from this anyways?” Ao’nung quite didn't understand the whole point of this challenge, why would he even participate if he was the only one playing, it was no fun.

“We haven’t decided yet but…,” he said, outstretching his hand out towards Ao’nung as he spoke. He hesitated before his group of friends, pondering on where really this whole thing would lead him to. It wasn’t like he had feelings for you yet anyways, so there was little to consider when it came to your side of things. “don’t tell me you’re scared of a little challenge?”

“Looks like she’s already making buddy-buddy with your family,” the booming voice of another boy sent everyone into laughter again as the whole group turned to catch a glimpse of you. “Cmon, look at your future wife!”

“You don't trust me bro? And here i thought that we were friends.'' The said boy crossed both arms over the area where his heart was, mocking offence as he stared straight into Ao’nung’s similar aqua eyes. There was a sliver of mischief still swirling through his iris, but the boy just shrugged it off. It wasn’t like Ao’nung was altruistic either, he was infamously known for his little shenanigans.

Though when Ao’nung’s palmed hand met his friend’s under the eyes of Eywa, the dare was sealed and his mind was racing. Surely he didn’t care much about your feelings, he didn’t even seem to appreciate you as a person for that fact. But something about this sounded so, oh so wrong as he released his and his friend’s intertwined hands. But he had done it now, vowed before his group to fulfil his dare, and Ao’nung was never one to back down.

this is very fast paced and badly made because i had absolutely no time to write but i tried getting something out for yall🙁

tags: @youcantseem3 @timotheechalametishot @holysaladapricothero

#aonung x reader #ao’nung x reader #jake sully x daughter #sully!reader #atwow #avatar #jake sully x reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #avatar oneshot #aonung x sully!reader #ao’nung x sully!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neteyam sully #aonung

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

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Hi how have you been?💗 Would you maybe consider writing some angst for Alexia/Barcelona x reader where like maps and Ingrid start start to notice reader getting thinner and eating less but Alexia is so wrapped up in media and stuff that she doesn’t notice until reader faints at training. Then Mapi shouts at alexia and there’s some angst but it has a softer ending? ❤️

i remember everything.

alexia putellas x reader

warnings: eating disorders, pain n angst with a softer ending.

“Ale we’re losing her.”

Alexia hated a lot of things, winter, bad drivers, the colour orange, the Spanish federation, France, patchy makeup and cherry flavoured candy. The thing at the very top of her list though, was people telling her what to do. Alexia was the best player in the world, she was a force to be reckoned with, she did not need people telling her what to do with her life or relationships.

“Maria, she’s my fucking fiance, I would know if something was wrong with her, this is none of your business.”

Alexia was typing furiously at her phone, something that she seemed to always be doing lately. If you were lucky enough to catch her time for a few minutes, chances were her attention would end up being caught by replying to some email or text from her agent and manager. It was never ending, and anybody who had been a part of Alexia’s life before and after her had seen just how much her life had changed in the past two years. In this instance, Mapi and Alexia were out for drinks, trying to catch up but it was proving to be impossible with most of Alexia’s attention on whatever it was she was replying to this time.

“This is what I’m talking about, you don’t have enough time to talk face to face with your best friend, how does that prove to me that you have enough time to look out for your girlfriend?”

Alexia’s eyes rose from her phone, her fingers pausing.

“Maps, I know my fiance, I’d know if she had a eating disorder, I’d know if she was struggling, I lie in bed with her every night, I wake up with her every morning, I train with her everyday, I know her.”

Mapi’s eyebrow rose up at her forehead, it was weird for Alexia to meet her gaze, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“When was the last time she was sick? When was the last time she burnt something in your kitchen? When was the last time your dog ran away? You wouldn’t know because every time those things have happened in the last few months she’s called me, because you’ve been out of town. You're busy, we all understand it, not everybody can be La Reina, not everyone is you, but not everybody is your fiance. Her smile that normally lights up the room, it’s not there anymore, nothing about her is the same anymore, and I’ll be damned if she dies on your watch because you are being too insolent to acknowledge it.”

Mapi stood up from her seat at the bar, downing the rest of her dirty martini and giving Alexia a final parting frown.

“Go home to your fiance and actually look at her, eye to eye, lover to lover, and try and tell yourself that she is fine.”

Mapi exited the bar, disgruntled by her failed attempt at an intervention with Alexia, the slightly older woman simply didn’t want to listen to her and what was Mapi supposed to do about that? Alexia was stubborn and bullheaded, but she was like Mapi’s sister, she was Mapi’s blood, more than anybody else. Mapi had no idea where she’d be without Alexia, possibly dead in a ditch somewhere. Alexia had been the fristr person to haul her out of bed on a bad day, drag her out of clubs when she was so drunk she couldn’t see straight, Alexia was tough love, she forced Mapi to live until Mapi herself wanted to live. Mapi was more than grateful, but she also wasn’t going to let the love of Alexia’s life slowly kill herself because Alexia was too consumed with her own career to even realise.

The drive home for Alexia was slow and stressful in a way she’d never experienced. Alexia in her heart wanted to believe Mapi was wrong, because how could she be right? Alexia saw you everyday, she knew you better than anybody else, and she hadn’t noticed any of the things that Mapi had been talking about.

When Alexia does get home it’s to a silent house with no lights on, something thats fairly regular for her, considering the abnormal hours she normally egts home at. She leaves her keys and coat at the front door, reaches down to pet Nala who she must have woken up because the fluff ball has major bedhead. Alexia pours herself a glass of water from the tap before cautiously making her way into your bedroom. When she does finally make it to the door it’s hanging open, you sat on the bed, the lamp being the only source of lighting whilst you read from underneath it. You look so peaceful, so perfect, that Alexia considers leaving, sleeping on the couch. But she’s too angry, too consumed with her feelings, too emotional to take into account how much her actions affect you. She figures that in the last few months she’s probably drifted from you more than she's come close, which is probably concerning considering that the months leading up to a wedding you are supposed to be in premarital bliss.

“You didn’t have to wait up.”

Alexia’s voice is even, she moves into your shared wardrobe, pulling off her slacks and crop top and searching for a pair of her pyjamas.

“How was your day?”

You sound so hopeful, so curious. This is the only time of day msot weeks that you get to talk to Alexia and when it’s not too late you try your hardest to stay awake, hopeful tat maybe this time Alexia will return your eagerness.

“Fine.”

Alexia finally finds her pyjama shirt and shorts and changes into them quickly before moving back inot the bedroom.

“O-kay, how are you, how was Mapi?”

There’s so much hope in your voice, something that Alexia hates. She lets her eyes roam your body quickly, discreetly, not in a way that would make you think she was trying to start anything. She doesn’t see anything different. She doesn’t notice the fact that you no longer wear short sleeves or cropped shirts anymore. She doesn’t notice that your ribs now jut out from your skin, instead of being covered by a healthy amount of skin and fat, how could she? She doesn’t notice the patches across your scalp that are now missing hair, she doesn’t know that you no longer get your period, she doesn’t notice that your nails are now brittle and crusty, something that you’ve come to hate about yourself, just another dot point on the list of things that you detest about your body.

“Good.”

Alexia’s one word answer hurt your soul, more than Alexia ever had.

“If you don’t want to talk you can just say that.”

Alexia doesn’t slip under the covers like she’d planned to, instead her jaw clenches and hardens, a defence mechanism of hers that you’d never manage to crack.

“What are you talking about, we’re talking, I’m just tired.”

Your face falls at her snap, your eyes falling back to your book and marking your page before dropping it down on your bedside table, a little huff leaving your lips as your eyes drift upwards to meet Alexias.

“Alright, you must be absolutely exhausted every single time we talk then.”

It’s bold, especially considering that Alexia seems to be in a completely rotten mood, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, because this is all she does and your becoming sick of it.

“Oh my god, I don’t come home every night just for you to make it seem like I’m a shitty girlfriend.”

It’s so Alexia, so Alexia to always somehow make herself the victim, somehow make it you who is the one in the wrong.

“Are you joking? You didn’t agree to come home to our house?”

Alexia moves herself further away from the bed, to the very edge, her eyes and jaw just as stubborn as each other.

“What do you want me to say? I’m tired, I want to sleep, not listen to you whine about whatever your fucking whining about, I’ve been in interviews all day and all I wanted to do was come home and sleep.”

Alexia was always in interviews, always doing something that was your fault, it wasn’t your responsibility to sort out her calendar, or to make her less of a good football player, it just happened to be the way the cookie crumbled.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I just had a really fucking bad qweek and I wanted to talk to you about it, because your supposed to be the fucking person I can talk to, but it’s fine, we can talk tomorrow, or next week, or next year, whenever your not tired.”

Alexia exhales, Mapi’s voice plays through her head, this is her in, this is her opportunity to not be such a fucking jackass.

“No, tell me about it.”

Anything you wanted to say, you swallow, it’s a hard job, but your suddenly so scared of Alexia, so scared that she’ll see you the same way you do, she’s never around to reassure you that you’re enough for her, and you honestly don’t feel like you are anymore.

“It’s fine, honestly sleep.”

You peel back the covers beside you, but Alexia stays still on the other end of the bed, just looking at you.

“You obviously want me to ask about it or you never would have brought it up.”

Alexia knows that it’s a dickhead move, but she’s at her wits end, she’s tired and your beginning to piss her off.

“Why do you make it seem like talking to me is a chore?”

Alexia has a schedule, and she figures sometimes talking with you is a chore, because Alexia doesn’t have time, some days talking to you is just another box for her to tick.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m fucking tired before you udnerstand?”

Alexia’s tone is so harsh, so angry, a tone she long ago promised herself she’d never use with you, ever. But right now every single rule she has for herself is being broken and when tears spring to the corners of your eyes she can’t help but feel guilty.

“If you’re so tired, go to sleep, I’ve told you that already, you’re starting an argument for no reason.”

Alexia cocks her head, trying to absorb what you’ve just said to her.

“Yeah, okay, whatever, I don’t want you fucking talking to me for the rest of the night though.”

Alexia never used to swear around you, or at you, but the part of her that was once so sweet and gentle with you is now gone, long forgotten under the facade that has become La Reina.

“Okay, I love you.”

It’s Alexia’s last chance, her last opportunity for redemption. You give her a few seconds, and when you get nothing in return your heart shatters.

“Please say it back Ale.”

Alexia’s face is emotionless, absolutely devoid of anything that made Alexia, Alexia. It reminds you as to why you are so scared to let people in, because of the damage they can do and the damage they can find. Alexia no longer seems concerned about any of those things, only concerned about herself.

“Alexia.”

She slips under the covers beside you, but her body and face is stock still, so stubborn, so hurt, so fucked up. It’s the final straw for you.

You pull the sheets away from your body, wrenching yourself up and out of the covers, tears streaming down your face as you rush into your wardrobe, pulling out whatever clothes are within arms reach and stuffing them into a bag.

When you emerge Alexia is looking equal parts concerned and shocked.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

In the moment, all you want is to be loved, feel loved, and it’s clear Alexia isn’t prepared to do any of those things.

“You need rest, I don't think either of us are going to get it whilst the other is in the house, I’m going to stay with Mapi for a few nights. When your ready to love me I’ll be there.”

With that you leave the bedroom, pick up your keys and drive into the darkness of the middle of the night, tears flowing freely down your face as the bleary night lights of Barcelona pass by.

It took every single bit of energy left in you to make it up the stairs of Mapi and Ingrid’s house, your knuckles pounding against their door until it swung open, to reveal Mapi and Ingrid, both looking like they’d just crawled out of bed and equally as shocked as each other.

It was then that you broke down, fat, big tears streaming down your face and sobs falling easily from your lips.

“I love her.”

There’s a silence so loud between the three of us as Mapi pulls you into a hug, Ingrid closing the door behind you and the two of them helping you into their house, pulling you into their bed and bringing you into a big hug. All you can do is focus on your breathing, in out, in out. Your hands tears at the broken skin and nails, you can’t manage to meet either of the womens eyes as you cry in their arms, they don’t seem to mind, they only tighten their grip on you.

“It’s okay hermosa, we’ve got you, we won't let go.”

You can’t do much more than cry, you're grieving your life, grieving your lover, grieving everything that you’d just lost in a matter of minutes. Your hearts torn to shreds, undecided about whether or not to let Alexia hold onto a breaking thread and risk the plummet. She’s given you absolutely nothing, no hope, no faith, no love and yet there she goes. She’s let you go. You're only feeling some of it, you know that there is going to be a day, not far away, where you're going to have to see her at training, laughing and smiling with your teammates, people who she’s loving through everything. You're losing her. You lost a version of her that was once so caring, who gave the warmest hugs. You’ve lost your 2 am conversations and your forever and always. You lost the person you’d promised you’d stay around till the very end with, if she hadn’t pushed you away, if she hadn't just loved you none of it would have happened. Alexia Putellas Segura was never yours to have though it seemed, she was for everyone else, the fans, the club, the country. Alexia Putellas was a thought, not a person.

There was a reason why you didn’t eat anymore, you’d become obsessed with trying to be perfect for Alexia, she hung out with models and super stars on the weekends, and yet you were just you. You were so unworthy of her love and attention that you couldn’t really blame her for falling out of love with you.

“She doesn’t love me, she never has.”

Maria hates it when those words leave your mouth, because it couldn’t be further from the truth, Alexia is just shit at showing you it. She knows that her bestfriend loves you more than anybody else in the world, that she would give up everything to be there for you, she just hasn’t noticed that you’ve needed that.

You sniffle into Ingrid’s chest, your fingers tapping against her thigh and your legs shaking from underneath you. You’ve never felt heartbroken before, Alexia has been your day one, and now it feels like you're just done, like everything the two of you have ever worked for together is just completely done.

“She loves you more than you know hermana, but she doesn’t deserve you if she’s going to continue to hurt you.”

Now that Mapi has you in her arms, she can feel just how much smaller you are, how much you’ve shrunken and how emaciated you are. She internally curses Alexia and her stubbornness, the world is so loud that Alexia Putellas has become deaf to your needs, to your happiness. Sometimes her best friend is one of the most impressive people she’s ever met and sometimes she’s just stupid, stupid for letting the love of her life feel so worthless and stupid for letting you walk out the door, something that could be the stupidest decision of her life.

You're positively exhausted, and it doesn’t take much of Ingrid’s back rubs and comforting Norwegian words that you don’t understand for you to be lulled into a painful sleep.

As soon as the two are certain your asleep the move you into the middle of the bed, Mapi looking over the top of you concernedly at Ingrid.

“She needs helps.”

Ingrid can’t find any part of her brain that disagrees with her other half.

“She needs Alexia to take her foot out of her ass and be present.”

Mapi nods her head, her eyes falling to your own face, even in your sleep you lok disturbed, your eyebrows knitted across your skin and a deep frown on your lips.

“Si, well if Alexia won’t then we have to, she needs to know she’s loved. She’s lost so much weight elksling, she hasn’t been eating or looking after herself.”

Ingrid nods, equally worried as her girlfriend about the health of their bestfriend.

“Get some sleep, we’ll figure it out in the morning.

When the two women wake to find you missing from their bed, it takes a search of their apartment to find you deep asleep in their spare room, neither of them question it. They make you breakfast, you don’t eat it, insisting that you're feeling nauseous. When they try to talk about Alexia you shut them down, you’ve created a mental fortress, one that Alexia and your health and emotions aren’t apart of. They invite you to stay with them for the foreseeable future, and you can’t find any reason to say no.

The following days leading up to the first pre-season training are all the same, you hardly sleep every night, sitting up late out on their porch and waking up at the crack of dawn. Mapi knows that your health is teetering dangerously, you hardly eat, you only leave the house to workout, you are a skeleton of a human being. Mapi doesn’t know what to do, you don’t care about anything anymore, or maybe you care so much that it’s all being numbed out.

It’s the first training session when everything turns to shit. She’d found you balling your eyes out in a change room cubicle beforehand, as soon as you’d spotted Mapi you’d pulled yourself together, terrified of being vulnerable in front of her. It only got worse though when you stepped out of the tunnel and onto the field, to be faced with Alexia, standing casually on the field, chatting with a few of your teammates. Your heart plummeted at the sight of her, the woman that you’d made so tired, so unhappy, laughing and messing about with your teammates. You pushed Mapi away when she tried to comfort you, walking straight to the sideline of the pitch to start your warm up. You made it through half of it, your body hurt though, in a way that it never had before. You only made it through one of your sprints before you were face planting into the turf, your whole body completely done. Your bones sunk into the grass, your body just giving up.

It was Mapi who made it to you first, flipping you over, her eyes searching your unconscious face. She knew this was going to happen, knew it was only so long before your body stopped letting you overwork it.

“Alexia.”

Mapi screamed at the top of her lungs, desperate to draw anyone's attention, specifically your fiance, or ex fiance. Everyone turned to face the two of you, Mapi knelt down on the turf, rocking your body back and forth as she tried her very hardest to awaken you, a task that was proving to be unsuccessful. The whole team rushed forward, Alexia at the front of the pack, collapsing beside Mapi on the ruf, taking your head in her hands and shaking it furiously.

“Someone get a medic, y/n, come on, wake up for me, get up.”

There was more emotion in Alexia’s voice than Mapi had heard in months. Mapi hated that it took you passing out for Alexia to care, and suddenly her protective older sister instinct kicked in, pushing Alexia away from you, taking her hands and distaching them from your unconscious body.

“Get the fuck away from her? She has to be unconscious for you to give a fuck? This is your fault, you let it get this bad, if you actually loved her you would have realised ages ago, but you don’t do you? You don’t love her like she deserves, you only love her when it’s convenient for you?”

The words bring tears to Alexia’s eyes, Mapi’s words awaken something in her, a realisation that she’s right, Alexia has given a blind eye to you and now you were seriously hurt because of it. She scrambled away from your body, suddenly overly aware of just how much she’d hurt you. She pushed herself out from the group, running away from all of them, running away from you, running away from her problems, running away from her life that she’d fucked up so badly.

One of the girls had called 112, clawing Mapi away from your unresponsive body as the medics tended to you, plastering a oxygen mask on your face that was far too big, sitting wrongly on your bony face. They loaded you up onto a stretcher, your cold body attached to more cords than you had extremities.

Mapi managed to fit herself into the ambulance with you, clutching your hand the whole drive to the hospital, praying to herself to let you be okay, to let everything work itself out.

When you woke up it was painful. Your eyes blinked furiously as they tried to focus on anything besides the infuriating white light that was clouding your vision. It took a few seconds for your senses to kick in, but once they did it only hurt more. The sound of constant beeping, movement and noise pollution crowding you ears. It was then that you spotted Mapi and Ingrid at your bedside, your eyes darting furiously between the two as the blood rushed to your ears to protect you from the overstimulating noise that was crowding your brain.

Mapi stood up, her hand intertwining with yours. She was trying to speak to you, but you couldn’t hear anything, your ears making you practically deaf. Mapi held your hand and it seemed to be enough, enough to tell you that everything was okay, or as okay as it could be. Slowly your anxiety slipped out from under you, and your hearing came back, allowing you to focus on what Mapi was saying to you.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s all okay, your okay, take some deep breaths for me.”

Your eyes darted to the IV’s and cords that were connected to you, the feeding tube that went through your nose and down your throat, the oxygen cannula that also rested on your nose, the countless IV’s that were connected to your arm, making it far harder to move your arm at all.

“What happened?”

Your words were choken, your throat dry from lack of liquids. Mapi solved this problem, reaching to your bedside and lifting a glass of water to your lips, you took tentative sips, the water soothing your dry throat.

“You passed at training, malnutrition and dehydration. The doctors think that you’ve been struggling with anorexia for a little while, that you haven’t been eating properly.”

Suddenly everything stopped for you, the words leaving Maria’s mouth making you gulp on nothingness. It felt like you were being choked, big imaginary hands wrapping around your throat, preventing you from saying anything in your defence. It felt like your organs were all eating each other up in your stomach, a uneven discomfort spreading across your torso.

“Nobody is judging you, you’ve been through a really tough time, what matters most now is getting you back to being healthy and happy. Barca is in full support of what you want to do, you have lots of options, inpatient, out patient, moving in with Ingrid and I fully.”

You didn’t want any of those things, you wanted Alexia and it hurt for you to admit that.

“I want Ale.”

Maria frowned at your words, she was still furious with Alexia.

“I don’t think that's a good idea, you deserve better then her hermosa.”

It hurt you to hear Mapi regard Alexia so lowly, when a few weeks ago Alexia had been her best friend in the entire world.

“I want to see Alexia, I know she’s here, let me see her.”

Ingrid stood up, walking out the door of your room and out into the waiting room, retrieving a particularly heart broken blonde from the room and dragging her into your room.

The way your face lit up when you saw Alexia made Mapi feel sick, she wasn’t going to let Alexia hurt you again like she had.

Alexia’s cheeks were tearstained, her eyes distant as they met yours. It hurt her in ways she could never explain, seeing you looking so lifeless in a hospital bed, you were conscious, but all life had been drained from your body, you truly looked like a skeleton.

“Mapi, give me and Alexia a minute will you?”

Mapi looked like she was about to argue, but Ingrid’s hand on her wrist, tugging her out of the room was enough of a distraction, the Norwegian woman closing the door behind the two of them.

“I’m so sorry, I was such a bad girlfriend-.”

You stopped Alexia grovelling by lifting your hand.

“You fucked up, you hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt before. It fucking sucked Alexia, never seeing you and when I did see you, you were always on the phone or tired or not in the mood. I understand that you are very busy, and that you can’t control your schedule, I’m not having a go at you for that, you are allowed to be tired. I’m pissed off because I was struggling, really fucking struggling and all you gave a shit about was yourself, you don’t understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself. You are supposed to be my person, the person I can ask and tell anything and you didn’t want to be that and I detested you for that. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t spend everyday hating you, because this is what it does to me. I can’t live without you, but I also can’t live beside a version of you that doesn’t love me like I deserve. I want to try us, I want to try again, because if I stand even a chance at keeping myself alive and being happy whilst doing it, it’s going to be in your arms, but I need you to understand that, I need you to understand that you need to be here for me, regardless of what’s going on in your life. You know I’m proud of you, I’m your biggest supporter, so right now I need you to be that for me.”

Alexia nodded like a goldfish at you, more tears flowing freely down her face.

“How bad is it?”

You bit down on your lip, everything that made Alexia, La Reina was gone, all of her barrier broken down, so that the only person standing in front of you was your Ale, the Ale you loved so very much.

“It’s not good, I haven’t been looking after myself in a long while, Anorexia they say. They want me to go into outpatient or inpatient, or move in with Mapi. I don’t want to do any of those things, I just want to be with you, happy with you, with you there to look out for me, I just need you to commit to that for me.”

Alexia nodded quickly, her head shaking furiously as her blonde hair swished back and forth beside her head.

“Please, if you’ll have me. I’ll take time off, whatever you need, I’m here for it all, I’ll spend everyday for the rest of our lives making it up to you, I promise, please just let me love you.”

You patted down on the space beside you on the bed and Alexia hesitantly sat down on the space, hovering on the bed, making sure she wasn’t touching you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You were starved though, starved of everything that you’d been missing the last few weeks, you reached out for her, pulling her to sit beside you on the bed, your head coming to rest against her stiff form. It took a few seconds to get her to relax, but when she did she lifted her hands up to your thin hair, carding her fingers gentle through it, trying her hardest not to notice the amount of hair that was falling out as a result of your health problems.

“I love you Ale.”

Alexia was so focused on you, that she didn’t even really hear the words.

“Ale, say it back.”

Your stern tone seemed to awaken her, she pointed her head down to yours, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and murmuring,

“I love you mi amor, more than you will ever know,”

It calmed your soul, a part of your heart that you didn’t know existed finally resting, enough to let you slowly drift off on Alexia’s chest, allowing you to sleep better than you had in months. Alexia found herself following you, the sight of you finally relaxed making her so much more content.

That was how Mapi and Ingrid found the two of you, sound asleep on your hospital bed. Mapi was a little bit annoyed at how easily you’d forgiven Alexia, but she couldn’t find it to be mad at the Catalan for very long, approving of how happy you looked at rest in her arms.

#woso #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #barca femeni x reader #wfc barcelona #barcelona women #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #liga f #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #older sister mapi leon #made me cry #love angst

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 1 year ago

Note

I’m back in my silly nonsense again and I do have a request, if that’s ok, I seriously don’t wanna annoy or stress you out hun but I do have a specific request in mind.

A sadistic yandere doctor x reader

It starts out simple enough like the reader goes in for a simple checkup and there’s a new doctor taking care of them and it escalates from there, every appointment with the new doctor becomes more unnerving and unhinged until escalating to abducting his “patient” and keeping them to himself

I dunno this sounded better in my head and plus you’re more creative than I am😅 I had this lil idea for a while and I’d figure it was worth a shot to ask, thanks for putting up with my silly shenanigans 😅

CW: Abduction, drugging, obsessive yandere, former bully reader, foul language, trypanophobia and mild iatrophobia

I took this ask and fucking R A N

The line between hatred and love is much thinner than one would like to believe.

(Reader) sat stiffly in the waiting room, staring at their phone while scrolling, not paying attention to anything that passed their eyes. Time was not moving fast enough, and it felt like they were about to have a heart attack while waiting for the doctor, fifteen minutes past their scheduled appointment time. They nearly jumped when the nurse finally called their name, not bothering to offer even a polite grin to the nurse as they were led back to get weighed, praying to whatever was listening that their deodorant didn't fail them. Sweat glued their shirt to their back, but (Reader) refused to take off their jacket.

Going to the clinic was always a hassle, and if it wasn't for the pain in their neck that refused to ease up they would have continued to avoid it like the plague. The nurse brought (Reader) back to an empty room, and left them there again, now waiting on a paper sheet that crinkled obnoxiously whenever (Reader) shifted and was ten times colder than they were in the waiting room. (Reader) took a shaky breath and continued to scroll absentmindedly on their phone.

A soft knock at the door was enough to make (Reader) drop their phone, diving for it as a nurse wheeled in a cart. "Hello, dear, how are we today?"

(Reader) popped back up, flushed. "Peachy."

"Lovely." The older woman grabbed a chart and read over (Reader's) information. "I'm going to take a quick little blood sample and get you checked in for Dr. Campbell."

Their face felt cold with how quickly their previous embarrassment faded into fear. Both at the thought of getting their blood drawn, and in confusion at hearing a new name. "Actually, my doctor is Dr. Kowl." (Reader) tried to correct the nurse.

The nurse smiled brightly. "Dr. Campbell is our newest doctor, he'll be taking over for Dr. Kowl when he retires. Can you remove an arm from your jacket please?"

(Reader) slipped their left arm out for the nurse, holding in their breath and averting their eyes while she pulled out a clean needle. Even if they couldn't see it, just knowing that it was getting closer to their arm sent a rush of adrenaline up and down their body so quickly that (Reader) was afraid it would knock them out. They swallowed a lump of snot threatening to choke them, rolling their eyes back to look at the ceiling as they ignored the tiny prick of pain.

"All done."

The sleeve was rolled down before (Reader) turned their head, a tight grimace plastered on their face. "Great."

"Dr. Campbell will be with you shortly." The nurse's demeanor was warm, but (Reader) couldn't feel it past the cold crispness of her scrubs. Clinic doctors weren't as bad as hospital or ER doctors, but they still were not pleasant to be around.

• 17 years ago •

A chubby boy with dark curly hair obscuring his eyes nervously watched (Reader) from afar, working up the courage to go speak to them. (Reader) had a bruise on their neck, partially hidden by their hoodie, and the young man was worried for the stranger in his high school. Tugging on his baggy shirt awkwardly while shuffling his feet, he made his way to the sad looking teen, struggling not to lose his nerve. "Hey.." he struggled not to stutter. "I was just, uh, wondering if everything was.. okay?"

The look of loneliness and emptiness on (Reader's) face was gone so fast that the boy thought he imagined it, now only seeing disgust and rage.

"The fuck you just say?"

• Present •

A young doctor with wavy brown hair stepped into the room, his downward turned eyes widening every so slightly, a bright, welcoming smile contrasting his surprised gaze, as he entered (Reader's) view. (Reader) was equally shocked, taken back by how handsome their new doctor was. "How are we feeling today?"

Hearing that typical doctor's greeting paled (Reader's) complexion, reminding them that no matter how hot this man might be, he was still a doctor. "I, uh, got a pain. It won't go away."

Dr. Campbell nodded, gently touching (Reader's) jaw as he tilted their head, watching their face carefully as they grimaced at certain angles. "Have we already taken X-rays?"

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong. Urgent care said it was a pulled muscle, I'm just here for a follow up." (Reader) noted how the new doctor searched their eyes uncomfortably; it was as though he was looking for something specific. "Is there something wrong?"

The doctor removed his hands, smiling again, but this time the smile seemed disingenuous, almost melancholy. "I'm sorry, I just.. you look like someone that I used to know." His jaw clenched under his smile. Dr. Campbell swiveled away, rolling to the computer and tapping on the keyboard for a couple of minutes before clicking his tongue. "I'm sorry, (Reader), but it looks like something went wrong with the blood sample we just took. Can you roll up your sleeve for me so I can get a new sample?" He asked while already reaching into his drawer, grabbing a fresh syringe and three vials.

(Reader) sighed, frustration displayed openly on their features. "Really?.."

• 17 years ago •

"Cry, bitch!" (Reader) snarled, kicking the new kid in his ribs. His only real crime was not knowing that, despite the lack of piercings, (Reader) was practically the leader for the high school's most notorious delinquents. The only reason (Reader) hadn't been expelled was because their grades never dropped below an A-, and the school prioritized their placement as the second best school in the country over a few accusations of harassment.

"Hey (Reader), who's your new friend?" Nate asked while sauntering over with the rest of (Reader's) friends.

"Dunno. Hey new kid," (Reader) bent down, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and yanking his head up, "what's your name?"

The kid could barely speak through his sobbing. ".. Ichabod."

"HA! What kind of name is that?!" Lily cackled hysterically.

"From now on, I think you're going to be my new best friend.. ain't that right, pussy?"

His dark brown eyes couldn't help but fixate on (Reader's) neck as they glared down at him, the bruise shaped like fingers was so dark that in the lighting it looked like it was bleeding. "Well, that's the worse fucking name I've ever heard in my life. No wonder you're such a pussy.

• Present •

"I'm here for Dr. Campbell? I have a twelve-thirty about some blood results?" (Reader) grumpily muttered, pissed that they had to be back at the clinic only a week after their last appointment. Hearing Campbell's name, one of the receptionists smiled, fluttering her lashes and biting her lip subtly.

Her colleague saw her reaction and made a noise of approval. "That new doctor, he's quite the charmer, isn't he?"

"Stop!" The younger woman smiled harder, rolling her eyes. The whole thing made (Reader) grossed out. Yeah, the man was cute, but not when you're on the job. "Besides, he's.. unavailable."

"What? I didn't see a ring on his finger."

'They have forgotten me.' (Reader) puffed out their cheeks and patted their sides loudly, hoping the two medical professionals would get the hint and just sign them in.

"Apparently, he only became a doctor because of his highschool sweetheart. He said he had somebody whose 'attention' he 'wanted'." She sighed dreamily. (Reader) sighed also, but only out of frustration.

"Hey." (Reader) snapped, embarrassing the two receptionists as they looked to (Reader), mouths open like (Reader) was an apparition. "Twelve thirty. (Reader). Is there any paperwork I need to fill out?"

"Sorry! No-"

"Great." (Reader) interrupted the lady, heading over to the horribly uncomfortable chairs a few feet away. However, nearly as soon as (Reader's) butt touched the seat their name was called out, startling them on the speed.

They raised their eyebrows but didn't complain, heading back past the smiling nurses with disdain.

Dr. Campbell met (Reader) in the hall, sneaking up behind them. "Not big on smiling, huh?" The tall man grinned, feeling immense joy at the way (Reader's) face blanched and their muscles tensed.

"I'll smile for some good news." (Reader) forced a smile onto their face, the faux sign of friendliness not reaching their eyes.

He held out a hand as if to say 'after you', directing (Reader) to an open door.

• 16 years ago •

Ichabod couldn't look away from (Reader), studying their shaky visage as (Reader) barely held themselves together, teetering in the corner of the dirty basement. It was interesting, the first real emotion Ichabod had ever detected from (Reader) besides disgust.

Fear.

The group of 'friends' all drunkenly sat around Lily's older brother while he tattooed the minors in his dingy home. (Reader) was trying their hardest not to barf as the gun entered their friend's skin rhythmically.

"(Reader), check it out!" The dumbass child held up his arm, proudly displaying a jagged dog. "What'd ya think?"

"It looks like shit." (Reader) spat. The horror was masked by their hatred, fooling everyone except Ichabod. He stared a little too hard, finally drawing the attention of (Reader).

(Reader) could see by the look in Ichabod's eye that he saw their dirty little secret. Rage buzzed throughout (Reader's) body. "Why don't you give one to the pussy?"

Gasping, Ichabod went weak, experiencing something close to betrayal. He never felt an ounce of companionship from his 'best friend' but he was always looking for something from (Reader), he just couldn't understand what. Nate jumped up, launching towards the group's punching bag with sadistic glee.

(Reader) went blank, as they often did, showing neither pleasure nor anger as their friends closed in on Ichabod. "What about it? Since you're not fighting back, I take it that means you want one?" They paused, almost hoping for a reaction other than fright. But Ichabod was frozen, pleading (Reader) with his large teary eyes.

• Present •

"Fine. Hey Marty, why don't you write-"

"This better be the last time." (Reader) finally opened their eyes, too blinded by their phobia to question why their doctor's face was pink; why his large eyes were half lidded; and why he was smiling at them like they were the most attractive person he's ever seen in his life.

Dr. Campbell shuttered, eyes glazing over as he watched (Reader's) face contort, sweat beading on their forehead as the needle pierced their arm. (Reader) was so focused on not crying that they had no clue the look their new doctor was giving them. Being able to see this side to (Reader) was a privilege, one reserved for best friends.

"This should be the last test." His voice which usually oozed like honey quivered oddly, tickling a memory (Reader) couldn't quite recollect.

"Yeah, well, bit aggravating that both times I've gotten my blood drawn, something went wrong and it needed to be taken again." They pulled on their jacket with a huff. "Arm's beginning to look like a junkie's."

"Well, I do apologize for that. You can schedule your next appointment at the front desk. Your results will be in by next Thursday, we'll discuss them together then."

"Great." (Reader) left the room as quickly as possible, the agitation felt from being trapped in a doctor's office trumping how woozy they were. The nervous adult left the doctor behind, unaware of his erection hidden under his clip board. Dr. Campbell pocketed the blood sample, casually readjusting his pants through his pocket as he did so.

His smirk faded into something haunting, something damn near evil. "Last appointment, huh?" The doctor couldn't help but roll up his sleeve, his hard on becoming almost painful in the position he was sitting. A faded blue ink tattoo fuzzy with age and poor in quality marred his arm like a beautiful blemish.

• 15 years ago •

Cigarette smoke drifted up towards the gloomy clouds, the senior leaning against the fence that separated student and faculty parking lit a new cigarette as soon as the last one finished. Ichabod recognized (Reader) from behind, and found himself incapable of running and hiding, pulled in to his tormentor's side against his will. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of (Reader's) face, one eye completely swollen shut and their skin dark purple. Their one good eye stared at nothing, unblinking and dead.

(Reader) didn't look at Ichabod, knowing there was only one person dumb enough to approach them when they looked like this. No matter how hard they pushed him, he never stopped looking at them with that pitiful sentimentality. "Don't hang out with us at lunch today." Nate failed another history exam, and would be looking for someone to take his anger out on. (Reader) didn't know why they were sparing such a little bitch from getting his ass beat. Maybe they were just bored of him.

Ichabod flinched like he had just been hit, trying to will (Reader) to look at him, to explain themselves.

"Actually.. I'm done with you." They finished off their cancer stick, and dropped it into the gravel. "Stop hanging out with us."

"Why?" It was the only thing he could force himself to say.

(Reader) wondered why themselves. Would a therapist have been able to understand? See past their anger, their disgust? The only reason why (Reader) started bullying Ichabod was because he was new, and no one told him that (Reader) wasn't worth his sympathy. They knew he saw it, the bruise on their neck, and they could see it in his stupid face. And it pissed them off. Everyone knew-

(Reader) wasn't someone to pity.

Watery eyes threatening to overflow shook under the force of his tumultuous feelings as the baby faced young man got in (Reader's) line of sight. Even getting decked would be better than being ignored. But there was nothing in (Reader's) eye. He was invisible to them. "I hate pussies."

• Present •

"So, just a pulled muscle?" (Reader) grimaced, raising their hands in annoyance.

Dr. Campbell smiled, showing off all his pearly white teeth. "Thank God it wasn't something more serious."

"Great." Slapping their knees, (Reader) stood, ready to leave and hoping to never come back again. However, their body was stopped at the door by a strong hand gripping their wrist painfully, a deep scarlet staining Dr. Campbell's face and what was visible of his neck. "What?"

"Have we met before?" His face was smiling but his voice was on the verge of cracking.

"Yeah. Three weeks ago. When I first came in."

Long eyelashes nearly pushed his glasses off his nose. The doctor had (Reader) trapped in his arms at this point. "Are you sure? Are you sure I don't look familiar?"

The rising feeling of anxiety quickly morphed into anger, just as it always did, just like when they were a little kid. It took every ounce of self control they had to not knee the new doctor in the nuts. "Am I supposed to?!" (Reader) raised their voice, clenching their fists, feeling their entire body tense as it prepared to fight.

A laugh escaped him, jerking uncontrollably as he felt himself nearly cum just from seeing the old (Reader) trapped in his arms, unable to escape him, knowing that they were just masking their fear, just like that day in the basement all those years ago. "Thank you.." The look in his misty eyes grossed (Reader) out. "Thank you for not changing."

• 15 years ago •

"What?" Ichabod asked in disbelief. The office attendant spoke clearly but her words just didn't make sense.

(Reader) had been missing for nearly a month before Ichabod had the courage to ask anyone where they went. His tan skin had already begun to heal, the bruises left by (Reader's) shoes and the cuts left from their punches had faded. The only memory he had left of them was the tattoo on his arm he kept covered up. If he ever wore a short sleeve shirt it would be over, the pain would end, but he would also never see (Reader) again, and he couldn't have that.

"(Reader) doesn't go here anymore, sweetheart. They got their G.E.D so they could graduate early. One smart cookie, that one."

'But that's impossible.' Ichabod thought to himself. He knew (Reader), knew them better than anyone else. He was special. There was no way he couldn't have known about this. He was closer to (Reader) than their piece of shit friends, and that's why (Reader) hurt him! Deep down Ichabod just knew that (Reader) only hurt him because he could see them for who they were. No one else knew how scared (Reader) was. No one else cared about (Reader's) home life. Only he did.

Only Ichabod knew how terrified (Reader) was of needles.

Through the tears and spit, hiding his body from his parents so they wouldn't know what was happening at school, lying to teachers when they voiced their concerns about potential bullying, Ichabod had convinced himself that what he and (Reader) had was special. Because only he saw how scared they were. He told himself that it wasn't because no one else cared about the "future criminal", but because he was special to (Reader), and only he was allowed to see them vulnerable. That was a privilege for best friends only.

'Was it because I didn't give them enough attention?'

He walked through the hallway without a limp, without a hunched back, just like a normal student. It disgusted him. The walls were plastered with students' artwork, motivational posters, and recruitment ads. A smiling man in a white lab coat caught Ichabod's attention, pulling him out of his dark emptiness and showing him the solution to his problem.

"I'll make you see me."

• Present •

"Stupid son of a bitch!" (Reader) moved at a fast pace through the parking garage, nearly jogging to their truck. They had been doing so well, such a good job, but one moment in a stranger's arms and their mind was invaded by a voice they hadn't thought about in almost a year.

Their mother's words tumbled from their lips as they fished for their keys, shaking with apprehension disgust. "Fucking coward, fucking pussy, goddamnit, good for nothing-"

The old familiar tingling of adrenaline, the need to punch something.

Reaching their truck didn't provide any relief. The keys they were searching for kept evading their fingers as though they had a mind of their own. In the black of their tinted window another figure approached their reflection. (Reader) angrily whipped around, ready to start swinging. Behind them stood Dr. Campbell, wearing a baby blue short sleeved polo tucked into a pair of black slacks. The collared shirt exposed his muscular arms and accentuated his broad shoulders. He would have been so attractive if (Reader) didn't know what he looked like in a lab coat.

"I'm glad I caught you! I didn't have a chance to apologize in there, you rushed off before I could explain myself."

"Don't make up excuses for being a pervert." (Reader) snarled, ready to lash out like a cornered animal. They still couldn't feel the keys in their pocket.

The man smiled so sweetly at (Reader) that it made them want to bite him. "It really hurt my feelings. I thought that maybe you just didn't remember me." His eyes looked down at his feet, but he wasn't an actor, and (Reader) could see plainly that there wasn't a drop of sadness in the man before them. "But I guess.. I do look different than I did back in highschool."

His right hand reached out towards (Reader) to caress their cheek. They almost smacked him away, but a small, shitty tattoo on his arm drained them of their blood faster than a gun shot wound, feeling their bravado leak out of them so quickly that they didn't have time to remember to be pissed.

(READER'S) BITCH

Before they could recover and throw the first punch the hand clamped over their mouth, and a needle was revealed from behind his back in the other hand.

They struggled, but Ichabod hadn't spent his years in med school working out to impress (Reader). Eyes wide with horror watched the needle approach their neck helplessly, and Ichabod could almost cry at the beautiful sight before him. The fear that only he was able to see, only he was allowed to experience, God he could have fucked them right there and then, but he controlled himself. This had all been planned out, and he couldn't fuck it up just because (Reader) was shaking beneath him so cutely.

The needle went into their neck, injecting a drug to knock them out for a few hours. (Reader) screamed silently into his palm, and he watched as they recognized the adoration in his eyes with terror. (Reader's) keys were pulled out from Ichabod's back pocket, dangling teasingly in front of (Reader's) face as they went limp. "You said you hated pussies." His smile was mocking as (Reader) went dark, unable to stay awake. There was so much they wanted to say. They wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. To tell him he wasn't a pussy, that they were never speaking to him when they called him that.

They didn't understand why he looked down at them so kindly. (Reader) hoped that if he killed them it would be a swift death. They felt that they deserved it after all this time.

What he had in store for them was much, much worse than death.

#yandere #thank you for the story idea #i took this and ran #yandere doctor #sadistic yandere #cw abduction #cw drugging #cw trypanophobia #cw iatrophobia #thank you for interacting with me #yandere x reader #sorry this is a bit off from your ask

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strangeshoepatrolbandit · 2 years ago

Text

Brotherly Love Pt.5

J.T. D.W

Jason Todd x Al-Ghul/Wayne reader(platonic)Gender Neutral

Pt.[1][2][3][4]

Summary:Jason keeps finding ways to connect with you, Damian's a little jealous.

Warnings:Light fight scene, cigarette, a knife. (Also the pie recipe is a copy and paste from google)

~☆~

Bruce awoke with a fright, running down the stairs and down to the living area of the Manor. His short red robe riding up his thighs as he ran to try and find the cause of the loud bang he had heard.

"Hey, Bruce." Jason had lazily greeted, not taking his eyes off of the newspaper infront of him, hand scratching the top of Aces head.

"What was that sound?" The older man questioned, not even asking what Jason was doing at the Manor.

"You got new locks." Jason deadpanned whilst finally looking up at Bruce from where he sits.

"Why are you here?" Bruce finally asked.

"Waiting for Y/N, they sleep so much later than Demon spawn." Jason complained.

Bruce paused, thinking of what to say. He just knew he was glad Jason was finally coming around, and that you had a brother again, even if he isn't your actual blood brother.

"Can I borrow them for the day?" Jason asked, almost shy but Bruce knew better.

"Yeah, go wake them up." He told Jason, before patting his shoulder.

~☆~

"Y/Nnnnn.." Jason sung out, trying to wake you. You could feel the almost inhuman warmth radiating from his hand that rested on your shoulder.

"Y/Nnnnn.." The living dead man next to you sang again.

"What?" You moaned out, eyes stinging from the sleep wridden in them.

"Get dressed, were hangin' out." Jason informed, leaving a pat to the arm that his hand rested on.

~☆~

Jason ended up taking you to his apartment, asking you if Alfred had introduced you to his baking yet. Your answer left Jason at a loss for words, what do you mean Alfred hadn't introduced you to his infamous cookies, or his brownies?

"Well we may not be making his cookies, because he won't give me the recipe, but we will be making pie!" Jason exclaimed, a giddy grin resting on his face.

~☆~

The memories of rarely baking pies with Jason's mother when they had the supplies clouded his mind, how after her death it moved to baking with Alfred. Now as if it's some family tradition he's moved on to doing it with you, only this time he's the teacher.

Jason sprinkled flour onto his counter, before plopping half of the dough Alfred made for you to that morning on top of the thinly dusted surface.

"You ever baked?" Jason asked, his Gotham accent dripping in his word. You shook your head and Jason offered a smile whilst grabbing a rolling pin.

"Watch me." Jason's arms gripped the utensil, rolling over the dough just a bit so you could get the gist. His arm nudged against your own as he handed you the rolling pin so he could peel the apples for the filling. You delicately pushed down and rolled the dough into a thinner circle, Jason eyed you from where he stood peeling fruit so that he could tell you when it was thin enough.

"Alright, flour your hands." He whispered, walking back over to your side and taking the rolling pin. His hands peeled the edge of the dough off of the counter, before placing it onto your newly dusted hands. Jason placed a pie tin in front of you and helped you set the dough into it.

"Make sure it's tucked in." He instructed, pulling your wrist so that you could push the dough fully into the tin pan. You watched as Jason cut off the extra dough, and prick holes into the bottom with a fork before placing it into the oven.

"I'll peel the apples, you roll out the other half."

~☆~

Jason had peeled and cut all of the apples, now they were placed into a big bowl. The pre-baked crust had already been taken out of the oven, and all of the filling ingredients have already been measured.

Jason situated you infront of the bowl, handing you a spatula for mixing.

He handed you the sugar and the cinnamon to add to the bowl, pouring the flour himself. A spinkle of salt, and some nutmeg came afterwards, Jason poured in the little bit of lemon juice that came last.

"Stir gently." He whispered, watching as you mixed all of the ingredients into the apples.

Jason placed the pie tin infront of you once again, ordering you to spoon the ingredients into the crust-lined pan. Jason's fingers pinched the top layer of dough onto the top of the pie, before cutting a slit into the encasing. He placed tin foil onto the top of the pie, and placed it into the oven.

"Let's clean up." Jason spoke as he held up his hand for a high five, you stared at him for a moment before his opposite hand grabbed your wrist so he could guide your hand to meet his own.

~☆~

*After cleaning up*

"Okay, show me what you got."

"What?"

"Hit me."

Your fist came up without hesitation, aiming a blow below his sternum, his own hands grabbed at you before your fist collided with him. Jason moved quickly, prying a finger into your side, right under your ribcage. Your hand twisted from his grasp, and you landed a kick to his knee. Letting out a grunt in frustration he fell onto one knee. His hands wrapped around both of your legs before pulling you forward, letting you fall to your knees as well. Jason shot out an arm to grab you with, but you quickly caught his hand and got back onto your feet, rounding behind Jason's body so his arm was twisted behind himself.

The front door flying open alerted both of you, forcing you both to stand up in a correct fighting position.

"Hey!" A redheaded man yelled when he caught sight of the both of you.

Jason let out a sigh before wiping a hand over his face.

"Y/N, this is Roy." Jason introduced the redhead for you. The man stepped forward, shooting a hand out for you to take whilst a grin rested on his lips. You glanced at his hand, giving it a dissatisfied look before hesitantly taking it in your own.

As Roy dropped your hand he walked off into the kitchen, snooping around to see is he could find the food he smells.

"Whatcha' makin'?" He asked, neither you or Jason answered, only glancing at each other.

"Damian's more of the fighter, anyway." You shrugged, before walking off to follow Roy.

~☆~

You watched as Jason and Roy played a video game on Jason's TV. Your slice of pie that had previously been made was still being eaten by you, the two men that resided beside you and on the floor had already scarfed down their own slices.

You watched as their characters fought each other on the screen, your mind wondered, what if you and Damian were raised like this? What if the two of you were raised away from war? Gotham it's self had its own spike of violence but still nothing to what you and Damian were raised with. What if the two of you were "normal", raised playing video games, having sleepovers, playing catch with you father?

Part of you resented Talia for raising you the way she did, but another part of you loved her and thought about the times she actually acted like your mother. Like how when you were younger there were certain times when she would sit in her bed, you and Damian tucked on either side of her and she would read a book to you. She even had a painting that was made of you and your brother hanging on the wall of her quarters. But still, she raised you with all of that violence, training as the Al-Ghul heirs. Just because she was a little soft with you at times doesn't make her mother of the year.

~☆~

Before Jason dropped you back off at the Manor he cut a slice of pie and put it in a container with your name on it. Giving you firm instructions to immediately give it to Alfred, then he placed it into your bag.

"Y'know if you want more, call me." Jason told you, handing you the phone of yours that you didn't even know he had. "Roy's is in there too."

The redhead looked over at the sound of his name before throwing a smile and a peace sign.

"See ya' little dude." Roy bid goodbye as you passed him due to Jason pushing you out of the front door.

~☆~

After pulling up to the front of the Manor, Jason leaned on his motorcycle, a hand in his pockets, and the other holding his newly lit cigarette.

The two of you sat out there together, staring at the gothic chic Manor.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You broke the silence, not ready to watch Jason leave. The taller man only snuffed his cigarette out and put on his helmet.

"Sorry, kid." Jason muttered as the threw a leg over his motorcycle and drove off.

~☆~

Alfred opened the door as soon as you reached the front steps, he always had this strange way of forming at the door before you could even knock. As he held a hand out for your backpack you reached in and handed him your slice of pie that Jason had given you.

"Dinner is set."

"Thank you, Alfred."

~☆~

You headed straight for the dining room, without even changing your clothes first. It's not that you were hungry, you Jason and Roy had snacked on things that you could've never eaten back with Ra's, you just didn't want to be alone yet.

Your socked feet dragged against the hardwood floors, Jason had woken you up too early for your liking. After your grandfather's death and coming to America you've indulged in some things you've never done before, like sleeping in.

Your hand grasped the wooden chair that came in a set with the dining table, after slumping in the chair you sluggishly filled up your plate with food. Both your father and brother had stopped their movement's as they watched your tired state.

"Woke up to early." You sighed, before giving Bruce a big smile, one that he returned.

"Did you have fun?" Bruce asked, cutting up a piece of his dinner.

"Yeah, we baked...an-and I watched him play video games!" You excitedly revealed, missing the expressionless face Damian watched you with.

~☆~

After dinner you started walking to the bathroom for a shower, then you could pass out. Footsteps could be heard walking in sync with your own, familiar footsteps, the ones you know all too well.

Damian pulled you to a stop with a firm grip to your arm, one that your sure will leave Red marks for the next few minutes.

"Why do you keep spending time with him?" He asked as his green eyes bore into your own. You watch as he quickly swallows, before chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

"That's none of your concern." You hissed before yanking your arm out of his grip before walking off, leaving Damian standing in the empty hallway.

~☆~

Where are you from, or at least what time zone? Because I've noticed you guys are mostly active during 12-5 AM (my time). I promise that the next chapter will have action in it....just bear with me people...<3

Taglist:

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metalomagnetic · 2 months ago

Note

would you say you’ve found a certain real life person who could act as voldemort as you envision him? and if not, how would you describe voldemort’s looks? are they different for every fanfiction you write? for example, does he look different in either must die compared to iritb?

maybe a fanart comes to mind?

I am yet to find a real life man to look like the Voldemort in my head!

As you might now, I have a hard way describing things- you surely noticed my fics are lacking in this department. It's my weakest point in my writing. Description kills me, from environment to how people look. It's also done a little bit on purpose to let the reader imagine what they like, since we all have such different tastes and opinions. But mostly, I am just very bad at it.

My Voldemorts don't look the same. The one from Either must die is perfect, in his hot era, Tom Riddle Excellent type of deal. (of course, an older Tom Riddle. He would look like a hot muggle in his 40s).

Voldemort from It runs is not perfect. His features had been affected by dark magic (especially Horcruxes) but he still carries the traces of his former extraordinary beauty. This makes him look ethereal- not classically beautiful, not perfect, but the blend of those features, now marred by dark magic, the gauntness of him, his blood-shot eyes, his too sharp bones, his too pale skin, combined with his past perfection make for a striking sight. He's too thin (looks even thinner since he's so tall), he looks almost frail, his features are too harsh, yet his eyes are ablaze with the glory of his power at its peek, so he is somewhat god-like, a dark god, in his visage.

I know this doesn't truly help with your question but it's the best way I can put it!

#it runs in the blood #lord voldemort

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g1ngerbeer · 5 months ago

Text

do you think they noticed a change, the first few loops. i think they did. because how could they not, cheng xiaoshi and qiao ling, the two closest friends lu guang has, seeing him walk out of the room through a camera shutter and re-enter changed. diminished, faded, sad, the worn and cracking face of an old photograph. more and more tired each time he dives, further and further back with each attempt. every time a failure. and even as he lets the tides of time weather him more - render him a ghost, it feels like sometimes - even as lu guang changes more and more from the person he used to be, so too does that moment of disconnect in his friends’ eyes shorten and fade. because they don’t know him anymore. the golden stretch of time he spends by their sides before it all goes wrong is sliced thinner and thinner with every photo he uses, his touch blurring the memory with blood. each time he fails they know him less - the first him, the one unburdened by the terrible knowledge he now holds and the weight of too many failures.

soon they will never have known him at all.

Because you would notice if your best friend time travelled from a horrible future, but not if he travelled back so far he erased the person he once was (the person you knew) (the person you loved, first. before you loved this newer-older transparent version, never knowing a difference.)

(and this too is a loss to be grieved, he thinks sometimes in the dead of night to the sound of soft breathing in the bunk below, selfishly. but it is worth it if cheng xiaoshi lives.)

(the death of everything lu guang ever was is worth it if it means cheng xiaoshi lives.)

#My theory that photos cant be reused so lu guang started out diving to just before Whatever Bad Thing Happened. like a reasonable person #but hes running out of photos so every time he has to go further back in time and erase more of the original timeline. yeah #seagull.mp3 #link click #link click spoilers #i know cheng xiaoshi is the dead one who exists only in memory but thats from lu guangs pov. to everyone else *lu guang* is the ghost #i think about this a lot #lu guang coded #<- for blog organization #kind of a nothing post but something about this sunk-cost-fallacy-plagued freak of a catboy makes me want to try writing bad meta. deal

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necrotic-nephilim · 4 months ago

Note

bftc jaytim fuck nasty in their batman suits🩷

CORRECT THEY DO. it's like you live in my brain, anon. and for that, you get a full fic bc i've wanted to write this anyway and you gave me an excuse to. have 6k words worth of dirtybadwrong JayTim. rough sex, blood play, pain play, degradation, consensual but not safe or sane, dead dove vibes so be warned. but also enjoy bc ily for this thought anon 🩷

“You look ridiculous in that get-up. Like a kid out for trick-or-treats.” The words were just as brutal as the fight was. Jason had the bodyweight and training to easily pin Tim, now that he was done toying around.

Of course, toying around for Jason Todd looked like bloody slashes across Tim’s back, base of his skull, and his forehead. Picking one of Bruce’s older suits may have been a bad idea on Tim’s part. The armor was thinner and easier for Jason to slash through with a batarang in a clenched fist.

Tim had managed to knock the batarang out of Jason’s hand, but that also seemed like a bad idea now, with Jason on top of Tim. His fists were even more brutal, blunt weapons and he’d reinforced the gloves to make his punches hit harder across Tim’s face.

There was blood pouring from Tim’s nose and mouth. With all the pain flaring across his body, it was hard for him to get a good read on if anything was broken or not.

All he knew was it hurt. His head spun from slamming against the concrete. It was hard for Tim to blink his eyes into focus. And when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Jason was leaning in so close, his mask was all Tim could see. Tim dizzily wondered how the glowing eyes didn’t impede Jason’s vision.

“Look at me,” Jason demanded. His voice was robotic behind the thick metal mouthpiece. One of his fists pulled back for another punch. “Do you see terror? Do you see fear? Or is it just your own reflection?”

By some miracle, Tim managed to catch the punch before it connected with his face. The muscles in his wrist and forearm screamed at the animalistic strength Jason pushed back with, inching his fist closer and closer to connecting. If it did manage to connect, Tim knew his own hand in the way wouldn’t do much to soften the blow. If anything, Jason would shatter Tim’s knuckles against his own nose.

Not a pretty thought.

“That mad I said no to being your Robin?” Tim wheezed. It was hard to get air in his lungs, with Jason perched on his chest, putting all his weight on Tim’s midsection.

Jason scoffed with cruel amusement. “You’re a second choice, Drake. It doesn’t matter to me if you say no, I can always ask the original. He’d at least put up a better fight than you’re managing.”

Tim couldn’t argue that. He thought he’d have some kind of chance in a fight against Jason, but it was a losing game to confront Jason on his turf, in a suit Tim wasn’t comfortable in. He was too stupid to even bring his bo staff.

A great Batman he was turning out to be.

With bloody teeth, Tim smiled. “You’re right. Is that why I’m your reflection, Jason? Two second rate Robins who will never be the original?” He managed a laugh against protesting ribs. “For what it’s worth, I still think I’m better than you. Least I didn’t die.”

He couldn’t see the look on Jason’s face, but he didn’t need to. The feral yell that came out of Jason spoke for itself at how well Tim got under his skin. Jason’s other fist came barreling toward Tim’s face, but he managed to move his head out of the way, making it only connect with the ground. Jason’s punch was hard enough to make the concrete crack.

Even with the reinforced gloves, that had to hurt. Maybe a couple cracked bones, if Tim was lucky. Jason couldn’t hit as hard if he injured himself.

That was a solid plan. If he’d actually planned it in the first place.

“Can’t believe I ever liked you, Drake,” Jason snarled, pulling his hand free from the concrete. He flexed his fingers just a bit too slow. He definitely hurt himself, even if he was trying to hide it. Jason went for his utility belt, grabbing another batarang.

“Flattering,” Tim deadpanned. He tried to elbow Jason in the neck, but Jason easily twisted away from the blow.

“I really did you know,” Jason said. Maybe it was the mask, but Tim could’ve sworn Jason’s tone changed slightly. “If Bruce hadn’t corrupted you, you really could’ve been something.”

Tim ignored the comment about Bruce. Bruce’s death was too raw for Tim to be able to look at his grief about it head-on. “Can’t say the feeling was mutual,” Tim grunted. He tried to slash his glove fins across Jason’s face. But Jason was smarter. He had a more durable suit that made the blow easily glance off.

Damn Tim for picking this suit. He idealized Bruce’s image too much and forwent practicality. He was paying for it now. A new suit would’ve had proper weapons worked into the wrists for Tim to easily flick out.

“I don’t know about that,” Jason mocked with a cold laugh. “Remind me again Drake, who broke me out of prison?”

He had a point.

“Real great job you’ve done repaying that kindness,” Tim muttered. He avoided addressing it directly. He didn’t owe Jason his reasons. Especially not with how they’d all blown up in his face.

“I never needed your kindness,” Jason growled. He wrapped a hand around Tim’s throat and pressed down just enough to make it uncomfortable for Tim to breathe. “That’s what all you Bats could never get through your skulls. I didn’t need to be Bruce’s pity project, and I definitely didn’t need to be yours.”

“Trust me,” Tim fought to get the words out, trying to worm his fingers under Jason’s grip. “You don’t have my pity.”

“What do I have, then?”

“My contempt.” The more Tim struggled, the tighter Jason’s grip got. The sharp points of his claws were starting to dig into Tim’s skin and draw blood. Blood flow was cut off from Tim’s brain and he fought to keep hold of his consciousness.

“Liar,” Jason hissed. “No one else is here, Tim. You don’t have to pretend and hide things from me I already know.”

Maybe passing out would be a good thing. Then, Tim would have a convenient reason for not answering Jason. A reason to not face the truth Jason wanted him to bare.

Tim knew that Jason probably knew. The way they’d looked at each other through the prison safety glass when Jason was locked up had a thousand unspoken words in just a shared smile. A promise, that maybe, if Jason cleaned himself up with this second chance, there could be something between them.

But Jason didn’t clean up. He flung himself in the opposite direction, if anything. A growing body count and an ugly reign of terror that was Tim’s job to stop.

He started this. He put misplaced faith in Jason. Tim’s bad judgment jeopardized Gotham.

And now Jason wanted the unspoken part said out loud. Something a part of Tim would rather die than admit after all this. They both already knew. Making Tim say it was just an obvious attempt to humiliate him and Tim refused to sink to Jason’s level.

All this over a stupid crush.

“Fine,” Jason continued when Tim didn’t say anything. “I’ll say it for you. You loved me.”

Tim made a face and twisted, finally forcing Jason’s hand free from his neck with a hard strike to his inner elbow. “It wasn’t love,” he insisted through grit teeth.

“What was it then?”

Tim didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to give in to Jason’s cruelty.

“Tell you what,” Jason’s voice dropped low and almost sultry. “If you say it out loud, I’ll give you a free pass. No one will know.”

“A free pass?”

There was no way Jason was implying what Tim thought he was.

“Right here, right now.” Jason nodded. “Can’t say I’ll make it sweet, but something tells me you’re not the vanilla type anyway.”

Shit. He was implying that. Tim’s breath caught in his throat.

The answer should’ve been obvious.

The answer was obvious. Tim was laying in a growing pool of his own blood because of Jason. Countless people were dead because of Jason. Bruce’s legacy was being destroyed because of Jason. Whatever little crush Tim had once had was long gone and replaced with disgust and hatred.

Most of it was.

But some small piece of Tim clung to the way Jason grinned at him. And that small piece of him seemed to be steering the rest of him, making him hesitate on what should’ve been an easy answer. An easy chance to catch Jason off guard and get the upper hand in the fight.

Tim hoped the cowl hid enough of his face that his expression wasn’t readable.

“Over my dead body,” Tim forced the words out, pulling himself back into reality. Praying Jason wouldn’t read into the pause.

Jason’s body shifted. He was quiet for a moment, then he shrugged and brought the batarang clenched in his fist to Tim’s neck, easily finding the jugular. “So be it. I agree anyway. Killing you is the best way to cut this goddamn feeling out of me.”

“What feeling?” Tim frowned, fingers twitching as he stalled, trying to think of a real plan.

“No, no.” Jason shook his head and laughed. It was a hollow sound, this time. “You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too. If you won’t say it, then I won’t either.”

Oh.

“You…” Tim sucked in a breath. He was on death’s edge, a blade to his neck, but somehow it was the furthest thing from his spinning mind. “You like me? Like that?” He said it like a stupid high schooler, too shy to even look their crush in the eye.

“What difference does it make now?” Jason shifted his weight on Tim, bearing down more. “This was always how it was going to end, between us.”

“It makes all the difference,” Tim said. He didn’t know why it did. But he knew it did. Tim reached a hand up, but instead of going for Jason’s batarang, he went further. His fingers reached under his own cowl and tugged it off, baring his face to Jason.

Vulnerability. A metaphorical white flag, surrendering to Jason.

Tim was dangerously close to getting himself killed. He could feel it, in his beating heart and overflowing adrenaline.

“I would’ve come at this from a different angle if I knew…” Tim started, before trailing off. They were still dancing around saying it directly.

Jason barked out another laugh. “Oh, would you? What, you would’ve come to talk instead of fight? You really think that would’ve worked?”

“Maybe-“

“I told you,” Jason’s grip on the batarang tightened, “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“And you don’t have it,” Tim snapped back. Too angry. This angle was quickly slipping away from him. Shit. “You’re a psychopathic killer and I don’t know if you can ever been redeemed after what you’ve done. But I would’ve tried out of love, not pity, you sanctimonious asshole.”

Jason stuttered. He leaned back and breathed hard. Tim really wished he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask. “You said it wasn’t love.”

Tim took in a deep breath, and let himself fall over the ledge he’d been trying so hard to cling to since Jason pinned him. “I lied.”

For a moment, Tim was convinced he’d just sealed his own coffin. Whatever Jason’s feelings were, it didn’t seem like they were any particular deterrent to hurting Tim. He was inches away from killing Tim and leaving his body for someone else to find.

If they found Tim’s body at all.

But instead. Instead, Jason reached up and ripped the metal part of his mask off, tossing it aside to skitter off into the darkness.

And he kissed Tim.

Tim let out the breath he was holding against Jason’s mouth. And in turn, Jason breathed him in, greedy with his kiss. The batarang was kept firm against Tim’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jason was kissing him.

There was still the logical side of him screaming just how bad of an idea this was. All the reasons he could think of to not tangle with Jason were running circles across his mind.

Tim ignored them and kissed Jason back.

Jason tasted like metal and he smelled like gunpowder. Both of those things made sense and made Tim want more. He wanted every single part of Jason he could drink up, even from a single kiss. Jason’s tongue was in his mouth, licking and opening Tim up. They shared each other’s blood through the kiss, until Tim couldn’t tell whose was whose.

The kiss was broken by Jason just as suddenly as it was started. Jason pulled back and raised the batarang. Panic flashed through Tim and he instinctively threw his hands up to cover his face and neck.

The batarang slashed through Tim’s suit though, thankfully not giving him what might’ve been the stupidest death in the history of vigilantism. Jason didn’t seem to care about making sure the cut didn’t get Tim’s skin, though. Shallow wounds sprang across Tim’s skin and he hissed, watching Jason turn the suit to ribbons. The batarang was then tossed aside so Jason could rip off the suit as he leaned back.

The bat symbol on Tim’s chest stayed in tact, but everything below it was ripped away, exposing him from his abs down to his thighs. Jason knew exactly how to unclip the utility belt and throw that aside, with the shreds of fabric.

Cold air hit Tim’s most private areas. He wanted to cover himself, but he couldn’t get his hands to obey. His entire body was paralyzed under Jason’s gaze.

“Take off your mask,” Tim found his voice, rough and not sounding like himself.

Jason wore a cruel smirk. “No.” He did take off his gloves, though. Tim didn’t hide his sigh of relief. He didn’t want those claws on his skin. He was bleeding enough as it was.

The moment Jason’s hands were bare, he ran them over Tim’s skin. Tim hissed and flinched, but didn’t pull away. He let Jason’s warm hands claim his skin. Jason wasn’t kind or gentle. He smeared Tim’s blood around, exploring every bare inch. Tim’s stomach, his hips, his back, his legs.

Jason curled a hand around Tim’s dick and Tim’s back arched.

To be fair, this wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured sleeping with Jason. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain.

Jason jerked Tim off rough and fast. The blood on his hand was slick enough to make a smooth glide over the callouses of his palm. Tim groaned, eyes fluttering shut. He bucked into Jason’s hand. As much pain as his body was in, the pleasure was too distracting for him to care. Tim choked on every breath he managed to take in, unable to stop himself from crying out and whining.

His body was screaming at him because of what Jason had done to him. And now, he was letting himself fall apart to Jason’s hands in a different way.

“If Grayson found us, he’d think I was fucking torturing you from all the pathetic noises you’re making,” Jason growled. He barely sounded human. He slid his other hand up Tim’s chest and grabbed Tim’s face, stroking his cheek.

Tim groaned at the thought. He forced his eyes to open just so he could look at Jason. He really wished Jason would take the cowl off. Tim wanted to see Jason’s face more than anything.

“Don’t bring him up,” Tim gasped, practically humping Jason’s hand for more delirious pleasure. “I don’t want to think about him now.”

At least he could see Jason’s smirk. “Why? Because you know he’d disapprove?”

“Because I want to think about you.” Tim tried to grab at Jason’s suit to pull it off. His hands were clumsy and shaky though, probably from blood loss. All he could do was uselessly press them against Jason’s chest and feel the warmth through layers of armor.

“Fuck,” Jason groaned. His whole body shuddered, affected by Tim’s words alone. Jason stopped jerking Tim off so he could unclip his belt. He kept his other hand against Tim’s face though. Stroking it. “Least I know why you broke me out of prison, now.”

Tim made an aghast noise. “This is not why I broke you out of prison.”

Jason leaned in close, resting his face against Tim’s. “You still broke me out. So all my blood is on your hands too, Tim.” He pressed a kiss against Tim’s temple. “Bruce wouldn’t have been stupid enough to do that. Hell of a Batman you make.” It was like he had crawled into Tim’s brain just to voice all the awful little thoughts that Tim tried to bury.

“You-“ Tim tried to snap back, but he was distracted by the sound of Jason undoing a clasp, then a zipper. Tim looked down and watched, breath caught in his throat, as Jason pulled his cock out of his pants.

He was already hard.

Jason’s hand smeared blood across his member. Tim swallowed at the sight. Jason had pushed his pants down just enough to expose a sliver of pale skin. He had a sharp v-line and toned muscles just from the bit Tim could see. An embarrassing noise came out of Tim’s throat.

“Pathetic,” Jason said, but he groaned on the word, working his hand over himself. It was filthy. Both of them, covered in blood, and Jason jerking off on top of Tim.

Tim wrapped an arm around Jason. He wanted to sink his fingers into Jason’s hair, but he settled for wrapping them around the back of Jason’s cowl. Tim seriously considered trying to pull the cowl off himself, but he doubted Jason would take kindly to it.

The noises Jason made as he pleasured himself were beautiful. Tim’s sounds were animalistic and, in Jason’s own words, pathetic. Barely human sounding. But Jason. Jason sounded practically divine, low and smooth as he moaned in Tim’s ear.

“Please,” Tim gasped. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

“That desperate?” Jason downright purred.

Tim didn’t hold himself back from nodding. He swallowed down his dignity.

If he had any dignity left.

“I’m not going to be gentle,” Jason warned. Like he was giving Tim one last chance to back out.

Tim just laughed. “If you think I want you to be gentle, you really don’t know a thing about me.”

A guttural groan came out of Jason. He pulled back and lifted one of Tim’s legs, bending it as far back as he could. Tim wasn’t quite as flexible as Dick was, but Jason got pretty far before Tim’s muscles protested and he winced.

“Of course you shave down there,” Jason commented. He slid a hand over Tim’s smooth skin around his cock and balls.

“I don’t like pubes getting caught in my suit,” Tim huffed, trying not to let his cheeks go red.

“Don’t worry,” Jason hummed, “I think it’s cute. Makes you look like a fucking virgin.”

“I’m not.” Like it mattered.

Jason paused, just staring at Tim. Was he disappointed? It was hard to tell. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, so it doesn’t matter either way.” Whether or not he was disappointed was masked with a rough, possessive anger that made Tim gasp.

Rough fingers ran over the shallow cuts on Tim’s stomach and he hissed at the sudden sharp pain. It wasn’t easy to ignore the dull throbbing when Jason was practically fingering the open wounds. Tim almost asked what the hell he was doing, before he realized Jason was smearing blood across his fingers, getting them slick and coated.

“Seriously? You’re going to use my own blood to fuck me?” Tim asked, like just the thought of it wasn’t making him spread his legs wider. Still, the idea of cleaning tacky blood out of himself did make Tim internally cringe.

“You got a better idea?” Jason shot back.

“I think there’s lube in-“

“No.” Jason cut him off, pressing harder into the cuts just to make Tim wince. “We’re doing it my way, or I just leave you in a pool of your own blood with a hard-on.”

“Okay.” Tim caved instantly with a hushed whisper at the rough dominance.

It was so easy, for Jason to take complete control of Tim. He was putty in Jason’s hands, content to be manipulated however Jason wanted, so long as Tim got his own pleasure out of it. If Jason wanted Tim to bleed, he would bleed. If he wanted Tim to be spread open and ready to be fucked, then Tim would give him that too.

Christ. He needed to be checked out mentally after this.

Jason gave Tim a pleased hum, probably the closest thing to praise Tim was going to get out of him. He’d take it. Blood slick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole. Two fingers were forced in at once, hard and fast.

Tim screamed.

He didn’t expect Jason to be gentle, but it seemed like Jason was going out of his way to be rough. Scrapping his nails against Tim’s insides and brutally twisting his fingers around. He didn’t try to hit Tim’s prostate to bring any kind of pleasure. The brushes of his fingers over that spot were more painful than pleasurably, if anything. Fast and rough, giving Tim no chance to soak up the sparks of sensation from the bundle of nerves.

“Oh god,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back. His hips twitched violently, like they weren’t sure to press into Jason’s fingers for more, or to try to pull away from the horrible assault.

It’d been a while since Tim had been in this much pain. So battered from a fight that every movement of his body was weak and shaky. He grabbed onto Jason’s arm, desperate for an anchor. He couldn’t have pulled Jason off of him, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t, though. Tim wanted this to last as long as it possibly could.

He never got to drown himself in the pain. Pain was something that had to be compartmentalized and ignored, for the sake of the mission. Getting back on his feet and ignoring the way his body screamed at him was one of the first things Bruce taught him.

Now, Tim didn’t have to fight it. He could just give in. The half-hearted instincts from his body trying to fight back were ignored by Jason. Like Jason knew that Tim wanted this.

Needed this.

At some point, Jason must’ve worked a third finger inside of Tim. He didn’t notice. The burning stretch swirled with every other point of pain on his body.

He did noticed when Jason finally decided to purposefully press against Tim’s prostate.

This pleasure was new. Foreign and overstimulating with how aggressively Jason pressed down on the spot, rubbing into it to pull all kinds of noises out of Tim he didn’t know he was capable of making.

“Jason!” Tim cried out. “Fuck, too much, I can’t-“ Tim’s stomach was cramping from how hard his muscles clenched. He was falling, losing his grip on sensible reality. His head was full of cotton, foggy and unable to get a solid grip on coherent thought.

There were only three things that existed to Tim: pain, pleasure, and Jason.

“You can’t what? Use your fucking words,” Jason mocked, vicious and uncaring. He rested Tim’s leg over his shoulder to free up his other hand. His fingers wrapped around Tim’s balls and tugged. Tim screamed and arched like a jack knife. He hadn’t noticed how close his orgasm was creeping up on him until Jason pulled it away with a brutal, carnal pain. When Tim lost control of his body, Jason found it and snatched it up, holding Tim’s pleasure in his palm. Tim wanted to curl in on himself, but he couldn’t force his limbs to obey.

“Hurts,” was all Tim could groan out. He might’ve been crying. It was hard to tell, with his face so wet with blood.

“Good.”

“Jason,” Tim tried to beg. He was lost to subspace, something he barely realized until now. “I can’t take anymore.” He wanted more. More than want, god, he needed more, but his body was wired so tight Tim was convinced he was going to snap if Jason kept going.

He wanted that too.

“That’s not for you to decide.” Jason’s rough voice was a light at the end of a tunnel Tim was struggling toward to ground himself. To focus on something besides the agony crashing over his body in brutal waves. “Do you really think you’re in the fucking state to know what you can take?”

Jason was right. Tim just whined, a noise that turned into a choked sob when Jason pulled his fingers out just enough to slam them into Tim’s sweet spot again, overwhelming him with more awful pleasure.

“Give yourself over to me,” Jason demanded. He leaned in close again. Tim’s vision was blurred, but he could smell the gunpowder and leather. “Say it. Say I own you.”

Tim wanted to. He tried, opening his mouth and struggling to get the words out. He could only make more pathetic noises.

“Say it, or I’ll stab you and leave you to fucking bleed out.”

He probably wasn’t lying.

“You-“ Tim choked on the word, shaking so hard his muscles were spasming. “You own me.” Three little words, and they were the hardest words Tim had ever tried to say. Each one fought against him, getting stuck in his throat.

But he said them. Because right now, they were the only religion Tim believed in.

“Look at that,” Jason cooed. So patronizing. “You’re not completely brainless and worthless. Yet, anyway.” He pulled his fingers out of Tim. One second those fingers had been driving Tim mad because they were inside of him, and now they were driving him mad because they left him empty and wanting.

His body needed more. More pain, more pleasure. Until he broke and Jason fucked the shattered pieces left of Tim.

Jason got a hand underneath Tim, using the blood from the gash on Tim’s back to slick his fingers this time. That gash was far deeper. Something that probably needed stitches. It had started trying to clot but Jason agitated it enough for fresh blood to pour out. He was able to actually work his fingers under Tim’s bloody skin, making Tim shriek and try to pull away.

There was nowhere for him to escape from the mind-numbing pain. When he pulled away, he just crashed into Jason’s chest, forehead bumping against the bat symbol of Jason’s suit.

“So fucking easy to push your buttons,” Jason laughed. He moved his fingers around a bit more just to make his point and pull more wounded noises out of Tim. Then he finally pulled them free and let Tim fall back to the hard ground. It knocked the wind out of Tim.

He didn’t have a chance to try to get air into his lungs. Because Jason slicked himself up with a disturbing speed and lined up. The warning of blunt pressure against Tim’s hole lasted a fraction of a second and then Jason snapped his hips. Buried to the hilt.

Tim almost passed out.

He didn’t know if it was from the pain, the blood loss, or his body’s inability to get oxygen into his lungs. Everything exploded inside of Tim. He was full, so full so fast. Jason’s fingers hadn’t been nearly kind enough to properly stretch Tim for Jason’s size. It almost felt like being stabbed.

Over and over, as Jason fucked into Tim with no kindness.

A hard slap across Tim’s face forced him off of the edge of unconsciousness. He gasped, eyes snapping open to find Jason’s face right above his, the glowing eyes of the mask taking over Tim’s field of vision.

Jason was smiling. Blood on his teeth, dripping out of his mouth. Was it his blood or Tim’s?

Tim hoped it was both.

“I don’t know which Bruce would find more pathetic,” Jason groaned as he fucked into Tim, pulling small screams out of Tim with each punch of his cock, “you putting on that suit, or you letting me fuck you in it.” He brought his lips to Tim’s ear. “Who’s ruining his legacy now?”

If the physical pain wasn’t bad enough, Jason knew exactly how to rip open the wounds of Tim’s emotional pain alongside it. Tim cried out at the thought.

What would Bruce think of him, like this? Pathetic and barely human underneath Jason Todd?

“And they call me the failed Robin,” Jason just kept talking, like he wasn’t destroying Tim from the inside out. “At least I know how to be something other than Robin. Are you really delusional enough to think you’re going to be the next Batman?” A long moan came out of him and he thrust even harder until Tim screamed loud enough to make himself dizzy. “Answer me.”

Tim just shook his head. “No.” His voice was broken. His throat was sore from screaming, but the word still came out. He’d never thought he really could be Batman. So what the hell was he thinking, putting this suit on?

“Good.” Jason slid his fingers under the bat symbol on Tim’s chest, one of the only parts of the suit in tact. He ripped it off, the fabric tearing loudly in Tim’s ears. “It’s good you know your fucking place.” Jason changed his angle, finding Tim’s battered prostate again. Tim didn’t have the air in his lungs to scream anymore. All he could do was weakly mewl and whimper.

He could die like this. He honestly might. Tim had no idea how his body was holding on, in this state. Maybe it was the pain and pleasure alone keeping him alive. Just so he could soak up every touch from Jason.

Tim was never going to allow himself to do this again. So he had to enjoy it while it lasted.

This time, Tim felt his orgasm creeping up on him. His fingers dug into Jason’s arm and he pressed up into Jason’s warmth. The material of Jason’s suit was rough and unforgiving. It didn’t feel particularly good for Tim to grind his cock against, but he didn’t care. He needed any kind of friction, whether it brought him pleasure or road rash.

“I won’t stop if you come,” Jason warned, still hammering into Tim at a pace that should’ve been impossible for a normal human to manage. “This isn’t to make you feel good. It’s to put you in your fucking place.”

Tim could only whine, managing a nod of understanding. This was his place. He knew that. He never wanted to leave it.

The threat of being fucked into overstimulation hung over Tim’s head, but he couldn’t stop himself from chasing the high of his orgasm. He almost wanted to feel the overstimulation. Like his orgasm was just something to get over with so Tim could completely give himself over to Jason. To be used just for Jason’s pleasure, even if it brought him nothing but more pain.

That thought made Tim’s balls tighten. The only warning he could give Jason was a high pitched keen that barely sounded like Tim’s own voice. His eyes rolled back.

The pleasure of his orgasm didn’t overtake the screaming pain in the rest of his body. It just mixed with the pain, swirling into one intense feeling Tim didn’t have a name for. He screamed until his throat gave out. His back arched and he clenched around Jason, who kept driving into him. Jason growled in Tim’s ear. He was holding Tim’s hip so tight there would be bruises that would end up indistinguishable from the rest of Tim’s injuries.

All injuries that Jason gave Tim. Tim’s body was a canvass, and Jason’s favorite color to paint with was the red that poured out of Tim.

It was the best orgasm Tim had ever felt. No feeling was ever going to match this intensity.

Tim came down from his high with an awful wheeze, shuddering. He clung to Jason, like a guard dog laying at the feet of his master.

“Fuck,” Jason moaned. A shudder ran down his spine and his pace faltered, just for a moment. “You’re really something else, Drake.” From Jason, that was practically a compliment for Tim to soak up and preen under.

Tim’s body tipped over the edge of overstimulation. His survival instincts kicked in, trying to fight Jason. There was no strength behind his kicks and hits. They just made Jason laugh as Tim made a fool of himself.

“I own you,” Jason reminded Tim. He caught Tim’s wrist and pinned it against the cold concrete, squeezing tight enough to cut off circulation to Tim’s fingers. “I can do whatever I want to your useless body. Don’t try to fight it now.” He leaned down and found an exposed part of Tim’s neck to sink his teeth into. It wasn’t a hickey, but a proper bite, breaking Tim’s skin.

Tim cried out, but still tilted his head to the side to give Jason better access to his neck. Even when his body wanted to fight, Tim managed to submit. Like the submission was natural to him.

The pain took over. Tim just floated in it, forcing himself to go limp. Submit. No more fighting. He gave in to Jason and stopping thinking. All Tim needed to do was feel. Feel every point of agony scattered across his body. Feel Jason fucking him. Using him, like Tim was nothing more than a toy. The sparks from Jason slamming into his sweet spot couldn’t be called pleasure anymore, with Tim’s cock spent and limp. It was more pain.

Better that way. Tim liked the pain more. Delicious and mind-numbing.

Jason was swearing against Tim’s skin. He mumbled something Tim didn’t catch. Three syllables. Short and rushed out. Tim was almost convinced the second word was love. Maybe he was making it up in his head though, finally lost in utter delirium.

Tim didn’t care.

More insults fell from Jason’s lips. Calling Tim nothing, worthless, pathetic. A cheap pretender who deserved this. Tim agreed with all of it, feverishly nodding. The words were practically sweet nothings in Tim’s ears.

Jason yelled Tim’s name when he came. His hips stuttered to a stop, buried deep inside of Tim. He knew Jason was coming inside of him, but his body was too battered to feel Jason’s cum filling his insides. Shame that was. Tim wanted to know how it felt, to be claimed by Jason in this carnal way.

They were both so perfectly still, for two people who had been shaking and clawing at each other just moments ago. The only noise was heavy breathing that echoed through the night.

Tim swallowed. He tried to find himself through the pain. He worked through the body checklist that Bruce gave him. Vision. Smell. Taste. Feel. Sound. All the sensations clashed against each other, out of focus and pounding against Tim’s skull.

It was so hard to think.

Tim groaned. Focus.

Like cold water thrown on his face, he clawed his way out of subspace. Tim got a good look at Jason’s face.

“Are you crying?” Tim voiced the thought as soon as it crossed his mind.

With the mask, it was hard to tell. Jason’s breathing was shuddered, hitching on every inhale. Tim wouldn’t call it sobbing, but it was close enough for Tim to study Jason’s face. The wetness coming out from under Jason’s mask wasn’t red. It streaked through the blood.

Tear tracks.

Jason’s completely rational response was to punch Tim in the face.

Tim swore and curled in on himself, cupping his nose. If it wasn’t broken before, it was now. Jason pulled out of Tim without any care and stood up, leaving him curled up on the ground, trying to set the broken bone and manage the bleeding.

Tim tried to sit up. His arms and legs gave out under him and he slammed back to the ground with a pained noise. He looked up at Jason, squinting. Watching as Jason tucked himself back into his pants, then snatched his gloves off the ground to put them back on.

Despite clearly losing the fight, Tim had done a number on Jason. Jason’s face was bloody and his suit was ripped and torn in some places. He looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal.

If that was how Jason looked, Tim couldn’t imagine what the sight of his own body was.

His second attempt to sit up worked. Now, he compartmentalized. Forced the pain deep into the corners of his mind and locked it up.

Tim had to be functional now. He couldn’t let the regret and shame get to him.

“I-“ Jason started to say something. It was only one word, but it sounded uncharacteristically soft, making Tim straighten his back and hold his breath. But Jason cleared his throat and folded his arms, stamping down whatever kindness had almost come out. “I’ll throw you a bone. If any of the Bats find you like this you can just tell them I raped you,” he said it like some kind of mean joke.

Tim didn’t say anything. That wasn’t true. They both knew it.

“Preserve your precious dignity you care so much about, huh?” Jason continued. He sounded unsure of himself and he turned away from Tim.

“Jason-“ Tim reached out for him. “We can still-“ he struggled for the words. “It doesn’t have to end like this. You can still change. I’ll-“

“Don’t,” Jason snapped. He kicked away Tim’s hand. “We both know it’s too late for that.” He started to walk away. “Never wear that suit again, Drake. I’d hate to see you die to someone that isn’t me.” He almost sounded… protective? Tim wouldn’t call it fondness, but maybe something close to that. Tim refused to allow himself to read into it. Whoever Jason Todd had become, he was someone that Tim couldn’t save. He was someone who didn’t want to be saved, no matter how Tim felt about him. Tim had to accept that, even with Jason’s cum deep inside him. Some truths were immutable.

Then, Jason was gone. Vanishing into the shadows and leaving Tim there.

Tim tilted his head back. He allowed himself thirty seconds. He counted them. Thirty seconds to sit in his own filth and feel the pain for just a little longer, before he had to move and figure out how he was going to get home in one piece without anyone finding out what happened here.

Just ten more seconds.

Five.

Three.

One.

With grit teeth and a deep breath, Tim stood up.

#necrotic writings #jaytim #tim drake x jason todd #jason todd x tim drake #timjay #dead dove do not eat #battle for the cowl #cross posted on ao3 #batcest #sorry this sat in my inbox for a couple days anon #i was like 'hehe i'll write a lil pwp for this'#and it ended up over 6k words. god help me.#this is proof that if you send an idea to my inbox there is a good chance i will just write you a fic.#you might have to wait a couple days but i will come for you with food and chaos.#anyway this is a smidge dark as a fic fair warning #bc idk how else to write them fucking during bftc 2 #masochist tim drake you will always be famous to me #once again wasn't gonna put this one on ao3 bc i felt it was gonna be too short for that effort #then it goes and ends up this long.#my partner always laughs at me when i do this. bc i keep doing it.#pls enjoy <3 i wrote most of this while in a lot of pain so #me and tim were twinning there.#while posting this my roommate's kitten used me as a jungle gym. she's my editor in chief.

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wangxianficrecs · 5 months ago

Text

The Price of Forever by Witch_Nova221

The Price of Forever

by Witch_Nova221 (@witchnova221)

T, 22k, Wangxian

Part of the Summer Solstice

Summary: 'It is the nature of men to claim a prize rather than earn one,' said Lan Wangji, blinking past the tears in his eyes, 'Now, to capture a unicorn and to become an immortal means you can claim so much more. Had I...I would have been able to claim a wife, land, fortunes. My own brother, older than me, would have had to bow when I passed. I would have been held amongst the greats but...' 'But you would be cursed,' said Wei Ying, 'That's what they've never learned.' When Lan Wangji injures a unicorn, he learns the truth about the age-old traditions that his clan and the world have undertaken for generations. With a new friend to protect and the pressure of the world upon him, he knows he must pay a price, the cost of which is high on either side. Kay's comments: This story has the loveliest fairytale vibes and I really loved seeing Wei Wuxian as an otherwordly unicorn and the journey Lan Wangji went through in this story and of course, their relationship progression! Very sweet. Excerpt: Short, panicked breaths echoed back at him through the darkness and he conjured a light, letting it hang in the air until it illuminated the narrow cave. The blood glittered darkly on the floor, the trail a little thinner than it had been. 'Get back hunter or I'll kill you where you stand.' A voice. A human voice, hissing at him in anger. Did the unicorn have a protector? One of Lan Wangji's own kind, turned against the practices of old and dedicated to the protection of the creatures the rest of the world hunted? 'I mean no harm,' said Lan Wangji, daring another step further, 'I injured a... an animal and followed it here. I wanted...' 'I know what you did and I know what you want, hunter. Leave now and you may do so with your life.' Lan Wangji took another step forward, the light falling on a bare foot, a long strong leg marred with a bloody gash from knee to hip. The left leg. The same leg Lan Wangji had hit on the unicorn. He took one final step, the light fully illuminating the man curled as close to the cave wall as he could be, only his injured leg outstretched. He was almost naked, caring little for his own modesty in ragged clothes that looked as though he had worn them as a child then torn them as he sprouted into adulthood. He glared at Lan Wangji with eyes that looked too old for his face. Grey eyes that knew everything of the world and still saw wonder in it even if they were now filled with fear.

pov lan wangji, canon era, unicorn wei wuxian, unicorns, fairy tale elements, romance, action/adventure, adventure & romance, blood and injury, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, mythical beings & creatures, families of choice, strangers to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, falling in love

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winchesterwild78 · 6 months ago

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Behind the Scenes pt 7

Master List

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: fluff, body insecurities, oral sex (male receiving)

A/N: I couldn’t leave everyone hanging long after the last chapter. I know it was a hard one, it was hard to write. I hope this one makes up for it. This is a work of fiction. No disrespect to Jensen or Jared or their families. *kinda a long chapter, with a slight time jump*

I edited this fast- please forgive any mistakes

This is my original work, do not take it.

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Jensen sat against the wall outside your room for what felt like hours. His head was pounding and his eyes hurt from crying. He prayed harder than he had ever prayed in his life. His mind was in a haze and all his thoughts kept centering around you and the future you two were supposed to share.

The nurse who pushed him out of the room came up and kneeled beside him. Touching his shoulder he gently called his name “Mr. Ackles, you can come back in. She’s stable again. We were able to bring her back.” He helped Jensen to his feet and Jensen walked about into your room.

He saw you laying on the bed, still unconscious and pale. He hated seeing you like this. He felt completely powerless and it made him angry. “What happened?” Jensen asked in barely a whisper. “She suffered a blood clot that went to her heart. We can’t give her blood thinners right now until we are sure her bleeding has stopped. We will do some scans in a few hours to check and then start her on a regime of medication to help prevent further clots. We placed these on her legs to help keep the blood pumping.” The doctor moved the sheet back to reveal cuffs on your legs that inflated and deflated on your legs.

Jensen nodded his understanding. “Is she going to be okay?” “She’s still not out of the woods yet, if you’re a praying man I would suggest you pray. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Really it’s up to her and her body to fight. We will give you two some privacy. Mr. Ackles, I will be praying for her.” Your doctor gently touched his shoulder before leaving the room.

Jensen sat beside you and held your hand. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I love you so much baby. I need you here with me and Tristan. I’m not ready to do this by myself. Please keep fighting baby.” Jensen laid his head on the bed beside you and quietly cried.

His phone went off and he checked it. It was a text from Jared asking how you were doing. He just sent a text back that you were still fighting. He didn’t have the energy to tell him what happened. One of the night nurses walked in and saw Jensen. She was an older woman and had a sweet smile. “Mr. Ackles, when was the last time you ate or drank anything?” She questioned. “I guess this afternoon at home. I’m okay. I don’t want to leave her.”

She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder “Mr. Ackles, you are no good to her or your baby if you don’t take care of yourself. Go grab something to eat and drink, go see your son, and just breathe. I promise I won’t leave her side until you get back.” Jensen stood up and reluctantly let go of your hand. He leaned over and kissed your forehead. “I love you baby. I’ll be back soon. I’m going to check on Tristan.” He kissed you again and thanked the nurse.

He walked to the cafeteria and grabbed a coffee and a snack. He ate it quickly. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he sat and ate. After he finished he started walking to the nursery. Jensen looked through the glass and saw Tristan awake. His bright green eyes were looking around. His heart warmed and he smiled. His son was the greatest gift anyone has ever given him. He was so thankful you gave him this beautiful baby. The nurse saw him and smiled. She opened the door for him. “Hello, Mr. Ackles. Have you come to see baby Tristan?” Jensen smiled and he said yes.

Jensen walked over to Tristan and picked him up. He carried him to the rocking chair and sat down. “Hey baby boy. How’s daddy’s boy?” He looked down at Tristan and saw his green eyes looking up at him. He couldn’t believe how quickly he loved him. Then he had a realization. He put Tristan back down, kissed his head and told him he would be right back.

Jensen walked over to the nurse in the nursery and told her his idea. She thought it was a great idea and worth a shot. The nurse helped him push Tristan’s bassinet to your room. Once in the room he found the other nurse still sitting by your side. She smiled when she saw you and Tristan. “He’s absolutely beautiful, Mr. Ackles.” Jensen smiled and thanked her.

“I had an idea and I hope you can help me with it. I want to lay Tristan on her chest. Skin to skin. I think it will be good for her to feel her son.” Jensen told the nurse. “Oh Jensen, I think that’s a wonderful idea. Let me help you. You get baby Tristan down to his diaper and I’ll get her ready.” Jensen got baby Tristan down to his diaper and the nurse helped get your chest cleared enough of wires to lay Tristan down. Jensen carried Tristan over and carefully placed him on your chest. The nurse took your hand and placed it on Tristan.

Jensen and the nurses stood silently. Listening to your monitor and the soft coos of Tristan. Your heart rate started increasing. Jensen and the nurses exchanged looks. They stayed quiet and watched you and the monitor. Jensen leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Come on baby, Tristan is here waiting for his mommy. Please open your eyes. You can do it baby.”

Jensen saw your hand that was on Tristan twitch a little. His eyes went wide. Surely he was mistaken. He looked and saw it again. The nurse gasped when she saw it too. Then they all saw your hand tighten around Tristan, holding him tight. Your eyes started to flutter open. Jensen and the nurses couldn’t believe their eyes. You were waking up.

“I’m right here baby! Oh thank God! Y/N, it’s okay baby. You’re safe.” The nurse left to get the doctor so they could check you. While she was gone you woke up and saw Jensen. Tears fell from your eyes as you held your baby. The other nurse in the room told you to stay calm. The doctor would remove the tube. You nodded with understanding.

Jensen leaned over and kissed your forehead. “You came back to us. I love you so much baby.” The doctor walked in and saw you awake with Tristan on your chest. “You came back, Y/N. You’ve had so many people anxious for you to come back. I see you’ve met your son.” She smiled at you and Jensen. “Great idea, dad.” She looked at Jensen. “Okay, I’m going to remove this tube. When I do, your throat is going to be sore, but it’ll get better after a few hours. Are you ready?” You nodded. Jensen took Tristan off your chest and wrapped him in a blanket and held him.

The doctor removed the tube and gave you some water to drink. Your vitals were getting stronger and your color was starting to come back. “What happened?” You asked hoarsely. The doctor told you what happened in the operating room and most recently. Your eyes went wide and you looked over at Jensen who had tears in his eyes. “You got yourself a great man there. He wouldn’t leave your side, and he’s been so great with baby Tristan too.” The doctor told you. You took Jensen’s hand and held it.

“I need to text everyone and let them know you’re awake. They’ve all been worried.” Jensen said as he handed Tristan back to you. You took your son in your arms and looked at him. He was perfect. He looked like you but had Jensen’s eyes. He held your finger in his tiny hand and cooed. You smiled and whispered “Hey baby boy. You are so loved and so wanted. I can’t wait to watch you grow.” You kissed his head softly.

Jensen finished letting everyone know you were awake and they were going to be moving you to a recovery room soon so everyone could visit a few people at a time. Jensen sat beside you and watched you with Tristan and smiled. He took out his phone and took a picture. “Jensen, don’t take my picture. I look horrible.” “No you don’t, you’re breathtaking, and you’re holding our son.” He smiled.

“Our son. Our sweet baby boy is here. I can’t believe we did it, Jensen.” “No, you did it sweetheart. You carried him, gave birth to him, and fought to come back to us.” Jensen kissed your lips softly. “I was so scared, Y/N. I thought I was going to lose you. We almost did, but you came back to us.” A tear fell from Jensen’s eye.

“Oh baby, don’t cry. I’m okay. I could never leave you.” You grabbed his hand. The nurse walked in and told you they were moving you to recovery. Jensen took Tristan and placed him in his bassinet and the nurse started pushing your bed to your new room. Jensen pushed Tristan and followed behind you.

Once you arrived at your new room the nurse hooked you up to the monitor. “This will only be temporary. We need to monitor you a little while longer.” You nodded. Once you were hooked up she left you, Jensen and Tristan alone. Jensen picked up Tristan and brought him back over to you. You took Tristan in your arms and kissed his head. Jensen leaned down and kissed your lips. “I love you, sweetheart. So much!” “I love you too, Jens.”

“So what did Jared say about his name?” “He was over the moon. It took him a second to get it. I haven’t had a chance to tell Misha he’s here yet. I’ll text him later.” You nodded and continued to look at your son. You couldn’t believe you were a mom. There was a soft knock at the door and Jensen said come in. You looked up and saw Jensen’s parents and yours. When your mom saw you she cried and ran to hold you.

Everyone took a turn hugging you and then they turned their attention to baby Tristan. Your parents and Jensen’s didn’t stay too long. They wanted you to rest. Your mom kept hugging you and didn’t want to leave you. You understood, but her hugs were body crushing.

When they left you fed the baby and changed him. You had just finished feeding Tristan when there was a knock at the door. You said come in softly and saw Jared and Gen walk in. They both smiled big when they saw you up and holding the baby. “Oh my goodness. We are so happy you are okay.” Gen said as she hugged you. Jared smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you gave us quite a scare.” “So I heard. Thank you for being there for Jensen. I know it wasn’t easy for him or y’all.” “Hey, Y/N, that’s what family is for. We will always be there for you guys.” Jared said as he hugged you.

You tried to stifle a yawn that was building, but you couldn’t help it. Gen and Jared hugged you, Jensen, and Tristan before they left. Jensen placed Tristan in the bassinet and walked over to you. “I love you so much. I was so scared. I thought I was never going to see you again.” Jensen sighed. “Jens, what happened? I just remember them telling me they needed to do a c-section, but then everything went black after that.” “The doctor said your placenta detached and you started to hemorrhage. When they got Tristan out you started to bleed more. You lost a lot of blood and coded 4 times on the table. Later in your room you coded again, but you fought baby. You fought so hard to get back to us.” Jensen kissed your head as a tear slipped out.

“I’ll never stop fighting to stay with you and Tristan. I love you, Jensen. I’m so sorry you went through all of that.” You lifted your hand and cupped his cheek. He leaned down and for the first time in a while your lips touched in a passionate kiss.

The kiss was filled with so much need, love, and emotion. You melted into his lips as both of you moaned. A knock on the door interrupted the kiss. You blushed and said come in. The nurse came in to check your vitals and see if you needed anything. “I am a little hungry. Do you think I can get something to eat?” You questioned. “Absolutely! Dad, do you need anything?” The nurse turned towards Jensen. “No, I’m good. I’ll grab something later. Thank you though.” The nurse nodded and left the room.

“Jens, you looked exhausted. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I’ll be okay.” Jensen smiled down at you. “I’m okay baby. That chair turns into a twin bed, I’ll get some sleep later. Right now I want to enjoy being here with my little family.” You playfully rolled your eyes, knowing it was useless arguing with him. “Okay, but promise me you will sleep. We need you in top shape.” You said as you motioned towards the baby.

The nursery nurse came to get Tristan just as your food arrived. “I need to take him for a bath, and to be checked by the pediatrician. I should be able to bring him back in a few hours.” You and Jensen nodded. You ate your food and Jensen chuckled. “You really were hungry, weren’t you?” You shook your head enthusiastically.

When you finished eating you laid down. Sleep was washing over you. Jensen walked over to you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby.” When Jensen heard your soft snores he fixed the chair into a bed and kicked off his shoes. It wasn’t long before sleep was overtaking him too.

You woke up a few hours later and looked over to see Jensen fast asleep. You smiled and your heart filled with so much love. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. The doctor came in, breaking you away from your thoughts. She saw Jensen sleeping and she smiled. “Good afternoon, Y/N. How are you doing?” “I’m sore, but feeling pretty good. I heard I gave everyone a scare.” “Yes you did, especially him.” She pointed towards Jensen. “He refused to leave your side. I thought he was going to beat up one of my nurses.” She chuckled. “Oh no! He is fiercely protective of his family.” You told her. “I can see that. You’ve got yourself an incredible man there. I’m glad to see he’s finally resting.”

You looked over at Jensen, “me too.” “Okay, let's check you out and see what’s going on. I see everything looks good and you are healing. Your blood count is good and the scans we did show no more bleeding. This is all really good news. If you keep this up and your numbers stay up you can go home tomorrow.” “Oh my goodness, really?” You exclaimed. The doctor nodded yes.

As she was leaving the room Tristan was brought back in. The nurse handed him to you. He smelled so good after his bath and was wrapped up tightly in his blanket. You were so in love with him. He was a perfect mix of you and Jensen, with Jensen’s green eyes. When you first saw him you thought he favored you more, but now he definitely is a beautiful mix of the two of you.

You talked to him, held him and kissed him while Jensen slept. About half an hour after they brought Tristan in there was a soft knock at the door. You told them to come in. You smiled when you saw Clif and Misha. Clif walked over to you first. “Hey sweet pea, how are you feeling?” He kissed your head and looked down at the baby. “I’m okay. Doing so much better.” He nodded and looked over at Jensen and smiled.

Misha walked up next and looked at you and the baby. “Hey, Y/N. I can’t believe you named him after me, thank you. That means so much to me.” “Oh Mish, you’re an important part of Jensen’s life and mine too. Would you like to hold him?” Misha nodded and held out his arms. It warmed your heart to see Misha holding your son. You grabbed your phone to take a picture. Jensen would want to see this so you decided to take a picture.

Tristan started to whimper a little and Misha thought he did something wrong. You laughed and told Misha he was probably just wet. As Tristan started to whine more, Misha handed him back to you and Jensen started to wake up. Jensen stretched and stood up seeing Clif and Misha in the room. “Hey guys, good to see you. How long have I been asleep?” “A few hours, but you needed it.” You replied. Jensen nodded and walked over to Clif and Misha. He gave them both a hug and thanked them for coming.

“Well, we are going to head out and let you two rest. I’m in town for a few days, so I’ll see you guys soon.” Misha said as he leaned down to kiss your head. “Okay, thanks for coming. We really appreciate it.” You smiled. They both nodded, gave one last hug to Jense and you, then left.

“So the doctor came in while you were asleep and said everything is looking good. No more bleeding, blood count is steady and if I keep it up I can go home tomorrow. Can you believe it?” You told Jensen. “That’s great news baby. I can’t wait to get you two home.” Jensen replied.

The next morning the doctor came into your room early to talk to you and Jensen. “Well, it looks like everything is still going good. Your blood count is increasing and there is no sign of infection or potential for you to code again. I think it’s safe to send you home. The nurse will be in shortly to unhook you, and give you your discharge paperwork. If you need anything, day or night, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” She smiled as she talked to you.

“Thank you doctor, we will. Thank you for taking such good care of me and my little one.” She hugged you and Jensen stood and hugged her too. “I want to see you in my office in about 5 weeks for a check up. If you need anything before then, let me know.” You nodded, “See you in 5 weeks then.”

The nurse came in and started unhooking the machines and took out your IV. “Okay, Miss. Y/L/N, you can shower and get dressed if you would like. Here are discharge instructions. Please follow them and call your doctor if you experience any complications. Keep all of your follow up appointments and take your medication as prescribed. Do you have any questions?” “No, thank you. I’m just eager to shower and get my family home.” You smiled. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when you are ready and we will get you a wheelchair and home.”

She left the room and you slowly stood. Jensen helped you to the bathroom and offered to stay in the bathroom while you showered. As you stepped in the shower, the warm water enveloped your body like a hug. You sighed contently. You washed your hair and body, taking extra care around your incision. When you finished Jensen was waiting to help you out and dry off. “Jens, just hand me the towel, please. I don’t want you to see my body right now.” You said through the curtain. “Honey, no. Let me help you. I love your body. It’s beyond perfect.” He started to pull back the curtain. You bit your lip and tried to cover the best you could.

“Baby, please let me help you. Your body just did something amazing. Not only did you carry and give birth to our son, you fought like hell to stay here with us. You’re perfect and I love every part of you.” You slowly put your hands down and Jensen’s eyes looked at your body. “So beautiful.” He whispered as he helped dry you off. You blushed and pulled him close to you. You placed a kiss on his lips and whispered “I love you, Jensen.” “I love you too, Y/N. Now let’s get you dressed and home.” You nodded and smiled

A few minutes later you were dressed and Tristan was in his carseat ready to go home. Jensen was beaming with pride. The nurse came in and helped you in the wheelchair and started to wheel you out. Jensen followed close behind with Tristan. He pulled the car around and placed Tristan in the backseat, locking him into the base. You slid in the backseat with him as Jensen got up front.

You watched your sweet boy sleep and Jensen’s focus on the road. He was driving carefully. It made you chuckle. “Honey, you can drive the speed limit.” You laughed. “I’m trying to keep y’all safe,” he said. “Okay, baby.” You smiled.

The three of you arrived home safely. Both of your parents were waiting to welcome you home. The house was clean, there was food ready and everyone was so happy you and Tristan were home. Jensen’s mom and your mom came to your door and helped you out. Jensen grabbed Tristan’s carseat and carried him inside.

You sat on the couch and Jensen took Tristan out of his seat, laying him in the small bassinet beside you. He was sleeping peacefully. Your dad and Jensen’s were sitting at the table while your moms were in the kitchen finishing up setting the food out. Jensen ran upstairs to take a shower and change. You got up and started to walk upstairs. You heard the shower running when you got to the bedroom and bit your lip thinking about him in the shower.

You missed him and how he made you feel. You knew it was going to be awhile before the two of you could be intimate again, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sneak a peek. You softly knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, Jens, need any help?” You whispered seductively. Jensen pulled back the curtain showing off his wet, toned body. You bit your lip and could feel the ache between your thighs.

Jensen stepped out of the shower and water trickled down his body. You walked up to him and kissed his lips. He deepened the kiss and you moaned. You felt his length harden against you. “Jens, let me take care of you.” You whispered as you slowly dropped to your knees. “Baby, you don’t have to do this.” Jensen told you. “I know, I want to.” You looked up at him seductively.

You took his hardening length in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. As your lips wrapped around him he groaned. You used your tongue to lick his length, starting at the base and all the way up to the pink tip. He had some precum on the head and you licked it off.

Your movements became fluid as you worked his length down your throat. Jensen’s hand went to your hair and helped guide you. Jensen moaned and grunted with each thrust. He was close already. “God baby, you feel so good. I’m not going to last long. I need to cum.” He moaned out. You pulled back and locked eyes with him, “cum for me baby, cum down my throat.” Your mouth took him in deep and a few thrusts more and he was cumming down your throat. His hot seed spilling in your mouth. When you felt his pulsing stop you pulled him out of your mouth.

Jensen helped you off your knees and pulled you into a hug, kissing you deeply. “Damn baby that was amazing. You didn’t have to do that.” “I know, I wanted to. You deserve so much more than that.” You kissed his lips and told him to get dressed.

*time jump 7 weeks*

You and Jensen worked really well as a team when it came to taking care of Tristan. Between diapers, baths and feedings you were getting good at being parents. Your follow up and Tristan’s first appointment went great. The doctor cleared you for all activities, as long as you took it easy.

Jensen and you decided it was time to announce the baby had arrived. You had pictures taken and you both picked your favorite one. The post read:

Y/N and I would like to announce the birth of our son, Tristan Dmitri Ackles. Born on August 23 at 22:35, weighing 7lbs 5oz, and 21” long. He was early, but was born healthy. Y/N and I are so in love with him and can’t wait to watch him grow. Thank you for all the love and support throughout this journey.

Jensen & Y/N

You couldn’t believe how fast the post went viral. It was shared and commented on so quickly. Everyone was so supportive and said he looked like you. Which made you giggle. Of course Jared and Misha had to comment about the baby being named after them. Their back and forth banter made you and Jensen laugh.

Jensen was upstairs in the nursery with Tristan while you were getting lunch ready. Jensen called you upstairs, he said he wanted to show you the outfit he just bought for Tristan. You smiled and went upstairs. “Let me see the adorable outfit you bought for him.” You said as you walked into the nursery. When you walked in you saw Tristan in his crib laying in a onesie that looked like a tuxedo. You giggled. “Well aren’t you just the most handsome little man. You look like you’re ready to go to prom.” As you turned around to ask Jensen where he got it from you gasped.

There Jensen was, behind you and on one knee. Your breath hitched. In his hand was an open ring box. “Y/N, from the moment I met you I knew I wanted to marry you. You’ve given me an incredible family and I know I should have asked you this a long time ago, but would you make me the happiest man on Earth and do me the most incredible honor of being my wife? Tears filled your eyes and spilled over onto your cheeks. “Yes! Jensen, yes I will marry you!” He stood, hugged you and kissed you. Then he placed the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen on your finger. “Jensen, it’s perfect, this was perfect.” “You’re perfect”, and he kissed your lips.

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